"How about a story?"

Oren blinked open his eyes. He hadn't been visited by The Deer in a long time, so he was surprised to find himself back in his office. The Deer was sitting on a brown leather chair, legs crossed and arms folded. Floating weightlessly beside him was a worn, blue book.

"You have a new companion." The Deer said, removing a pair of wire-rim speckles from his snout. "I was just reading up on his story."

"Edgar?" Oren inquired.

"Did you know he was on the baseball team all four years of high school? He was the best batter in town." The Deer said, gently nudging the edge of the book so it spun slightly. "Or that he worked at the Sunny Side Diner for a summer job?"

"Why does any of that matter?" Oren asked, standing.

"How well do you know Edgar? You trust him enough to drive you to your destination, all while with a gun at his hip, but you barely know him." The Deer explained.

"He saved our lives," Oren said.

"Did you know what happened to his companion?" The Deer asked.

"P?" Oren inquired.

"He didn't even tell you the boy's full name." The Deer sighed, shaking his head. "The boy is dead."

"What?" Oren gasped. "How did he...?"

"You should ask your new chauffeur." The Deer replied coolly.

Oren blinked, the serenity of the Deer's office replaced by the familiar dash of the van. He turned, Edgar, driving steadily down the winding road. The sky had turned dark and velvety, absent of stars. "The girl's still asleep," Edgar whispered. Oren peered back over his shoulder into the back of the van, Jackie's still figure curled into the corner. He fidgeted anxiously, his mind racing with questions until finally, he built up the nerve to ask one.

"...Who was P?" Oren asked with a small gulp.

Edgar visibly stiffened, his face suddenly tense. "It doesn't matter," he mumbled.

"Yes, it does." Oren snapped, raising his voice slightly. "You can't keep secrets from us, not if we're going to be traveling together."

"P...Phillip was my best friend." the words tumbled from Edgar's tired lips. "That's it." Oren narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose.

"That's it?" he snarled. "Then why is he dead?" The words echoed through the car, like a dark, ominous bell toll. Edgar turned toward Oren, his eyes wide and trembling.

"How do you know that?" he asked in a horrified whisper.

"Guys!" Jackie launched herself out from the back of the van, pointing through the windshield. Edgar slammed on the brakes, the van skidding to a sudden halt. Planted on the mountainside was a tall white house with red shingles. It was perfectly preserved, shaded in the canopy of the canyon.