It was cold. Everything felt cold. He was not sure how long he had been out for. He sat up, he looked around. Silence. He could see the movement of the trees, he couldn't hear the wind. It was silent. Until it wasn't.

He turned back around, he remembered it all. He looked at the bottle of alcohol, it had rolled a few feet away from its original spot. He gazed back, he seen his body. Sal hadn't come yet. If he did, then his body wasn't taken yet. So he hadn't been out long.

He sat there, in silence, looking down at his own lifeless body.

"Jesus..." he heard the ladder to the tree house creak, groan, and shift. Someone was coming. Larry looked over, waiting to see the individual.