Any sort of hint of safety had been good enough for Adam in the heat of the moment, but now that the adrenaline was running on short supply he was starting to realize that the deadly flight of gunshots would likely at all be hindered by a jumble of thorny vines. Plus, now that he was wading through the prickly pants, he was starting to get the idea that he didn't want to be in here, either. Of course he had no clue who was trying to kill him, but if they were anything like the psychos in the movies, they'd be firing indiscriminately into the brush. If that happened, these briers would offer about as much protection as paper. Fortunately, though, it looked like only a few more meters until he was free of them and could start running again. A growing pain in his calf, however, made the option of a panicked run seem less and less feasible by the minute; he must have snagged his pants and leg on part of the thicket and gotten pierced by the thorns.

Upon exiting the brambles, he found himself with a few of the people who had been in the van with him. He arrived just in time to see a brown-haired woman tumble over the edge of a nearby slope, broken branch in hand. In the split second before she vanished, he was momentarily dazzled by sunlight glinting off some sort of coating on the branch. Before he could run over to see how far the slope went, he was overcome by a searing pain in his lower leg. The agony forced him onto his knees, and as he probed the wound he found blood running freely. He tensed, scared and hurt, not only by the wound but by its implication: if he could not run, the murderers on his tail would catch him. When a nearby man asked if anyone was hurt, he was the first to reply. "I think...I've been...pricked or shot or something...can someone help?" Focused on his own problem, Adam didn't notice the man's unusual appearance.