Izzy parted her lips in a wide grin. There were no signs of Chris lurking behind that smile—it was the real thing—and Martin stepped forward, arms stretched out as Izzy allowed herself to fall into his embrace.
Her warmth radiated Martin, Izzy’s sweet scent both familiar and foreign at the same time. Alone in the woods, two long-lost souls reunited, Martin broke into hysterical crying. “Oh, my God, it’s really you,” he said, a hand pressing her head into his chest, squeezing her with all of the love that had never vanished.
“You need to go, Daddy. We’re all watching,” Izzy said, her voice muffled as she spoke into Martin’s heaving chest.
“I know.” He squeezed tighter, watching his tears fall on top of her hood in dark spots, fading away as soon as they landed. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there that night. I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of the person you were—the young woman you were becoming. I love you, always and forever.”
Izzy pulled back, looking up to her father, Martin returning a gaze through bleary eyes, fighting his natural reaction to frown. “I love you, Daddy. You need to go, and so do I. Grandma wanted me to tell you how proud she is of you for always getting back on your feet after being knocked down, but that today isn’t the day to try so hard.”
Martin’s brows furrowed as he digested this statement. If Chris knocked him down, you could guarantee he’d be right back on his feet to defend himself. Was his mother really calling on him from the grave to roll over and take defeat?
“I love you, Izzy, more than you’ll ever know.”
Izzy looked up to him, her big blue eyes filled with joy, and nodded before turning around without another word. She walked with a slow, steady pace, not in any hurry to leave, but not trying to stick around either. It took two minutes until she was completely out of sight, Martin left with nothing but memories, satisfied to have received the little bit of closure he wanted before his own potential death. Martin tried to follow her, of course, but his legs wouldn’t move, destiny tugging him in the other direction.
The blanket of silence returned to swallow him up, and he pulled his map back out from his pocket to see he was well within a thousand feet of the cabin. He had no idea how much time had already passed since he had left Arielle behind. He was fairly certain the allotted time hadn’t passed, but the distractions he encountered so far had a way of skewing everything about reality.
Just go. There’s no time to look back.
Martin continued, forcing himself to refocus after the emotional reunion with his daughter. The encounter left him more puzzled than before. If this had all been some ploy by Chris—which it had to be—then what exactly was the purpose of Izzy being herself? Clearly the voices of Sonya and his mother were there to frazzle him, so why would Izzy be encouraging? Was she part of Chris’s games, or had that been her actual spirit? He debated this matter over the next few seconds before catching sight of the cabin ahead.
Martin stopped, peeking around the tree trunk, shoving the map back into his pocket, pulling the duffel bag in front of his stomach to pull out his pistol, and cocking it after confirming it was fully loaded.
The woods couldn’t have been any more silent, reminding Martin of the times he had gone into the empty church in Larkwood after hours, while his mother stopped by to help prepare and run after-hours events in the neighboring church hall.
He focused on the cabin, calculating the best route to remain behind the cover of the trees, seeing he’d need to hop around like a lost rabbit. If Chris decided to step outside, Martin would see him, and even take a shot.
That means he can shoot you, too, Martin reminded himself, his caution returning to the elevated level it had been before seeing Izzy. The thought of her still tried to force its way to the front of his mind, succeeding in random spurts, but having a line of vision to the cabin proved to be the better distraction.
“Oh, Commander,” a voice called out, seeming to come from the trees themselves. “Commander Martin Briar.”
There was no mistaking the cold voice as Chris, and Martin took a deep breath knowing their showdown waited moments away.
“Show yourself!” Martin howled, wanting to spin around and look for the source of the voice, but trusting that he needed to get closer to the cabin.
Chris laughed, the echo creating the sound of hundreds of lunatics giggling around Martin. For a moment, he thought it might drive him crazy, like nails on a chalkboard. “When you walked into my store two years ago, did you ever think this is where our relationship would take us? Life is quite romantic, wouldn’t you say?”
His voice seemed to grow louder, not necessarily closer, as if speakers had been set up nearby to broadcast Chris. “I know you’re all alone now,” Martin shouted toward the cabin, continuing to inch closer. “Come out and fight me like a man.”
Martin was now within fifty feet of the cabin, its wooden exterior clearly visible, but found he had approached from the rear, the front door nowhere in sight. He lunged toward the next tree trunk, a gunshot ringing out in unison, a fire seeming to ignite from his injured shoulder.
“Owwww!” Martin cried, one hand flying to the bullet wound, the other outstretched to catch himself as he fell to a patch of snow on the ground. He landed on the hidden bump of a root protruding from the earth, instantly numbing his torso. He was able to turn his head enough to see blood squirting from the wound, the bullet having lifted the crusty scab that had formed from getting shot
