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墨書 Inktalez
At this point, the Vietnamese paused, a complex expression on his face.
I stared at his face for a moment, then impatiently asked, "What sound? Don't keep me in suspense."
"Maybe it's the wind."
I nearly couldn't hold back a kick. If Fatty were here, the Vietnamese would have already been kicked like a dead dog. But if Fatty were around, the Vietnamese wouldn't dare say such things.
"Are you messing with me? Or are you trying to provoke my limits?"
I saw Jack adjusting his position on the bed; it seemed he also wanted to kick this guy, but the injury on his back prevented him from making any sudden movements.
"Brother Qiang, you misunderstood. I said maybe; I can't be sure it's the wind. The wind is strong on the mountain, and the noise is chaotic. I can hear a sharp howling sound among it; it could be the wind passing through a narrow gap, or it might not be."
I focused on the Vietnamese's face, pondering the meaning of his words.
"I've never heard such wind sounds. Moreover, that sound terrifies me."
I regretted calling A San over; he hadn't provided any valuable information and had purely come to annoy me. And he had succeeded in his mission.
I didn't send the Vietnamese away but waved for Buasong to come over, signaling him to lend me Tiger Claw.
With A San translating, Buasong taught me how to use Tiger Claw. It wasn't difficult to use, but mastering it wouldn't happen overnight. That wasn't a problem for me; I wasn't using it in an emergency situation to save myself. If I failed once, I could try again or even multiple times.
After sending away the Vietnamese and Lao People, I informed Jack about Fatty's discovery of Tang Yumo. Jack's first reaction was: "Who is Tang Yumo?"
I thought for a moment; he had been in a daze and semi-conscious state since encountering Fatty. Everyone probably appeared as a blurry figure in his eyes.
I stubbornly asked him, "Didn't Xiao Ting brief you on the situation? Can you really stay calm and not ask?"
“Xiao Ting, I need to calm down and rest lately. Don’t let me worry too much,” Jack said, a hint of shyness on his face.
I looked at Jack with a touch of sympathy. This guy's intelligence had seriously declined; he was always glued to Fatty and Xiao Ting. Was he blind? Still being so self-indulgent.
There was nothing I could do; no one was paying him any mind. Introducing the situation had become my job.
I rambled on until it was dark, finally bringing Jack up to speed on recent events. He had no idea why we were stuck in Hakka Village. When he heard we were in danger, his hands started flailing everywhere.
I was puzzled. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”
“Where’s my gun?” Jack asked, straightening his neck to look at me.
“It’s out of bullets; I threw it away.”
“No way. I remember having a few magazines left. Mine is an AK-47; that’s my gun. Mine!”
“I know it’s yours, and so is the Micro Submachine Gun. You got them from the Vietnamese. But look at you now. Can you even lift the AK-47? You might end up shooting yourself in the foot.”
“My injury is mainly on my back; my hands are fine.”
“Stop trying to be brave. You’ve got one arm out of commission; that gun is too heavy, and the recoil is too much for you.”
Jack propped himself up and sat up straight. He moved his arms a bit. “If you’re fine, then I’m fine too. I won’t be reckless about this. Tomorrow, you and Fatty go out. Do you think I’d rely on a woman for protection? Knowing how to shoot and having the guts to shoot are two different things. Besides, we’re dealing with real people here.”
I agreed with Jack’s viewpoint. Those who hadn’t experienced life-and-death situations found it hard to understand the pain of loss. Those who hadn’t faced bloody battlefields often lacked the courage to shoot at their own kind. I didn’t have that courage either, not like Fatty ’s decisiveness. But I felt Jack did; his calmness at certain moments far exceeded that of an Archaeology scholar.
I handed him the AK-47. “It’s empty. Try it out; if you can’t hold it, then forget it.”
Jack took the gun from me. “What about the bullets?”
I gestured toward the Vietnamese side with my eyes. “The guns and bullets are stored separately. If you think you can handle it, I’ll get you some bullets.”
Jack gripped the gun handle with one hand and attempted to lift the muzzle. It seemed to pull at the wound on his back, and I saw him grimace slightly. Then he switched to using both hands and effortlessly raised the gun.
I made a "K" gesture and returned to my room to grab the backpack filled with ammunition. Fatty and Xiao Ting were sitting by the side of the backpack, seemingly oblivious to my presence, their heads huddled together as they whispered something silently. Am I invisible?
I rushed back, tears in my eyes, and handed two magazines to Jack.
"That's all the bullets we have. There's some other stuff in the backpack that might save me in a critical moment."
"What is it?" Jack asked curiously.
"Here," I tossed the backpack onto his bed. "You can check for yourself."
"Zhang, you don't look well."
Isn't that obvious? If you took a look in the next room, you'd see someone who looks even worse than me.
I huffed, "I'm just tired."
"Aren't you just sitting here? I can see you with my eyes open; I haven't seen you move around at all. How could you be so tired?"
"Emotionally drained."
In truth, I was feeling incredibly frustrated inside. How could I lose out to Fatty in this regard? Isn't this supposed to be a time when looks matter?! I silently screamed within.
Jack clearly misunderstood, thinking that my thoughts were solely focused on the injured and how to get them out of this hellhole, which left me exhausted. A sincere look of apology crossed his face.
"Zhang, I'm sorry for dragging you into this. You've been worrying too much."
I felt like crying but had no tears left. "No need to be polite; we're all in this together."
I'm really not good at pretending to be cool; after saying that, my face felt a bit hot.
Fatty woke up early, as if there was a biological clock inside him that would wake him up whenever he wanted. He gestured for me to be quiet and nodded, signaling me to follow him as he quietly slipped out the door.
I glanced outside; it wasn't fully bright yet. It was still early, probably around three or four o'clock. I knew I had to get up early, so I had tried to block my ears while sleeping, but I didn't expect it to be this early—I was still half asleep.
I rubbed my still puffy face and quietly pulled out my gun from under the pillow, following Fatty out of the room.
Fatty was already downstairs at the Bamboo House, signaling me to keep my footsteps light. I was puzzled; was it really necessary? There was only one outsider in this Bamboo House, and they were practically half dead—who were we worried about waking up?
I tiptoed down the stairs of the Bamboo House. Fatty mouthed to me, "Keep up with me, move quickly but quietly."
That was quite a high and contradictory demand. I grabbed Fatty, who was about to turn away, and mouthed back, "It's so early that not even a ghost is around; what are you worried about?"
"You think I've been wandering around outside for nothing? Hurry up; let's see if we can shake that guy off today." (To Be Continued...)
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