The sky in the east is cloudy and white, barely dispelling the gloom of the polar night. The snow reflects the monotonous and dazzling white under the light, and the bare branches of the birch forest are like countless black bone claws extending to the sky. Leonid staggered, and most of the crooked footprints behind him were soon filled by the snow foam rolled up by the wind. Anna's cabin had long disappeared behind the cover of the sparse trees, but the bursting fire, the crisp sound of gunfire, the cold corpse, and the woman's gray-white eyes with blood and fire were stubbornly branded on his retina, and every blink of an eye was clearly reproduced.
The wound on the leg came with a sharp protest every time he took a step, and the flesh under the bandage jumped, but the cold and continuous exercise made the pain a little numb, becoming a dull drumbeat in the background. He touched his chest and could feel the hard outline of the dark blue cloth bag through the tattered prison clothes and close-fitting clothes. It was like a cold charcoal, close to his skin, bringing a burst of chill, but also strangely keeping him clear. Money, maps and keys rustled slightly in his pocket with his movements, which is the only reality at this moment.
We must live. Anna's words, those cold words about "pilgrims", about the list, about hunting, are nailed into the depths of his consciousness like an ice cone at this moment. He is not a devout believer, and he rarely even thinks about the grand word of fate, but an almost instinctive intuition tells him that since he failed to break the drunkard's skull, perhaps earlier, his life was pushed away from the rough but predictable track by an invisible hand and slid to this snowfield full of unknown killing opportunities.
It's dangerous during the day. The pursuer will have hounds, and there may be vehicles, and the traces on the snow can't hide in the sun. He must find a hiding place as soon as possible to get through this day.
The map unfolds roughly in my mind. The hand drawing given to him by Anna is simple, but the general direction is clear: to the east, deep into the mountainous areas in the south of Kmerovo, avoiding the main road and the main settlements. The final marking point is a triangular symbol near an unknown stream, with "Vasili" written on it.
He identified the terrain. The terrain ahead began to rise and fall, and the sparse woodland was gradually replaced by low shrubs and bare rocks. The wind swirled between the mountains, making a whimpering cry. He found a crack against the wind, which was barely able to accommodate himself, with old dead leaves and a small amount of unmolted old snow piled up. He curled up and pulled some dead branches and snow to cover the entrance with his frozen hands. The cold immediately penetrated in from all directions, but he was so tired that his eyelids were as heavy as hanging lead blocks. He clenched the small cloth bag on his chest and forced himself to maintain a minimum of alertness, but his consciousness slid into the sleepy abyss uncontrollably.
I don't know how long it took, but an abnormal sound suddenly pulled him out of his light sleep.
It's not the wind. It's the sound of the engine, low and continuous, coming from the northwest, and getting closer and closer. More than one.
Leonid's heartbeat suddenly accelerated. He carefully pushed away a little covered dead branch and looked out through the narrow opening of the rock crevice.
Two Gas-69 jeeps painted dark green without any logos are running over the snow and driving slowly along an old logging road almost covered by snow not far below. The speed of the car is not fast, as if it is searching. The antenna on the roof of the car swayed in the wind. The car window is pasted with a dark film, and the people inside can't be seen clearly.
Chasing the soldiers. Not those thugs with messy equipment and rough style in the "Sable" prison. These vehicles, this search method, exudes a more professional and cold atmosphere.
He held his breath, his body pressed against the cold rock, and even the trembling of his teeth was forcibly suppressed. The position of the rock crevice is high and covered by shrubs. As long as the other party does not carefully search this rocky slope, it should not be found.
The jeep stopped on the road below. The car door opened, and four people jumped down. Wearing a uniform dark gray winter combat suit and an ear-protecting cotton hat, he is well-equipped. One of them held a device like a detector in his hand, held it in front of him, and slowly turned his body. The other two are holding VSS Vintorez sniper rifles with scopes, and the muzzles are carefully pointed in all directions. The last one seems to be the captain, whispering something to the communicator.
They were so close that Leonid could even see the white gas exhaled by one of them condensed into frost on the brim of the hat.
"...The last confirmation signal appeared three kilometers to the southeast, civil band, short, low encryption, etc.... It may be a false alarm or a bait." The person holding the detector reported, and the sound was transmitted clearly in the silent snowfield.
The captain looked around and swept sharply over the snow slopes, rocks and bare bushes. His eyes flashed several times near the crevice of the rock where Leonid was hiding. Leonid's heart beat wildly and almost jumped out of his throat.
"Dispersed. Group A continued to search 500 meters east along the road. Group B, follow me up the hillside and check the rocky area. The captain ordered without any ups and downs in his voice, "Pay attention to any traces, including recently broken dead branches and unnatural snow depressions. The target may be injured and restricted from movement.
"Yes."
The two of them, with VSS rifles, left and right, began to search carefully along the snow on both sides of the road. The captain and the probe left the road and walked towards the rocky slope where Leonid was hiding. The boots stepped on the snow, making a regular and oppressive squeak.
