Amy's legs hurt. Her arms hurt, her chest hurt, her belly hurt and her head hurt. She'd never been athletic, and all this running didn't suit her.
It would have been so much easier to disappear into a city, she thought to herself as she gasped for breath, feet pounding on the highway. But every time she'd gone to a city, more dark marks appeared all over her body. And she was so scared and so lost and so she ran.
She was regretting that now. It's very, very difficult to out run cars, she thought as she veered off the road, even if you can cut through areas they can't.
Her feet kept pounding the packed red dirt. She threw a glance over her shoulder and wished she hadn't. They were gaining on her. She was so concentrated out running them she hadn't realized she'd come to the edge of a cliff.
Crap, she thought. Crap crap crap. She laughed a little in her head that her last word may be a profanity. That was so her.
She decided she would die facing them. When she'd turned around, at least half a dozen black suited men were bearing towards her, guns raised. She wondered how they weren't sweating.
"Ms. Pond," said the ring leader. He took of his sunglasses, and revealed the slightly familiar face of Canton.
"Bastard," Amy spat out.
He gave her a semblance of a grin. "Now, Ms. Pond, let's not use hurtful words. I'm not sure if you're aware of the situation you find yourself in. Your husband is dead. Your friend is dead. Your Doctor is in captivity.
Amy had no idea if he was lying or not. God, she hoped he was lying.
"And now for your situation. You, Amelia Pond," he said, raising his gun. "Are about to die."
Amy swallowed, hard. So this was it. She'd always expected the Doctor would be with her. She laid a protective hand over her belly. "Love you," she whispered. Now she'd never know if the baby was real or not.
She looked at Canton, to see if there was any mercy in his eyes. There was none. As the sun glinted of his glasses and her hair, she started to laugh.
If he was unnerved, he didn't show it. He just pulled the trigger.
Amy Pond dropped like a doll with her strings cut off. The blood from the wound on her forehead seeped into her hair, grotesquely highlighting it. A fragile hand was still flung across her stomach.
Canton walked away without a second glance. "Get that in a body bag," he barked, and that was the death of Amelia Pond.