Chapter 152
Chapter 152
A speck of gray moved through the snow-white world.
It was barely noticeable in the darkness. She did not walk quickly, and every step was cautious. Through the clear plastic visor of her mask, her eyes constantly swept her surroundings. The slightest movement was enough to make her stop and stare for a long time.
How long had she been walking?
She didn’t know.
She lowered her head and looked at the packed snow beneath her feet. Her footprints trailed behind her, one crooked step after another, only to be quickly covered by fresh snow.
She couldn’t help licking her lips.
Her tongue touched a layer of cracked skin. The dryness spread from her lips down her throat and into her chest. She swallowed, but there was nothing to swallow. It felt as though someone had stuffed a fistful of sand down her throat.
It had been a long time since she’d had any water.
She stopped and felt her backpack. It was limp and almost weightless. There wasn’t much food left inside.
Two more days at most.
She zipped it shut and stood there, staring out over the endless expanse of snow. Then she crouched and scooped up a handful.
The snow was bitterly cold. She could feel it even through her thick gloves. After hesitating, she brought it to her mouth, pulled open her mask, and stuffed it in.
The cold made her teeth ache and numbed her tongue. But she didn’t spit it out. She pressed her lips together and let the snow slowly melt into water before trickling down her throat.
The burning emptiness finally eased a little.
But this wasn’t a solution. Eating snow would only make her thirstier. She only dared take a little when her thirst became unbearable.
If she ate too much, her body would use up what little water it had left just to process the snow, trapping her in a vicious cycle.
If only she could find a lighter… Then she could melt the snow and finally soothe the thirst burning all the way from her throat to her stomach.
It wasn’t as though she hadn’t tried starting a fire with sticks. She understood the theory, but every attempt had ended in failure. All she had done was waste precious energy.
She brushed the remaining snow from her gloves, pulled her mask back into place, and stood.
There was a tree nearby, crooked and bare, its branches laden with snow. She slung her gun securely over her back, wrapped both arms around the trunk, and began climbing.
Snow shook loose beneath her boots and showered down. The branches were slippery, and she nearly lost her grip several times. Still, she made it up and straddled a relatively sturdy branch before taking a pair of binoculars from inside her coat.
She raised them and peered into the distance.
Nothing lay before her but an endless field of white. She slowly panned the binoculars from left to right, scanning from near to far.
There really was nothing.
She lowered the binoculars, leaned against the trunk, and caught her breath.
Then a voice drifted through the wind.
“…Help… me…”
Her entire body tensed. The voice came in broken fragments, making it impossible to tell which direction it was coming from. She raised the binoculars again and slowly swept them around.
“…Help me…”
It was clearer this time. A woman’s voice, hoarse and full of despair.
She frowned.
A trap set by the Madmen.
That was her first thought. She had seen this trick plenty of times. Madmen would imitate human voices and call for help, luring people close before swarming them.
She wanted nothing to do with it.
She lowered the binoculars and prepared to climb down.
But then the voice called out again. “The one in gray… You, in the gray clothes… I know you’re there… I’m not one of the Madmen…”
“I don’t need you to save me… They’re gone right now. Just put me out of my misery, please… I have food. Kill me, and you can take it…”
The woman was already speaking incoherently. It was obvious she had endured unimaginable torment.
The gray-clad woman’s movements stopped abruptly.
Food.
She hesitated for three seconds, then slid down from the tree, gripped her gun tightly, and crept toward the voice.
She moved slowly, placing each foot as lightly as possible to avoid making a sound. Her muzzle remained trained ahead as she stared through the falling snow at every tree and every clump of brush.
The voice grew closer and clearer.
“…Please… They’ve gone away…”
Crouching behind a thicket of dead brush, she finally saw it. Up on the hillside, someone was hanging upside down from a tree.
A woman.
A rope had been tied around her ankles, leaving her dangling headfirst from a branch. Her face was flushed dark red from the blood rushing to her head. Her hair hung down into the snow, matted with snow and mud.
Both her arms were gone. Below her shoulders, there was nothing. Someone had haphazardly wrapped the wounds in strips of filthy cloth, but blood had continued seeping through, staining the fabric black.
Hearing footsteps, the woman desperately tried to raise her head. Her face was frighteningly pale, her eyes sunken and her lips cracked.
“Hurry…” Her voice was so hoarse it was barely audible, every word forced painfully from her throat. “Please… put me out of my misery…”
Her body swayed from the rope.
“They won’t come back right now… You can stab me to death if you want… Please…”
The figure in gray stood still. She looked at the woman, then shifted her gaze away.
At the foot of the tree was a backpack, mostly buried in the snow with only one corner sticking out.
She didn’t dare get too close. Using a branch, she hooked the backpack and slowly dragged it toward her.
She opened the zipper.
There were a few things inside: half a bottle of water, several compressed biscuits, a few packages of bread, and a small bag of some unidentifiable dried food.
She stared at the supplies. Behind her, the woman’s voice continued.
“…Please… kill me…”
The figure in gray zipped the backpack shut and slung it over her shoulder. Then she rose, turned around without looking back, and left.
The supplies inside would be enough to keep her alive until the airdrop arrived.
Now she only needed to find somewhere to rest.