Side Story: Hell on Earth
Chapter 103
Six years later
The long years seemed to have passed like centuries, and they had already stolen everything. Matter had no wings, yet it flew away. The spiritual crisis had turned into emptiness, leaving nothing at all.
Health was like a lamp that was running out of oil, ready to go out at any moment. Maria's relatives and kin had all died one by one from exhaustion, hunger, thirst, disease, or suicide.
The unfortunate woman and her remaining family had been utterly exhausted, sick and starving, yet at that time they still lived with faint breath. Whenever the oil lamp was about to go out, miracles had once descended, saving those fragile lives struggling between life and death.
Most typically, the god of fortune had "blessed" the rebels with military victory, while the heavens bestowed a son upon the Marshal to ensure the continuance of the family bloodline. At times, fortune had helped the Hive to perfect everything, so that its rule became even more secure.
Or more simply, when Wan's family had received all kinds of good news, Wan had happily and generously "bestowed favors," allowing the slaves to live like human beings for a short time.
His chances to play the "good man" had appeared more frequently than any good news that came from the Hive. Whenever that happened, hardworking families like Maria's had been given priority over other households.
Whether by luck or by extraordinary willpower, her family had survived until then. Maria had cared only about one thing: whether she could lull the "hungry ghost" to sleep that day, or whether it would torment her into sleeplessness through the night.
The next day, she toiled with her upper eyelids clinging to the lower ones, tottering through the entire session before finally undergoing punishment. Some had sneered, others had sympathized and offered help. But Maria had ignored all the sneers and had accepted no one's favor.
Three years earlier, Aunt Favor Grace had fought over food and killed a person. She should have received severe punishment, but because the place where Liberte labored lacked manpower, the Hive had transferred her together with wrongdoers.
By then, opportunists had been everywhere. To help once meant demanding tenfold repayment. At that time no one had been honest with anyone. Just as when they had first endured hunger and thirst together, whenever a place with fish, frogs, or wild vegetables had been found, Maria, unable to bear watching other families' children wither and die, had sometimes shared with the evacuees.
Hunger had twisted the minds of those in the same plight, forming groups of selfishness, baseness, hatred, and mutual envy over food. Everyone had already hidden their food sources, more secretly than cats burying their waste. Whoever begged, the hungry ghosts had flatly refused. Maria had been the one most often rejected:
"No, absolutely not, I cannot tell. Because someone like you, who worries about things unrelated to you and even pities strangers, would reveal it to others. In the end, even the vegetables would be gone, and it would cause quarrels and fights. I am not foolish, nor do I want to become a living saint like you…"
That "priceless" humanity had slapped Maria right in the face, awakening her from the illusory dream of human nature in this hell on earth. From that moment, she had realized that for survival, apart from herself and her family, she could trust and rely on no one.
Even Maria herself had sometimes quarreled with her family because of hunger. Whom could she still trust? The state of psychological distress had completely changed her. Apart from kinship, she had no feelings left, no humanity.
Maria had grown weaker day by day, yet she had still forced herself not to collapse, continuing to join everyone in cutting forests and reclaiming land.
Food rations had been inversely proportional to the piled-up workload. Hunger had driven the evacuees to madly search for anything edible or drinkable. The most common had been spinach, wild water spinach growing everywhere, and aquatic plants in ponds and lakes.
The people of Floating Kingdom had often used such plants to feed livestock. Even banana tree roots had been cut down by villagers to feed pigs, and hunger had driven the evacuees to compete with one another.
The rulers had laughed loudly, but not a word had reached the ears of those fighting and snatching. Not a trace of contempt had appeared in the countless fierce eyes scrambling for that pile of "luxury food." They had only envied their rivals for picking up more than themselves.
The others scrambled and crawled away in terror from the fray, where the weak watched in helpless horror as the stronger plundered their food. Some, unwilling to resign themselves to fate, flung themselves back into the fray to reclaim what was theirs, only to end up empty-handed once more, dragging their battered bodies back home in bitter humiliation.
