He sat there on the ground for a moment, still and overcome by the immense beating of blood in his head, his oil dark hair was slick with sweat that dripped down into his eyes. He looked for the inhaler, thinking maybe he dropped it, but it was indeed nowhere to be found. Then he heard laughter coming from the house, a sinister, low rumbling menace directed toward him, and as he looked in its direction, he saw the silhouetted figure of a man on the porch with arms crossed, and gleaming, reflective eyes staring straight at him. Sam ran. He ran as fast as he could down the long drive to where he and Kevin had laid their bikes, but only his remained there in the weeds. He frantically wrestled it free, and then rode away in a cold panic. He felt the fear close behind him, like the fear that lives in a basement and follows you up the stairs after turning out the lights; he looked back but nothing was there, and the long drive, and the house, and the hill with the courtyard, and the fence, all faded behind a white and heavy mist.