Chapter 220 Drifting and Hatred

Chapter 220 Drifting and Hatred

"But when I got back, everyone was fine. I told my friends about it, and they all said I was worrying for nothing. The village is three or four miles away from the test site, so it wouldn't affect us."

Kurt muttered, ordering another drink and downing it in one gulp, letting out a long sigh:

"Our village lives off fishing. Every day, we go out to sea and sell the fish along the waterways. We rarely leave the village by road. It was summer break, and when I wanted to visit the nearby towns, I found that the village was surrounded by a fence within a mile radius. We were locked in."

"Locked in?"

I was stunned. To silently fence off an entire village and build a barrier in such a short time isn't something just anyone can do.

Moreover, such actions restricting public movement would be quickly stopped by local authorities, fined, or even criminally charged.

"You must be thinking, yeah, if we were locked in, why not just break out or call the police?"

I nodded.

"The entire village's signal was blocked, and the fence was electrified. There was no way out. Don't even think about it. The waterways were also sealed off, and all the boats in the village were destroyed overnight. We didn't know what was happening. We were just waiting."

"Waiting for death."

Kurt's eyes were hollow, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open, like a fish out of water, eyes wide, waiting for death.

After a long pause, he lowered his head and spoke in a deep voice:

"From the second day the roads were blocked, people in the village started showing symptoms. The elderly were the first to succumb. Their skin turned black, then began to ulcerate, blood oozing out. They kept crying out for water, drinking more and more until they burst from it. Even their blood turned pale."

"Next were the villagers. They fell into a strange frenzy, staying awake day and night. Some sat under trees for a whole day and night, some cried and screamed, and some ran around the village non-stop, not eating or drinking, not sleeping. Three days later, they were all dead."

"Only the babies and a few of us teenagers, eight in total, were left. Surrounded by the bodies of our parents and elders, we rationed our remaining food, mixing it with water to make a thin gruel for the babies. By day, we buried the dead one by one. At night, we huddled together, waiting for dawn, surviving another day. You know, for the first time, I felt that living was more terrifying than dying. Dying would end it all, no more pain or fear."

"We wondered why no one came to save us. Where were the police? The outside world? The village was like a living hell, shrouded in gloom, deathly silent. Crying was useless. All that awaited us was death. We gradually realized we had been abandoned, forsaken by the world."

Kurt recounted the story of death calmly. These images must haunt his mind every day, tormenting him day and night.

I had already pieced it together. The experiment had caused a bacterial outbreak, infecting the village. With no cure, the entire village was quarantined, left to die slowly, buried by the relentless march of history.

"A week later, we ran out of food. We had to find a way to survive. Eventually, we found an old wooden boat in a warehouse. With great effort, we dragged it out. Eight starving, emaciated kids, including the babies, shakily got on the boat. We had never gone out to sea alone, let alone operated a boat. But relying on our memories of our fathers' actions, we miraculously sailed out of the village, drifting on the sea."

"With no destination, we had no idea where to go. But the salty sea breeze made us inexplicably excited. As long as we were alive, there was hope. We felt a surge of energy. We agreed to keep drifting in one direction, following the fixed stars at night. We would reach somewhere eventually."

"Looking back, it was so naive, so brave. Drifting on the vast ocean in a small wooden boat, we could have starved to death in ten days or so. If we encountered a storm, we would have become offerings to the sea. But fate was kind to us. After less than three days, though we were dizzy with hunger, we saw a fishing boat. Somehow, we found the strength to wave and shout for help."

What a bizarre sight it must have been—a small fishing boat crowded with children, with no sailing experience, drifting for two days, rescued by a fishing boat.

"The crew saw our gaunt faces and gave us some fruit and food. We didn't say a word, just ate in silence. After eating, we fell asleep. The crew later said we slept for two days and nights, like the dead. Yes, like the dead. We had already died once. Waking up this time was like being reborn."

"They asked what had happened, but none of us spoke. We didn't know how to explain. The fishing trip wasn't over yet. We stayed with the boat for over half a month before returning to Emerald City. On the way back, we made a plan. We entrusted the baby to the local welfare agency and decided to fend for ourselves in Emerald City. We had to survive, no matter what."

"To survive for revenge?"

I whispered. The truth behind the Emerald City heist was clear. The participants and planners were those children, grown up and were seeking revenge.

But their target was like an immovable mountain, as high as the sky, as deep as the sea, as solid as the earth.

"The subway heist took immense courage, meticulous planning, and countless calculations to execute flawlessly. How did you... No, how did you all dare? Did Byron know about this?"

"He knew. He wanted to write about it, to expose the truth through his work. But Dean caught wind of it and shut him down, silencing him completely."

"But you all..."

Kurt sighed, "There will always be those on earth who dare to challenge the thunder's might!"