Search for the Buried Bomber dp-1

by Xu, Lei

  The sensitivity of the times cut two ways: On the one hand, the activities of these Kuomintang spies had indeed thrown China into turmoil. On the other, they’d also led to a fervor of false accusations and an atmosphere of general mistrust, resulting in a huge number of wrongful arrests and unjustified cases. Some of these stemmed from such insignificant reasons that their absurdity was terrifying. The note writer was probably just swept up in the feverish suspicions of those times. This kind of person was very common back then—the inveterate schemer, overthinking everything. He probably believed that Pei Qing was a spy, that the young soldier had not accidentally fallen to his death, but had been pushed.

  But who the hell had written it? The question ate at me. It obviously hadn’t been Wang Sichuan, nor could it have been any of the soldiers. That left only Chen Luohu, already withered from fear and having just slunk off to who knows where. He was just the type to have done it. He’d said nothing since the accident, probably because he’d been the one who first suggested we continue on. Since this had most likely influenced Pei Qing’s decision to explore the route ahead, and thus had led to the accident, Chen Luohu had to be scared he might somehow be implicated in the soldier’s death.

  In any case, I didn’t take the note seriously. I knew Pei Qing’s background. We were alumni of the same department at the Chinese Geological University, though I had been one year above him. At school he’d always been a logical, clear-thinking student. No way would he have ever become an enemy agent. As for Chen Luohu, he already seemed to be a rather useless character, and I had begun to feel a growing dislike for the man. So I threw the note into the fire, pulled out my cigarettes, and began to smoke, unconcerned about anything or anyone else. Before long I had forgotten all about the note. We set off once more, scrambled down the waterfall, and by that evening had traveled nearly another kilometer. Here there were no more body bags and, because we had slept so poorly the night before, we neglected to even eat dinner before heading to bed. It wasn’t even five p.m.

  I awoke at ten that night. I had slept like a dead man, but once I opened my eyes I could sleep no more. There remained a single soldier keeping watch over camp. He was feeling rather embarrassed about having thoughtlessly fallen asleep while he stood sentry, so I told him I would take his place. He refused to leave his post. I didn’t force the issue. I had served in the regular army and understood that mentality. Once again I was starving to death. I found some rations and set them to boil. As the smell of cooking food began to waft through the air, Wang Sichuan and the other two came stumbling over, one after the other. They all crowded around. After having traveled at a fast clip all day and then falling asleep on an empty stomach, everyone was terribly hungry. One pot of food was not enough. I cooked another half pot. Fortunately, our superiors had been generous in estimating how long the exploration would take. Our stock of food would last another week, though none of us believed we’d be down here that long. Although our condensed field rations did contain additional dehydrated vegetable powder, eating too much would undoubtedly be harmful to one’s health. As for the few condensed vegetable packs we carried with us, they tasted disgusting.

  Our spirits improved with dinner, and after smoking a postmeal cigarette, we felt invincible. Once more we attempted to cajole the soldier on watch into taking a break, but again he refused. Wang Sichuan handed him a few cigarettes, and these at least he accepted. We ached all over. As we relaxed, we alternated between massaging our sore spots and pondering what the next day would bring. Who knew what the rest of our route would be like? If it continued like this the whole way, then we’d better leave our rafts here. Otherwise, if today’s progress was any indication, we’d never have enough food or supplies to make it back out.

  The way Pei Qing saw it, someone should be sent ahead to investigate the route while the rest of us stayed behind. In six or seven hours, this person would be able to travel a long way. When he returned, we’d have a much clearer idea of what we were facing. This idea didn’t sit well with me. After yesterday’s events, any proposal that involved splitting the group seemed unsafe. Wang Sichuan, however, agreed with Pei Qing’s suggestion. Given how slowly we were progressing, the most pressing issue was the fuel for our lanterns and the batteries for our flashlights. Without those tools, we’d be dead meat in a place as dark as this. Thus, sending someone ahead to explore had an additional benefit: it would allow us to familiarize ourselves with the route and cut down on the use of lights when we continued on as a group. Wang Sichuan said that if I was worried about the danger, we could send half the group on ahead, as opposed to just one or two people. Yesterday’s accident had occurred due to recklessness, he said, and added that if he’d been there, he would have warned the soldier to be careful. Pei Qing regarded Wang Sichuan coldly. It was obvious he’d been speaking to Pei Qing. Wang Sichuan was about to say something else, but I stopped him.

