Into the Abyss (Dark Prospects Book 2)

by Xu, Lei

  The report lasted two hours. I spoke without thinking, my mind in a daze. I don't know how I made it through. Most of my experiences I recounted only vaguely, but I made sure to emphasize that we had watched the film. Yet the officers appeared indifferent, as if this were no problem at all. After finishing my story I waited apprehensively for their verdict. This was the moment of truth. After reviewing their notes, they merely asked a few minor questions, told me to make a written report, and said I was free to go.

  A cold wind blew from the underground river as I exited the tent, freezing the sweat on my back. Shivering, I thought of the way the officers had watched me as I spoke. Were they always this serious? Perhaps my report had upset them and they'd been unable to hide their displeasure. Over and over I analyzed it, becoming increasingly agitated and getting nowhere. A hundred explanations occurred to me, all useless. I almost wished I could lose my mind like Yuan Xile. At least then the thoughts would stop.

  Wang Sichuan came looking for me two days later. He'd just given his report and was similarly perplexed. He'd skipped right over the part about the film, and done a rather sloppy job of it, too, but they'd said nothing, and at the end he was breezily dismissed. Had we been overthinking the matter? Were the officers being deliberately mystifying? Perhaps they truly didn't care about the film or what we'd experienced. Had they simply been going through the motions? These men were too high-level to do something just for show. They were the leaders of this operation and constantly busy. If they really didn't give a damn about our reports, why take the time to listen? They could easily get junior officers to do it for them. What if everything that had happened up until this point had been just a prelude, and only now was the real mission about to begin? Were they just double-checking before proceeding as they'd already planned?

  ***

  We remained in the medical camp for another week. Our restrictions were loosened and we were allowed to receive visitors. At first Wang Sichuan and I were extremely careful not to give the spy easy access to our respective jugulars, but we soon discovered that even though guards were no longer posted outside our tents, the medical camp's overall level of security had increased tenfold. Entry to Yuan Xile's tent, however, was still prohibited. Though I often went to see her and asked everyone I could if they'd heard anything, I made no progress. Slowly I become numb to it all.

  The engineering corps had occupied the entire cave system. Other encampments had been established on all of the underground river's tributaries. Four months had passed since we had gathered at Jiamusi to start our journey. I already knew I would always remember the vast, pitch-black abyss and the terrifying shape I'd seen towering within it on the film. And I would never forget the four days and nights I spent alone with Yuan Xile. I'd always wanted to experience the fearful thrill of life on the battlefield. Although this wasn't quite the same, the mystery and strangeness of it all were nearly as satisfying. This had been a dark and dangerous time, I told myself, and there would never be another like it.

  But I was wrong. A few days later I discovered that my suspicions had been correct: our mission had only just begun.

  CHAPTER

  24

  Transferred

  Our written reports disappeared like stones in the ocean. Neither of us ever heard one word of feedback. Wang Sichuan was right; we'd been through the shit to get us here and they still wouldn't tell us a damn thing about what was really going on. Now that our mission was over, we figured we'd be sent topside. Instead we were ordered to stay at camp until further notice. This made no sense. I couldn't help but feel that something big was waiting for us just around the bend. Our superiors made no attempt to explain themselves. I didn't argue. I'd already screwed up once and didn't want to make things any worse.

  We were transferred to a unit barracked at the edge of the iron platform, far from any of the geological teams. Command dispatched a colonel to meet with us about the confidentiality of the operation. He told us what we were doing was top-secret. No one was to ever discuss it. None of the other soldiers ever asked Wang Sichuan or I about what we'd experienced. I assumed they'd been ordered not to. Still, I saw the way they looked at us. They had to know almost all of our team had died. Rumors spread like wildfire. Some said we'd nearly gone mad, others that we'd been investigated as enemy spies. I can't say whether their looks were of fear or pity, but I found it all pretty ridiculous.

  It was around this time that I ran into Pei Qing. He'd also been assigned to our unit. Although he and the young corpsmen who'd stayed in the warehouse had experienced nothing compared to us, his hair had turned even whiter than before. We spoke for a while. It was just as I'd suspected: he'd given the first report. He told me, in an utterly indifferent tone, that four others had survived along with him. I asked him about Old Cat. He hadn't seen him either, but I remained certain the old scoundrel was still alive. He was much too clever to have died in a place like this. Perhaps he was already topside. Then again, he'd been the first to get lost. Who could say for sure where he'd ended up?

  Over the next month, we did our best to do as we were told. Wang Sichuan knew a few of the guys on the geological teams. Little by little he began to ask them what was going on. We learned nothing important. Day by day we muddled along, watching far-off sparks fill the dark air. Things were constantly being built, worked-on, reconfigured. I couldn't forget the high-tech Soviet machinery I'd seen near the medical camp. If we were going to be here for the long term, then there was no need to overhaul our equipment at such a furious pace. And how much gear could really be required for an investigation of the abyss? I knew something was going on, something big, and I didn't like it. Trapped in the dark, wet environs of the cave, I started to grow uneasy.

