The Retirement

“I’ll kill you!” Hapke declared, sobbing.

The soldier’s smile turned cruel. “You know I’ve been dead for sixteen years. What part of this don’t you understand? You can’t hurt me—but you, on the other hand, are going to suffer for your sins.”

“But . . . but you were an old man when you died,” Hapke said, crossing the threshold, leaving reality behind, without even knowing it. He’d just admitted he was dealing with a ghost. The volume of tears increased from a trickle to a cascade.

“The old Indian told you about the ghosts in the forest. This is my forest, and this is my war face. This is the face you deal with. You hurt my family, and now you have to pay.”

Hapke was desperately trying to fight his way back to reality. “You’re not real! You’re just my imagination! You can’t hurt me! You—”

The figure threw the bayonet again, but this time directly at Hapke.

The kidnapper let out a scream that would be heard on the entire west side of the island. The bayonet was protruding from the tree, sliced directly through his ear. The soldier was suddenly next to him, whispering something to him. Hapke could feel the man’s breath on his neck. The voice was cold, menacing, and sent a shiver down his spine. “They’re coming for you. You know what to do. If you don’t, we’ll meet again.”

The soldier stood, taking the bayonet out of the tree. He ran the blade across Hapke’s chin, causing his jaw to clench and eyes to close. The soldier then placed the bayonet into its scabbard on his web belt and disappeared into the fog-shrouded forest. The last ounce of sanity Hapke had been clinging to finally eluded him, and he began to sob uncontrollably.