Chapter 7 - Footsteps in the Brush
Mark raised the flashlight, its beam cutting through the damp darkness of the stairwell as the tapping sound grew louder and more deliberate. Elena pulled Leo back behind her, her instincts as a protective mother flaring instantly as the tension in the subterranean air reached a suffocating peak. Slowly, a tall silhouette emerged from the bottom of the steps—an elderly man with a weathered face, piercing hazel eyes identical to Leo's, and a long silver beard tucked into a heavy wool coat. It was James Miller, Mark’s grandfather, whom the entire town believed had perished in the harsh winter of 1984. The old man looked at Mark, then down at Leo, a slow, melancholic smile breaking across his lined face as if he had been expecting this exact reunion for four decades. Mark dropped his flashlight in sheer disbelief, the beam rolling across the stone floor to illuminate the old man’s worn leather boots. James spoke in a raspy, deep voice, telling Mark that he had been waiting a very long time for someone brave enough to follow the map. Yet, before James could explain the reasons behind his decades-long disappearance, the sound of revving motorcycle engines echoed violently from the forest outside the cabin.
