The harsh winds of late autumn whipped dead leaves around violently in the air. Crows cawed and the threat of rain appeared in the overhead skies. Adria trudged through the soft dirt with her messenger bag slung over her shoulder. The sweetly singing birds and croaking bullfrogs from summer were gone, and instead replaced with bare tree limbs and dead leaves littering the forest floor. The warm, comforting sunshine of the latter season was tucked away behind dense, gray clouds. When she first visited this place back in June, she returned home covered in poison ivy that spread across her skin with a vengeance. She found the irresistibly blank canvas she was after back then in the woods off Thornbush Lane that day but didn’t stay long due to the swarms of mosquitoes and midday blistering sun. Fall was the best time to venture through the woods on an overgrown path that had been presumably unused for decades.

  The area was uncomfortably quiet as Adria finally spotted the mangled wrought iron fence. It was bent and rusted; nearly invisible beneath the ivy and other vegetation creeping up the surface of the metal. The gate to the fence was missing, which saved her from having to climb over the thorn bushes that surrounded the perimeter. The graveyard grounds smelled of damp earth. Headstones and grave markers of various shapes and colors were scattered across the dying grass. Some were dilapidated beyond repair, while others had inscriptions that were still legible. A large mausoleum sat in the center of the burial place; the sides covered in a thick, bright green moss that stood out against the dreary surroundings. An occasional squirrel would rush by her on bare branches above her head. But not a bird chirped, not a rabbit scurried.

  Adria continued moving forward. Another sharp gust of wind came suddenly, causing her to pull her jacket closer to her body. She passed the broken, dirty headstones in her pursuit for the biggest canvas. The mausoleum was nearly one-hundred years old. Many of the once white stones that made up the structure had been taken over by nature. The words At Rest were carved in stone at the top of the crypt. Adria set her bag down on the damp ground and wandered toward entrance. Iron bars blocked visitors from entering where two raised concrete coffins sat covered in cobwebs and wet brown leaves. She didn’t know why most people feared graveyards. They seemed rather peaceful to her.

  Returning to her abandoned bag, she pulled out a scraper and began removing the moss from the side of the crypt. It took longer than she had expected, and she worried that the sun may set before she could bring her masterpiece to life. The walls beneath the greenery were stained with dirt and cracked in places from years of decay. That didn’t matter to her, however. She just needed a flat surface. Adria returned the scraper to the inner pocket of her bag and retrieved two cans of spray paint. She had always loved art. In childhood it was one the only things that helped her express herself. Then as a teen living in a broken home, she took a distinct liking to graffiti, specifically the Stencil style. Sometimes she added splashes of color, but she typically stuck with the traditional black paint for the stoic pieces. She would sneak out when things got tense between her mother and estranged father and go to find somewhere to paint. As soon as she reached community college, Adria declared Art as her major.

  She shook the can of black paint vigorously; the metal ball inside clinked against the sides. Covering her face using the red scarf around her neck, Adria started on the outline for her graffiti painting. She was usually a law-abiding citizen, but she took her chances for the sake of art. Over the loud spritzing of the can and her focus on painting clean lines, she didn’t hear the nearby footsteps crunching over the freshly fallen leaves. She didn’t have a chance to see the figure approaching from the dark edge of the woods. Adria knew the graveyard had been abandoned for years. Almost as long as she’d been alive. She thought it was nearly impossible to encounter another human being out there. She jumped in surprise as the sound of a man clearing his throat. She instantly lifted her finger from the top of the spray paint can, stopping the flow of inky color. Only the outline of a bird’s broken wing had been painted. Turning her head to the right, she finally saw him.

     “Who the hell are you?” The man asked Adria directly. His receding hairline was mostly covered by a dirt and sweat stained baseball cap, but some wispy brown hairs emerged from the sides of the hat. His overalls had been patched multiple times and were covered with stains. He appeared to be in his early thirties, with tanned arms and sunburned cheeks. His face was familiar, she realized. She’d seen him somewhere before.

     “I was just looking for somewhere to paint,” Adria explained. “I’ve gotten caught too many times in the city.” It was the truth. Once art became a creative outlet for her, she painted everywhere and everything she could. The police caught her painting the side of a dumpster a few years prior and made her wait in the county jail for her mother to pick her up. And that was just the first time an incident like that had occurred.

     “Most people don’t go breaking the law in cemeteries in the middle of Georgia,” the man commented with a thick southern drawl.

     “And you’re here for a more innocent reason?”

     He motioned to the mausoleum. “My great-great-grandparents are in there. And I know others buried in this here plot of land.”