Maria and Le had always stayed away from that crowd, never playing this inevitably losing game of risk. Worse still, the danger of injury had been enough to topple their already frail bodies. The two sisters had dragged their weakened bodies onward, continuing to search for other sources of food.
They had found nothing, and so they had gone home exhausted and irritated. Just as hunger had become unbearable, they had encountered the neighbor woman—the one they had refused years earlier when she asked to borrow their kitchen.
To avoid trouble, they had pretended not to see her, and the neighbor at that time had ignored them as well. In the encounters that had followed, she had remained calm, unlike the shameless provocations of former times:
"Didn't you eat cold porridge today? Tsk, your stomach must be growling, so you had to swallow saliva instead, no porridge left, right? A bunch of selfish people—you deserve it!"
It had been endless ridicule, mockery, and taunts:
"You are in the same plight as me, yet you show no sympathy. You selfish ghosts deserve only to live with dogs!"
"Hypocrites! Those who preach morals live like absolute cunts! No wonder your husband vanished without a trace—retribution was right before your eyes!"
They had not wanted conflict, yet humiliation and provocation had continued. The neighbor had struck at the pain of their lost kin, and rage had finally erupted. Ignoring Maria's pleas, Le had flown into fury, cursing the neighbor as a beast in human skin—someone who had erred but forced her husband to take the blame. Out of cowardice she had not confessed, yet she had watched mercilessly as her husband was dragged into the re-education camp.
She had cruelly accused her relatives of lying, claiming to sell fish in the market, when in fact her cousin's family had been wealthy merchants who could not escape before the army occupied the city.
That very night, the neighbor's cousin had been arrested along with other husbands and fathers, and had been sent to the re-education camp.
The Hive had charged them with betrayal, adding crimes of deceit and cunning. These had been unforgivable offenses, condemning them never to return home.
The next day, a rebel had appeared carrying a scarf—the prized item her cousin had never parted with. Its owner was already dead. The blow of widowhood had driven the cousin's wife into madness. And that woman, greedy for profit, had secretly rejoiced at the rich reward she had gained for her denunciation.
The quarrel had escalated until Wan himself had been forced to intervene. Both sides had accused each other, and witnesses had recounted the origins of the incident. Wan had glanced at Maria, his eyes sweeping quickly over her frail body.
Maria had faintly sensed something was wrong. She had tried to calm herself, thinking it might only be a hallucination born of fear that Wan would punish her kin. He had slightly raised the corner of his mouth, cleared his throat, and ordered everyone to be silent to hear the judgment:
"This scandal was the fault of both sides. But Mao had first provoked trouble, insulting and taunting simply because the other refused to lend her kitchen. According to the laws issued by the Hive, whoever first stirs up trouble, instigates, or disrupts order shall receive harsher punishment. Therefore, Mao is deprived of rations for one week, and Le is deprived of rations for five days. During the punishment period, you must still complete sufficient work each day."
Weak bodies, deteriorating health, and rations cut off for days—this had been more terrifying to the starving than cruel torture. Yet no one had dared to plead for leniency. Both sides had vented all their frustration through furious glares, locking eyes with the one who had dragged them into such misery.
Maria had secretly rejoiced; before Wan made his decision, she had feared that he would punish Le for doubting and distrusting the Hive. Strangely, Wan had not mentioned that Le had dared to expose Mao's husband for taking the blame in his wife's place.
The Hive had always flaunted fairness, rewarding and punishing clearly, but at that time they had not arrested the right person with the right charge… or perhaps… they had deliberately arrested Mao's husband to achieve some hidden purpose.
The more Maria had thought, the more confused she had become, unable to understand Wan's meaning. But since Le had escaped the death penalty, the two sisters had not dared to show any attitude toward Wan. Wan had nodded with satisfaction, ordered the crowd to disperse, and then had driven away.
