He couldnt look back not now, not ever. He had a follower. George had doned skinny jeans and t-shirt with Gods Hand written on it. His short brown hair was slipping into his eyes as he ran. His perfectally new Nikes where now ruined and coated this a thick layer of mud and dried leaves. He ran into a dark and damp forest, the eerieness hit him like a physical blow. He kept running, then he tripped and fell. Wincing he picked himself up holding his bleeding arm. He bent over vomited and put his hand up against a tree, he suddenly had feeling that the tree moved away from him. Impossible. Then his persuer appered behind him.
"George, you cant win." The persuer mocked with a sly grin on his scared face.
"your right, but tell me who are you and who do you work for?" George demanded.
"I am Drake, and i work for TTAP....ssseeerhhhh jjjuuttttkkkkah kah kha.......George that means kill hi....!" Drake said as he was cut off by the rock smashing his skull. George made camp....
To be continued..