The sound was deafening, and we all jumped up at once. That Vice Monitor was truly a regular soldier—he tossed away his cigarette, grabbed his gun, and rushed straight toward where the gunshot had come from, with the other engineers close behind.

We weren’t as agile as they were; I immediately fell behind by more than ten meters. Edward Foster was too heavy and soon slipped down below the rocks, his foot stuck in a burlap sack. He tugged at it a few times but couldn’t get free, shouting for me to help.

I didn’t have time to bother with him, so I told Ethan Brooks, who was almost crawling behind us, to look after him, and hurried to catch up myself.

10. Sacrifice

We ran like mad through the darkness, only able to see the flashlights of the men ahead. Once we left the area lit by our campfire, our speed dropped dramatically. We had to use our flashlights to light the way, leaping from rock to rock as we went.

It wasn’t easy to jump like that—people aren’t kangaroos, and every leap was nerve-wracking. Sometimes, if your foot was a bit slow, you’d slip down under the rocks. I just did my best to keep up.

Gunfire was still going off in the distance, and soon I saw the tracer rounds—probably about six hundred meters away. Charles Bennett and the others hadn’t been gone that long, so they’d moved pretty fast.

Halfway through the chase, I ran out of strength. Running like this was exhausting. I stopped, feeling like my lungs were about to burst. But after a few seconds, I realized something was wrong—the darkness was absolute, and the soldiers ahead were still sprinting, getting farther and farther away. Scattered burlap sacks and the exposed bones inside made my scalp tingle, so I gritted my teeth and forced myself to keep going.

By the time I got there, the gunfire had stopped. I saw that it was Charles Bennett holding the gun, but the soldier who’d been with him was gone. That Vice Monitor was deathly pale, running back with another soldier. I asked what had happened, but they ignored me and ran straight past.

I had no choice but to crawl over to Charles Bennett and ask what was going on. Charles Bennett’s face was ashen and he said nothing. A soldier nearby tried to explain, but he could barely get the words out, stammering and pointing. It took me a long time to understand—someone had fallen, and Vice Monitor and the others had gone back to get a rope.

By now, I could hear the roar of water. When I got closer, I saw that the ground suddenly dropped off here, and the riverbed formed a ledge. The underground river plunged straight down, forming a waterfall. It wasn’t very high—at most a bit over twenty meters. Shining the flashlight down, I saw nothing but rocks below. Suddenly, I spotted the soldier who’d set out with Charles Bennett, wedged between two rocks, his face covered in blood. I couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead, but it was clear he’d slipped and fallen.

My head buzzed—this was already a major accident. I hurriedly asked Charles Bennett for details. Charles Bennett said they’d planned to turn back when they got here, but since the waterfall wasn’t that high, he thought, “We’ve come this far, might as well go a bit deeper.” The young soldier said the squad leader had told him to protect Charles Bennett, and that such a dangerous task should be his. He handed his gun to Charles Bennett and started climbing down himself. No one knew what happened, but after just a couple of steps, the young soldier suddenly fell. Charles Bennett immediately called for help, but after shouting for ages with no response, he fired his gun to alert us.

I’d been through things like this before—falling is one of the biggest dangers for geological survey teams. I quickly told the two soldiers who hadn’t gone back to call out the fallen soldier’s name at the base of the waterfall. If he was still conscious, we couldn’t let him fall asleep. But the two soldiers called for ages—seemed like they were shouting Bearded Reed, probably a nickname—but the fallen young soldier didn’t respond at all. My heart sank; it didn’t look good.

Edward Foster and the others arrived after me, exhausted, but as soon as he heard someone had fallen, he wanted to go down and rescue him. The other soldier and I had to hold him back with all our strength.

We waited anxiously at the edge for twenty minutes before the rope finally arrived. Vice Monitor went down himself and carried the young soldier back up. When he came up, his hands were covered in blood. At first, I thought it was from the soldier, but then I realized it was all Vice Monitor’s own blood. The waterfall was full of barbed wire, hidden in the water and impossible to see. That must have been what caused the young soldier to fall.

I checked, then closed my eyes—he was already gone. In the end, I never got to know the soldier’s name. We were all struck dumb, squatting down and wiping away tears.

Because we always wore safety helmets, I’d never really looked closely at these engineers before. Now, seeing him, I realized this soldier was at most nineteen years old. If it were today, he’d still be at the age of knowing nothing, recklessly squandering his youth. Back then, he left no last words—maybe he’d never even tasted love before dying so easily.

Vice Monitor had seen combat before; now he just smoked in silence. The other soldiers all cried, and Edward Foster cried too, grabbing Charles Bennett and saying, “He was just a kid—how could you let him do something so dangerous?” Charles Bennett said nothing, didn’t resist, but his face looked terrible. I wanted to comfort the soldiers, but Vice Monitor stopped me, saying, “Let them cry for twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.”