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“Maybe.”
As we eat breakfast and Solo tries to tear apart the ball of string, I think back to the last Christmas I ever spent with my parents. I remember the sense of excitement I had when I opened up a box containing a handheld gaming system. I also remember how my father threw it at the wall just three days later.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” I say as I head toward the door.
“Everything okay?” Seri asks.
“Yeah. I just need to chop up a bit more wood. I won’t be long.”
I crunch across the snow on a bright and windless afternoon. The snow is still deep, and the temperature is still bitterly cold, but the lack of wind and sunshine make it feel pretty good outside.
Inside, I’m not so bright and cheery. I’d like to be able to embrace what I said about making new Christmas memories, but all I can think about is my father. Seri’s happy about Christmas, and I don’t want to subject her to all the shit in my head.
Ultimately, I’m still a loner even if I have become accustomed to Seri’s presence. Thankfully, she seems to understand that part of me and doesn’t push when I need some time on my own. It was something Margot didn’t realize until it was much too late.
I retrieve the axe from the barn. I hold it in my gloved hand for a moment as images of my father cycle through my brain. I close my eyes, willing the visions to stop, but they don’t.
Maybe chopping wood isn’t such a great idea.
Ignoring the thought, I make my way over the snow and around the back of the barn. Several large trees, previously pulled out of the wooded area with the Jeep’s winch, lie under a blanket of snow, but I can still make out their shape. There is no way I can haul them out of the snow to split the wood though, so I return to the barn and hang the axe back on the wall near the door.
I lean up against the woodpile and breathe in the fresh, cold air. The chill clears my mind somewhat, but as I turn my thoughts toward what coupon I might use next, the radio I bought from Kirk suddenly buzzes.
“Bishop! Hey, Bishop!
I grab the radio out of my pocket and hold down the talk button.
“Kirk?”
“Can you hear me?” Kirk’s voice is choppy, but I can still understand him.
“I hear ya.”
“Those guys were just here,” he says, “the ones looking for your girl. One of them just left, heading northeast up the road your way.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Without hesitation, I run to the door of the cabin and throw it open. I don’t even bother to close it as I rush straight to the bathroom closet.
“Bishop?” Seri calls out. “What is it?”
I don’t answer her. I reach up to the top shelf and grab a cardboard box. Inside is my Sig Sauer 1911 and a box of ammunition. I load the weapon and shove it into the pocket of my parka.
r /> “Stay inside,” I tell Seri as I head back to the door.
“Bishop, what is going on?”
A moment later, I hear a snowmobile engine. I glance out the door, hoping against hope to see Margot’s familiar form on top of her blue-striped snowmobile, but it’s not her. The snowmobile is black, and the person riding it is definitely male.
“Stay inside,” I say again.
Seri looks at me with wide eyes and nods.
I shut the door behind me, wondering if maybe I should have purchased a lock for it. It’s way too late to think about that now, so I push it out of my head as I take a stand near my Jeep and wait to see what happens.
The man on the snowmobile parks a few feet from the Jeep and turns off the engine. He leans back casually in the seat and then lifts the helmet from his head. I see the familiar dark, curly hair and full beard.
“Hello again.” Kyle smiles broadly and insincerely. He tosses a leg over the snowmobile and heads in my direction. “Mr. Bishop, right?”
