"Coming! Spare the old door!"
Duan power-walked to the front of the house and opened the door.
It was Chow and a Japanese officer. Chow was the designated translator for the Japanese Imperial Military occupying this side of the mountains. Chow lived in the Japanese-controlled Northeastern China for a month, and apparently, that was enough credential. Because he came home one day, and just started to work for the Japanese here. The villagers called Chow "traitor" behind his back.
Traitor Chow asked Duan if he had heard or seen anything unusual. Duan said no.
Then, the Japanese officer drew his sword out and stabbed Duan in the stomach. Traitor Chow gasped.
The officer pressed the sword through Duan slowly, and he said, "You lied. I wasn't here so much to question you, but really to punish you for your foolishness."
The Japanese officer withdrew his sword. He didn't wipe the blood away and just put it back to its sheath.
"You, tell the Chinese in this village, no harboring Westerners means no taking in those alive, and no hiding their dead bodies. Violators will become like this one here."
Chow nodded and bowed deeply like a Japanese, remaining the same position even after the officer marched away. Chow then followed.
Just then, Mrs. Duan walked to the front of house and immediately found Duan lying in a pool of blood. She covered her mouth, horrified. She didn't know what her husband had said to get himself slain. She didn't know if anyone was coming back to kill her, too.
She hurried back to the backyard, and dragged Robert onto the wheelbarrow and dumped him down to their chilling cellar. The cellar only had one jar of pickled vegetable roots left, but there was still plenty packed snow and ice Duan extracted from the high mountains around here.
Mrs. Duan returned to the inside of the house, staring at the dirty floor, not sure what to do.
Suddenly, Chow barged in without knocking. "Just so you know, someone is going to come burn this house down," he said to her, "You should probably leave."
"Just because of a dead body?" Mrs. Duan cried out, although she knew the answer already.
"They saw him taking that American's body home. That's insubordination. And they are really upset with Americans right now, so this is a warning to everyone here. No more taking in any American, because there might be more in the future." Chow looked to the streets, "I wish your husband wasn't that stupid."
Mrs. Duan shoved Chow, "Get the hell out of our house!"
She ran back to their room and decided to pack some stuff and flee this town. There was nothing left for her to live for.
Before she took off, she thought of taking a look at the Westerner down at the cellar. But what was the point to check on someone who's already dead? This house was about to be burnt down anyway. So she didn't. She left by taking a less-used path behind the house heading towards the mountains.
Hours went by.
The sun already went down for a while and it had gotten colder. Inside the cellar, the temperature remained the same, but Robert felt a chill and he opened his eyes. He gasped for air. He didn't know how much time had passed.
"Am I dead?" He asked himself. "Am I heading to the after life or the heaven?" He tried to listen and wake all his senses back. He felt so suffocated. "Why do I feel like I really need to breathe? Dead people don't breathe. I can't be dead."
He was desperate for oxygen. But something covered his nose and mouth. He raised his hand, brushed whatever was blocking the air passage to him. Oh, this feels cold. Snow?
He also felt very thirsty. Without sitting up, he put the snow in his mouth. He immediately chocked and coughed because it was a bad idea to try to absorb liquid lying down. So he sat up and then ate some more snow.
The snow melt in his mouth and it tasted a little... funky. It rushed to his nose, and he was tasting the smell. It reminded him of mushroom, dirt, and maybe tree bark. Surely, the snow shouldn't be poisonous. But he couldn't be that sure, since he didn't even know where he was.
Suddenly, he could hear multiple people talking in his head. He didn't understand a single word, as they were all speaking in some foreign language.
"Oh you are alive," a voice exclaimed in English in Robert's head.
He got up, he realized his clothes were all wet. He shivered and touched his surroundings. The walls were rugged like stone. He thought he could be in some kind of cave. He pushed around and luckily found a wooden board. He elbowed the board and it opened.
He squinted. Moonlight was too bright for his eyes. He looked around. He stumbled and stopped by a giant ceramic jar that had some water inside. He looked down and saw his own reflection. He examined himself to see if he was bleeding. Nope. No wounds.
"You fine. You need to go." The voice from earlier said to him.
"Who is this?" Robert asked. "Who is talking to me?"
"Quickly, go."
"Oh my gosh." Robert was concerned with this strange sensation in his head, "What is happening?'