Guidry's Arc

Chapter 5 of 14

The channel narrowed ahead where cypress knees broke the surface like broken teeth. Guidry pushed the boat between them, following the curve he'd memorized decades ago. Then he saw it — the iron gate half-submerged in the water, rusted bars bent outward like something had forced them open from the inside. Guidry's hand froze on the pole. The gate wasn't passage — it was containment. He'd thought it marked the boundary to keep people out, but the chains lay snapped in the mud, twisted metal pointing away from the bars. Black claw marks scored the iron in jagged slashes, deep enough that the cuts looked wet even in daylight. Whatever had been held here hadn't waited for permission to leave. Stryker leaned forward. "That the route?" Guidry nodded slowly, realizing what he'd done. Forty years he'd kept this secret, trading on the knowledge of a navigable path. But he'd never asked why the elders wanted it hidden. Not to protect a shortcut. To keep something locked in. And he'd just guided someone straight through the open door. His currency wasn't knowledge anymore — it was guilt. The boat drifted past the broken gate, and Guidry understood that being the best guide meant nothing if he led people into what was meant to stay buried.