     Her stomach dropped. She quickly put the lid on the spray paint can and threw it on top of her bag. “I—I’m so sorry,” she stuttered as her cheeks heated up. “I didn’t think people still came out here.”

     The man stalked toward her slowly. “What’s your name?”

     “Adria.”

     “What brings you out here of all places, Adria?”

     “I thought this graveyard was abandoned so I was going to paint a mural.” She wiped sweat from her palms onto her jeans. The chill in the air was suddenly nonexistent to her.

     “Even if living people don’t come here often, that doesn’t mean it’s abandoned,” he said, continuing his pursuit toward her with his hands tucked in the pockets of his overalls.

     “I didn’t catch your name.” The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

     “They call me Solomon.”

     Adria’s blood ran cold in her veins. The name struck a part of her subconscious that made her realize why the pointed tip of his chin and his dark, hooded eyes were so familiar. His face had been plastered on her television screen two months earlier. A man wanted by authorities for the murder of three young women who attended the local university. The name SAMUEL SOLOMON and his mugshot flashed across her mind as if the TV screen itself was in her head.

     He spit tobacco from his mouth onto the damp ground below. “My folks and I don’t take very kindly to trespassers.”

     “I didn’t mean any harm,” Adria promised. “I can pay for the damages I caused.”

     Solomon was eerily still as he observed her. “I know you know who I am.”

     “I don’t, I swear.” She lied.

     “I can’t let you go mouthing off to the cops about my whereabouts,” he said. “I suppose I could let you go, but how will you learn respect for the dead if I don’t teach you this lesson?”

     Adria frantically grabbed her cell phone from her jacket pocket, turning the screen on only to see she had no connection. She desperately clicked on the call button, but no signal came through. She let out a frustrated sigh, still fumbling with the device as though her sheer will could make it work.

     While she was distracted by the phone, Solomon closed in the distance between them and shoved Adria to the ground with such a force that her wrists ached as she caught herself using her palms. The cell phone flew from her hands and cracked into several pieces as the object hit a nearby headstone. As she landed on the earth, Adria noticed the consistency of the dirt beneath her. It was freshly dug and loose. There had been someone or something buried here more recently than 1962, which is what the nearest epitaph read. A sick feeling entered her gut as she caught a glimpse of Solomon’s crazed eyes as he continued pursuing toward her.

     Adria dragged herself across the soft ground and toward her bag several yards away. Dirt caked itself under her nails as she tried to catch her breath, pulling herself toward the one thing that might help her. Solomon still approached, but slowly. As if to give her the sense that she was successfully escaping. Her hand was in reach of the bag, and she grabbed the cloth strap tightly, sending it flying toward her. Her shaking hands fumbled helplessly as she spilled the contents of it onto the leaf-covered ground.

     “You don’t strike me as the weapon-owning type,” Solomon mused. His voice startled Adria so badly she jumped. She hadn’t been keeping an eye on him during her pursuit for the bag.

     “It’s not technically a weapon.” She breathed, as her fingers wrapped around the metal scraper. “But it does have a razor.”

     Solomon’s face was neutral as he stood, staring down at her with emotionless eyes. Adria managed to wobble back to her feet, now covered in dirt from her shoes to her hair and wielding a razor blade with a handle.

     “Stay back,” she warned. He had yet to reveal any weapons of his own, other than his broad body. But from the force of his shove, she knew he may not even need one in a fight with a woman who barely reached five feet and two inches tall.

     He laughed as she swung the blade through the air, clearly not intimidated or second-guessing his target. He finally charged at her, causing Adria to stumble back. She swung her makeshift weapon frantically through the hair in front of her as she took unsteady steps backward. Her bright scarf fell from her neck and landed somewhere on the ground next to her. Solomon cursed harshly and brought his calloused hand up to his face. She had gotten a decent slice down his left cheek using the dirty blade. A thin red line met her eyes as he removed his hand from the fresh wound. His brown eyes had gone so dark they looked black to her as he wiped his own blood on his dirty overalls. He charged at her again, this time knocking the yellow-handled object from her hand. Adria’s only defense weapon went flying until it hit the side of the mausoleum and landed on a pile of leaves below.

     Without a weapon to defend herself, Adria continued backing up and contorting her body to avoid his pummeling fists. Her breathing was ragged, and her movements became slower, although his speed and might never faltered. She made a wrong move and ended up being punched in the gut, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She gasped for breath as her knees buckled beneath her. The soft dirt clung to the fabric of her jeans as she landed. The moment Adria caught her breath again, she was kicked to the ground by Solomon’s heavy work boot. Layers of mud, grass, and blood covered the bottom of the shoe which left a dirty imprint on the back of Adria’s jacket. She went to elbow him in the chest as he came up behind her, but he was faster. He dodged her attack easily and wrapped his hands around her throat.