  Half a month later, the geological teams began to depart one by one for the surface. Suddenly, our rations improved. For the first time in my life, a whole chicken leg appeared in my mess tin at dinnertime. In those years, a chicken leg was as rare and valuable as a bear paw. Until then, the greatest feast I'd ever enjoyed had been at a celebratory conference in Yan'an. The event was held in honor of our recent success in Karamay. I'd been selected to represent the younger generation and was there to give a report. At dinner we were served tofu and salted pork, more than three pieces of each. For someone who'd always survived on meager portions of dry wheat flour and rice, three pieces of pork and tofu were more delicious than dragon flesh. People never failed to be jealous when I told them about that night; it was so different from what we usually ate. My little brother was sent to the northeastern countryside a few years ago to join a production brigade. He told me each person was given only one pound of dry wheat flour and rice per month. Nothing else. One has to wonder how that could ever have been enough.

  So you can imagine my surprise when I saw this chicken leg laid before me. I doubted my own eyes and worried I'd finally gone soft in the head, but after that deliciously oily, fatty flavor exploded in my mouth, I began to tremble with pleasure. I spent an hour eating that chicken leg, licking the bone clean, and when I was done, my first thought was how jealous the guys on my regular prospecting team would be when they heard this. The chicken leg meant little to Wang Sichuan. A skilled hunter who'd grown up in the mountains, he'd been bagging wild birds since he was young.

  Although that was the last time we were given chicken legs, the quality of our meals never dipped. Night after night we were served rare delicacies like shrimp or shiitake mushrooms. The shrimp overwhelmed me with thoughts of time gone by. When I first left home to work, I sent back as much of my salary and grain vouchers as I could. Seeing the hardships I was enduring for our family, my little brother would catch shrimp in a stream near our home, dry them and ship them to me. As soon as I saw the shrimp on my dinner tray now I thought of home. All at once I missed my family and the carefree days of my youth. I've never been the sentimental type. Something about this place was getting to me.

  ***

  I spent my days waiting uneasily for the ne
xt bit of news and sneaking over to the medical camp, hoping to catch a glimpse of Yuan Xile. She remained shut inside her tent, but it was enough for me to simply stand outside and feel our closeness. I would think of those nights we'd lain together and, with my heart calm once more, I'd smile. Although I knew I could ask Wang Sichuan's friends if they'd heard anything about her, I never did. I was shy and worried what I might learn. More than that, though, I feared what they might ask me.

  One week later I arrived at her tent to discover that not only had the guard disappeared, but that the tent flap was also wide open. I initially assumed I was at the wrong tent, but a shiver ran through me as I realized I wasn't mistaken. What could this mean? Had she been cured? Or was she dead?

  I frantically shook my head, trying to rid it of such inauspicious thoughts, then stared at the wide-open tent. Suddenly I had no idea what to do. All along my greatest hope had been to go inside. Now here was my chance, and I didn't move. What was I supposed to say to her? How should I look when I walked inside? I stood there for what felt like forever. Finally, I forced myself to calm down and stepped through the opening, a lepidopterist's daydream of butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

  She wasn't there. No one was. All that remained was an IV stand and her bed, the covers lifted halfway off. Running my hands over the covers, I imagined her lying there. Slowly, my worries disappeared. She was probably getting some kind of evaluation or just some fresh air.

  My reverie was interrupted by a sharp voice from behind. "What are you doing here?"

  I turned to see a middle-aged nurse glaring at me. I recognized the woman. She'd taken care of me during my recovery. "I was just looking for Comrade Yuan Xile," I responded. "Is she all right?"

  "She's in another tent for her physical. She won't be back until tonight. This is a woman's tent. If you want to visit her, you'll need to schedule a time and have your commanding officer accompany you."

  "I'm sorry. Her guard was gone. I assumed it was okay to come inside."

  "Well it isn't. If everyone behaved like you, how would she ever rest?" Then she picked up a steel food tray and headed for the exit, presumably to go fetch Yuan Xile's dinner. "Don't wait up for her either. I'm not going to let you see her when she comes back. Go on, head back to your unit, and don't forget to close the flap behind you. If you're still here when I come back, I won't be so polite." She bustled out of the tent.

  I sighed, disappointed. I'd been sure that at long last I'd see Yuan Xile. And since no one was allowed in or out of the medical camp at night, it would be a mistake to wait for her. Mournfully, I straightened her bed and turned to go. Before I made it outside, I realized I had to leave something for her, something to let her know I'd been here. I checked my pockets. All I had was my cigarette case. Seeing it, I sighed, remembering how we'd smoked together in the safe room. I took out a cigarette and stuffed the case inside her pillow. As I strolled out of the medical camp smoking my cigarette, I began to feel a little less wound-up. I wondered whether Yuan Xile would know who'd left her the cigarettes. I found myself daydreaming that I, rather than my case, was now lying beneath her pillow, quietly awaiting her return.