Getting closer and closer.
Leonid clenched his fist and pinched his nails deeply into his palm. He has no weapon. The Makarov pistol given by Anna was in another pocket, but he was not sure if he could pull out the gun, aim and shoot before the other two professional gunmen reacted. Not to mention the two people on the road below.
Sweat mixed with cold snow water slid down from the corners of the forehead. He glanced at the pocket on his chest, which was the blue velvet bag.
Can't be found.
He forced himself to calm down and slow down his breathing. His eyes stared through the gap of the dead branches, staring at the two gradually approaching figures. They searched very carefully, shovelling the snow with the barrel of the gun from time to time and checking the back of the rock.
Fifteen meters. Ten meters.
The captain stopped in front of a protruding rock, and the detector was facing the direction of the rock crevice. The instrument made a slight "tick" sound and flashed green light spots.
"There is a faint residue of heat source here." The probe whispered and pointed to the direction of the crevice where Leonid was hiding. "It may be a small animal, or it may be..."
The captain raised his hand to signal him to muff up and walked towards the rock crevice step by step with a rifle. His finger was on the trigger guard, and the muzzle of the gun was slightly raised, pointing to the entrance of the rock crevice.
Five meters.
Leonid could clearly see the calm and focused eyes behind the goggles of the other party.
Three meters.
The captain stopped and listened.
At this moment, on the road below, a team member in charge of searching on the east side suddenly raised his fist, signaled to pause, and then pointed somewhere in the snow in front of the road.
"Captain! Here is the discovery! Blood stains! There are also dragging traces, pointing to the northeast!"
The captain's movements stopped. He glanced at the detector, and the green light was still flashing, but the signal was very weak. He looked at the hidden and not particularly natural dead branches and snow at the entrance of the rock crevice.
A brief trade-off.
"Group B, come and join!" The captain finally said to the communicator, and at the same time retreated two steps vigilantly. The muzzle of the gun was still pointing at the rock crack, "Group A, alert in place. The blood stains and traces found may or may not be left by the target. Stay alert. Let's go and check."
The probe and the captain quickly turned around, walked towards the road, and met with the team members below. The four people gathered around the "discovered" blood, talked in a low voice and pointed at each other.
Leonid's tense nerves relaxed slightly, but he didn't dare to be careless at all. He knew what was going on with the blood and drag marks - the blood oozing from his leg injury, and the unnatural traces he left in the deep snow when he was looking for a hiding place just now. He had tried his best to cover it up, but it was obviously not thorough enough. However, this sudden "discovery" was right, temporarily diverting the attention of the pursuer.
They carefully checked the trace, and then the captain made a gesture. The four people were fan-shaped and chased quickly and cautiously along the northeast direction pointed by the blood stains and drag marks.
It was not until their figures disappeared in another rock and bush, and the sound of the engine sounded again. The jeep turned and drove northeast. Leonid dared to slowly spit out a breath of turbid air that had been held in his chest. The cold air poured into the lungs, bringing a tingling sensation, but also bringing a sense of weakness for the rest of my life after the robbery.
The person in the team just now... is not from the prison. Equipment, discipline and search methods are far beyond the resources that the "Sable" prison can mobilize. Is it the policeman? Special forces? Or is it the... "pilgrim" in Anna's mouth?
He didn't dare to think about it. The top priority is to leave here. The other party is likely to find that there is nothing at the end of the bloodstains and drag marks, and then turn back for a more thorough search.
He climbed out of the rock crevice with difficulty, didn't care about patting the dead leaves and snowflakes on his body, and identified the direction. We can't continue to follow the original route. The pursuers have noticed the northeast. He must take a detour.
The map appeared in my mind again. He decided to go south first, make a big circle, avoid the area just now, and then turn east.
The next journey is extremely difficult. The light during the day made him nowhere to hide. He could only pass through the relatively dense places of the forest, and try to choose the back shade and the rock shadow. The wound bleed again because of the continuous trekking and the tension just now, and the bandage was dyed a small piece of red. Hunger and thirst also began to torment him. He grabbed a few handfuls of clean snow and stuffed them into his mouth. The cold snow water slid down his throat, bringing brief moisture, but making the inside of his body feel colder.
In the evening, the sky was covered with clouds again, and small snow grains began to float. This makes it more difficult to travel, but also provides some cover. He found an almost dry stream bed, walked along it for a while, washed the edge of the wound with turbid ice water, and tightened the bandage again.
When it was completely dark, he had deviated from the straight line on Anna's map, but the general direction was still east. He didn't know exactly where he was and how far he was from the marker "Vasili". His physical strength is close to overdraft, and the cold is like a bone, swallowing his heat and consciousness little by little.
Just when he was about to give up and wanted to find a place to lie down and leave it to fate, a faint voice that was different from the wind and snow came into his ears.
It's the sound of water flowing. It's not the small gurgling of the stream, but the smoother and more continuous gurgling sound.
