Chapter Twelve: The Bonfire on the Broken Bridge

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Dawn had barely broken when the water ghouls outside the cave fell silent. Amu clung to a crack in the stone, peering out for a long while before turning back. “They’ve gone back into the water,” he said. “They’re circling by the spring.”

Chen Mo pried away the stones blocking the cave with his entrenching tool. A gust of cold, mist-laden wind rushed in, tinged with the distinctive stench of the water ghouls. He poked his head out to observe for a moment, then said, “The reeds will give us cover. While they’re distracted, we’ll slip through.”

Bent low, they crept out of the cave. The mud beneath their feet was still soft, squelching with each step. Amu led the way, a long branch in hand to push aside reeds, murmuring directions, “There’s a patch of sharp rocks three meters to the left. Don’t step there…”

Yaya was nestled in Tao Zui’s arms, her small hands gripping the collar of her shirt while her eyes darted curiously toward the water. The spring was as clear as a mirror, revealing smooth pebbles on the bottom and a few translucent fish gliding by— their fins shimmered an eerie blue, likely a result of radiation-induced mutation.

“Don’t stare at the water,” Chen Mo called from ahead. “Water ghouls can breathe underwater. They might be watching us now.”

Yaya quickly shut her eyes and buried her face in Tao Zui’s shoulder.

No one spoke as they passed through the reeds. Only the sound of hurried breathing and the rustle of leaves against their clothing filled the silence. When they were about ten meters from the riverbank, Xiao Li suddenly hissed in pain—he’d stepped on a jagged shell, reopening a wound on his heel. Blood beaded up instantly.

“Don’t move,” Tao Zui said, stopping. She set Yaya down and rummaged through her pack for a clean strip of cloth—taken from the corpse of a Black Bone Camp member—then knelt to bandage Xiao Li’s foot.

“No, no need,” Xiao Li protested, drawing his foot back. Sweat beaded on his face. “It’s nothing, really.”

He had barely finished his sentence when, with a splash, a blue-grey arm shot out of the water and seized his ankle. The arm was coated in slime, its claws long and sharp, gleaming with a sickly greenish-black light.

“Watch out!” Chen Mo’s entrenching tool whistled through the air, landing squarely on the ghoul’s arm. There was a sharp crack—bone breaking. The ghoul shrieked and withdrew, blood swirling in the water.

“Go!” Chen Mo grabbed Xiao Li and ran. “They’re coming for the scent of blood!”

More dark shapes burst from the water—half-human, half-fish ghouls, screeching as they crawled up the bank. Amu raced ahead, dragging Yaya, paying no mind to the sharp stones bruising his feet. Tao Zui followed, machete gripped in reverse, ready to strike at any ghoul that lunged their way.

They finally scrambled onto the hard earth of the riverbank, panting with exhaustion. Looking back, they saw seven or eight ghouls hunched at the water’s edge, their blue-grey eyes fixed on them, but they did not pursue further—sunlight on land clearly repelled them. Their skin smoked faintly in the light.

“Damn it…” Xiao Li collapsed onto the ground, pulling off his shoe to inspect the wound. Blood had already soaked through the bandage. “This place is hell. Even the rocks have it in for us.”

Chen Mo dug out some herbs from his pack, chewed them, and applied the paste to Xiao Li’s wound, binding it tightly. “Hang on. We’ll find a better place up ahead to take care of it.”

They pressed on for another two hours before the wasteland gave way to sparse woodland. By the roadside stood the ruins of a stone bridge, half collapsed, the other half suspended in midair over a dry riverbed littered with rusted car wrecks.

“Let’s rest here,” Chen Mo pointed to the arch beneath the bridge. “We can get out of the sun.”

The space beneath the bridge was relatively clean. Some scavenger must have used it before; dry grass was strewn on the ground and a rusted iron barrel sat in the corner, likely for making fires. Amu gathered some dry branches and, with Chen Mo’s lighter, coaxed a small blaze to life. The orange glow flickered, crackling softly.

Yaya leaned against Tao Zui, absently plucking at grass blades. Amu placed Little Black on his lap and teased the lazy black cat with a stick. The cat flicked its tail and purred.

“Is the Ark Base really as good as they say?” Xiao Li leaned against the bridge wall, gazing at the sky. “What if it’s just like Fortress Rock—ruled by a bunch of lunatics?”

“Then we’ll keep moving,” Chen Mo said, throwing another branch onto the fire. Sparks flew, landing on his boots. “We’ll find a place where we can breathe.”

Tao Zui said nothing, her gaze fixed on Yaya. The child’s lashes were long and dusted with grass bits, eyes drooping with exhaustion. Tao Zui remembered when they left the factory, Yaya clutching half a compressed biscuit, saying, “Sister, I’m not hungry.” The memory tugged at her heart.

