“You were always in control, Martin. You were on the beach in the Bahamas. You could’ve stayed. Could’ve arranged for a boat to pick you up and take you away before those two guards had a chance to realize what was happening. You could have stayed in 1996. You could have accepted your mother’s fate and not traveled into the future. There were so many actions you could have taken—or not taken—to change the course of your life.”
Martin lowered his arms, no longer fearful of a potential attack, recognizing the mind games Chris was playing instead.
“I can’t change anything now—all I can do is keep moving forward.”
Martin took his own advice, emotions swirling no differently than the snow above him before time had frozen, and continued walking, still aware to remain behind the trees as he checked the trembling map clutched in his grip.
“I’ll forever be the one you think about, Martin. I only hope you can find peace, no matter how this turns out for you.”
He kept walking, shaking his head and fighting back tears. He had been too emotionally scarred to let something like this distract him. His heart had hardened over the years, even more so since joining the world of time travel.
Sonya’s voice kept speaking, but mostly remained in the area behind him, unable to follow him as only the echoes remained. That’s it, he thought. That’s all he could throw at me and it didn’t work.
“Marty,” a new voice called out, freezing Martin where he stood behind the next tree trunk.
“No,” Martin cried, leaning back on the tree as his legs grew wobbly. “None of this is real.”
“Everything is real, Marty,” said the voice of Marilyn Briar. “I might not be here physically, but I am real. As real as the stars in the sky, or the dead leaves beneath your feet. I’ll always watch over you.”
Martin regained his strength, fully aware Chris was putting him through these auditory hallucinations, refusing to succumb to the emotional tailspin his rival was surely counting on.
“Nope.” He kept walking, bouncing to the next tree, stomach churning as he saw the distance on his paper map shrink between him and the cabin’s supposed location.
“Marty, come back!” Marilyn’s voice cried. “Come back and save me. Don’t fail again and let me die. Help me!”
The mere act of walking away from his mother’s voice was enough for tears to start oozing from his eyes. But he pushed through, leaving her behind just like he had unknowingly done when he traveled to 2064 for her medicine.
Over the next five minutes, Martin further reduced the distance to the cabin. He hadn’t looked too far into the distance, only concerned with what was immediately in front of him, but when he glanced up and saw a small figure standing between two trees, he slowed down, squinting for a better view. His heart knew who it was—or at least who it was supposed to be—but his brain offered every objection to reject what his eyes saw.
It was a young girl standing with her back to Martin, a puffy black coat draped over her body, its hood pulled over her head. Despite knowing it was a physical impossibility for his daughter to be standing in these woods, he couldn’t deny how real she appeared. Still, Martin was ready for anything, even for Chris to be hiding inside that coat, sure to pounce on Martin as soon as he stood close enough.
He inched his way closer, still cognizant of the trees, but his eyes now glued ahead to the figure standing alone, not moving in the frozen time. “Izzy?” he called out, nearly inaudible as his throat had tensed with what felt like a tennis ball inside. “Izzy?” he tried again, much louder as his voice swirled around the woods.
The girl wavered in place before taking a slow, cautious turn to face Martin. The softest of smiles touched the corners of her mouth, flooding Martin with nostalgia and grief while his heart hammered against his chest. “Hi, Daddy,” Izzy said, her eyes sparkling as they always had, her hair brushed back and hidden inside the jacket’s hood.
Martin tried once more to convince himself that this was fake, certainly a figment of his uncontrolled imagination. But he couldn’t argue with Izzy’s physical appearance in front of him, just like he had seen her hours ago during his quick trip to 1995.
Just like you see her whenever you close your eyes?
“Izzy, wh-what are you doing here? How?”
“Oh, Daddy, I’m always with you, right next to you. Don’t you know that?”
Martin raised his eyebrows, scanning his daughter, trying to find the faintest of hints that suggested she wasn’t real, a hologram, a ghost, anything besides flesh and bone. He remembered his urge to grab her during his first trip to 1996, hug her and run away where they could spend the rest of their lives in peace. That he never had the opportunity pained him over the years that had since passed. All of that followed up with the teaser of a similar chance during his most recent trip, only to be interrupted by the Revolution.
Martin briefly considered the possibility of running away with Izzy, even if this was some sort of hallucination or alternate reality. But he couldn’t, not when he was minutes away from potentially ending the Revolution once and for all. His chest tightened with pain at the thought, knowing that regardless of how this ended, this would most likely be the last time he’d see Izzy. If he lived to tell about it, he’d never go back and try to find her again. If he actually managed to fulfill his destiny and cause his enemies’ downfall, it was time to close all doors from the past and only look ahead to the bright, hopeful future.
“C-can I hug you?” Martin asked, not
