Chapter Ten: The Offering

The road beneath the ridge was a dirt track carved by wheels, riddled with ruts of varying depths. Empty shell casings lay discarded at the roadside, along with a blood-stained fragment of bandage. The wind swept sand across the path, raising a choking cloud of dust.

Men in black uniforms already stood beneath the city gate, distant figures rigid as shadows. They didn’t advance, merely stood guard with guns raised, as if waiting, or warning.

“They’re not here to welcome us,” Li said, licking his cracked lips. The muzzle of his hunting rifle unconsciously dipped. “That flag—I’ve seen something similar in the southern ruins. It’s the mark of the Black Bone Camp.”

“Black Bone Camp?” Tao asked.

“A bunch of lunatics,” Li’s voice tightened. “They survive by looting and allegedly feed live captives to the mutated creatures, saying it ‘soothes’ the monsters. A merchant caravan once tried to trade with them—neither people nor goods were ever seen again.”

Chen Mo paused, glancing back at Tao and the child on her back. The little one slept still, lashes dusted with sand, lips curled in a faint smile, perhaps dreaming of candy.

“If we turn back now, the Hyena Gang’s remnants might just be behind us,” he murmured. “At least Black Bone Camp hasn’t opened fire yet.”

The end of the dirt road grew clearer. A drawbridge spanned the moat, its planks blackened with rot, gaps revealing greenish water below where fragments floated—perhaps animal bones.

As they approached the drawbridge, the black-uniformed men under the gate stirred. A tall figure stepped forward, his megaphone crackling, then a coarse voice barked, “Stop.”

Chen Mo raised his hand to halt the group and walked forward three steps. “We want to enter the fortress.”

“The fortress?” The voice through the megaphone laughed, a malicious edge to its ridicule. “Got a pass?”

“No,” Chen Mo replied, “but we have useful items.” He drew a lighter from his pack—brass-cased, scavenged from the one-eyed corpse, still functional.

The tall man took the lighter, inspecting it, then tossed it back. “Just this?”

“And this,” Tao lifted the child higher on her back. “She needs water and food.”

The tall man’s gaze lingered on the child’s face, cold as ice. “Black Bone Camp doesn’t support idlers. Either work, or—” he pointed at the moat, “feed the fish.”

“We can work,” Chen Mo responded quickly. “She can repair things, I hunt, and he—” he glanced at Li’s injured arm, “can stand watch.”

The tall man was silent for several seconds. The megaphone whispered indistinctly, as if conferring with others. After a moment, he spoke again, “Hand over your weapons, submit to a search. If nothing’s wrong, you’re allowed in.”

“No,” Tao said at once, hand moving to her waist for her gun.

“If you won’t hand over your weapons, leave,” the megaphone’s voice hardened. Guns in black uniforms rose in unison, aimed at them.

Chen Mo pressed Tao’s wrist, shaking his head, then unbuckled his entrenching tool and tossed it beside the bridge. “The gun’s on her—just one, eight bullets.”

The tall man waved, and two black-uniformed men approached, searching them roughly. From Tao’s waist they pulled an M1911, removed the magazine to check it, and found the knife hidden in her boot. They took even Chen Mo’s lighter from his pocket. Li’s hunting rifle was confiscated, though his bandaged arm was left untouched—perhaps the injury seemed no threat.

“Go in.” The tall man stepped back, the drawbridge lowering with a groan. “Don’t wander. Anyone found on the streets after seven at night will be shot on sight.”

Crossing the bridge, the stench from the moat was overpowering, like rotting flesh mixed with chemicals. Tao instinctively held the child closer, quickening her pace across the stone path.

Beyond the gate stretched a broad street, flanked by houses cobbled together from scrap steel and bricks, their walls painted with the Black Bone Camp’s skull insignia. A few ragged people squatted by the roadside, eyes dull as they watched, rusty tools in their hands, as if just finished with their work.

“Follow me.” A black-uniformed man led the way briskly. “You’ll be assigned to the west district, moving stone tonight.”

The west district was a construction site. Workers pushed carts laden with massive stones, stacking them into a new low wall. Corpses wrapped in burlap were piled in the corners, flies buzzing incessantly around them.

“What are those…” The child had awakened, rubbing her eyes and pointing timidly at the corpses.

“Don’t ask,” Chen Mo whispered, pressing her head against his shoulder.

The black-uniformed man led them to a shabby hut, its door a sheet of iron painted with a red cross. “This is your lodging. Dinner will be delivered. Work begins at six tomorrow morning. One minute late and you lose half your ration.” With that, he turned and left, boots ringing sharply on the gravel.

Inside, there were only two plank beds, a heap of dry grass in the corner, and a pervasive smell of mildew. Li leaned against the wall, peeling back his bandage to inspect his arm—the wound had begun to blacken. “Damn, not even a bit of medicine in this dump.”

Chen Mo walked to the window, which was welded shut with iron bars, offering a view of black-uniformed patrols outside. “Hold steady,” he said. “Wait for a chance to reclaim our weapons, then find water and medicine.”

“How?” Tao nestled the child on a bed, making a small nest from dry grass. “There are at least a dozen guns outside.”

