Chapter 8: Another Attempt

John slumped against a tree, clutching his hair with both hands. “It's a curse! This place is cursed! This damned rainforest! That has to be it! That's why none of the instruments or compasses work! We're finished, ha ha, we're finished!” He laughed, once again the man who had sat in a cannibal cage, waiting hopelessly to die. Of course, after such a bizarre and terrifying turn of events, this was a perfectly normal reaction.

Gunsmith remained calm. “Instead of putting it down to the supernatural, let's consider some reasonable possibilities. I think someone could very well be behind this.”

John's eyes widened. He stepped forward and grabbed Gunsmith by the collar. “You know what's happening here?” he demanded, looking for all the world like a madman.

“First, this could be the work of someone with a superpower,” Gunsmith said. “You've seen my ability. There are all kinds of ability users in the world, and there's simply no way to count how many different abilities exist. Causing what just happened wouldn't be particularly difficult. Perhaps we've just been fooled by some kind of illusion, or something has interfered with our brains.”

John let go. He had calmed down a little. Gunsmith made a great deal of sense. Wasn't an ability user more likely than some terrifying curse they had imagined?

Gunsmith continued, “Also, space can be folded using machinery. The Empire's upper echelons do have access to that sort of technology…”

At this, he suddenly remembered Tian Yi's bookstore. When he had built its relocation device years ago, Gunsmith had worked with advanced science involving space. Even after finishing it, he had never understood where Tian Yi had obtained the technical information he had given him. What that science could do far exceeded anything humanity should have been capable of at its present stage.

Later, Gunsmith had become the Empire's weapons adviser. He had originally assumed that the Empire's secret technology was the source of all the bizarre contraptions in Tian Yi's strange bookstore, but as he learned more, he discovered that the two were worlds apart. They belonged to entirely different systems.

Seeing Gunsmith suddenly lapse into a daze, John wasn't sure whether to interrupt. After a while, he snapped his fingers twice and waved a hand in front of Gunsmith's eyes. “Hey! Charles! You all right?!”

Gunsmith came back to himself. “Oh, it's nothing. Just thinking about something.” He returned to the subject. “Anyway, there's no need to panic. All that's happened is that we haven't managed to cross the river. Instead of floundering around and giving up, we should think about what to do next.”

By now, John had largely recovered from his initial shock and panic. He steadied himself and wiped his face with rainwater. “I don't think we can keep moving. The rain's too heavy, and crossing the river took too much out of us. Worst of all, visibility keeps dropping. In a few hours, it'll probably be pitch-black.”

“All right, let's find somewhere out of the rain first,” Gunsmith replied, setting off immediately.

John could hardly stand in the rain forever in his mud-covered clothes, so he quickly followed.

The rainforest terrain rose and fell in a succession of uneven slopes. It took them over ten minutes to find a suitable spot against a cliff, where a slanting overhang kept the rain several meters away. Crouching in that cramped shelter was uncomfortable, but it was better than standing outside.

Their failed river crossing had been an ordeal for body and mind. Two hundred meters of running through water, followed by two hundred meters of freestyle swimming fully clothed, only to climb ashore and discover they were still where they had started, with rain pouring down on their heads. Most frightening of all, somewhere out of sight, an unknown force seemed to be watching them at every moment, trying to prevent them from leaving the rainforest.

Though dark clouds covered the sky, it wasn't so dark that they couldn't see a hand in front of their faces, which meant the sun hadn't set yet. This was no place to linger. Once the rain eased, they would have to find somewhere else, concealed and safe, before they dared light a fire and rest.

They didn't have to wait long. About an hour later, the setting sun shone through the clouds and dense forest, and both men felt grateful that the downpour had been so brief.

The rest, together with the clear weather after the rain, had lifted John's spirits considerably. After one disaster after another, his nerves were growing tougher by the day, and he recovered much faster now. Of course, he still had some way to go before he could match Gunsmith's composure in a crisis.

Before long, they were back beside the river. The water was very high now, but its surface looked calm and the current was relatively gentle. Gunsmith proposed trying to cross again, though this time they would have to swim the whole way.

John suggested building a raft, which would reduce the risk considerably. Schools of piranhas might pass through the river, after all. Besides, a raft would save their strength and give them a clear view of both banks as they crossed. If someone really was hiding in the shadows and playing tricks, they would be able to pick up more details.

Gunsmith agreed. He, too, was utterly exhausted by now. He thought that if folded space really was holding them here, the energy spent building a raft would still be a better investment than swimming back and forth n times.

John then suggested that Gunsmith use his superpower to produce two machetes. They could use them both to cut down trees and to defend themselves. With a machete in hand, John would also be able to help clear a path as they traveled through the jungle.

Gunsmith readily agreed, but after searching for ages, he couldn't find any material close to what he needed. With no other choice, he picked up a lump of mud and began concentrating his power. After twenty minutes of work, he finally finished one.

“Start cutting down trees. I'll come help once I've finished mine.” Gunsmith handed the blade to John.

John replied, “Couldn't you have made a sheath while you were at it?”

“Piss off. Go kill a crocodile and make one out of its hide yourself,” Gunsmith said.

John smiled and went off to cut down trees on his own.

Alchemy was a troublesome ability. Fortunately, a machete wasn't a piece of intricate precision machinery. Otherwise, in his present condition, Gunsmith might not have been able to make anything that size.

Another twenty minutes passed. By the time Gunsmith finished his second machete and was ready to lend John a hand, the fellow had already gathered all the wood they needed. He certainly worked fast.

“These logs should be buoyant enough to support two people. I've made the paddles too. We just need to find some strong vines, trim them with the machetes, and lash the raft together.” By the time John said this, he had already done most of the work.

He had chosen trees of a suitable thickness, worked out the lengths as he cut them, and chopped off all the unwanted branches, leaving little for Gunsmith to do. Apparently, John had also noticed how mentally taxing Gunsmith's superpower was and had quietly taken on all the work he could manage.

As the sun sank lower in the west, the raft was finished. Neither man had let down his guard while they worked, but neither the cannibals nor the black creature had appeared. The greatest danger had been a few snakes passing by, minding their own business.

They put the raft in the water. It didn't sink. Both men climbed aboard with their paddles. It still didn't sink. That seemed to settle that.

As he paddled, John said, “It's almost dark. If we really can't get across, we could consider taking the river instead and heading downstream to get away from here.”

Gunsmith paddled on the other side without a word. He glanced back at the receding bank, but his sense of foreboding had not diminished in the slightest.