From that day on, the neighbor woman had stopped making trouble, and Le had grown too weary to bother with her. Both sides had treated each other as invisible. Le had suffered the punishment of reduced rations, and Maria had given her own meager food to Le and her teenage son. The rations had been cut, but the workload had not been reduced.
Maria and her husband's elder sister had risen at three every morning, walking for hours to a field by the roadside. There had been no plow, no ox to pull a cart. The two women had wielded hoes, serving as both plow and ox.
By noon, in the damp air, the blazing sun had seemed to burn away all sweat, even evaporating the thin porridge in the stomachs of Maria and Le. Hunger and fatigue had made their hands tremble on the hoes again and again, nearly dropping them to the ground. Neither had dared to stop, fearing punishment from the soldiers on the bank.
After half a day of torment under the sun, Maria and Le had rested briefly before searching for food, their eyes bloodshot until finally finding a patch of wild vegetables.
Eating large amounts of these wild greens had caused Maria to suffer intestinal disease, with bloody stools and constant abdominal pain, but at that time there had been no medicine to treat it. The village's old women had taught her folk remedies.
On the first day of illness, Maria had lain in bed, unable to rise for work. Strangely, the soldiers had not cursed or urged her. Maria had felt they had deliberately "forgotten" her, allowing her to rest and recover.
This situation had been completely different from three years earlier. An, Wan's daughter, had just moved there. When she had patrolled and seen Maria lying at home, she had not even bothered to remove her mud-covered sandals, but had barged straight in and shouted:
"Hey, you old whore, stop pretending to be sick! If you don't want to be starved, get to the fields and work!"
Maria had tried to sit up. An had glared at her, seized her collar, kicked her backside, and dragged her to the rice fields, shouting as she went:
"Like a donkey that loves heavy loads, you dare to feign illness? Today, even if you die, you will drag yourself to the fields to work for me!"
An had thrown Maria into the middle of the fields and ordered soldiers to watch her. After flaunting her power, she had swaggered off to patrol elsewhere.
Maria had sat on the ground, too weak to stand. The others had seen her frailty but had not dared to speak, pretending to see nothing. The women had continued their labor in the fields. A group of soldiers had mocked and jeered at Maria:
"Women like her, prostitutes of the old times, always used to pleasure. From the egg shell she had slept on soft warm beds. She had been accustomed to the habit of spreading her legs and arching her buttocks, living in abundance, with her upper mouth eating delicious dishes and her lower mouth enjoying sensual pleasures. She ate too much, feared labor, so whenever work was required, she pretended to be sick…"
Now, this strange incident had left Maria's family worried and confused. Sometimes they had even been careless, yet they had not been punished. Maria had secretly glanced at the soldiers still watching; their attitude had softened, even grown timid, allowing her family to rest early.
The women had exchanged furtive looks, certain that another plot was being hatched. Neither had dared to ask. Le had helped her sister-in-law back home, brewing the only prescription left: drinking tree bark water. A week later, Maria's illness had improved, but she had lost all strength.
Two weeks into her sickness, another disease had struck her—malaria. Again, there had been no medicine. The children of the old residents had in fact been spies, holding quinine tablets and demanding an exorbitant price: one pill for twenty tins of rice.
Maria had not had that much rice to trade. Yet those spies had contrived every excuse, reasonable or absurd, to deliver medicine to her. At first, she had feared they had mixed something into the pills.
Unfortunately, her illness had worsened, her body weak and helpless; without medicine, she would surely have died. Maria had forced herself to take the pill, and indeed, days later she had felt better and had gradually recovered.
After twice escaping death by a miracle, Maria had placed her hand on her forehead, wondering where she could find the strength to overcome challenges and disease.
Had it been formed in childhood? She had sorrowfully recalled the past, when her mother had told her that as a child Maria had once been kidnapped. The female criminal had locked her in a stable. When the police had come to rescue her, they had found her eating animal excrement.
Perhaps the waste had contained a powerful resistance, like a potion that had helped her fight all hardship and illness. But at that time, without the quinine pill to cure her completely, she would surely have remained bedridden until she died of exhaustion.