“They’ll change shifts at night,” Chen Mo watched the patrol’s pace. “During shift change, there’ll be a three-minute gap. The warehouse at the southwest corner likely holds the confiscated weapons.”

Suddenly, the child tugged Tao’s sleeve, pointing outside. “Sister, someone’s coming.”

A tall, thin black-uniformed man arrived with a metal tray—four blackened loaves and a bowl of murky water. “Food.” He set the tray on the floor, his gaze sweeping the room, finally lingering on the child, lips curling in a strange smile. “This little one’s fair-skinned, not like those sent here before.”

Tao pulled the child behind her, glaring coldly.

The man snorted and left without another word.

The bread was rock-hard, scraping their throats when bitten, and the water tasted of earth. The child nibbled at the bread and suddenly spat out a small stone.

“Don’t eat anymore,” Tao broke her own bread and gave half to the child. “Wait till we find clean food.”

As night fell, whistles sounded outside, followed by shouts from the black uniforms—likely urging workers indoors. By moonlight, Chen Mo sketched a rough map on the wall, marking the patrol routes and warehouse location.

“Li, can you manage your injury?” he asked.

Li grinned, exposing a missing tooth. “Won’t die. At worst, I’ll gamble everything—better than waiting here for death.”

The child lay on the dry grass, eyes wide, staring at the hole in the roof. “Sister, there’s no candy here, and no soft bed.”

“There will be,” Tao stroked her head gently. “When we get out, I’ll find you candy and the softest bed.”

Late at night, the patrols’ footsteps faded. Chen Mo signaled, and the three slipped quietly out. Moonlight was shrouded by clouds, darkness thick, only torches swaying at distant sentry posts.

The warehouse door was locked, but the lock was old. Chen Mo dug out a thin wire from the grass pile and popped it open in seconds.

Inside, the warehouse was packed with junk, smelling of rust and oil. In the corner, their weapons were piled as expected.

“Found them!” Li reached for his hunting rifle, but footsteps and voices sounded outside.

“…That kid looks good. Tell the boss tomorrow—send her to the ‘Inner Yard’…”

It was the black-uniformed man who brought dinner!

Tao’s hand clenched, nails digging into her palm. Inner Yard? She recalled the scavenger’s talk of the ‘meat shop’, stomach churning.

Chen Mo signaled for silence, gesturing toward the warehouse’s dark recesses. The three hid, holding their breath.

The door swung open, torchlight flickered in, illuminating dust motes. “Odd, the lock’s open?” The man sounded puzzled.

Another voice said, “Whatever, grab something and go. The boss wants a ‘sacrifice’ tonight—might get extra water.”

Sacrifice? Tao’s heart sank.

The two black uniforms took rifles and found a metal bucket in the corner, filled with dark red liquid, reeking of blood.

“Hurry, don’t keep the boss waiting.”

The door shut again, footsteps faded.

Chen Mo emerged from the shadows, his face icy in the moonlight. “We can’t let her go to the Inner Yard.” He picked up the M1911, checked the magazine, and handed it to Tao. “We leave now.”

“Where to?” Li gripped his rifle, voice taut. “The drawbridge will be guarded.”

“The moat.” Chen Mo pointed outside. “I saw a stretch downstream where the wall’s low and the water shallow.”

They had barely reached the warehouse door when a distant scream pierced the night, sharp as a blade. Then came the snarls of mutated creatures, drawing closer.

“It’s the sacrifice!” Li’s voice trembled. “They really feed live people to the mutants!”

Torches on the wall wavered, shouts rang out: “Raise the drawbridge! The mutated creatures are charging!”

In the chaos, patrols rushed to the wall, leaving the warehouse unnoticed.

“Now!” Chen Mo hissed, bolting out first.

The streets were deserted, only screams and roars echoing from afar. They ran along the wall’s base, Tao clutching the child, her mouth covered, silent.

Downstream, the moat was indeed shallow, barely knee-deep, the bottom thick with mud and rubble. They leapt in, icy water soaking them instantly.

Climbing out on the far side, they were caked in mud. Gunfire and shouts thundered from the wall—mutants attacking.

“East,” Chen Mo wiped mud from his face. “There’s dense forest—good for hiding.”

The child pointed at the wall. “Sister, look.”

On the wall, the Black Bone Camp’s skull flag was aflame, fire lighting half the sky. Several black figures jumped from the wall, splashing into the moat, only to be dragged under by something unseen, leaving a trail of bubbles.

“It’s the mutants… they’re crossing the river,” Tao’s voice was hoarse.

Chen Mo grabbed her arm, urging her eastward. “Don’t look back—run!”

Roars grew closer behind them, fire flickered shadows through the trees. The child, clinging to Tao’s back, whispered, “Sister, I think I saw candy—shining in the fire.”

Tao said nothing, only ran faster. The wind howled past, carrying the scent of gunpowder and blood. She didn’t know what awaited in the eastern forest, nor if they could elude the mutants’ pursuit. But she knew they must run, must keep the child alive.

Chen Mo led ahead, Li close beside, hunting rifle scanning the darkness. Moonlight filtered through leaves, casting broken patterns on the ground—a road with no end.