Zeb was walking around the forest when he found him. A man, too weak to even hold himself up, struggled for life against a tree. He had a head wound, and it was gushing in that way head wounds do. He ran over. "Are you alright?" Dumb question. "Uhnph..." "How long have you been here?" "Trrrr... trenzzzzzzzzz... l-loooooo." "Too long, evidently. C'mon, I'll help you." "Ddddd... doooot... cer..." "Yeah, I know, you need a doctor, it's okay, we know what to do." He helped the man up, and they slowly made their way to Zeb's house. A couple hours later, the man was slightly more coherent. Zeb's mother tried to flock around him at his first word, but Zeb just put up a hand. "He needs space, Mom. Now, what was that?" "Doctor..." "It's okay; you're gonna be okay." "Trensa... tr... tren..." "Trensa what?" "Grave, his grave..." "Who is he?" "Doctor..." "He's a doctor?" "No... Where am I?" "Arkansas, Black Oak Arkansas." "Home, need to get home..." "Where is home?" "Gone..." "Gone where?" "Gone. Nowhere." "I'm sorry." "Da... Dal..." "Where was your home?" "Ga... galli... gal..." The man let out a soft cry of pain and his body tensed. "Make it stop! Theta, please, make it stop!" "Shh, shh, it's okay..." Zeb took the man's hand and suddenly realized why he bled so easily. Thu-thu-thu-thu. Thu-thu-thu-thu. He checked his own heartbeat. Buh-dum. Buh-dum. "Who is Theta?" "Tr... trensal..." Ok, so Theta was the dead... what? Brother? Friend? Partner? "Theta, sorry, so sorry... changed... I changed..." Ok, friend-gone-enemy. "Theta... all my fault... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." "What's your name?" "Ma... Ma..." "Matt? Matthew? Michael?" The man shook his head. "Ko... Kos..." "Colin? Kain? Carlos?" "H-harry. Harold. Harold Saxon."