Izzy gave a choked scream and stumbled back, tripping on her own feet when the man looked to her, impossibly alive. Her flashlight and walking stick fell to the ground beside her. From the ground, the beam of the light reflected in the man’s golden eyes. Which had to be a trick of the light. But there were far more important aspects to be worried about.
	“H-hold on,” she choked out, kneeling on the grass. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone with a shaking hand. “Focus on me,” she breathed. “What’s your name? What happened?” She turned her attention to the phone, glad to look away from him. She put in “911,” and hit dial. “I-I’m calling for help. Just hold on.”