It's the thunk of the door closing that prompts Will to get up again, hissing softly at the pain in his left knee -- the one where the fabric of his jeans had torn, where the rugburn had become a proper scrape, dripping a slow trickle of blood. But he stumbles to the door, pushing it open with all his tiny strength. "H-Hey, you dropped..."

He trails off, looking at the mostly deserted sidewalk. There's a truck there, and that's it, and he can't see anyone inside. So who's Sam talking to...?