  Wang Sichuan was a superb fellow in every respect, but he was too righteous for his own good. The accident had already occurred, and now all we could do was accept it. Staring at Pei Qing and blaming him for what had happened was simply a way for Wang Sichuan to escape the reality of the situation. I was convinced that Pei Qing felt awful inside. Moreover, even if he’d managed to stop the young soldier from climbing down and gone himself instead, there was no way to say that a tragedy would have been prevented. Just because Pei Qing was more experienced, it by no means meant that he would have discovered the iron netting before it was too late. In the end, it could very well have been Pei Qing, not the soldier, who lost his footing and fell to his death. But this wasn’t something that Wang Sichuan wanted to hear.

  Then, as the atmosphere grew tense once more, a metallic clang suddenly rang out. We all jumped. The pealing of metal striking rock was amplified, bouncing off the cave walls, becoming nearly unbearable. Turning, I saw Chen Luohu had dropped the large metal basin he’d been eating from, spraying rice gruel all over the ground. He was looking in our direction, his body trembling all over. Wang Sichuan gave him a look of irritation and asked what the hell was the matter. The sentry turned from behind Chen Luohu and, as he rotated, the look on his face changed. With a clack he pulled back the rifle bolt and, his voice quavering, began to yell: “Squad leader! Deputy squad leader!”

  We all turned to where Chen Luohu was looking. Cold sweat covered my body. There, standing on the rock opposite, someone had appeared. The stranger stared at us, not moving, not saying a word.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Stranger

  The boulder we were camped on was relatively large, the rocks surrounding it all at least fifteen feet from us. Beneath us we could hear the constant trickle of the river flowing under the rocky shoal. The flickering light of our campfire illuminated the outline of the stranger’s body, but the face remained darkened. The members of our group were all accounted for. This person was not one of us. But we were in a section of pitch-black river deep underground, two hundred feet from the nearest point on the surface, the devil only knows how far from the closest village. Who else could possibly be down here?

  In an instant, the cold sweat had soaked through my clothes. I hurriedly stepped back. The deputy squad leader and the rest of the soldiers had all been sleeping lightly. As soon as they heard our cry, they rushed from their bags. Seeing our expressions, they turned to where we were facing, gasped in surprise, and loaded their weapons. Quick as could be, five rifles were aimed across the way.

  “Who’s there?” shouted the deputy squad leader.

  The other did not respond, just stood rigidly in place, not moving at all.

  We gulped. Wang Sichuan was the bravest among us. “Pei Qing,” he called out, “your flashlight—shine it over there.”

  Pei Qing cautiously raised his flashlight. As the light illuminated the figure, we were all taken aback. Somehow, the uniform matched ours exactly, even down to the Sam Browne belt across the chest. It was the military dress of the PLA, but every inch of clothing was soaked with
blood. Though it was hidden beneath a helmet, we could discern a bloody sheen coating the stranger’s face as well.

  I felt the blood rush from my face. Who could this be? My body had turned ice-cold, as if I had fallen through a hole in a frozen pond.

  Wang Sichuan began to curse in Mongolian. Then one of the soldiers cried out, “It’s Big Beard! Big Beard’s not dead!” Saying this, he made to drop his weapon and climb over to where the stranger stood.

  “Stay where you are!” yelled the deputy squad leader, his eyes bloodshot. “Can’t you see what he looks like? Look closely now!”

