People say Hell is all fire and smoke. It’s not. It’s the coldest place in the universe, nothing but mountains and tundra and glaciers with cracks that’ll consume you for a thousand years.

I climbed a mountain, running from those flesh eating monsters. A storm shot icicles the size of an arm. I hid in a cave and found I wasn’t alone. We fought, tumbled, bit and tore at one another. The man called me a “cracker ass, raw chicken mother fucker.”

I laughed. The fight stopped. Raw chicken. Only one person in my life called white people that. “Scotty?” I asked. “How the hell are ya?”

“Trey? The fuck...Trey?”

“Yeah.” I told him how I thought I died. “Back of the head. Julie, I think. Same as you, I guess.”

Scotty spat. “You think Julie shot you? She loved you, man. She killed for you. It was Luis, you idiot. He hated you.”

“What?” I waved my hands in the air. “That’s bullshit. Luis was like a father to me.”

“I trusted him, and look what he did to me,” Scotty said. “I saw him, before he did it.”

The cave grew silent. The winds roared outside.