Mild-mannered chronic insomniac originally from the Idaho/Montana border area. Likes to read cheap paperback horror novels, lurk in coffee shops, and daydream about being an author. He's got no other real ambitions, he says, and has never really felt like he was going anywhere in life.

Sweet irony, now, as he's going many places from his involuntary stay in the passenger seat of a serial killer's car. He's gotten to see sights all over the USA, from the maple trees of upstate New York all the way to their current haunt, the empty desert outside Roswell, New Mexico. It wasn't his idea, but he's trying to stay as positive as he can; thinking about how he was abducted is a bit much for him to handle.