  All of us understood what he meant. Had Big Beard truly not died, he would have called over to us as soon as we were in sight. Instead he stood there motionless, stiffly watching us like some reanimated corpse. The soldier lacked the courage to move any closer, and we remained deadlocked. A blue vein bulged across the deputy squad leader’s forehead. Clearly, there was no good way to resolve this standoff.

  Pei Qing had also hoisted a rifle. Swallowing deeply, he looked straight at me and asked, “What do we do now?”

  If you’re asking me, I thought, then who am I going to ask? If this person really was the martyred young soldier, then we were all finished. This morning we’d given him his funeral rites, his death already a certainty. Was it possible that the dead could walk? In my mind I rapidly rifled through a number of different solutions, until at last I spied the large metal basin. Picking it up, I handed it to Pei Qing. “Throw this over there and let’s see what he does,” I said.

  Pei Qing replied that his aim was poor. Wang Sichuan should throw instead. As an ethnic Mongolian, Wang Sichuan had been throwing the bulu—a lead-tipped throwing stick used for hunting—since he was a kid. While we’d been stationed at the main 723 Project campsite, he’d knocked a wild ring-necked pheasant out of the air. I looked around for Wang Sichuan. He was nowhere to be seen. Looking again, I couldn’t believe my eyes: at some point, unbeknownst to the rest of us, he had climbed over to the rock the stranger stood on and was now preparing to pounce. I opened my mouth to try to stop him, but it was already too late. I could only watch as Wang Sichuan bent over, then launched himself forward, grabbing the stranger in a bear hug. A startled cry rang out and several of us gasped. The voice was not Wang Sichuan’s—it was a woman’s.

  Wang Sichuan attempted to force the stranger down, but his opponent was far from a pushover. As their bodies twisted around, the two of them tumbled to the ground and rolled off the side of the rock into the water below. The deputy squad leader dropped his weapon, tore off his clothing, and rushed in to help. The water beneath the boulders was still very deep. If one were to get caught in the crevices under the rocks, there would be no way to come up for air. The rest of us followed after him, first pulling Wang Sichuan from the water, then dragging the stranger out.

  The stranger’s helmet had fallen off, revealing hair cut in a short bob and a face that had been rinsed clean of some of the blood. Her clothes were soaked through and stuck tightly to her frame, revealing a body of generous curves. We all blushed. Wang Sichuan spit out a mouthful of water, shivered once from the cold, then quickly tore off his clothing and laid it by the fire to dry. He came back and asked if she was dead or not. I moved her hair aside and checked her pulse. Seeing her face up close, I gave a sudden start. I recognized her. Kneeling by my side, Pei Qing saw it too. “My God,” he cried out, “is that Yuan Xile?”

  CHAPTER 13

  Yuan Xile

  You, reader, may feel baffled at this point. In fact, that’s just how I felt. If this were a novel it might seem absurd. After all, novels are plotted, with a beginning, middle, and end that are supposed to make sense. But my story is simply a record of the facts. I found Yuan Xile down there. That is a fact. I never would have expected to find her in that cave, but that’s where she appeared. At first I couldn’t believe it, but taking a closer look, I knew it had to be her. My heart raced with the shock of it. How could she be down here?

  Yuan Xile was a prospector herself. Although we were more or less the same age, her qualifications were superior to any of ours. She had studied abroad in the Soviet Union and was given preferential treatment when she returned. She had been second-in-command of several of the prospecting teams I’d served on. She was very serious, and people called her the Soviet Witch. Because of my carelessness, I was regularly made to suffer her criticisms, but in private she was a frank and honest woman and we got along rather well. She had led teams all across the country, so Pei Qing’s reason for recognizing her was likely similar to my own.

  But there hadn’t been any women among the twenty-four of us who’d been stationed at 723. And from the wounds that covered her face and body, it was clear that something terrible had occurred. Her body temperature was extremely low. There was no time for us to discuss why or how she got down here. We cast lots and Wang Sichuan was made to remove her clothes. Most of her body was covered in cuts and scrapes, her skin bruised dark blue from internal bleeding. It was a terrifying thing to see. Her hands and knees were a bloody mess. If it weren’t for the stones and iron netting that lay all around us, one would certainly have thought that she’d suffered some cruel torture. None of this was fatal, though. The most serious problem was her body temperature. Her clothes had been soaked even before Wang Sichuan knocked her into the water. Her temperature had likely been low for some time. Her lips were already colored deep purple.

