29
EMERSYN
I sat at the kitchen table as the cabin materialized in washes of detail around me. My heart lurched as Sacha appeared on the other side. He pushed a wrapped box across the table to me. I already knew what it was because I’d lived this before.
I was in a memory.
Before I could react, my past self took over. I tore off the wrapping. It was a new scope for my rifle. I grinned up at Sacha in delight—just like I had that day.
“You should take it out tomorrow,” Sacha said.
“Alone?”
Sacha nodded. “You’re eighteen now. You can do whatever you want.”
I scoffed and raised my eyebrows at him. “Like that matters. Unless you’re kicking me out?”
That brought a small twitch to his lips and he shook his head.
“You’ll know when the time is right.”
I finished switching out the scope on my rifle and ran a hand over it.
“Thank you, Sacha,” I said. “For everything—”
My throat tightened the same way it had then. Worse, because I knew I’d never see him again—I drank in the sight of him, until the colors brightened and everything around me became overexposed.
White engulfed the scene. I was so used to darkness—it was too much. I shielded my eyes.
The color bled back in around me. I looked around. The forest was just like I remembered it. This was another memory. Except it was all viscerally real. I touched a leaf and gasped as the sensation registered—this wasn’t normal—
I wasn’t in the cabin anymore. I was on the south slope—I never went out this far, but that day Sacha had insisted. That alone should have told me something wasn’t right.
The lower meadows still held some snow drifts in the shadows, but overall spring had a firm grip over winter. The same thought I’d had that day flashed through my mind. Our meat stores were low, but I was a good five miles from the cabin and didn’t relish the idea of carting an animal that far.
Deja vu swept over me. Because, I knew what was going to happen.
Sure enough, a low hum vibrated through me. It steadily increased in volume. I remembered the confusion I felt that day, and it mixed with the foreboding of now knowing what it meant.
I looked up.
A whirl of rotors buffeted the surrounding tree tops as a helicopter flew low overhead.
I ducked instinctively and dove behind the boulder. The bird flew low over the valley and cut back. It was sleek, black and tactical. There weren't any insignias on it that I could see, but the entire thing screamed military.
And, it was hunting.
It did another pass over the river before it circled low over—oh fuck.
That was the cabin.
The rational part of my mind told me this wasn’t real—all of it had already happened.
It was only a memory. But, I still couldn’t understand why it felt like I was living it at the same time I was remembering it.
I could feel the ground under my feet as I ran toward the cabin.
The wind whipped past and the feeling of inevitability settled in my stomach.
I knew the outcome already and it filled me with dread.
Everything glitched. I stumbled—and I was suddenly almost to the cabin.
I heard the rotors again and the helicopter dipped low overhead.
I was under the trees and hidden, so I didn’t stop.
As I got closer, I could smell the smoke from whatever had exploded earlier.
The urge to get home was so strong I almost burst into the clearing in front of the cabin—only my training gave me pause, and I crept the last hundred yards until I had a clear vantage point of the house.
The sight was surreal.
All the front windows were shattered. Glass littered the porch and bullet holes tore through the entire front of the structure.
The smoke rising through the trees was from the direction of the garage, which must have been the explosion.
The front door sat gaping, half off its hinges, and there was a silence about the place that had my hackles raised in silent alarm.
Bodies in black tactical gear littered the lawn and porch.
There were six of them.
“Sacha?” I called.
I was in the house now—upstairs landing.
In my memories I’d quickly cleared the house, and still couldn’t find Sacha so I’d made my way up here. My heart jolted in my chest as Fang rounded the corner so fast I almost shot him. I should have been expecting it—
“Oh my god, buddy, don’t do that!” I clutched my heart and crouched to wrap my arms around him.
His fur was as rough as I remembered and I could smell his familiar scent.
He appeared unharmed but he was covered in blood.
I burst into the room and came face to face with the barrel of Sacha’s shotgun where it sat propped on his knee.
“What happened?”
Even though I knew what I’d find, it didn’t make it any easier.
I rushed over and knelt beside him where he leaned against the wall in the blood that had pooled around him.
It was too much blood. I ripped at clothing and tried to find the source.
Sacha attempted to bat my hands away. His eyes fluttered as I pulled apart his shirt and bit back a gasp.
There were too many bullet holes.
The past played out—words tumbled from my lips like they had back then.