  Over the next few days I had no time to look for her again. The project's ideological instructor had—apparently on a whim—assigned us a slate of political quotations to memorize. This "work" kept us busy from morning 'til night. I made no progress. This, plus my inability to see Yuan Xile, meant I was soon in a foul mood. We passed a week engaged in mind-numbing study. When it was finally over, we were told the first informational meeting was going to be held. We couldn't imagine what they were going to tell us.

  CHAPTER

  25

  The Meeting

  In retrospect, going into this meeting knowing nothing was good training. It was hardly the last time we would be going in blind.

  The meeting was the first time I'd seen Old Tian on this mission. Wang Sichuan and I exchanged a surprised glance. We recognized him from classes we'd taken at the Party school in college. He was sitting beneath a blackboard at one end of the tent, wearing his trademark thick glasses and busily organizing his materials. From the looks of things, he was just as insufferable as ever. He was only seven or eight years my senior, but he gave the impression of having been born into the wrong decade. I'd heard the Party had introduced him to a wife, but marriage didn't seem to have changed him. He was the same stuffed shirt I'd known back in school. There were more than a few true believers in those days, but I wasn't one of them.

  We all took out the leather-bound notebooks and ballpoint pens we'd been given earlier that day and prepared to take notes. Writing supplies like these were expensive and hard to find, usually obtained only as awards or morale boosters so we all began writing on the upper left-hand corner of the inside cover. No one wanted to waste any space.

  After taking attendance, Old Tian began his lecture. He drew several lines in the shape of a staircase. He was in his element. "Today," he said, "we will be covering various aspects of the structure and geology of the abyss."

  Wang Sichuan yawned. Old Tian's northern accent wasn't always easy to understand, but I did my best to pay attention. I wanted to learn everything I could about the abyss.

  Old Tian's lecture was divided into several segments covering widely varying topics. He lectured with all the feeling and expression of a robot. It was as if he was on an island practicing his speech in front of the sea. He moved from one topic to the next at the pace he'd predetermined, regardless of how confused or bored we might be.

  They'd recently started to remotely survey the abyss, he began. The first ledge was 300 feet below the dam. That ledge went on for 2,000 feet or so, then fell abruptly to a depth of almost 800 feet.

  "It was just like a flight of stairs," he said. They'd established this by firing mortars at different angles into the abyss and listening for the blast when they hit bottom.

  Three hundred feet was not that deep. You could probably drop all the way in with no more than a rope and pulley.

  Old Tian said the Japanese had presumably built a second base at the bottom, and from there had transmitted the telegram. The next step was to dispatch a group to this first step so they could conduct a preliminary exploration. They would travel to the first step's edge, determine what they could about the second, and whether there was a third beyond. The engineering corps would then decide if it was worth it to descend farther.

  "Assuming the abyss formed at the same time as the surrounding rock," said Old Tian, "then in its earliest stages it was far smaller than it is today." Eventually the rock around it had begun to collapse, enlarging the cavity, with rock walls falling off faster and faster until, at last, the abyss reached a stable size. But not for long—geologically speaking. Once more the area around the abyss began to erode, beginning a new stage of expansion until it once more stabilized and stopped. This process repeated again and again, forming the enormous staircase-like abyss that presently existed.

  The mist had its own explanation. Much of the rock within the cave was full of mercury. When the river water fell into the abyss, a mercury-filled mist rose on the air currents, creating a deadly weapon. Mercury is a serious poison that can cause severe dizziness, vomiting, memory loss, mental disorders, and even death. When the devils constructed their base here, these mercury-filled rocks were their primary building material. They mixed them with cement when they were putting up the dam. This meant that when the wall-hung light bulbs got hot, mercury was volatilized from the walls around them and released into the air. That's what killed the men in the tomb-like barracks off the main tunnel and caused the "ghosts in the shadows."

  Later, the Japanese started hanging lights from the ceiling or surrounding them with sheets of iron. The main tunnel and its complex of passageways were already too polluted, though. They simply sealed them up. The underground river water, on the other hand, was filled with sulfur. The sulfur neutralized mercury and, to a certain extent, relieved the effects of mercury
poisoning.

  "But if the river water is sulfuric," asked one man, "should we really be drinking it? Isn't it too acidic?"

  Old Tian shook his head. "Drinking sulfuric water for one or two months won't cause you any harm. It's only over the long term that problems arise. What the river has done, however, is seriously corrode the buildings here." The river level rose only after a heavy rain. Nonetheless, the combined effect of the damp and acidic environment had worked its corrosive effect. "We were lucky to find the place now," he said. "In ten years the base of the dam will probably have collapsed."

  It was impressive how much Old Tian knew. Every iron surface around us was severely rusted. I'd assumed this was merely from the passage of time. He, on the other hand, had pinpointed the exact cause.

  We applauded politely when Old Tian finished. At last we can leave, I said to myself, but Old Tian stepped outside and called someone over. An officer entered the tent, carrying a rolled-up screen. Then came a projector. The officer asked us to raise our right hands and prepare to take an oath.