Flashpoint

Kenji left Maya propped against a rock wall, thirty feet back from the nearest surface vent.

He climbed. The lava rock was sharp, shredding his fingertips. He reached the opening—a narrow fissure in the ground, hidden by ferns.

He poked his head out.

It was night now. The forest was pitch black.

Kenji waited. He made a sound—a deliberate scuffling of his boot against the rock.

* Come on. Take the bait.*

A twig snapped.

The Wolf was close. He moved silently, a shadow detaching itself from the tree trunk ten feet away. He raised the machete.

Kenji didn't retreat. He scrambled out of the hole, standing fully exposed in the small clearing.

The Wolf lunged.

Kenji held up the camera flash unit. He had set it to 'Strobe'—maximum frequency, maximum brightness.

He hit the test button.

* FLASH-FLASH-FLASH-FLASH.*

The forest exploded in blinding white light.

The effect was disorienting even for Kenji, who was expecting it. For the Wolf, whose eyes were dilated to the darkness, it was catastrophic.

The killer screamed, covering his eyes, stumbling back. The strobe effect chopped his movement into jerky, disjointed frames. He swung the machete wildly, hitting a tree.

"Now!" Kenji screamed.

From the hole in the ground behind him, Maya raised her arm. She had dragged herself up the slope.

She held the flare gun.

She didn't aim at the sky. She aimed at the Wolf’s chest—at the layers of dry, synthetic rags, the polyester scarf, the trench coat soaked in unwashed grease.

* POP.*

The flare hit the Wolf in the sternum.

It didn't explode; it burned. Magnesium burns at 3,000 degrees.

The Wolf’s clothing caught instantly. He became a pillar of red fire.

He shrieked—a sound that was human now, full of pain and shock. He flailed, trying to bat out the flames, but the accelerant of his own filth fed the fire.

He stumbled backward, blind and burning.

He hit the edge of the ravine—the true drop-off that Kenji had marked on his mental map earlier.

The Wolf went over.

The scream faded as he fell, ending in a distant, wet thud. The glow of the fire flickered out far below.

Kenji stood in the dark, his chest heaving. He turned off the strobe.

The silence returned to Aokigahara. But this time, it didn't feel heavy. It felt empty.