Dr. Alex Nolan's Arc

Chapter 12 of 14

Nolan climbed the wooden steps to the hut's entrance and pushed the door. It swung inward on leather hinges, revealing a single room thick with dust and the smell of rot. He stepped inside and let his eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through gaps in the walls. A wooden table stood against one wall, its surface covered in moldering supplies—empty tins, a rusted knife, a coil of frayed rope. Beneath it sat a dark chest bound with iron bands, green algae blooming along its edges. Nolan knelt and forced the corroded latch open. Inside, beneath a layer of damp cloth, lay a folded map. He lifted it out carefully and spread it across the table. The parchment was yellowed but intact, showing a winding route along the river that led downstream to a settlement marked with a cross. Someone had charted a path out. This was exactly what he needed—but the map meant nothing if he couldn't reach the water before whatever was hunting him closed in. A sound came from outside—a wet, dragging scrape against wood. Nolan moved to the window and looked down. At the base of the stilts, bones lay scattered in the clearing—dozens of them, animal and otherwise, arranged in no pattern but fresh enough that sinew still clung to some. They hadn't been there when he'd crossed. The scraping came again, closer now, accompanied by his own voice calling from the treeline. "Nolan." The entity had followed him here and was circling the hut. He couldn't stay. He folded the map, shoved it into his pack, and grabbed the rope from the table. If he moved now, he could follow the river before the thing found a way up. Nolan kicked open the back door and dropped from the platform, landing hard in mud. The voice called again from both sides at once, converging. He didn't look back. He ran toward the water, the map pressed against his ribs, exhaustion burning in his legs but fear driving him forward. Behind him, something heavy hit the hut's wooden frame, shaking the stilts. He'd found his route out—but using it meant running on nothing but adrenaline and hope, with no rest and no margin for error. The jungle gave him the answer and demanded he move before the cost came due.