“Zui, do you think the old world really had candy?” Amu suddenly asked, pausing his stick in midair. “Grandpa said children used to eat candy every day, and cake too—so sweet it would stick to your teeth.”

Tao Zui was caught off guard, then a faint smile curled beneath her mask. “Yes, there was. And amusement parks, with carousels that spun high into the air.”

“What’s a carousel?” Yaya had woken, rubbing her eyes.

“It’s… a chair shaped like a horse that spins around, with lights—very pretty when they’re on,” Tao Zui explained as simply as she could. “I saw one once.”

In truth, her memory was vague. She’d only been six when the apocalypse began; most memories were blurred—her mother running with her in her arms, screams and flames everywhere, and… a boy’s blurry face that haunted her, clutching a fruit candy, promising to give it to her.

“When we find the Ark Base, I’ll make you all some candy,” Chen Mo spoke up suddenly, his voice a bit stiff. “Boil down beets—I learned how on a farm once.”

“Really?” Yaya’s eyes sparkled. “Will it be as sweet as the one Amu ate?”

“Yes, even sweeter.” Chen Mo’s lips twitched faintly.

The fire burned lower, turning to a bed of glowing coals. In the distance, the faint howls of mutated creatures drifted through the air, muffled and far off. The bridge arch was warm, filled with the scents of smoke and dried grass, lulling them toward sleep.

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Xiao Li soon dozed off, snoring thunderously against the stone wall. Amu, clutching Little Black, nodded off with his head resting on his knees. Yaya snuggled closer to Tao Zui and whispered, “Sister, I dreamed of a carousel. There was so much candy on it.”

Tao Zui stroked her back and murmured a quiet “Mm.”

Chen Mo added the last stick to the fire, then looked up at Tao Zui. Her mask glinted coldly in the firelight, but her eyes—dark and luminous—seemed gentle and serene. He remembered the first time he saw her in the subway tunnel, wielding a fireman’s axe, her gaze icy. Yet when a mutant lunged at him, she instinctively grabbed his arm.

“You…” He hesitated, then swallowed his words and simply said, “Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

Tao Zui shook her head. “You’re tired too. We’ll take turns.”

Chen Mo didn’t argue, and leaned against the opposite wall, closing his eyes. Yet he didn’t truly sleep—he kept his ears trained on the sounds outside, and on her breathing. It was soft, like feathers drifting onto his heart, soothing nerves that had been taut for so long.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the coals finally died, and the archway grew cold. Tao Zui hugged Yaya closer, about to wake Chen Mo for the next watch, when she heard hoofbeats outside.

Not mutated creatures—real hoofbeats, interspersed with the jangle of metal.

She immediately nudged Chen Mo, whispering, “Someone’s coming.”

Chen Mo’s eyes snapped open. His hand closed tight around the entrenching tool. Xiao Li and Amu woke as well. Amu hurriedly cradled Little Black and hid behind Tao Zui.

The hoofbeats stopped at the broken bridge. Men began talking—rough voices laced with alcohol.

“Boss, what good’s this wreck? I say we’re wasting our time.”

“Shut it!” another, gruffer voice replied. “The scavengers yesterday said they saw Black Bone Camp’s men chase someone this way. Maybe we’ll pick up some scraps.”

“Black Bone Camp? With just a few of us, we’ll get ourselves killed if we run into them.”

“Don’t be stupid! They were just attacked by mutants. They’ll be in bad shape. Besides, if we don’t find Black Bone Camp, maybe we’ll snatch a stray woman or two…”

Their talk grew uglier, crude laughter echoing.

Tao Zui’s eyes grew cold as she reached for her belt—her gun and knife were there, but bullets were few.

Chen Mo signaled for silence and pointed to a shadowy alcove deep in the archway—a half-man-tall drainage hole, just big enough to hide them.

No sooner had they squeezed in than footsteps approached. Someone kicked the dying fire, cursing.

“Damn, someone’s been here!”

“Boss, the fire’s still warm—they’re close!”

“Search! Thoroughly! If you find anyone alive, kill the men and… take the women back for the boys!”

Footsteps came closer. The glow of torches swept into the arch, illuminating the dry grass and their hurried footprints.

Tao Zui’s heart thundered. Sweat slicked her grip on the knife. She could feel Yaya trembling in her arms, Amu’s hand clinging to her sleeve.

In that moment, a hand suddenly settled on her shoulder—Chen Mo’s, burning hot. He whispered in her ear, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

His voice was soft, yet carried a reassurance that quieted her heart. Tao Zui stared at him; the firelight grazed his scarred brow, his eyes resolute.