  Trembling, Wang Sichuan wiped her body dry and wrapped her in a sleeping bag. He heated water for her to drink, then used the fire to help steam her face, continuing to care for her until the small hours of the night. At last, her temperature began to rise, but she remained unconscious and could not be awoken. Still, our voices lost much of their tension. As Pei Qing stood by her side and watched her sleep peacefully, he spoke his thoughts aloud: “How could she have gotten here?”

  Once again I thought of what Old Cat had said to me the night before we set out: “Something about this isn’t right.” More and more, everything seemed like it was going to hell. “We shouldn’t keep going,” I said.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Wang Sichuan.

  “It’s starting to look like we weren’t the first ones here,” I said. “There’s something going on, and that colonel wasn’t honest with us.”

  My mind was in chaos, my specific thoughts and feelings a mystery to me. Still, it was plain what had taken place here. Pei Qing nodded. I could see his brow begin to wrinkle. The same realization must have just occurred to him: Based on Yuan Xile’s attire, it was clear she too had been here on a prospecting assignment. She must have belonged to some unknown fifth group. And this fifth team must have entered the cave some time before us. Had they begun after we did, they’d never have been able to overtake us so quickly. Though the specifics were still unclear, we now knew that prospecting activity had taken place here prior to our arrival. Yuan Xile was the ironclad proof. The situation was a mess. All at once, a host of new problems had arisen. For example: If this group had been here before us, why hadn’t the colonel let us know? And given that Yuan Xile was a female prospector, there was no way the higher-ups would have let her explore the cave by herself. So where was everyone else?

  The deputy squad leader was sitting in silence some distance away from us, surrounded by his soldiers. I went over and asked him how much of this he’d previously been aware of.

  “Even less than you,” he said, shaking his head. “We entered the cave when you did, but that meeting you held beforehand, we didn’t even get that—just orders to accompany you and complete the mission. Nothing more.”

  Everyone else was silent.

  “Why not just ask her when she wakes up,” said Wang Sichuan.

  I shook my head. Yuan Xile had just been through hell. The scariest thing about it was that she had been without a flashlight. For who knows how long this poor woman had been wandering lost through the caverns in pitch-black darkness. Imagine what she went through: stumbling through
the limitless dark of a freezing cave, strange and nameless sounds echoing off the walls. There was no telling what condition she’d be in when she woke up.

  “It’s useless,” Pei Qing added. “Even if she does wake up, she won’t tell us very much. Among those of her level, keeping quiet is a point of professional pride. Since she outranks all of us, it would be against protocol for her to say anything.”

  “So what do we do now?” asked Wang Sichuan. “Goddamn it, what the hell were our superiors thinking? We’ve never been involved in a mess like this before. The best thing to do would be to just pull out. Is whatever the hell’s down here really worth dying for?”

  “You should have realized on the long truck ride over that this assignment would be far different from any we’d worked on previously,” Pei Qing said, not looking at Wang Sichuan but past him, in the direction we had to travel. I saw a strange sort of anticipation pass through his eyes.

  This guy is not normal, I thought. Looking at his face, you’d think what had happened so far made almost no difference to him. I thought once more of the note, but then my mind turned back to our current situation. Indeed, I too was more than a little curious about what was waiting at the end of the river. And why, I wanted to know, was the truth behind our predicament getting harder and harder to grasp the longer we were down here?

  “I say you all should just stop discussing it,” said Chen Luohu. “If our brothers on the engineering team hear us talking like this, they’ll think we’re doubting the decisions of our superiors, and that won’t be good at all.” He had shrunk to one side, but kept speaking in a quiet voice. “We might as well continue on. There’s nothing to do but suck it up and keep going.”