Chapter Eleven: There Must Be

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The night in the dense forest was much colder than on the wasteland. Rotting leaves creaked dully underfoot, their musty, damp odor mingling with a sharp, metallic tang that seeped into the nose. Moonlight, shredded by layers of overlapping leaves, scattered in trembling patches across the ground like a swarm of restless fireflies.

A roar exploded behind them.

The mutated beasts’ cries were closer than before, as if they were skirting the forest’s edge in pursuit. The sound was deeper, rougher than those of ordinary mutants encountered before, bearing a dull, crushing resonance like the grinding of bones.

“It’s an ‘Armored Bone’,” Chen Mo suddenly halted, grabbing the stumbling Tao Zui. “Their hides are as hard as iron, bullets can’t pierce them—you have to aim for the eyes.”

Little Li leaned against a crooked tree, panting, his wounded arm contorted in pain. “Damn it, why won’t these things give up?”

“They’re following the scent of blood,” Chen Mo glanced at the blood seeping through Little Li’s bandage, then at the gash in Tao Zui’s trouser leg—split open by a stone during their river crossing, and still dripping. “We need to find a place to hide.”

Yaya suddenly shrank into Tao Zui’s arms, pointing to the steep slope ahead. “There… there’s light.”

They looked where she indicated. Sure enough, beneath the slope, a faint orange glow flickered among the trees, like a candle about to die, winking in the wind.

“It could be other survivors,” Tao Zui whispered, voice low. “Or a trap.”

“Better than being ripped apart by Armored Bone,” Chen Mo clapped her shoulder. “I’ll check it out. You three wait here.”

He crouched and slipped into the underbrush, his figure swallowed almost instantly by darkness. The mutants’ howls pressed closer, their claws scraping bark with a grating screech, like fingernails raking across iron.

Little Li braced his shotgun on a tree fork, aiming into the gloom, his palms slick with sweat. “Damn it, what’s taking him so long…”

“Hush,” Tao Zui pressed his arm. “Listen.”

Soft footsteps approached from the slope—it was Chen Mo, returning. He gestured “safe,” voice barely a breath. “There’s a cave, two people inside. They don’t look like Black Bone Camp.”

The four slid down the slope, leaves and gravel tumbling beneath them. The cave’s entrance was concealed by vines; parting them, they crawled in, met by a faint scent of pine resin—far more pleasant than the mildew outside.

The cave was small. A pine torch burned in the rock wall, throwing dancing shadows that illuminated two figures in the corner: a white-haired old man polishing a hunting bow, and a boy of fifteen or sixteen curled beside him, clutching a scrawny black cat. When they entered, the boy shrank behind the old man in fright.

“No need to be nervous,” the old man looked up, his clouded eyes glinting in the torchlight. “We’re all refugees, aren’t we?”

Chen Mo nodded, though his guard remained. “How long have you been here?”

“Nearly two weeks.” The old man set down his bow and pointed to some scratch marks on the cave wall. “Escaped from Boulder Fort. Black Bone Camp wanted me for their ‘alchemy’—said my old bones could cure mutant poison. Rubbish, all of it.”

The boy suddenly piped up, voice as thin as a mosquito’s hum. “They take children… say clean blood makes a good ‘sacrifice’.”

Yaya shuddered visibly and clung tighter to Tao Zui’s neck.

“Armored Bone’s almost here,” Chen Mo cut in. “Can this cave hold out?”

The old man pointed deeper inside. “There’s a side tunnel—narrow. The creature can’t get through. But hurry, its nose is sharp.”

Even as he spoke, a thunderous bang shook the cave—something massive slammed into the rocks outside, making the torch flames jump.

“They’re here!” Little Li chambered a round. “Into the passage, quick!”

The old man vanished into the tunnel first, the boy and his cat close behind. Chen Mo motioned Tao Zui and Yaya in, covering their retreat. The passage was so narrow only one could squeeze through at a time, the jagged stones scraping bare arms raw.

They had barely entered when the Armored Bone’s roar reverberated from outside, followed by claws raking stone—dust and grit rained from the trembling ceiling.

“Don’t make a sound,” Chen Mo whispered, pressing Yaya’s mouth, flattening himself against the wall.

The creature prowled the entrance for a long while, its heavy steps circling and recircling, punctuated by frustrated snarls. At last, failing to catch the scent of living prey, it withdrew.