He cheered up and followed the sound. Through a low spruce forest, my eyes suddenly opened up. A short but not completely frozen river is across the front. The river shows a gloomy color in the night. The water is not urgent, but it looks quite deep. On the other side of the river, the terrain is higher and dark like the shadow of the mountains and forests.
The most important thing is that there is a low wooden house standing by the river. It's not a relatively regular house like Anna's. It's more simple, more like a temporary foothold for a hunter or a fisherman. The roof is covered with thick snow, but there is no smoke in the chimney, and the windows are dark.
Leonid observed cautiously for a moment. There are no lights, no sounds, and no obvious traces of recent activities around the wooden house. The wind and snow covered up most of the details. He approached carefully and walked around the back of the house. The back door was closed, and the door shaft was probably rusted, making a slight squeak in the wind.
He gently pushed the door open, and an air mixed with the smell of mold, dust and a faint fishy smell came to his face. The room is very dark. With the faint light reflected by the snow, you can see the general outline: a simple brick stove, a rough wooden table, two crooked chairs, and some debris and broken fishing nets in the corner. There is no bed, only a bed made of hay and old animal skins.
It seems that it has been abandoned for some time.
Leonid flashed in and gently covered the door with his backhand to isolate the wind and snow. The room is not much warmer than outside, but at least there is no direct cold wind. He groped to find the stove, with some dry firewood and igniting pine trees piled up next to him. He didn't dare to make too much fire. He only lit a small cluster of pine lights, and the faint beating fire barely illuminated the square inch of land.
He checked the room. There is indeed no one. There are some rusty cans in the corner, empty. A broken bucket. There are several rusty hooks hanging on the wall. The animal skin on the berth is stiff and exudes a stale smell.
But it's safe here for the time being. It can block the wind and snow and let him breathe a breath.
He sat down by the stove and took out the map given by Anna again and studied it carefully. The river... There seems to be a similar mark on the map, winding to the east. If this is the same river, it may be faster to get closer to the marker point if you go downstream along the river.
He put away the map, took out the blue velvet bag, and looked at it under the fire. The dark blue velvet has faded a little, and the corners are worn out. He hesitated for a moment and untied the tight bag.
There is a badge inside.
It's very small, about the size of a thumb nail cap. The material is non-gold and non-iron, and the beginning is cold and heavy, with a dull silver gray color. The front of the badge is an extremely simple pattern: a line-outlined silhouette of an Orthodox church with a vault and a spire. Under the church, there is not the usual cross or holy image, but a slightly tilted bell that seems to be ringing. The outline of the bell is very clear, and you can even see the simple lines on the bell.
Church and clock.
Holy bell?
Leonid remembered Anna's words - "A code, or a place, or maybe both. It is related to 'pilgrims'.
He turned the badge over. The back is smooth, without any inscriptions or marks, only an extremely fine scratch through the center, as if it had been scratched by something sharp.
What does this badge represent? Is it a toxin? Is it a logo? Or is it some kind of curse?
He looked at it for a long time and couldn't see any more famous halls. A deep tiredness and bewilderment surged into my mind. He carefully put the badge back into the velvet bag, tightened the mouth of the bag again, and put it close to him. The cold touch is still the same.
The wind and snow outside seemed to be a little bigger, hitting the thin wall of the wooden house. He leaned against the cold brick stove, wrapped his tattered prison uniform tightly, trying to absorb the warmth of the pitiful, pine flame. The wound on the leg was faintly painful, and the hunger was even stronger. But he didn't dare to sleep too deeply, and his ears were always upright, capturing any unusual sound outside the house.
Chasers, pilgrims, lists, badges, holy bells... These fragments floated and collided in his troubled mind, and could not piece together a complete picture. He only knew that he was inexplicably involved in a huge and dangerous whirlpool, and the center of the whirlpool seemed to point to a past that he had no impression of.
He must find "Vasily". That's what Anna pointed out, and it's the only seemingly feasible landing point at present.
The eyelids are getting heavier and heavier, and the flame of Songming is swaying and blurring in sight. On the verge of consciousness being swallowed up by darkness, he seemed to hear something again.
It's not the sound of wind and snow.
It's the ringtone.
Very far away, very light, as if from the deep mountains on the other side of the river, and as if directly in the depths of his mind. Crisp, ethereal, with a strange rhythm that penetrates the wind, snow and the night, ding...ding...ding...ding...
It seems to be calling and announcing the time.
Leonid woke up suddenly and was not sleepy at all. He held his breath and listened sideways.
There is only the whistling of wind and snow and the dull flow of the river.
The ringing just now... Is it an illusion? Or is it the illusion of extreme fatigue and nervousness?
He can't be sure. But the crisp and cold afterglow seemed to linger in his ears, creating a strange resonance with the cold badge on his chest.
He didn't dare to close his eyes anymore. He clutched the small cloth bag and stared at the dark windows of the wooden house swaying in the wind and snow until the sky gradually glowed with cold ash.