Guided by whoops and shouts, Nancy finds a footpath and runs into the high, dry woods. A half block in, trees and brush give way to a natural clearing bedded with sparse, short grasses. Straight ahead lies a swath of bare, gray dirt, and sweeping over it, a truck tire with Frankie sitting inside it and Benjy atop, straddling the thick rope holding the tire Up, up, Nancy traces the thick rope, looking like many ropes twisted together, to where it...