Page 2 of Not This Place

The figure did not heed. Slow steps echoed on the steel deck, deliberate, measured. Each footfall a declaration of intent.

"Who are you?" she demanded, squinting against the glare. “Jake, this isn’t funny.”

But no. Too tall to be Jake. The foreman? No—he slept off the rig.

Silence was her only answer, punctuated by the steady advance of boots on metal. The light held steady, oppressive, an unwavering sentinel in the chaotic night.

Cheryl's breath caught in her throat. Fear, sharp and cold, clawed at her chest. The flashlight's glare still danced in her vision, a ghost image that obscured the dark expanse of the oil derrick.

"Jake!" she called again, this time her plea swallowed by the howl of the storm.

The platform beneath her felt like a trap, the sea's rage a boundary she could not escape. Her sneakers slapped against the wet metal as she bolted away from the beam of light that had pinned her like an insect to a board.

Footfalls echoed hers. Faster. Hungrier. A chase had begun, and Cheryl was the quarry. Panic surged, propelling her forward even as the wind buffeted her slender frame. She was a yoga instructor, not a sprinter, but terror lent her speed she did not know she possessed.

Her foot hit a slick patch. The rain-sodden deck betrayed her, and she skidded, arms wheeling for balance. Metal clanged beneath her as she fought to stay upright. But gravity won. She fell to her knees, the impact jarring. Oil – the smell hit her nostrils, thick and acrid. It mingled with the brine of the sea, a nauseating cocktail that filled her lungs.

"Help!" The word burst from her lips, a desperate, ragged sound.

She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the sting of scraped skin. Behind her, the steps did not slow. Whoever pursued her was relentless, undeterred by the treacherous conditions.

She stumbled, hitting the ground.

The figure’s flashlight shone on her, like a spotlight.

Cheryl's palms pressed against the cold, wet metal as she heaved herself up from the unforgiving deck. Her breath came fast, each gasp a sharp jab in her lungs. Her heart hammered with such ferocity that it drowned out the storm's howl for a brief, thudding moment. She had to move, had to escape.

She bolted forward, rubber soles slipping on the drenched platform. Every step was a gamble against gravity, every movement a defiance of the slick surface beneath her. The figure behind her—a hulking silhouette against the tempest—gained ground.

Rain lashed at her face, each drop a needle against her skin. She blinked it away, squinting through the deluge. The ocean roared its fury, waves slamming into the oil derrick's legs with thunderous crashes. Salty spray mixed with rain, stinging her eyes, blurring her vision.

Where the hell was Jake?

And then she stumbled over something.

There, on the ground. Something warm. Slick with red. The scent of oil was tinged by a coppery odor.

She looked down, and the flashlight illuminated the corpse at her feet.

Her eyes widened.

She recognized those wide, unseeing eyes. That dark hair and the small scar above his lip from a football tackle gone awry.

"J-jake?"

His neck was slit.

The sight of blood, glistening wet under the harsh light, knifed through her shock. Cheryl’s stomach clenched violently, her heart a hammer against her ribs. The red soaked earth beneath Jake's lifeless form was a chilling testament to the sudden violence that had occurred.

She stared, lips parting in a silent scream. Her fingers twitched towards him, wanting to confirm the reality her mind rebelled against.

"No..." The denial slipped from her trembling lips, barely audible over the thunderous storm. But as the rain washed over her, mixed with her tears, there could be no denying the gruesome reality at her feet.

Panic welled in her chest, sharp and clawing. She turned away from Jake's body, the sight too much to bear. Her gaze darted around the platform, desperate for an escape route.

But there was nowhere to go. The storm had made a prison of the oil derrick.

And then she heard it again—those determined footfalls coming closer.

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