I awoke at ten that night. I had slept like a dead man, but once I opened my eyes I could sleep no more. There remained a single soldier keeping watch over camp. He was feeling rather embarrassed about having thoughtlessly fallen asleep while he stood sentry, so I told him I would take his place. He refused to leave his post. I didn’t force the issue. I had served in the regular army and understood that mentality. Once again I was starving to death. I found some rations and set them to boil. As the smell of cooking food began to waft through the air, Wang Sichuan and the other two came stumbling over, one after the other. They all crowded around. After having traveled at a fast clip all day and then falling asleep on an empty stomach, everyone was terribly hungry. One pot of food was not enough. I cooked another half pot. Fortunately, our superiors had been generous in estimating how long the exploration would take. Our stock of food would last another week, though none of us believed we’d be down here that long. Although our condensed field rations did contain additional dehydrated vegetable powder, eating too much would undoubtedly be harmful to one’s health. As for the few condensed vegetable packs we carried with us, they tasted disgusting.
Our spirits improved with dinner, and after smoking a postmeal cigarette, we felt invincible. Once more we attempted to cajole the soldier on watch into taking a break, but again he refused. Wang Sichuan handed him a few cigarettes, and these at least he accepted. We ached all over. As we relaxed, we alternated between massaging our sore spots and pondering what the next day would bring. Who knew what the rest of our route would be like? If it continued like this the whole way, then we’d better leave our rafts here. Otherwise, if today’s progress was any indication, we’d never have enough food or supplies to make it back out.
The way Pei Qing saw it, someone should be sent ahead to investigate the route while the rest of us stayed behind. In six or seven hours, this person would be able to travel a long way. When he returned, we’d have a much clearer idea of what we were facing. This idea didn’t sit well with me. After yesterday’s events, any proposal that involved splitting the group seemed unsafe. Wang Sichuan, however, agreed with Pei Qing’s suggestion. Given how slowly we were progressing, the most pressing issue was the fuel for our lanterns and the batteries for our flashlights. Without those tools, we’d be dead meat in a place as dark as this. Thus, sending someone ahead to explore had an additional benefit: it would allow us to familiarize ourselves with the route and cut down on the use of lights when we continued on as a group. Wang Sichuan said that if I was worried about the danger, we could send half the group on ahead, as opposed to just one or two people. Yesterday’s accident had occurred due to recklessness, he said, and added that if he’d been there, he would have warned the soldier to be careful. Pei Qing regarded Wang Sichuan coldly. It was obvious he’d been speaking to Pei Qing. Wang Sichuan was about to say something else, but I stopped him.
Wang Sichuan was a superb fellow in every respect, but he was too righteous for his own good. The accident had already occurred, and now all we could do was accept it. Staring at Pei Qing and blaming him for what had happened was simply a way for Wang Sichuan to escape the reality of the situation. I was convinced that Pei Qing felt awful inside. Moreover, even if he’d managed to stop the young soldier from climbing down and gone himself instead, there was no way to say that a tragedy would have been prevented. Just because Pei Qing was more experienced, it by no means meant that he would have discovered the iron netting before it was too late. In the end, it could very well have been Pei Qing, not the soldier, who lost his footing and fell to his death. But this wasn’t something that Wang Sichuan wanted to hear.
Then, as the atmosphere grew tense once more, a metallic clang suddenly rang out. We all jumped. The pealing of metal striking rock was amplified, bouncing off the cave walls, becoming nearly unbearable. Turning, I saw Chen Luohu had dropped the large metal basin he’d been eating from, spraying rice gruel all over the ground. He was looking in our direction, his body trembling all over. Wang Sichuan gave him a look of irritation and asked what the hell was the matter. The sentry turned from behind Chen Luohu and, as he rotated, the look on his face changed. With a clack he pulled back the rifle bolt and, his voice quavering, began to yelclass="underline" “Squad leader! Deputy squad leader!”
We all turned to where Chen Luohu was looking. Cold sweat covered my body. There, standing on the rock opposite, someone had appeared. The stranger stared at us, not moving, not saying a word.
CHAPTER 12
The Stranger
The boulder we were camped on was relatively large, the rocks surrounding it all at least fifteen feet from us. Beneath us we could hear the constant trickle of the river flowing under the rocky shoal. The flickering light of our campfire illuminated the outline of the stranger’s body, but the face remained darkened. The members of our group were all accounted for. This person was not one of us. But we were in a section of pitch-black river deep underground, two hundred feet from the nearest point on the surface, the devil only knows how far from the closest village. Who else could possibly be down here?
In an instant, the cold sweat had soaked through my clothes. I hurriedly stepped back. The deputy squad leader and the rest of the soldiers had all been sleeping lightly. As soon as they heard our cry, they rushed from their bags. Seeing our expressions, they turned to where we were facing, gasped in surprise, and loaded their weapons. Quick as could be, five rifles were aimed across the way.
“Who’s there?” shouted the deputy squad leader.
The other did not respond, just stood rigidly in place, not moving at all.
We gulped. Wang Sichuan was the bravest among us. “Pei Qing,” he called out, “your flashlight—shine it over there.”
Pei Qing cautiously raised his flashlight. As the light illuminated the figure, we were all taken aback. Somehow, the uniform matched ours exactly, even down to the Sam Browne belt across the chest. It was the military dress of the PLA, but every inch of clothing was soaked with blood. Though it was hidden beneath a helmet, we could discern a bloody sheen coating the stranger’s face as well.
I felt the blood rush from my face. Who could this be? My body had turned ice-cold, as if I had fallen through a hole in a frozen pond.
Wang Sichuan began to curse in Mongolian. Then one of the soldiers cried out, “It’s Big Beard! Big Beard’s not dead!” Saying this, he made to drop his weapon and climb over to where the stranger stood.
“Stay where you are!” yelled the deputy squad leader, his eyes bloodshot. “Can’t you see what he looks like? Look closely now!”
All of us understood what he meant. Had Big Beard truly not died, he would have called over to us as soon as we were in sight. Instead he stood there motionless, stiffly watching us like some reanimated corpse. The soldier lacked the courage to move any closer, and we remained deadlocked. A blue vein bulged across the deputy squad leader’s forehead. Clearly, there was no good way to resolve this standoff.
Pei Qing had also hoisted a rifle. Swallowing deeply, he looked straight at me and asked, “What do we do now?”
If you’re asking me, I thought, then who am I going to ask? If this person really was the martyred young soldier, then we were all finished. This morning we’d given him his funeral rites, his death already a certainty. Was it possible that the dead could walk? In my mind I rapidly rifled through a number of different solutions, until at last I spied the large metal basin. Picking it up, I handed it to Pei Qing. “Throw this over there and let’s see what he does,” I said.