Have we reached the end of the Underground River? Or have we strayed from it?
Leaving behind the fragrant bonfire, my attention, along with the beam of the One-Eyed Beast Flashlight, was mostly focused on the ceiling above and the path ahead, while constantly keeping an eye on my feet to avoid tripping. Occasionally, I would check our direction by shining the light on the Wood Chip Dam along the riverbank. It felt like we hadn’t deviated from our course.
However, the silence of the surroundings made me uneasy. I swung the beam of the One-Eyed Beast Flashlight toward the riverbank. A vague outline of the Wood Chip Dam appeared in my line of sight.
With Jack on my back, I walked toward the Wood Chip Dam.
My mood did not lighten despite confirming that we were heading in the right direction; instead, I felt increasingly anxious. At this moment, any change in our environment could bring unknown variables. Although we couldn’t change whether things got better or worse, I actually hoped for a change because continuing like this without any variation felt more hopeless than facing something new.
Yet, my current intuition was grim; I sensed danger. I loathed this feeling, but I trusted it nonetheless.
Was this still the Wood Chip Dam I had once climbed? As I approached that straight and seemingly endless Wood Chip Dam, I found myself questioning.
At this point, the Wood Chip Dam was only sparsely covered with fragments of wood, and it was further away from the riverbank. I stepped on the wood chips with my foot; they were dry and brittle, severely decayed. With one step, they crumbled into powder, sending a cloud of dust into the air. It was clear that such dry wood chips wouldn’t harbor any earthworms.
The temperature had dropped significantly here. Carrying Jack along with two backpacks and two guns, I didn’t feel cold; instead, I was drenched in sweat. Standing still for just a moment made my wet clothes give me chills all over.
I asked Jack, “How long have we been walking?”
Jack held his wrist with a glow-in-the-dark watch in front of me. I glanced at it; four hours had passed. I could only gauge our distance based on time; I knew that at our pace, we couldn’t have traveled far in four hours.
But I was exhausted too, so I decided to take a break. It would also give me a chance to check on Jack’s condition if possible. Letting him walk on his own seemed impractical; I felt that the roasted bat meat in my stomach had nearly been consumed during these four hours. Carrying him was becoming an increasingly heavy burden.
I started a small fire. The temperature was too low, and my damp clothes made me shiver; if I didn’t dry them out, I would surely catch a cold. Here, any illness could be fatal.
A pot of water boiled over the fire while my clothes dried beside it. Jack could sit up now, his legs spread wide apart as he awkwardly huddled by the fire to warm himself. He had no food in his stomach and needed the warmth from the flames to raise his body temperature.
Food had become a significant problem for us. Initially thinking that knowing bat meat was edible would solve our food source issue, it now seemed we were moving further away from the bat cave. The giant bats showed no signs of moving downstream toward the Underground River either. There wouldn’t even be any earthworms around here—those disgusting creatures.
Turn back? The moment that thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it myself. Turning back might yield some food but would likely lead us to encounter that Long-Tailed Monster again. I had no confidence in dealing with it.
Moreover, Lao people and Vietnamese were also moving downstream on the opposite bank of the Underground River. They were either continuing their journey in darkness or had already lit a bonfire waiting for our rescue. If we turned back now to solve our food problem, we would only plunge them into despair. We needed to find a way to cross the river instead of retreating.
Thinking about crossing made my scalp tingle with dread. The bloodsucking insects in the river sent chills down my spine. But aside from swimming across, I couldn’t think of any other way to get across.
I was racking my brain for a solution when I suddenly heard Jack scream.
I tossed aside the half-dried clothes I had been roasting and reached for my gun. Looking up, I saw the anger in Jack's eyes. His face was no longer so swollen, and his eyes expressed some emotion.
I shouted anxiously, "What happened!?"
"You touched my stuff!" Jack said indignantly.
It was then that I noticed one of his hands rummaging through his backpack.
"What junk do you have in that bag that's worth me touching? If I did, it was to lighten the load," I retorted angrily.
The atmosphere here was already tense and oppressive enough; his sudden outburst only added to the stress.
"What about my cigarettes?"
Damn. It suddenly hit me that I had indeed touched his belongings.
While I was trying to help him recover and keeping an eye on that monster, I had found something to occupy myself with. Among those things, I had taken the bottle of cigarettes from his backpack and smoked them all. He valued those few cigarettes more than life itself; if I admitted it, he would probably hold a grudge against me for life. There was even a chance he might explode right here.
"Here's the thing." I feigned calmness as I picked up the clothes I had thrown on the ground and continued to roast them over the fire. "You were poisoned at the time, and I tried many methods to detoxify you. Smoking was one of them. It worked well; look, the swelling on your body has gone down quickly, right? That was because of the smoke."
"Stop talking nonsense." Jack jumped up from the ground.
My eyes lit up. "You can walk now? You can walk by yourself but still expect me to carry you? That's just cruel!" I almost drove this American guy crazy.
Jack chuckled sheepishly. "I just realized I could move." But then he quickly put on a serious face. "I had seven cigarettes in that bottle, and you didn't leave a single one for me. Also, how could you go through someone else's stuff? That's just unethical."
This American guy infuriated me. It was unethical for me to rummage through his backpack, but it was perfectly reasonable for him to play dead and expect me to carry him all the way?
"Just remember, you owe me again—no, you owe me seven times," Jack said, his words both ridiculous and unreasonable.
I fired back angrily. "What about me carrying you? How does that count? By your logic, you'll never be able to repay that debt in this lifetime."
Jack suddenly showed a fierce expression, bending down to pick up a stone from the ground. With a menacing tone, he said, "Then I'll settle the score all at once."
He swung his arm and threw the stone at me.
I never expected Jack to do something so insane. Looking at his reddened eyes, I realized he had completely lost it.
The distance between us was too close, and I never thought he would go mad; I wasn't even prepared to dodge. I cursed under my breath, feeling that in this moment, I could only manage to utter one word, but that complete phrase was necessary to express my anger.
Right within my reach was my loaded Micro Submachine Gun, but I couldn't pull the trigger. I was just as frantic, yet I hadn't lost my mind.
To my surprise, my venomous curse came out in full. At the same time, both the stone and Jack flew over my head.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that the target of that stone was not me.
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