Chapter 3: Deadly Pursuit (1)
When the vicinity fell quiet, only early birds chattering in the trees, I sagged with relief.
I dug out Sylvie's phone from my bra, powered it on, and checked the map—the town called Yin Valley was at most five or six kilometers away. Over this mountain and following the ridgeline southeast, I'd originally have passed near Yin Valley's outlying villages.
So close. I'd nearly walked straight into a trap!
Yin Valley and Little Golden Port were close, practically in the same orbit. The two places were almost certainly connected.
I quit the map app and shut the phone off. Rerouting, I decided to swing an extra ten kilometers south to avoid Yin Valley's territory entirely.
After waiting a while longer, the sun rose, and I carefully emerged from the brush, circling back to last night's clearing. The fire pit was still warm with embers. I warmed my hands over the ashes, then found the empty Spam can and the drained Coke bottle left by the hunters.
The metal can was too heavy for me to repurpose—no energy for fabrication—so I took only the plastic bottle. On the trail, I collected dew from broad leaves, managing to fill it halfway.
Eating a little flatbread and drinking a few sips of dew-water, I descended the mountain, heading in the opposite direction from the hunters.
I was hungry, but I forced myself to ration. Based on my current pace, I could cover at most ten kilometers a day on mountain trails. Reaching safety on foot would take at least a week—my food wouldn't last. I couldn't afford to eat freely.
A healthy woman walks two to three kilometers per hour on flat ground. But my body was in terrible shape—low blood sugar and dizziness set in after just an hour or two of walking. I had to rest frequently.
And in a Southeast Asian tropical jungle, there were no real trails. One or two kilometers per hour was already pushing it.
On the new route, I needed to cross one more mountain before descending into a valley. Following the valley floor would let me bypass Yin Valley, and more importantly, a stream ran through it—water, and potentially easier terrain along its banks.
By now, blisters had formed on my soles, burning with every step.
I grew hungrier and hungrier. All I could hear was my own ragged breathing and the thunderous pounding of my heart.
Green—overwhelming, crushing, devouring green. Pale green, dark green, light green, deep green. Green pressing down on me from every side.
Only now, in this moment, did I fully comprehend the magnitude of the trouble I was in—past, present, and future. The fear seeped from my marrow, drop by drop.
Willpower has limits. It can't hold everything at bay. An ordinary body can't fight hunger and terror simultaneously forever.
At least, not for very long.
My ears rang, my tongue went numb. I sat down heavily on a relatively flat patch of mud, hands trembling as I tore open the pressed cake and bit off a tiny morsel.
The mixed sweetness soothed my shaking heart.
The sugar melted slickly in my mouth. I wiped the sweat from my eyelids with a dirty sleeve.
The scents of the mountains pressed into my nostrils.
Indian rosewood, sal trees, palms with ribbed fronds—all towering, dense, hard-wooded, casting dark dappled shadows and fracturing the sky into fragments, with only slivers of light falling on the wet leaves below.
The vast mountain ranges gave the illusion of never-ending expanse. Insects buzzed, drongo birds screamed, all of it grating on my nerves.
I swallowed the sweet-bitter saliva, hauled myself upright, and walked on.
Keep walking. Follow the river, like Cry told me, all the way home.
The forest possessed a coarse, tremendous power—tens of thousands of years of unbridled growth. An intruder in this endless green would be swallowed without so much as a ripple.
Walk. Keep walking. Drag your bleeding feet. Carry your aching spine.
Don't stop.
From morning to dusk, from dimness to clarity.
"Crack!"
My foot slipped on wet moss, and I went sprawling—tumbling down a slope, branches whipping my face.
I curled into a ball, bruised and leaf-covered. Hunger, exhaustion, and frustration converged—my strength gave out, and I couldn't get up.
I lay on the ground for several minutes, the ringing in my ears gradually fading. Then I heard it: the sound of rushing water.
A river.