CHAPTER 5 #3
With one pull of the front trigger, the gun had roared, the heavy recoil slamming through my young shoulder like a sledgehammer, but I hadn't dropped it. Together, we had walked through the brush to find the eight-point buck laying in the frozen leaves, its chest quiet, its blood dark and steaming against the white frost. Mom had clapped me on the back, her laughter loud and triumphant against the empty hills. “That’s my hunter,” she’d said.
“Joshua?” Amanda’s voice shattered the memory, pulling me back into the cold reality of 2026. She was looking at the shotgun with a nervous, uneasy expression. “Do you... do you actually use that thing?”
I blinked, the clinical mask locking instantly back into place over my features.
“I used to,” I said smoothly, a soft smile touching my lips as I looked back down at her.
“It belonged to my mother. She was an avid hunter. I shot my very first deer with that iron right on the ridge behind this cabin. It’s a precision instrument, Amanda. Very old-school. Very reliable.”
“It looks dangerous,” she murmured, shivering slightly before turning toward the kitchen. “Where... where is the restroom, Joshua? The drive up the ridge was a bit rough on my bladder.”
“Right through that short hallway to the left,” I said, pointing toward the back of the cabin. “First door on your right. Take your time.”
“Thanks,” she smiled, giving my arm a brief, affectionate pat before disappearing down the dark corridor.
The moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind her, the soft sound of the plumbing running indicating she was occupied, my entire demeanor changed. The warmth evaporated from my face, my movements turning fast, silent, and entirely lethal.
I walked over to the leather sofa, my fingers moving to the zipper of my black duffle bag. I pulled it open with a single, sharp motion, my hand diving deep into the interior pocket until my fingers closed around the leather sheath of the stencil knife.
I pulled the weapon free, sliding the blade out of its housing.
Under the dim light of the cabin rafters, the platinum steel gleamed like a sliver of ice.
It was perfectly clean, perfectly sharp, a beautiful, sterile tongue of metal that was waiting for its purpose.
A long, slow smile spread across my face as I stared down at the edge, my heart rate remaining entirely stable, entirely calm.
I couldn't wait to see it covered in her crimson.
I couldn't wait to feel the heat of her life escaping onto the green grass by the water.
I slid the knife into the front pocket of my trousers, the flat of the sheath resting against my thigh, entirely hidden by the loose fabric. I zipped my duffel bag back up, smoothing the nylon over until it looked exactly as it had before.
I walked into the small kitchen area to check on the provisions.
The caretaker had followed the second part of his contract just as flawlessly as the first. Resting inside the vintage latch-style refrigerator was a heavy wicker picnic basket, packed to the brim with fresh supplies from the market down in the valley—two bottles of a high-end, vintage Pinot Noir, three containers of fresh organic berries, a block of sharp white cheddar, and several loaves of artisanal sourdough bread.
I was standing by the large glass window that overlooked the southern edge of the property, my hands resting on the wooden sill as I surveyed the landscape, when a soft, sudden sound behind me made me turn.
Amanda had cleared her throat.
She was standing on her tippy-toes right at the entrance of the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the pine floor, a wide, playful smile lighting up her face.
Before I could even register her movement, she stepped into my space, her small arms wrapping around my neck as she pulled herself upward, pressing her mouth against mine for another long, lingering kiss.
Her skin smelled of the lavender soap from the bathroom now, a clean, sweet scent that filled my nostrils as she moaned softly against my lips.
“This place is perfect, Joshua,” she whispered, pulling back just an inch, her eyes staring up into mine with a heavy, unadulterated devotion. “It’s absolutely perfect. Show me to the bedroom? I want to get our things unpacked so we can get this weekend started properly.”
“Right this way,” I said, letting my hand guide her by the small of her back as we walked into the master bedroom at the opposite end of the cabin.
The room was simple, dominated by a massive log platform bed covered in a heavy, red-and-black checkered wool blanket. We spent the next ten minutes unpacking our clothes into the old cedar dresser drawers, the conversation light, easy, and heavily laced with her anxious, flirtatious energy.
“I’m going to take a super quick shower and change into my other sundress,” Amanda announced, pulling a lightweight, white linen dress from her bag.
