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墨書 Inktalez
After a brief moment of distraction, I began to shine the flashlight towards the pavement, directing it to the fourth direction. There were no trees there, just an expanse of water.
The tree we were on stood right at the water's edge, and from here, the pavement showed signs of swirling eddies. The water flowed rapidly, and the whirlpools grew larger as they merged with others, forming even bigger vortices. Branches and sections of tree trunks were sucked in and disappeared in an instant. Only some massive trunks managed to escape, even able to roll over the whirlpools.
I observed carefully. The Lao People clearly understood my thoughts, but they seemed to have little hope for my idea, perhaps thinking I was being unrealistic. They looked at me blankly, showing no enthusiasm; instead, they clasped their hands together and began to chant earnestly, as if making a final confession or prayer. It seemed they were truly desperate.
I climbed to the outermost branch of the tree, with the rushing water below me. At that moment, the water's color had become less murky; the One-Eyed Beast illuminated white frothy waves rising from it, indicating that the swamp had been washed clean by the flood.
The view here was expansive, with no leaves obstructing my sight; the vast body of water lay before me. Unfortunately, I could only rely on my instincts; the flashlight did not allow me to see further. I held the One-Eyed Beast in front of me and slowly turned my head with its light, trying to find hope for myself and for the Lao People.
My vision was above 15; although I hadn’t undergone a stricter eye examination, I could clearly see the last line on a standard vision chart. Of course, this was based on my pre-work examination results. However, I felt that my eyesight had not noticeably declined over the years; I could still see objects at the end of the One-Eyed Beast's beam. But the surrounding darkness absorbed too much of the flashlight's light, greatly affecting its penetration.
At one moment, the flashlight focused on a vague white line. I adjusted the aperture several times but couldn’t make my vision clearer; however, I sensed something was there. I immediately turned around and shouted to Buasong, gesturing for him to come over with his flashlight.
Having two flashlights together immediately clarified that white line. Buasong seemed to see something too; he stared intently at the end of the One-Eyed Beast's beam, forgetting his prayers.
The white line appeared to be a wave created by splashing water, and its position was fixed. If we could see a stationary wave line from such a distance, then that spot must be elevated ground where the flood was obstructed and redirected. Most importantly, that location should not be far; we might be able to reach it—of course, we would need a ferrying tool since swimming across was unrealistic.
However, it was beyond our capacity to clarify what lay there with just our flashlights; we needed to understand the terrain clearly because once we went down, there would be no chance for regret.
I took out one remaining handheld signal flare from my backpack and handed it to Buasong before pulling out my pistol to load bullets.
My right arm could manage light movements now, but throwing a signal flare tube was still quite challenging. Throwing it wouldn’t be a problem in itself but wouldn’t go far either. It would be better to leave this task to Buasong; we only had this one signal flare left—there would be no second chance.
Yes, I want to blow up this Signal Flare. The Signal Flare contains White Phosphorus, and if it explodes, the intense heat and brightness it releases can be deadly. Especially its brightness, which can illuminate a large area for a short time, is invaluable to us. Of course, I have my own thoughts; the first flare I threw bought me precious time to escape, but the White Phosphorus Residue that splattered on my arm caused a pain that still haunts me.
This time, I need to throw the flare while it is igniting. Setting aside whether it can be detonated by bullets before it ignites, in this dark environment, throwing it without igniting would mean the Flashlight cannot keep up with its speed. I cannot rely on instinct to hit it; it's no different from trying to hit a dog with a meat bun.
I loaded my gun and gestured to Buasong to explain my intention. Buasong had seen a flare burn before and recognized the flare tube I was holding; he immediately understood my plan and nodded confidently. I smiled at him and lit the flare.
I must admit that Lao People is quite strong; the flare tube shot into the sky with dazzling white light, and the White Phosphorus Fireworks rained down on Buasong like flowers scattered by a maiden. Buasong jumped around on the branches as if stepping on a landmine, letting out a horrific scream while white smoke billowed from him, emitting the smell of roasted meat as he retreated.
Amidst Buasong's wailing cries, my gunfire rang out. To ensure my shots wouldn't be affected, I deliberately distanced myself from Buasong. The White Phosphorus Fireworks illuminated the area clearly. Perched on a tree branch with both hands on my gun, I took careful single shots. Without a doubt, on the third shot, I blew up the flare tube.
With a loud bang of explosion, a flash of light illuminated the area like lightning, sustaining its brightness for about five seconds.
In that dazzling white light, I saw clearly that in front of me was a vast pool of water. Opposite the pool stood a hill resembling a dam; it rose sharply from the water without any gentle slope, standing there as if carved by divine hands. The water crashed against the dam, creating towering white waves.
This hill had an inward dip right in front of me, causing the rushing water to form numerous whirlpools as it flowed in here. The pool formed here but did not end here; countless swirling waters collided with the hill's inward dip and created larger whirlpools that rolled along the dam-like hill toward the left.
Our best escape point was undoubtedly not here; entering the water from this spot would likely get us swept into the dam's depression and smashed against it. It would be easier to cross this body of water either left or right, but we had no room for choice; those damned snakes seemed intent on forcing us into an inescapable dead end.
I looked unwillingly to both sides, searching for an opportunity to survive against all odds.
At that moment, louder cries from Lao People came from behind. The smell of roasting meat and a hand appeared simultaneously; this hand pointed toward the hill ahead—the dam—where at the highest point of the waves, there seemed to be a black shadow. I widened my eyes to look at that shadow as the light from the flare tube dimmed inconveniently, plunging everything back into darkness.
"What is that!?" I asked Buasong anxiously. I believed he must have seen it too.
"Hui Nan" Buasong shouted. And made a flowing movement with his hand gestures. That shadow is a Drainage Channel? Although I can't believe it, I can only understand it this way. But this is definitely good news, at least a hundred times better than being photographed to death on Dam. However, the shouts of Lao People did not stop. It was another Lao People who made short and fierce shouts.
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