Hawk looks out the window and sees nothing. Telling Brock he's paranoid, he opens the door...
Brock's eyes widen in shock and horror.
"See, there's nothing, Brock."
But standing there is a tall, large silhouette. Brock knows—it's back.
Brock, looking up and staring at where the silhouette's eyes would be, swallows his saliva with a loud gulp. Clenching his eyes shut, he hopes it'll go away. Feeling a dark presence on his shoulder, he keeps them closed.
Knowing Hawk's not the brightest, he catches him up.
"Hawk, if there was no one there, who knocked?"
Still keeping a straight face, though scared, he adds, "He's here."
"Shit." Hawk takes a step back. "Maybe a ding-dong ditch... yeah," he laughs nervously.
Hawk asks Brock if 'The Shadow Man' is really there obvious of what to call him, and Brock nods in fear. Hawk dashes to the kitchen at top speed. Brock feels the wind and looks back, seeing Hawk sprinting away.
Hawk struggles and grabs a stained knife—he's also not that wealthy, and it's the best he's got. Holding it up toward the door, he asks,
"Hey... he can be hurt, right?"
Brock responds honestly, "I don't think so. And if he can, I've got no clue how."
Hawk, discouraged, lowers his knife.
Within an instant, with a flash, the silhouette dashes toward Hawk.
"Look out!!" Brock shouts, reaching for his bat.
The silhouette stands over Hawk as he falls to the ground on the verge of tears. It reaches its hand out, kind of pointing at Hawk.
Brock grunts as he runs and launches himself at the silhouette, bat raised to swing. But the pointing hand grabs Brock's face out of the air, holding him there.
Hawk looks up, seeing Brock floating in the air. He screams,
"Fuck!"
Gripping his knife tightly, he starts swinging at the air, hoping to hit the silhouette's legs.
Brock, swinging his arms to break free, accidentally loosens his backpack. It falls to the ground with a thud, catching Hawk's attention.
Hawk scoots over and grabs the backpack, struggling as he rummages through it. Hearing Brock gasp for air, knowing he's about to suffocate, he hurries.
Seeing the imprint of a hand on Brock's face turning purple, Hawk starts stressing. He finds a flashlight at the bottom of the bag.
"Close your eyes!" he shouts.
Brock squeezes his eyes shut. Hawk mutters a quick prayer and flashes the light onto Brock's face.
There's smoke and a decrepit scream—the light burns the silhouette's hand. It drops Brock and dashes out the door.
Brock hits the ground hard, breaking the fall with his shoulder. He coughs as his airway clears.
"He's gone," he gasps.
Hawk looks over at Brock, his eyes wide.
"You see that? Killed that bitch."
Not wanting to ruin the moment, Brock slightly agrees.
"I think he's still alive… but he'll be gone for a while."
Grabbing water and food, Hawk packs Brock's backpack. They head for the door.
As they walk out, Hawk suddenly stops.
"Shit!"
He runs back inside and grabs the flashlight he almost left behind—then continues on this mysterious journey.