     Panic filled Adria’s being as she assumed she’d be dead in less than two minutes from lack of oxygen. Her hands clawed at his muscled arm, and she dug her nails into his flesh in an attempt to escape. Even if she did wind up dead, she figured they would at least find her killer when they found her body due to his DNA being underneath her nails. Her thoughts wandered to her mom and younger brother, both sitting at home awaiting her return that evening. She thought about never seeing them, or their tiny shotgun home again. She thought about the possibility of never getting her first degree; only a year-and-a-half away from graduating. A recent conversation with her mother filled her head. “I don’t like you going to explore places by yourself,” Adria’s mother had said, removing the thin framed glasses from her nose. Adria had rolled her eyes. “This trip is local. Besides, my solo road trip isn’t until next month.” Her mother closed the magazine in her hands. “That doesn’t make me feel better about today. What do you even do all alone in the woods?” She questioned. “I just walk around and enjoy nature.” Adria lied. “As for next month’s trip, I’ll write you just to let you know I’m alright.”

     Solomon’s eyes were full of rage as he zeroed in on his victim. Adria kicked and scratched him relentlessly; even as her vision began to get hazy and dark. She didn’t want to die in such a way. Alone, isolated, and unsure if her body would ever be found. With all the strength she had left, she managed to get a hard kick right into his sternum. Solomon’s grip around her throat loosened slightly from the impact, as he was now also winded from the air escaping his lungs. As soon as his hands slackened, Adria pulled herself from his grasp and staggered backward, still feeling the effects of oxygen deprivation. The trees above her moved and blurred together and time seemed to slow down completely. But Solomon didn’t stay down for long. If anything, he now looked even more charged up with anger.

     Before he had the chance to charge her again, Adria forced her wobbling legs to walk a few feet away where her painting supplies were scattered on the ground. She grabbed the cold metal of the spray paint can she’d dropped minutes earlier next to the mausoleum. Turning just in time to see Solomon approaching rapidly, Adria pressed down on the top of the can, spraying wet, black paint directly into Solomon’s eyes. He let out a loud shriek of pain as he attempted to wipe the pigment from his face using his hands. It didn’t work, and he was left staggering and screaming with paint running down his face and staining his hands. Once she was confident that he was temporarily blinded, Adria left her bag and paint supplies on the ground and ran from the graveyard grounds as fast as her legs could carry her. Her vision was finally beginning to improve, and adrenaline coursed through her veins.

     She could still hear Solomon’s angry cries of pain in the distance as she found her way to the wooded path that led back to civilization. She stumbled over tree roots and sharp rocks. She didn’t notice the minor scrapes or bruises she had already acquired as she ran for her life. Small rays of sunshine began breaking through the dense clouds as her feet met the smooth grass of the clearing where she had parked her car. The silver Corolla was parked exactly where she had left it, but a new vehicle sat behind it. The massive truck with dark-tinted windows blocked Adria’s car in where she had parked in front of the tree line. She could only assume it was Solomon’s and it would be useless to maneuver her own car away from where it was trapped between the tree and the massive vehicle. So, she continued running until the grass turned into asphalt.

     Thornbush Lane was a twenty-minute drive from where Adria lived, and she didn’t know the area well. And with a cell phone that was left broken back in the graveyard, all she could rely on was her own two legs and a decent sense of direction. She thought about the possibility that Solomon recovered quickly and would come back to his truck and run her over, but she pushed that idea out of her head. She knew how badly it hurt to get paint in her eyes accidentally, and Solomon had been hit worse with the chemicals than she ever had. She felt assured that he would be down for a while. Dust from the edge of the road kicked up into a cloud as Adria walked over crunchy gravel and debris. The windchill had died substantially with the reappearance of the sun, and she breathed in deeply as the warmth from the sky covered her face. There were no businesses or vehicles for as far as her eyes could see. She continued walking for ten minutes, until a flash of blue lights up ahead in the distance caught her attention. She waved her arms frantically as a police cruiser approached her.

     The officer in the passenger seat rolled down his window. “It’s not safe to walk along the road, ma’am. A car could pass by and kill you.” Both officers had closely trimmed mustaches and short military-style haircuts. The one that had spoken to Adria looked a few years younger than the driver.

     “I’m not worried about being run over in traffic,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m worried about you catching the man who just tried to kill me in the woods.” Both officers stared at her in surprise. She caught a glimpse of her reflection on the side of the dusty blue cruiser. Her long hair was tangled. Tiny droplets of blood were speckled across her face and jacket.

