RAAAWWWR! "Eeeeeeeeeeeee! You know, I just never get tired of that! You could put that in front of me on an endless loop for days and days and days, and I'd still keep shrieking every single time I saw it!" This does not surprise me as much as you might think it should, Raoul.

Molly plunges headlong through the woods, racing away from the grizzled and grisly old coot in the hunting cabin, and manages to reach the rural highway just as a couple of familiar-looking headlights appear in the distance. She charges out in front of the approaching car, waving her arms around in the air while frantically pleading for the car's occupants to stop. El Deano stomps on the brakes with a startled and pissed, "Holy [shit]!" and the Impala skids across the road's rain-slicked surface for a bit before squealing to a halt with its front bumper mere inches from Molly's legs. Molly hitches her breath a couple of times as her eyes almost glaze over in a stunned stupor before she finds her voice again and pleads directly into the camera, "You've got to help me!" The shot cuts away from her face to rear up behind the Impala as she skitters around to the passenger's side door to bat her hands against the window. Riding shotgun, of course, a gape-mouthed Sam repeats, "All right!" a couple of times as he shakily rolls the window down. "Calm down!" he instructs before asking Molly to tell them what happened.