Only when silence finally fell did they dare to breathe again. The old man struck a firestick, illuminating the cramped end of the tunnel—just large enough for two tables, lined with dry grass, and a few wild fruits with half a bag of rice in the corner.

“We’re safe for now,” the old man handed the firestick to the boy. “That Armored Bone was bred by Black Bone Camp—smarter than wild mutants. Once it finds you, it won’t easily let go.”

“They breed mutants?” Tao Zui frowned. “What for?”

“To guard the city,” the old man snapped a wild fruit between his teeth. “Their boss is called Scarface—used to be an army medic, mad as a hatter. Says the mutants are ‘the world’s purifiers.’ He’s raised a whole pack, keeps them penned up by day, looses them at night to patrol the walls. Anyone who tries to escape gets hunted down.”

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Little Li clicked his tongue. “Only a lunatic would believe that.”

“Belief’s got nothing to do with it. He’s got guns and mutants—makes him the boss.” The old man spat out a seed. “Where are you from? You don’t look local.”

“Escaped from the city,” Chen Mo replied briefly, omitting the factory and metro. “We meant to try Boulder Fort for water—turned out to be a deathtrap.”

“Looking for water?” The old man chuckled. “Head south three days. There’s a place called Crescent Spring—the water’s clean, but the ‘Water Ghouls’ there aren’t friendly.”

“Water Ghouls?”

“Used to be fishermen. Only half-mutated, so they’re part man, part fish. They guard the spring and won’t let anyone near.” He nodded at the black cat in the boy’s arms. “Found Little Black by the spring—nearly got snatched by a Water Ghoul for fish bait.”

The cat seemed to understand, curling closer to the boy and voicing a low whimper.

Yaya watched the cat for a while before asking softly, “Is it hungry?”

The boy hesitated, then fished out a hard, dry biscuit from his coat, breaking off a piece for the cat. It sniffed and nibbled delicately.

“His name’s Little Black,” the boy explained, looking at Yaya with softened eyes. “What’s yours?”

“Yaya.”

“I’m Amu.”

The two children fell quiet—one watching the cat eat, the other counting the dry grass on the ground—easing the tension more quickly than the adults.

Chen Mo and the old man huddled together, quietly discussing the way forward by the flicker of firelight. The old man said that despite the Water Ghouls, Crescent Spring was safer than Boulder Fort or the hunting mutants. He knew a shortcut to skirt the ghouls’ lair.

“My old bones aren’t up for long journeys.” The old man sighed. “If you head to Crescent Spring, take Amu with you. He’s a sharp lad—knows wild herbs, can read the weather.”

Amu jerked his head up. “Grandpa, I don’t want to leave you.”

“Silly child.” The old man ruffled his hair. “I’m used to this cave. Black Bone Camp and the mutants can’t be bothered to look for me—perfectly safe. But you’re young; you need to find a future.”

At dawn, the Armored Bone’s roars had faded. Emerging from the tunnel, they found the entrance rocks gouged and pitted, with patches of black, sticky liquid staining the ground—a mutant’s blood.

“It must have kept watch half the night,” Chen Mo picked up a stone slick with the sludge, hard as cement. “We need to leave this forest fast.”

The old man thrust the half bag of rice and the bow at Amu. “Take the bow—good for small game. If you see Water Ghouls, don’t run in a straight line—they’re slow on land.”

Amu hugged the bow, eyes red, silent.

After bidding farewell, the four headed south. Amu proved resourceful, always able to find edible wild herbs in the grass and a few thirst-quenching fruits, staving off their hunger. The herbs he found for Little Li’s wound stopped the infection, though the pain remained.

Yaya and Amu quickly became friends, chattering endlessly as they walked. Yaya spoke of the swings she once had at home; Amu described how the moon reflected in Crescent Spring like a silver mirror.

“Is it true there’s candy?” Amu asked.

Yaya nodded solemnly. “My sister said there is—soft and sweet.”

Tao Zui walked at the rear, listening to the children, a faint smile touching her lips beneath her mask. Chen Mo glanced back, rummaged in his pocket, and handed her something—a piece of candy wrapped in tattered foil, the edges worn through.

“Found it on a Black Bone Camp corpse yesterday,” he murmured, “Give it to Yaya.”

As Tao Zui took the candy, her fingers brushed his. Both paused, then quickly looked away.

