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墨書 Inktalez
Actually, I was just confirming whether they still had any self-awareness. Upon receiving a negative answer, I would not hesitate to pull the trigger, turning this place into their grave, which would also be mine.
The prophecy of the Hakka People had become a joke; we had all become nourishment and sacrifices for the Zombie Fungus. It was truly tragic.
I maneuvered closer to them, trying to catch a glimpse of at least one person's face, especially their eyes. Verbal communication had become a luxury; I could only confirm their self-awareness by observing their eyes.
I succeeded. However, it wasn't due to my efforts.
Suddenly, a head that was clearly broken bent down at a ninety-degree angle and then twisted sideways at another ninety degrees. This face presented an incredible posture, revealing teeth that were definitely not smiling.
Did my adrenaline spike? Clearly not; various negative emotions left me feeling weak at that moment. I had to clench desperately to avoid losing control. That face scared me to the point of nearly wetting myself.
I was mentally prepared to shoot, but when the moment truly arrived, the pressure of pulling the trigger rendered me powerless. I struggled with all my might, yet it was difficult to move my right index finger that was resting on the trigger.
"Captain, don't shoot. It's me."
The voice did not come from the face directed at me; this head remained still. Yet those words sent my adrenaline surging.
"What the hell are you doing here? Filming a zombie movie? Is it really necessary to put on a show and scare people in this godforsaken place? I’m already close to losing my mind without any help."
"Don't look at my face, look down." The face with the strange expression finally spoke. Perhaps the flashlight was too glaring; after uttering those words, the face twisted back at a ninety-degree angle, returning to the state of a hanging ghost.
In that brief moment, I felt as if I had exhausted all my strength. It was more tiring than running a full marathon. I nearly collapsed to the ground, my hand holding the gun dropping uncontrollably like a pendulum, almost losing my grip on it.
The owner of that neck-twisting face was naturally Jack, wild like Fatty. Jack's meticulousness was evident even in that one sentence. They had their own consciousness and were very aware. This filled me with both surprise and anger.
I wanted to explode right then and there, but I was too exhausted and emotionally drained to vent my feelings. Moreover, I was curious about what had captivated their attention so completely on the ground. Was it a picture of a beautiful woman? Could it be that Tang Yumo liked this kind of thing too?
I staggered over and took a glance at what lay between them on the ground.
"Buzz."
A distinct sound echoed in my ears; perhaps it came from within my brain. I felt as if something had struck my mind—not hitting my head but piercing through my skull to strike directly at my brain. I finally lost control and fell to the ground.
Tang Yumo fell at the same time.
Sitting down on the ground shifted my perspective, allowing me to clearly see everyone's faces.
Of course, I was most concerned about Fatty, who was also in a teasing mood. However, upon seeing his face, I realized that his teasing words were purely instinctive, uttered without much thought. At that moment, the flesh on his face was truly sagging. His big eyes were blankly staring at the ground. Just looking at the ground, I couldn't even be sure he could see anything there; from my angle, his gaze seemed to be focused far away rather than on the ground right in front of him.
His dark face had turned pale, and beads of sweat covered his chubby cheeks as if he had just emerged from water.
Jack wasn't in any better shape than Fatty; his facial muscles were twisted and trembling slightly as he gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down from his hairy face.
I glanced at Tang Yumo, who had collapsed beside me. I raised my head and said, "Sit down; there's no need to hold on anymore."
"Damn it, that idiot deserves it for being so reckless," Fatty spat angrily as he sat down on the ground.
With Fatty sitting down, Jack fell to the ground in a state of exhaustion.
I ignored these two stubborn individuals and pointed at the ground, asking, "Who drew this? Was it you?" I nodded toward Jack.
Jack wiped the sweat from his face. "Yeah."
I took a deep breath. "Was it just drawn recently or...?"
At this point, I found myself short of breath—not because I was out of air, but because I couldn't believe or dare to voice my suspicion. I hoped I was just imagining things.
What I was pointing at was the ground. It was right at the center where the four of us were sitting and also where the three of them had stood in a perfect triangle earlier. There were two extremely similar markings there: two straight lines that were almost parallel, each with an arrow indicating direction at one end—specifically at the end facing our direction of travel.
I saw Jack tightly shut his eyes, taking a deep breath and shaking his head without opening them. "No. I don't have time to draw right now. Besides, the markers along the way are just single arrow markers. I think you did the same."
"We're lost," Fatty stated once again, drawing his conclusion.
I swallowed hard; my throat felt parched.
"The last time we confirmed our direction, the markers you made were double arrows. One pointed in our direction of travel, and the other pointed toward the target." I pointed at the marker on the ground and said to Jack, "Isn't that right?"
Jack opened his eyes and nodded.
"We've turned back. It seems we really are lost." I shot a glare at Fatty, the harbinger of bad news. "But our direction of travel matches the direction indicated by the arrows. How do you explain that? If we had come from another direction to get here, I think I could still accept it, even though it would be a blow to my sense of direction; it could still make some sense logically. But we came here moving forward—what's going on? Are we stuck in a loop or running into a wall?"
"I don't understand 'running into a wall,' but being stuck in a loop is quite possible." Jack rubbed his broken leg. "Also, this marker is indeed one I made, but I've made two identical markers; this is the first one. Do you remember? The first time you woke up, you were the only one asleep. During your slumber, we fired a flare to confirm our direction. I made this marker at that time."
"This marker?! You mean this is your first marker! Have we returned to where we started? What nonsense is American Guy talking about?" Fatty's voice erupted with disbelief and dissatisfaction like thunder.
It seems that Fatty would rather believe that this mark is the one Jack made last time than believe that we are back to Starting Point. My head has long been filled with fear and doubt, and I can't think normally at all. However, I found that although Jack was equally scared, he did not panic. It seemed that he had expected this outcome. "Who discovered this mark?" I asked, looking at Jack and then at Fatty. "Him." Fatty pointed at Jack. My eyes started to shine as I looked at Jack.
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