Guidry's Arc

Chapter 4 of 14

The boat slid deeper into the swamp, where the cypress roots twisted like fingers beneath the waterline. Guidry kept his eyes on the markers he'd memorized forty years ago, the ones no one else could see. The air hung thick with rot and green things growing too fast. Then he saw the shack — weathered boards on stilts, the boat shed door hanging open like a broken jaw. He'd passed it a hundred times over the years, each trip carrying the memory of being laughed back to the village. Now someone stood on the platform, arms crossed. The gator wore muddy jeans and a grin that hadn't changed since they were both young. "Still chasing ghost stories, Guidry?" The voice carried across the water, loud enough for Stryker to hear. "Forty years and you're still trying to prove you found something real." Guidry's hand tightened on the pole. The bully had positioned himself here on purpose, blocking the narrow channel ahead. Guidry didn't answer. He pushed the boat forward, angling past the shack so close the hull scraped cypress knees. The gator's laughter followed them into the deeper water, but Guidry kept his eyes ahead. Stryker shifted in his seat. "You want to stop? Handle that?" Guidry shook his head. The laugh didn't matter anymore. In two days he'd come back through this channel as the guide who'd reached the Scaled Gem first. The bully could stand on that rotting platform and mock empty water all he wanted. Respect wasn't built by answering insults — it was built by doing what everyone else said couldn't be done.