By dusk, they emerged from the forest onto a broad riverbank. At its end was a crescent-shaped pool, shimmering like a silver mirror—Crescent Spring.

But the spring was anything but peaceful. Several half-human, half-fish creatures sprawled along the shore, sunning themselves. Their wet, blue-gray skin glistened, fingers webbed, and sharp teeth jutted from their mouths.

“Water Ghouls,” Amu whispered, pulling Yaya back, “Don’t make a sound.”

The ghouls seemed unaware of them, basking lazily. Strange white bones were scattered on the rocks near the spring.

“How do we get past?” Little Li gripped his shotgun, sweating.

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Chen Mo pointed to the reeds behind the ghouls. “Go around them, while they’re asleep.”

Stooping low, the four crept into the reeds, feet sinking into mud that threatened to suck them down. As they neared the spring, the scent of sweet water mingled with the ghouls’ fishy reek.

Suddenly, Yaya yelped—her foot caught on a reed root, and the wild fruit in her hand tumbled into the water.

The Water Ghouls instantly jerked upright, blue-gray eyes locking on the reeds, hissing.

“Run!” Chen Mo barked, seizing Yaya and dashing for the spring.

The ghouls gave chase, proving clumsy but not slow on land, scrambling after them on all fours like ungainly frogs.

Little Li fired, hitting a ghoul in the leg. It shrieked and toppled into the muck, spraying black mud.

Amu tugged Tao Zui toward the stone wall by the spring. “This way—there’s a cave! Grandpa told me!”

Sure enough, a half-height opening yawned in the rock, just big enough for one. Chen Mo shoved Yaya through, then Amu, then Tao Zui. As he ducked inside, a ghoul lunged for his back, claws slashing.

“Watch out!” Tao Zui called, leaning out and hurling her knife. It struck the ghoul’s eye, and with a screech, the monster staggered back, giving Chen Mo time to scramble in. Little Li followed last, blocking the entrance with a stone, leaving only a crack for air.

Inside, the cave was dry, lined with grass—as if someone had once lived there. Water from the spring seeped through the walls, dripping into a small, clear pool.

Yaya rushed to the pool, scooping up water to drink, but Tao Zui stopped her. “Wait—make sure it’s safe.”

Amu knelt and sniffed the water. “It’s clean—sweet, too.”

They drank their fill, refilled their bottles, and collapsed on the grass, gasping. The ghouls’ howls and claws raked the stone outside, but the entrance was sealed tight—they could not get in.

“At least we have water now,” Little Li sighed in relief, gulping a mouthful. “Those ghouls are terrifying, though.”

Yaya remembered something, digging the candy from her pocket. She peeled the foil and offered it to Amu. “Here, it’s sweet.”

Amu stared, then took a tiny, cautious bite—his eyes lit up. “It really is sweet!”

The two children shared the candy, sugar clinging to their lips, grinning at each other.

Chen Mo leaned against the wall, watching them, his tense jaw softening. Tao Zui slid closer, handing him the water bottle. “Have some.”

He accepted it, his fingers brushing hers—this time, neither pulled away.

Outside, the howls faded as the Water Ghouls finally gave up. Moonlight slanted through cracks in the rock, casting silver bands across the floor.

“Where to next?” Tao Zui asked.

Chen Mo gazed out over the riverbank, where the wasteland unspooled in the night like a black serpent. “Heard if you head north, there’s an ‘Ark Base’—military built, still running.”

“Military?” Amu looked up. “Grandpa said the army’s been gone for ages.”

“Maybe some still remain,” Chen Mo replied softly, but with conviction. “There has to be somewhere people can live.”

Yaya peered out, the moon reflected in the spring. “Will there be candy at Ark Base?” she asked under her breath.

“There will,” Tao Zui promised, stroking her hair with a tenderness she barely recognized in herself. “I’m sure of it.”

The night wind swept over the riverbank, carrying the sweetness of spring water. The cave was quiet—only the drip of water and the steady breathing of children filled the air.

Chen Mo set his entrenching tool aside and closed his eyes, though sleep eluded him. He could hear Tao Zui’s breathing—light and gentle, like feathers brushing the heart. In this scarred land, this fleeting peace felt more secure than the high walls of Boulder Fort.

Tomorrow, their journey would continue. But for now, there was water, there were companions, moonlight, and a thread of hope—fragile, stubborn, and alive.