They found the clothes at the edge lake - three punk kids about to get stoned. "Throw them in the lake. Whoever left them doesn't deserve any better."
The headlights of the car provided the only light. Nobody went swimming at this hour.
They laughed, froze. Rustling started up in the shrubbery behind them.
"Give them to me, mate," a man's voice demanded.
A man stepped into the light, butt naked. Blood red marks covered his body.
Don screamed and started running.
"Clothes, mate." The man gestured.
Carl handed them over.
"Got a fag?"
He handed that over too.