James Naismith's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

James ran his finger along the edge of the old photograph, studying the face he'd memorized years ago. The tundra wind rattled the cabin window behind him. He needed to find her again—the only person who'd known him before the lies piled up. She'd disappeared without warning, and he'd been searching ever since. The photo's corners were worn soft from handling. He tucked it back inside his jacket, close to his chest. He stood and walked through the rustic cabin, checking the supplies he'd stocked. The weathered wooden walls would hold against the wind. This place would work as his base while he searched. He pulled out a map and spread it across the table. His finger traced possible routes, places she might have gone. The photo pressed against his ribs with each breath, a reminder of what he was looking for. He'd start tomorrow at first light. For now, he had shelter and a plan. Morning came cold and gray. James locked the cabin door and headed into town. He'd written a message the night before, checking each word three times. The note was simple—a time, a place, coded words only she would recognize. He found a public board and pinned it up with the others. His hands shook as he pushed the pin through the paper. Anyone could read it, but only she would understand. He stepped back and read it one more time, then turned away before doubt could stop him. The message was out there now. All he could do was wait and see if she remembered him too. He couldn't just wait at the cabin. She might be in the next town, or the one after that. James walked to the edge of town where he'd left the dirtbike. The engine coughed twice before catching. He'd search every settlement if he had to, leave messages on every board. The bike kicked up frozen dirt as he pulled away. One town at a time, one message at a time, until she saw one and came back to him.