“The mountain air is great, but I want to feel completely fresh before we go down to the water. By the time I’m done, I’ll be completely ready to eat. ”
“Take your time, Amanda,” I smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ll head out to the kitchen and get the basket prepared.”
The moment she closed the bathroom door and the sound of rushing water filled the bedroom walls, I moved into high gear.
I walked into the kitchen, using a sharp chef’s knife to quickly whip up a platter of artisanal sandwiches—thick slices of roasted turkey, heirloom tomatoes, and fresh pesto on the sourdough bread.
I arranged them neatly inside the wicker basket, adding a beautiful, awesome fruit plate piled high with dark purple grapes, fresh strawberries, and slices of sweet, golden pineapple.
I tucked the classic, red-and-white checkered picnic cloth over the top, grabbed the vintage wine and two crystal glasses, and walked out the front door of the cabin.
The walk down to the lake was spectacular. The path wound through a small clearing in the giant pine trees, the ground covered in a thick, soft carpet of brown needles that muffled the sound of my boots.
I reached the perfect spot—a wide, flat patch of vibrant green grass that sat right at the water’s edge, entirely shielded from the rest of the lake by a dense semi-circle of ancient weeping willows.
It was a completely secluded amphitheater of nature.
The water lapped softly against the shoreline pebbles with a rhythmic, musical sound that felt incredibly peaceful, incredibly sweet.
I knelt down on the grass, spreading the checkered cloth out across the green blades, smoothing out the wrinkles with the palms of my hands until it formed a perfect, orderly square.
I began to set out the contents of the basket—the vintage wine bottle resting in the center, the crystal glasses catching the amber sunlight, the fruit plate looking vibrant and beautiful against the red fabric.
While I was adjusting the cluster of purple grapes, a sudden, sharp vibration in my front pocket broke the silence.
I reached down, pulling out my phone. The screen lit up with her name: AMANDA.
I pressed the button, lifting the phone to my ear while my eyes remained fixed on the blue expanse of the lake. “Yes, Amanda? Is everything alright?”
Her voice came through the speaker, accompanied by a soft, playful echo that told me she was standing near an open window. “Joshua? Where did you go? I just got out of the shower and the whole cabin is completely empty. You didn't leave me out here with the reindeer, did you?”
I let out a low, smooth laugh, turning my body around to look back up the slope toward the cabin. “Look out the kitchen window, Amanda. Straight down toward the shoreline.”
Through the large pane of glass on the second floor, I saw the white curtains part.
Her small figure appeared behind the screen, her dark hair wet and glistening against her shoulders, her white sundress looking like a clean splash of light against the dark logs of the building.
She spotted me standing by the checkered cloth, a wide, brilliant smile breaking across her face even from this distance, and she waved her hand frantically through the open frame.
I lifted my right hand, waving back with a slow, reassuring motion as I held the phone against my ear. “See me?”
“I see you,” she whispered, her voice rich with an intense, happy excitement. “Oh, Joshua... it looks beautiful from up here. Give me two minutes to put my sandals on and I’ll be right down. Don't eat all the food without me.”
“I’m setting out the grapes right now, Amanda,” I said softly, my eyes narrowing as I watched her silhouette disappear back into the interior of the cabin. “I’m waiting right here for you.”
I ended the call, sliding the phone back into my pocket.
I knelt back down on the cloth, picking up a single, dark purple grape from the bunch.
I popped it into my mouth, biting down until the sweet, cold juice burst across my tongue, its flavor intense and sharp against the clean mountain air.
I looked out at the flat, silent glass of the water, my mind completely clear, completely locked.
The stage was set. The actor was descending the stairs.
***
The soft, rhythmic crunch of gravel and grass signaled her approach.
I stood up from the picnic cloth, turning around to watch her walk through the opening of the willow trees.
Amanda looked completely transformed. She was wearing the white linen sundress, the fabric light and flowing around her knees, her bare shoulders exposed to the warm amber sunlight.
She had left her hair down, the dark curls damp and smelling faintly of the lavender shampoo, framing a face that was entirely free of the heavy, defensive makeup she usually wore to our sessions.
She was wearing a pair of simple leather sandals, her steps light and unhurried as she moved across the green lawn.