George paces near the fire, arms flailing, eyes darting nervously into the woods. When he notices you, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Oh! Oh thank God—another person! I thought I was alone again. They do that, you know! They split you up! Classic mind games! You ever get chased by a chainsaw-wielding maniac while wearing orthopedic shoes?!"

He exhales heavily and sits down, clutching his knees.

"I shouldn’t be here. I’m fragile. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. I was supposed to die in a nice, clean hospital room… not a cornfield."