Dr. Alex Nolan's Arc

Chapter 1 of 14

Nolan packed his gear in the small room above the saloon, sorting rope and water tablets into his rucksack. Tomorrow he'd return to the temple, warnings be damned. The proof waiting there would silence everyone who'd tried to block his work. He checked his watch — nearly midnight — and reached for his canteen. The brand on his forearm erupted first. Heat spread across his skin like someone had pressed a branding iron there all over again. He gripped the wooden table, knuckles white, and watched the mark glow faint orange in the darkness. Below the window, tied to the dock, his tar-coated canoe hull began to smoke. The tar bubbled and hissed where moonlight touched it. Something was responding to the brand. A shape moved near the doorway. Nolan spun, reaching for the machete on his bed. The floorboards creaked. A wet dragging sound came from the shadows, like cloth pulled through mud. He grabbed his flashlight and swept the beam across the room. Nothing. But when he lowered the light, he saw it — a strip of torn fabric hanging from the door frame, dripping dark water onto the floor. The brand cooled as quickly as it had burned. Nolan crossed the room and touched the cloth. It was real, mud-stained and soaked through. Something had come through that door while he stood there watching. The warnings had been right about one thing — whatever followed him from the temple wasn't finished with him yet. He stuffed the wet fabric into his pack as evidence, knowing full well he'd ignore what it meant. Tomorrow he'd go back anyway.