Chapter 159
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 159
Chapter Title: The Distant Bridge, Alameda (6)
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The fog rolled in slowly. It took minutes to swallow a single house. Winter worried that the wind direction might shift. In the late afternoon, San Francisco's winds were usually westerlies, but occasionally northerlies blew, and rarely southerlies or easterlies. If that happened, their immediate escape plan would be ruined. At the very least, they'd have to wait for the cover of dawn's darkness.
If only he had "Environmental Adaptation." Winter missed a versatile survival skill. A high-level "Environmental Adaptation" granted resistance to hostile environments while also providing information about the surroundings. One such piece of data was weather info.
But to be useful, it had to be at genius level at least. "Insight" was another example of a general skill. It consumed a ton of stamina. In a world where government systems held strong, survival skills always felt like a half-baked afterthought.
The naval officer stared anxiously westward as well.
"Will that even make it all the way here?"
"Don't trouble yourself over things beyond our control. Do your best and leave the rest to heaven. Instead of doubting if the chance will come, prepare to seize it when it does. Have you memorized the terrain and landmarks?"
"...I did, but now that you mention it, I'm not so sure."
Moving through thick fog often led to losing one's sense of direction. There needed to be ways to identify position if they got lost. So before setting out, they had to imprint the landscape features in their minds. It was also a method for reuniting if they lost sight of each other.
The nearest landmark was a single corpse. Name: Wei Jiaying. Rank: Sergeant. A Marine officer killed at the intersection. He stood out from the other bodies by his uniform and gear. Regrettably, the Marine had no ammo left before dying. He'd ended it with his last grenade.
The body was a mangled mess from the blast. The officer muttered glumly at the sight of his first landmark.
"He was reliable, at least. What a shame."
Tan Guosheng's sense of loss ran surprisingly deep. But to Winter, it felt more like a sigh detached from true grief. Less pity for the dead man, more self-pity for losing him.
The troops deployed for this op must've been Navy Major General Xie Ru's personal guard.
'For trusted armed forces, their combat prowess wasn't that impressive...'
They were called Marines, but not in the usual sense. In China, "Marines" just meant Navy-affiliated. There were separate Navy Land Combat units for ground fighting. CIA intercepts confirmed Xie Ru's command had no such forces.
"Lee."
The officer called Winter's name anew.
"Yes, sir?"
"What if we..."
He trailed off. He looked conflicted. Fear lurked beneath. Winter waited calmly, guessing at the words he couldn't voice. The fog was still distant.
After hesitating so long it seemed the conversation might end there, Tan Guosheng finally spoke again.
"What if... what if we just complete the mission ourselves? We don't need to blow all the bridges. If we can take down even one—the closest one—then our fallen men's sacrifices won't be entirely in vain. It just feels too shameful to survive alone..."
A fine excuse. One bridge wouldn't change anything. Even a Navy officer like him would know that. There had to be another reason. But Winter wasn't foolish enough to call it out. Chinese pride was at play.
He played along, countering with practicality.
"I understand, Major, but you need to stay objective. Our goal isn't destroying bridges for their own sake, right? It's to sever this island from the bay area. So we have to cut all three."
"From our position, the innermost bridge is the closest. Taking that one out would lighten the load for the next wave, wouldn't it? They'd have far less ground to infiltrate. Make the mission easier."
The three bridges linking Alameda and Oakland clustered on the island's east side. That was because the west side had docking facilities.
Meanwhile, the pair was in the island's central region, biased westward. The bridge the major called close—the Park Street Bridge—was over four kilometers away. Accounting for land and water routes, it'd mean traversing more than twice the island's length.
Winter shook his head.
"No. I think it'd make things more dangerous."
"Why?"
"As I said before, the returners know the bridges' value. Blowing one would just wake them up. Honestly, I'm suspicious already. Will the explosives we planted still be there? They're plenty familiar with human weapons by now."
Two bridges had bombs set. The third's failure created this mess. To ensure safe withdrawal, the plan was simultaneous detonation. So no bridge had collapsed yet.
Tan Guosheng furrowed his brow.
"Ours don't look like American ones, though."
"Still within what they can infer."
"It's just a possibility."
"Exactly. Just a possibility. You decide, Major. That's the commander's role."
He said that, but Tan Guosheng's fear aligned with Winter's side. Assuming the op stemmed from factional infighting as speculated, the major wouldn't crave mission success himself. Winter urged a decision to avoid lingering regrets.
'Wouldn't want second thoughts mid-movement.'
He might backtrack on his own choice anyway. But it beat Winter forcing it. Showing respect would smooth things later. He needed the officer's trust. To carry out the real mission.
"So you'll follow my decision even if you think that way?"
The officer eyed him dubiously. Right in the intelligence assessment's wheelhouse. Winter had the model answer ready. He channeled Kurt Lee.
"That's the contract I took. I'll obey orders till extraction."
"Even as a merc? Hard to buy. You said you're not into women, but risking your life for some rations, ammo, and a few slaves? Doesn't add up."
His "slaves" meant American citizens. Americans fetched top value inside the Golden Gate. Everyone misunderstood. Orca Black's frequent supply runs stemmed from sheltering many Americans, using them as leverage in talks with the US military.
Winter replied again.
"As you said, those aren't worth dying for."