Maria and Le had pondered bitterly, trying to understand why their enemies had suddenly shown them such kindness. They had not believed it was a reward for their family's hard work and completed tasks. They had guessed again and again, but after a while, hunger and thirst had made them stop caring.
Le had felt guilty, for she had caused her relatives to fall ill, some nearly dying, and the whole family had grown hungrier because of it. Hunger had forced her to ignore Maria's advice about keeping healthy. In her spare time, Le had wandered everywhere in sun and rain, searching for food.
Almost every day she had found something—sometimes much, sometimes little—but enough to soothe the family's growling stomachs. Everything had happened naturally, though Maria and her sister had faintly sensed that someone was secretly helping them.
Those mysterious supplies had restored Maria's strength. She had recovered, but Le had fallen ill. Fearing she might infect her family, Le had asked Wan to let her go to the isolation point. Wan, perhaps worried about losing manpower, or perhaps for reasons only he knew, had surprisingly agreed.
All the burdens had fallen on Maria. She had worked like a buffalo, searching for food and caring for the children. At night, she had embraced them and lulled them to sleep.
Although Le had recovered, she had unfortunately contracted another disease. From that time, four months had passed, and she still could not return home. Maria's family had been shocked again… Liberte had returned to the village wearing a rebel's uniform.
Maria had hardly believed her eyes. Liberte had radiated a cold murderous aura, carrying the heavy scent of death, which had made her uneasy. It had been hard to believe that her beloved child had become identical to the enemy.
The familiar face she had longed for day and night had at that moment been utterly strange to the family, which had terrified her. Liberte had cared nothing for the family's emaciation, thin as the shriveled remains of ticks.
Ange and Yi had been scared to death, hiding behind Maria. Both had shrunk back, not daring to approach the brother who had once been so close. During their torment, Liberte had given them the best of what he had. Now, he had coldly glanced at Yi, who had clenched his hands until blood had oozed, trying to steady his trembling shoulders; Ange had bitten her lip to keep from crying out.
The son had not cared about his mother's stunned look. All the torment and suffering had been nothing compared to the icy gaze that killed every emotion. When Maria had realized that Liberte's dearest one was no longer present in that cold stare—the very moment he had turned his head away—she had broken down.
Ange and Yi had hurriedly supported Maria in panic. Liberte had calmly walked straight to the wooden platform and stood beside Wan. The village head had proudly announced:
"From today, Liberte serves as captain of the patrol team, responsible for supervision, mobilization, and urging comrades to complete their tasks."
The crowd had erupted, whispering and debating. People had cursed Liberte for selling himself to the devil, despising Maria's family, yet they had also felt fear, suspicion, and unease. They had asked themselves and then affirmed: in the past six years, Liberte must have hunted countless prey.
With hands stained in innocent blood, he had poured his strength into serving the Hive, and only such corruption had climbed to this position. The crowd had dreamed, envied, and despised. Liberte had greeted Wan in military fashion, one hand at his hip, as Wan had pinned the captain's armband on him.
Maria had bowed her head in anger, unwilling to see her son stand tall, solemnly salute the flag, and sing the anthem. The group of soldiers had stepped forward to shake hands with the new captain. When it had been An's turn—the girl who had once tormented Liberte's family—she had felt shy and guilt-ridden before the new captain. Her welcome had lost some of its excitement, even though she had waited for this moment for a long time.
"Today's achievement is a worthy reward for those who have exhausted themselves for the Hive, devoted their strength, and made contributions to the new era!"
Wan had glanced at his daughter, who had been expressing admiration. Liberte had replied perfunctorily, yet she had still smiled charmingly at the indifferent man. Wan's lips had curled, as though no one understood his daughter better than her father.
The village chief had finished the ceremony and ordered everyone to disperse. Liberte, Wan, and his daughter had boarded the car and driven toward the western headquarters, paying no attention to Maria's staggering family, who had supported one another on their way home.