The men outside reached the alcove. A burly thug thrust his torch inside, swearing, “Hiding in here? I bet you’re just—”

He never finished. Chen Mo lunged from the shadows, his entrenching tool smashing into the man’s temple. The man dropped soundlessly, his torch rolling away, fanning the grass into a burst of flame.

“Ambush!” someone outside shouted, and footsteps stormed in.

Chen Mo gave them no chance. He grabbed a thick branch and swung it at the first attacker. The man raised his machete to block, but the branch swept sideways into his knee. As the man collapsed, Chen Mo’s entrenching tool descended on his head.

Xiao Li charged out, snatching up a machete. His arm was stiff, but the blows he dealt were brutal.

Tao Zui shielded Yaya and Amu, eyes fixed on the fight. She saw one man slip behind Chen Mo, axe raised, and, without thinking, hurled her dagger.

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The dagger didn’t strike a vital spot, but it buried itself in the man’s arm. Chen Mo spun, his entrenching tool slicing across the man’s throat.

In less than five minutes, silence reclaimed the archway. Four corpses lay amid a pool of blood, mingling with ashes and smoke.

Chen Mo wiped the blood from his face with a sleeve and called, “It’s safe. Come out.”

Tao Zui emerged with Yaya in her arms. Amu’s face was ghostly pale, but he held back tears. Xiao Li slumped against the wall, his wound reopened, blood soaking his bandage.

“We need to move,” Chen Mo said, rifling through the bodies. He found two packs of compressed biscuits and a revolver with five bullets. “The blood will draw mutants.”

He handed the biscuits and the gun to Tao Zui, then grabbed a torch and set the dry grass ablaze. “Burn it—cover our tracks.”

Flames quickly licked up the wooden beams of the bridge, crackling violently. As the fire spread, they hurried from the ruins.

Even after a long walk, the glow behind them still painted the sky red. The air carried the bitter tang of burning wood—and the distant, gathering howls of mutants drawn to the blaze.

“Head deeper into the woods,” Chen Mo said, glancing back at the fire. “The flames will hold them for a while, but not long.”

Yaya lay on Tao Zui’s back, whispering, “Sister, why did those bad men want to catch us?”

Tao Zui didn’t reply, only quickened her pace. Amu spoke up, “Grandpa said bad people only care about themselves. Other people’s lives mean nothing to them.”

Xiao Li snorted. “Once I’m healed, I’ll cut down any bastard I see.”

Chen Mo glanced back at them, saying nothing, but gripped his entrenching tool tighter.

By nightfall, they’d found shelter in a dense oak grove. The moonlight barely penetrated the leaves, casting only vague shadows. Chen Mo located a sturdy oak with a natural hollow in its trunk, big enough to fit them all.

“We’ll spend the night here,” he said, sealing the opening with stones, leaving only a small gap for air. “We’ll take turns on watch. No fires, no noise.”

There was no fire to warm them, so they huddled close for warmth. Yaya and Amu soon drifted off, pressed together. Xiao Li leaned against the trunk, groaning about his aching arm.

Tao Zui and Chen Mo sat at the entrance, silent. Outside, the distant howls of mutants faded, likely lured away by the bridge fire.

“Thanks… for earlier,” Chen Mo said quietly.

Tao Zui hesitated, then realized he meant the dagger. She shook her head. “It was nothing.”

Silence fell again. After a while, Chen Mo pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her—a lump wrapped in oilcloth. Unwrapped, it was half a piece of chocolate. The wrapper was wrinkled, but the chocolate hadn’t melted.

“Found it on the bodies,” he said. “Give it to Yaya.”

Tao Zui took the chocolate. Their fingers brushed; both of them paused. This time, neither pulled away.

The hollow was dark. They could only feel each other’s breath. Far off, the wind moaned through the trees, like someone weeping. But somehow, Tao Zui didn’t feel so afraid.

Maybe it was because someone was there—a person who would hand you a knife when danger struck, who would share half a piece of chocolate on a cold night, who made you feel that, no matter how harsh the world became, you were not walking through it alone.

She carefully wrapped the chocolate again and tucked it away, thinking she’d surprise Yaya with it tomorrow. Then she shifted closer to Chen Mo, enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll take the next watch.”

Chen Mo murmured his assent, eyes closed. Yet he didn’t really sleep—a faint smile seemed to hover on his lips, as if he kept a secret.

There was still a long road ahead, the Ark Base far away, and danger lurking at every turn. But for now, the hollow was warm, filled with each other’s presence, the children’s breathing, and a sweetness—softer and deeper than chocolate—taking root quietly in their hearts.