     “Someone tried hurting you in the woods?” The older officer clarified.

     Adria nodded. “Yes, it was Samuel Solomon. I only got away because I sprayed paint in his eyes after being assaulted.”

     The officers exchanged a quick glance with each other. “That’s impossible, miss,” the older officer said. “Mr. Solomon was arrested just yesterday.”

     Adria’s face fell. He told her his name. She’d seen his face on the television. Maybe they had arrested the wrong person, she thought.

     “But you obviously had an encounter with someone.” The younger officer motioned to the back seat of the cruiser. “Get in and show us where the attack happened.”

     Adria willingly guided them back toward the wooded area she had come from. Her hands were still shaking from adrenaline. She only realized after she got into the backseat of the police vehicle how filthy she truly was. From the mud caked on her jeans, to the scrapes on her hands, she had never wanted a hot shower more. The cruiser veered off the road and into the grassy clearing after Adria told them where to pull over. The silver paint of her car glimmered in the soft rays of afternoon sunlight. But Solomon’s truck wasn’t there. Her stomach sank. He’d managed to somehow find his way back and left the crime scene.

     “Is that your car?” The younger officer asked.

     “Yes, but when I left there was a truck blocking me in,” she explained. “It was his truck. Solomon.”

     The two officers shot each other wary glances. “I’ll go scope out the perimeter,” the older officer said, stroking his moustache. He exited the vehicle from the driver’s seat and walked toward the beaten path between the trees.

     Adria’s knees shook uncontrollably as she sat waiting in the back of the police car. Five minutes seemed to last forever. A knot formed in her stomach as the officer strode back to the car alone. His handcuffs still hung from his belt. He had found nothing. The officer sighed as he got back into the cruiser. “Whoever was there is long gone now.”

     “That’s impossible,” she muttered. “Are you sure?”

     “There was a bag and some spray paint on the scene.” The officer’s steel blue eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “And I doubt those materials came from the attacker.”

     “What my chief is trying to say,” the younger officer interrupted. “Is that you better go home and get out of here before you catch a vandalism charge.”

     Adria gulped. She didn’t even try to argue. She just wanted to get out of the area as quickly as possible. Shocked and uneasy, Adria thanked the officers for the ride and exited the police cruiser. She dug her keys from her pocket and walked the short distance to her car. The officers drove away without looking back.

     She clicked the unlock button and entered the car, throwing her bag in the passenger seat carelessly. She made sure to lock the doors as soon as she was safely inside the sedan. She let out a big breath as she collapsed into the driver’s seat. She needed water desperately, but the only edible item in her vehicle was a pack of gum. After taking a moment to collect herself, Adria finally started the engine and prepared to drive home.

      She glanced in the rearview mirror briefly assessing the dirt and cuts on her face. She saw movement behind her in the reflection as she brushed dirt from the end of her nose. She turned around quickly, only to be met with the face of Solomon once more. His crooked, yellow teeth were fixed into a grin as he rose from the floorboard. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face still held remnants of smeared paint.

     “I told you I can’t let you get away,” he sneered.

     Adria reached over for the door handle and fumbled with the lock button. She wasn’t quick enough to unlock the door before Solomon had her pinned to the seat by a rope around her neck. She gasped and choked, flailing her limbs in panic. She kicked the steering wheel, hoping the horn would alert a passerby. But there were no other people for miles. Even the officers she’d been with minutes before were already long gone.

     She tried to choke out a response, some semblance of last words. But a cool metal blade met her throat above where the rope sat before she could speak for a final time. A sharp, slicing pain afflicted her body before darkness consumed her.

***

     The late afternoon sunlight helped to dry some of the moisture from the ground. Dirt and leaves tangled themselves in Adria’s hair as her body was dragged along the dirt path by hands gripped around her ankles. Her eyes were shut, and her breaths were shallow. Just darkness. Then the distant sound of a shovel digging fell faintly in her ears. Something soft and granular brushed across her face. Her lungs were beginning to give out. Her heavy eyes fluttered open one last time to see a shovel full of dirt being dumped across her face.

   “It’s a shame they caught the wrong guy,” Solomon muttered, dropping the shovel carelessly as it hit a headstone with a clunk. “I mean, how many Samuel Solomon’s could possibly exist in the state of Georgia?”

  Adria was too weak to speak, but her thoughts were loud as she said her final goodbyes mentally to the ones that would miss her. Eyes shut and chest no longer moving, she became one with the dirt.