Chapter 20

A sandwich that might have been mouldy?
She took a deep breath. When she came to, she was surprised to see the empty plastic wrapper in her hand. Wei Yuan was watching her silently; his eyes held something more—curiosity.
She pressed her thin lips together. Before he could speak she picked up the helmet at her feet and put it back on.
Full, Jiang Shan leaned back against the wall of the cargo bed. The truck was even bumpier than she had imagined, and the driver was clearly flooring it—as if desperate to leave something behind.
She hugged her backpack. People always reached for what was theirs when the air felt wrong.
She looked up at the mountains fading from view, already just outlines in the distance.
Wei Yuan had been watching her. Every flicker of expression had not escaped him. Then she turned and looked straight at him.
He didn’t seem embarrassed or flustered. He only asked slowly: “Are you sick? With what?”
She looked at him, then turned away and said lightly: “Cancer.”
Wei Yuan: “…”
He couldn’t bring himself to ask what kind. Usually the word “cancer” said enough.
He fell silent again.
Jiang Shan closed her eyes. Whether she slept or not, she had made it clear she didn’t want to talk. She was exhausted and confused, and Wei Yuan and the others were still strangers. She didn’t want to say more.
Wei Yuan quietly looked away.
She dozed, was jolted awake, dozed again. Outside it was grey or black. In the end she had no idea how much time had passed.
…
In the cab someone cursed: “Damn it, we’re out of fuel again.”
The truck finally slowed and swayed to a stop. She began to understand what all those drums in the back were for. The burly man from the passenger seat got out and came to the back, his face grim. “We have a problem. Our spare fuel line is broken too.” No line meant no way to refuel.
“Hell. When it rains it pours.” Someone else cursed.
Wei Yuan was still the only calm one. “Don’t panic. Zhao Ying, check the map first.”
Zhao Ying in the back seat rummaged in her pack and unrolled an old map. Jiang Shan watched them. What did that mean—were they lost? Why not just use GPS? Global satellite positioning—
Then it hit her: from the start until now, she hadn’t seen any of them use a phone.
The map Zhao Ying spread out was worn at the edges. It didn’t look like ordinary paper—more like the parchment you saw on TV.
Zhao Ying said: “There’s a gas station five hundred metres ahead.”
That gave the others a flicker of hope. “Whatever. Let’s go and see.”
Jiang Shan saw the fuel line they had thrown away—the one that was “broken.” It was covered in a black substance, like rust. But could plastic rust?
Before she could process it, the truck was moving again, much slower this time, inching forward those five hundred metres.
Jiang Shan saw an abandoned gas station by the road.