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墨書 Inktalez
A faint echo of my voice lingered in the air. Far below on the stairs, Heimanluo responded with a roar, but aside from that, there was no other sound around me.
My eyes scanned the surroundings continuously, but with someone on my back and my knees aching, I could only turn my neck to observe. At that moment, I felt utterly powerless to resist even if a great danger were to descend upon us.
When my gaze shifted towards Fatty, I noticed he had turned his face in my direction. He was positioned a bit higher on the stairs, and the firelight illuminated his face clearly. I saw beads of sweat the size of soybeans hanging from his forehead, and fear twisted his features as his wide eyes stared at me in terror.
"What’s going on?" Fatty asked me in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
I was momentarily stunned. Here he was, looking like a frightened rabbit, yet he was asking me what was happening. However, the panic etched on Fatty's face and the low tone of his voice indicated that something truly frightening had him rattled.
I replied in the softest voice I could muster. "How would I know what’s going on? What’s wrong with you? Did you notice something?"
Fatty's eyes darted around before he shifted his weight, turning his back to me and muttering, "It hurts like hell; I've got two shrapnel pieces stuck in my ass. Pull them out for me."
As he turned around, I finally saw that indeed two pieces of grenade shrapnel were embedded in him. Blood oozed from the wounds, soaking through his pants. A wave of frustration washed over me; it turned out Fatty was trembling all over because of the pain from those shrapnel pieces. But looking at those wounds made me worry even more.
"Damn it, don’t tell me you’ve severed an artery. How careless can you be to stick your ass out like that?"
"Don’t stand there talking nonsense; just hurry up and help me out! If I don’t stick my ass out, am I supposed to use my head to block the shrapnel?!" Hearing this made Fatty agitated. "Forget about whether I'm bleeding or not; just pull out the shrapnel first—it's too damn painful; I can’t even stand."
I realized he had a point. While excessive bleeding could be fatal, it wouldn’t kill him immediately. But if we didn’t get up and run soon, Heimanluo would catch up with us in no time. This was an urgent danger.
I took a few steps forward while carrying Jack on my back and pulled out the two deeply embedded pieces of shrapnel.
Fatty howled like a wolf for a moment before turning to ask me, "Do you have anything to stop the bleeding?"
I didn't look at Fatty's face; instead, I shook my head at the sight of his bleeding wound. With this amount of blood loss, it would be difficult for him to keep running to the platform at the top of the altar.
"There's no other choice," Fatty gritted his teeth and pulled two bullets from his backpack. He used a Hakka Straight Knife to slice open one of the bullets, handing me the one filled with gunpowder. "Pour it on the wound."
"This can stop the bleeding?" I asked incredulously.
Fatty turned his head, presenting both his face and backside to me, the flesh on top quivering slightly. "Just light it up, and it'll stop the bleeding."
Hearing that made me sweat. "Will it work? Don't end up crippled."
"That's obvious. Being crippled is better than dying. Just do it."
I gritted my teeth and brought the lighter close to the mixture of blood and gunpowder.
'Sizzle'
A burst of light and smoke rolled before my eyes, and a deafening scream nearly knocked me over. Then, surprisingly, I caught a whiff of roasted meat. As the light and smoke from the gunpowder dissipated, I saw that part of Fatty's hefty backside was already cooked. But the bleeding had indeed stopped.
It seemed to hurt a lot; Fatty's flesh continued to tremble, including the part that was cooked.
"The other wound doesn't seem to have hit an artery; we shouldn't need to burn it again."
Upon hearing this, Fatty immediately waved his hand. "Then let's skip it, Brother."
We had wasted a bit of time here. Below us, Heimanluo charged into the Fire Sea once more, seemingly fearless, determined to clash with us to the bitter end as he surged upward.
"Can you walk?" I glanced at Heimanluo below and quickly asked Fatty.
I couldn't carry two people up the stairs at the same time. With Fatty's weight, he alone could easily crush me. If he couldn't make it up on his own, I feared I would have to say a tearful goodbye.
Fatty stood up, gritting his teeth. "No problem."
I gave him a thumbs up. I genuinely admired him; as long as he wasn't dying anytime soon, there was no way he'd admit defeat.
Fatty gave me a smile that looked more painful than crying. "What about you? Can you carry American Guy? If not, then you carry me."
I shook my head. Even if he were in perfect condition, I still wouldn't be able to hand Jack over to him; that would be like abandoning him here.
"Alright then, but we need to hurry; Heimanluo is coming."
Fatty leaned toward me and glanced at Jack on my back. Then he turned around and let out a few chuckles.
Hearing him laugh made me uneasy. At a time like this, whatever made him laugh surely wasn't good news. Was it about Jack? Suddenly, I realized Jack had been lying on my back for quite some time without reacting. He hadn't said a word while I treated Fatty's wounds; now would have been the perfect moment for him to sarcastically jab at Fatty.
Just as I was about to take Jack off my back, I heard him emit a series of broken cries. It sounded like this: "Ah ah ah."
It was as if he couldn't exhale all the air in his lungs at once.
At that moment, Fatty turned around, serious. "Good job; lay him flat so the shrapnel in his back can go in too."
I had my back to Jack when I took him off; he was still lying sideways on the ground, and I hadn't had the chance to lay him flat yet. But upon hearing Fatty's words, everything clicked into place. No wonder Fatty envied me for carrying Jack; he wanted to use American Guy as a meat shield.
I never really thought about it this way. But I felt that I could never explain this clearly. When I turned to look at Jack, I was surprised to see a hint of resentment in his eyes.
What the hell, this was the first time in my life I had seen such an expression in a man's eyes. It made me feel more nauseous than swallowing a fly. I have nothing against homosexuality, but if this were happening to me, I just couldn't handle it.
On Jack's side, there was a piece of shrapnel lodged under his ribs, almost completely embedded in his flesh due to the weight of his body, with one edge exposed in a crescent shape. The problem was that he also had several pieces of grenade shrapnel stuck in his back. I didn't know whether to lay him flat or keep him in this position.
As for Fatty, who feigned concern while reveling in the situation, I had no choice but to curse him silently. I didn't have time to hesitate or even to treat Jack's wounds; after a brief moment of shock, I hoisted Jack back onto my shoulders.
"Hang in there; we don't have time to deal with your wounds right now. We'll take care of it once we're out alive." With that, I started running upward.
"I'll hold them off," Fatty volunteered. "From this angle, it's clear and satisfying."
I turned my head to see Fatty looking at Jack on my back with a satisfied expression. It seemed that the shrapnel sticking into Jack's back gave him some twisted sense of balance.
(To Be Continued...)
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