Match Twenty-Eight: Mountain Trail:
They shouldn't be out here. Tino knew that he couldn't talk Irene out of her latest scheme. He couldn't help but look behind them.
"Are you sure we should be doing this?" the Finnish man asked. "Maybe we should go back?"
"Uh-uh," Irene said. She didn't even turn around to talk to him. Tino's stomach turned. He should've expected as much. Irene was going to see this out until the end. She looked on the map. She moved her mouth to the side.
"Hm…" the journalist said. She looked around at the trees in front of them. Irene pointed to the right.
"This way!" she said. Tino lifted his head.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," Irene said. She started walking down the trail. Tino followed close behind. He noticed that the woods were so quiet. Too quiet. There were no animals around. It didn't help that there weren't any people around.
"Something's not right," Tino said.
"Hm?" Irene asked. The Finnish man grabbed her by the shoulder.
"What the-?!" she asked.
"Shhh! Listen!" he said. Irene took a listen.
"Do you hear that?" Tino asked. The journalist shook her head.
"No," she said.
"Exactly," he said. More memories started to surface in his head. He's been down this path before. Tino started walking ahead as if in a trance.
"Tino?" Irene asked. "Tino, where are you going?" Her voice sounded so distant. The Finnish man was living back in a strange past. There was no snow here like there was back then. Really thick and heavy. Some flakes stuck to his eyelashes. That didn't stop him from walking. The cold didn't bother him.
Tino blinked and the snow vanished. It was fall now. There were leaves on the path. But why did he feel so cold?
He had no memory of how far he had been walking. But the no next thing that Tino knew, he was standing in front of that abandoned church. The Finnish man shivered. He shouldn't be here. But something called to him.
"Tino!" someone yelled behind him. The Finnish man turned to see Irene running to toward him. She stopped to catch her breath.
"Why did you run off like that?" the journalist asked. Tino looked confused.
"What?" he asked. She looked past him and gasped.
"How did you find it?" Irene asked. Tino turned around for a look. His stomach turned when he saw the church. His journalist friend walked up the steps. She tried to pull on the door.
"Dang it! I can't get it open," Irene complained. She struggled to try and open the heavy wooden doors. Tino stood there as he remembered doing the same thing.
He couldn't get the doors to open back then either. Whether they were stuck or he was too weak back then, he couldn't get them open. Why did he come there? It made sense at the time but then…
"Stop!" Tino shouted. Irene turned her head.
"What's wrong?" she asked. Tino had a look of sheer panic all over his face. He started trembling. The journalist walked up to him with a curious look on her face.
"Hey," she said, shaking his shoulder. "What's the matter? You're shaking. Hey. Hey!" The Finnish man didn't make eye contact with her. Irene paused when something caught her ear.
"What did you say?" she asked. Tino kept his eyes on the church.
"This was where I died," he said in a quiet voice. Irene looked up at him even more confused.
"What are you talking about?" she asked. A single tear ran down the Finnish man's cheek. He walked over to the back of the church.
"Tino?" Irene asked as she ran after him. The Finnish man's body moved on autopilot. His hands moved to the cold metal handles on the back wooden doors. A cold breeze hit him in the face. Inside looked just the same as he remembered.