The rain began to lash down, more than lash, it throttled Annie. Full force and mean. It strangled her.
Annie ran through the swampy heat and curtains of rain, her feet sliding in the water logged mud. She whimpered quietly, her head flickering from one side to the other as she gazed intently into the darkness, each tree seemed to morph into the tall figure of the man she was running away from.
The hard thing was that Annie was not fit, she was thin, but did zero cardiovascular activity and now the adrenalin that was powering her frantic escape was beginning to run out. She wheezed feverishly and turned around, her long, brown hair clung to her forehead and the back of her neck in wet and sweaty strands.
There was no one. Just her and the aching moan of the wind in the trees and the thrash of the downpour on the forest's branches. Annie's arms were already lacerated from the braches since out here in the brush hardly any of them hosted leaves; though her arm was covered in cuts, the constant rain washed away the stream of blood. Annie hardly noticed, the last days had left her impervious to a few small scratches.
"Ooooweeee!" The call came from the darkness and turned the young girl's blood to ice. Somewhere in the darkness, he was coming for her.
Fresh tears ran down Annie's face as she stumbled backward, struggling to find grip in the mud.
"Fuck," She cried as she began to run again.
Annie knew now that he knew. He knew where she was and where she was going.
Suddenly the forest began to fade away, the trees becoming more sparse as she tore through them and before she knew it she was in the open.
Now, what she saw then unnerved her but the horror she had seen in the last week meant that she didn't cry, she didn't yell but she did stop and her mouth did hang open like it was only working on a rusty screw.
Before her where at least five hundred graves, crudely marked with make-shift crosses. For a mere moment she wondered why the Firefly's would bother with burying their victims, let alone marking their final resting places.
She trembled. And then she heard footsteps and whistling and she stared at the treeline, waiting for the tall, pale man to advance on her again.
As she watched him come into view, long, lank hair hanging greasily over his shoulder, rivets of water dropping lazily off the end. Annie whimpered, trembling backwards as she saw him grin, his crooked teeth sparkling at her.
He was closing the distance.
Annie couldn't move far, she was simply inching backwards into the graveyard.
Abruptly the ground connected with her, flipping backwards over some foreign object, Annie hit the floor. Otis was too close.
"Gotcha lil rabbit," Otis hissed at her, reaching forward to hoist her home.
Annie scrambled away, kicking at his hand and grasping for the thing she had fallen over.
She grabbed it. Felt its cold and round edge, slid her hand down the wooden handle and swung.
"I ain't yer fuckin' rabbit!" Annie yelled as the metal side of the shovel connected with Otis' head.
The man fell down on top of her.
Out like a lamp.