"Then why? No, I'm not doubting the man who saved my life. Just curious. Why uphold credit in this world...? If I were you, I'd have ditched a burdensome lump like me on the way."
Denials aside, the doubt was there. Rooted in fear. Terror of abandonment en route. "Discernment"-backed "Insight" confirmed Winter's read.
"What I value is bonds."
"Bonds?"
"Yes. Comrades who can only live on battlefields now. Discharged, they were treated like dogs. Abandoned by families, their options were asylums or prisons. Unfit for service if they wanted back in."
The officer grasped Kurt Lee's inner world.
"So Orca Black is just a front to give your comrades a place?"
"That's one way to put it."
Winter nodded. Weaving a false life with fabricated emotions.
"Yes, exactly. Times change, but comrades with criminal records still have nowhere to go. Battlefields are always like this. I won't abandon them. We've saved each other's lives. This cesspool might be our only home."
Having vented betrayal toward his homeland before, the officer seemed to buy it. More than buy—impressed, even. His prior fondness for Kurt Lee amplified it. Irrational affinity born of abnormal circumstances.
Battlefields terrified more than swaying bridges.
The officer said,
"Someday, follow me out of loyalty, not contract."
"Show me you're worth it."
Kurt Lee's quip drew a laugh from the officer. Stiff, but a decent smile.
"Guess you're right."
Tan Guosheng let go of reckless greed.
"Sorry for troubling you with nonsense. We won't abandon the mission. But survival first. King Goujian of Yue survived licking Fu Chai's shit. If we stay alive, chances will come again."
His voice faded. The end was more self-pep talk than Winter's.
Inapt historical allusion, unless subconscious worry leaked. Perhaps fretting backlash from op failure, losing factional ground. Winter's guess. A commander surviving while losing all troops invited plenty of blame.
Mid-conversation, the wind picked up. Rising humidity chilled the air. April should be deep spring, but late afternoon temps were low.
'Feels like late fall or early winter. Not sure if he can handle it.'
Winter eyed Tan Guosheng's stamina. Cheeks flushed, hands trembling faintly. Initially chalked to battle aftermath, but maybe exhaustion.
"What's this?"
To the puzzled officer, Winter offered the last energy bar.
"No time to eat once we start moving."
"Not in the mood right now."
"Eat anyway."
The officer sighed and took it. In any military, meals were mandatory.
Peel crinkles. The lump someone once called compacted shit appeared. Another sigh.
"Western tastes are so crude."
Combat rations wouldn't taste good. Winter spotted dry lips, offered the canteen. Tan Guosheng had refused earlier, but took it this time.
As he forced it down, Winter kept memorizing terrain.
The waterway between cities was straight-line close. Through the open north field and abandoned construction site, maybe a minute. But extremely risky. Several grumblers guarded it. Plenty to throw nearby: containers, parked cars.
They'd agreed to detour with the officer.
Abandoned positions and outposts sparked new concern.
"Major. When was your last tetanus shot?"
"Hmm? I got one, but when...?"
Tan Guosheng pondered mid-bite. Winter said,
"US military or police might've scattered barbed wire or spike strips to deny approach. Moving in fog and dark worries me."
Spike strips were thorny lattice chains. Fort Roberts had layered them for defense. Traffic cops carried them—not rare.
"Huh. Probably entering the fairgrounds college. Barely ten years ago?"
Dangerous, then. Winter got his on enlistment.
"I'll take point after we start. Stick to paths I've cleared as much as possible. Extra care with stagnant water."
"Stagnant water? It's that polluted!"
"Polluted?"
"Color's off! Green and red everywhere! US chemical rounds, bet."
The low shout twisted his face. Water pooled in road cracks or bomb craters matched his description. But Winter knew better. Typhoon and flood aftermath.
"Far as I know, US never used chems on the mainland. Can't spray germs or gas with citizen holdouts in urban centers."
"Then what's that?"
"High salinity changes color. Microbial bloom, I heard. Navy man—you've seen salt flats. Weird you don't know."
Large salt pans with heavy gear looked like God's vivid palette.
Same here. Seawater likely flooded the city. Repeated dry-wet cycles shaped the current scene.
Tan Guosheng looked sheepish.
"Salt flats... huh. Saw 'em but never thought much. Colored rivers and seas common on mainland. Figured some factory dumped stuff."
"..."
Not self-deprecating—just casual—so Winter had nothing to say. Toss a cig butt: call it a nation where rivers explode?
Fog from the wind finally engulfed their hiding mortuary.
Winter waited longer still. Till sunset. Wind persisted post-dusk. Enough to blind the whole route.
East of the mortuary building protruded a section. Connected straight to internal warehouse. Trailer abandoned at entrance. Height just over one story—jumpable. Safe for Winter at least.
"I'll go first and catch you."
The youth clung to the edge, descended as quietly as possible. Trailer roof metal—extra care. Then the officer. Timed breaths from hanging, let go. Winter caught falling boots with both hands. Thud. Echo below wasn't loud.
At last, the pair advanced into the foggy city. Murky air hid unknown malice. Visibility under 20 meters. The officer muttered,
"Feels like home."
Winter pressed forward, rifle aimed ahead. Sixteen rounds left in the mag. Even with pistol ammo, tough for a full fight.