“No, no, no—fuck, Sacha you need a hospital—”
“No,” Sacha gritted his teeth. “Too late—listen to me—”
“I’m not going to let you die,” I stated. “Let me grab the first aid—”
“Emersyn, listen to me damnit,” he said roughly.
Pain was etched on every line of his face as he gripped my wrist, slippery with blood.
“Who were those men?” I asked.
“My past—” He let out a painful breath. “I knew–I knew they would come—eventually.”
A cold, sinking feeling washed over me. “Is that why you sent me away? I never go that far from the cabin!” I choked on a lump in my throat as anger fought with grief. “I could have helped you!”
Sacha shook his head vehemently. “No—this wasn’t your fight. It was mine. Now, listen—when you leave—”
“I’m not going anywhere!” I exclaimed as the rage pushed through the pain in my heart.
Sacha ignored my protest. “When you leave—call this number—” He said a phone number and made me repeat it several times back to him. “Use the code word ‘sanctuary’ and–and someone—someone will take you where you want to go.”
“But—”
Sacha grabbed my shirt and pulled me close, his eyes urgent and frantic, so unlike his usual calm.
“Promise me, you won’t stay—” he gritted his teeth. “There is nothing left for you here.”
The tears blurred my vision. I pried his hand off my shirt in order to hold it firmly between my own.
I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice. He seemed satisfied by my agreement and leaned back against the wall again.
He looked out over the room and tried to pull a box toward him.
I helped, and with shaking hands, he pulled a photograph from the box.
“I had a daughter,” he rasped as he held it out.
I studied the photo. Sacha had his arm around the shoulders of a young girl with blond braids. He was looking at her with obvious love, while the girl had her arm around him and was laughing in the direction of the camera.
“She’s beautiful,” I stammered.
“I–I refused to teach her,” Sacha continued, his voice pained and thick with emotion I’d never heard from him. “She was killed–because I didn’t—” He paused. “Because, I couldn’t protect her and she couldn’t protect herself.”
I looked back up to see Sacha staring at me with the most open expression I’d ever seen on his face. It was full of pain and anguish of a past he’d been trying to run from.
“You remind me of her.”
I choked on a sob, unable to stop the tears as they streamed down my face. The pain overcame Sacha and he groaned, eyes clenched tightly. I pressed the photo into his hand, then placed his hand against his chest where he clutched the photo tightly to his heart.
“I don’t know what to do,” I gasped around a sob, terrified of being alone again. “I’m not ready—”
“Yes, you are.” Sacha fixed me with a glassy glare. “Small—small stones, yes?”
“Yes, but—”
He tightened his grip on my hand. “Make them pay. For–for everything they took from you—”
“I’ll avenge you too—who were those men, Sacha?”
Sacha shook his head. “My past is my own. You have your own—battle. Forget about mine. Take down the men who hurt you piece by piece until they can’t—until they can’t ignore you anymore.” He coughed and blood ran from his mouth. “Show them what it means to have you as their enemy.”
He grew breathless and his voice faded. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his breath rattled in his chest with each painful inhale. Fang whined and nuzzled into Sacha’s other side, resting his head on Sacha’s thigh. Death hung in the air as it waited to claim Sacha.
Panic gripped me. I didn’t care what he thought—I wasn’t ready.
Sacha sensed my distress and his hand squeezed mine and his grip brought me back from the edge.
“Breathe, girl—the moment you panic, is–is—” His words faltered.
“Is the moment I lose,” I finished. “I know.”
Sacha relaxed against the wall, relief on his face.
“You’ve been like a father to me,” I said. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve taught me. I won’t let you down.”
“I know,” Sacha’s eyes remained closed. “I’m proud of you. Now, you have to–let me–go.”
He pulled his hand from mine to wrap around the handgun that rested nearby.
“Let me–go out–on my terms,” he said.
My heart lurched, but I gritted my teeth and helped him hold the gun.
He met my gaze one last time. “Go.”
I struggled to my feet, every atom in my body warred with me to stay. The room flickered—dimmed, brightened and flickered again—
I backed toward the door, or the door rushed toward me, I wasn’t sure.
I reached the threshold, still holding Sacha’s gaze.
“Don’t look back,” he said in Russian.
I surged into consciousness with a cry on my lips and the echo of the gunshot in my ears. My lungs heaved in air, only to inhale water instead. Vertigo swamped me and the panic became a live thing under my skin. My lungs seized, and then I was pulled up, up, up—