Chapter 388: Journey (on)

He lay lonely and panicked in the cold mud of the Essex Plain, unable to move his legs, unable to sit up and stand up.
The temperatureless body was helplessly shrouded in darkness, and his dry eyes stared at the night sky, trying to read out the omen from the still stars.
However, the stars are silent, and the night sky is gloomy, so they don't offer any comfort.
"How long has it been?"
He thought repeatedly.
"how many hours?"
He couldn't find the answer, so he looked around again, hoping to see some signs of rescue.
But there was neither movement nor hope in the darkness, but only the cold and hopeless silence extended quietly, and the giant hands of the night concealed the surrounding scenes, and painted a hazy shadow on it.
He couldn't find hope from it, he couldn't even find his equipment, so he was left alone in the dark world, hopeless to be saved.
For a while, he even felt that he was the last person in the world, and because of his horror, he hurried out the idea from his mind.
"How long has it been?"
This problem breeds again, like the mold stains that never shovel in the corners.
"how many hours?"
The moment he was hit, he didn't feel it.
There was no pain, no discomfort, no suffering, only a sudden weird numbness in his legs that made him fall to the ground.
He didn't understand what was happening at first. He only stumbled until he groaned awkwardly and tried to stand up, only to find that his legs were unresponsive and the warm blood oozed out of his abdomen before he realized I was wrong.
In the hours that followed, he could not see his injury in the dark night and reached out to investigate.
The bullet hit the bottom of his spine, leaving a big fist wound on his abdomen when he was put out. He treated the wound as best he could, wrapped it with dirty gauze to stop bleeding, and put pressure on it.
Although there are analgesic drugs in the standard medical kit, and the method of use has been kept in mind, he does not need them-he accidentally extended his elbow into the big hole in the abdomen while exploring the wound, but did not feel any physical discomfort, let alone pain.
Without much advanced medical knowledge, he also knew that things were not good.
"How long has it been now?"
The problem haunted my mind like a ghost, echoed to my ears, like waves crashing on the reef, ups and downs. .
"how many hours?"
Various discomforts ensue, and the cold wind at night bites the exposed face and neck, and the hard work makes him dizzy, fear, loneliness, loneliness, and worse, silence.
When he fell injured, the night sky was filled with thunder like war, screams of gunshots, grenade explosions, explosive roars, and the tragedy of the wounded. These sounds gradually faded away, gradually weakened, and finally gave way to silence.
He never thought that the noise would give people peace, the roar of the battlefield was breathtaking, and the silence that followed was even more frightening. This silence highlighted his loneliness and made him face the fear.
He had to be alone in the darkness, accompanied by fear, and his heart was hard.
"How long?"
He can no longer control his thinking, and he can't do more things. He can only torture himself repeatedly with such problems.
"how many hours?"
He palpitated, wanted to ask for help, wanted to beg for mercy, wanted to scream, wanted to shout, wanted to pray, only to break this terrible silence.
Whenever this happened, he had to exercise restraint, biting his lips so that the cry would not slip out, because he knew that a little movement would accelerate the arrival of death, even if his comrades could hear it, so did the enemy.
On the far side, tens of thousands of enemy troops are waiting, hungry for death.
No matter how scary the injury is trapped in the battlefield, it will only be worse to be discovered by the enemy.
Therefore, he could only bear this silence in silence, even if the hope of rescue was slim, he could not help it.
"How long has it been until now?"
Thoughts slipped out of the throat inadvertently, turned into singing murmurs, or maybe some kind of tone.
"how many hours?"
He now seems to have nothing and nothing to worry about.
Those important things in the past, family, hometown, and faith in the Father are all gone.
Even his memory is like a dream, flashing in front of him in the past, quickly dying like his future, his heart was once full of bright vision, and now also collapsed when dying, leaving only a handful of choices- Call it or be silent, bleed to death or raise a gun to self-discipline, sober or fall asleep.
For a while, his sleep seemed so beautiful. He was exhausted, tired like an old friend, pulling him into a dream.
But he did not want to succumb. He knew that if he fell asleep, he would not wake up again, and all these choices would be lost.
In the final analysis, all he has is a harsh choice-life or death.
And he refused to die.
"How long?"
This question sounded relentlessly, but he had lost his ability to think, and his soul was about to sink into the quagmire of death.
"how many hours?"
There is no answer.
The only thing he can admit is that destiny has been controlled by others, and he can only wait in the desolate silence.
He waited, hoping that his comrades had begun to search in the night; he waited, refused to give up or fall asleep; he waited, hanging on a thread, like a starlight in the dark night like a tide; he waited ~www.mtlnovel .com~ Maybe the end is only death.
He tried his last bit of energy and began to sort out his thoughts, recalling how he got here...
As the sun was sinking, Hongxia reflected through half of the sky, and the endless wheat waves in the evening wind became a golden glow.
In the eighteen-year-old's life, Garpason Rahn had seen thousands of sunsets, but stopped for this time alone.
He temporarily forgot the farming work in his hand, and was intoxicated by this beautiful scenery for the first time after he became an adult.
He stood there, letting the world surround himself quietly, watching the night come with an unspeakable feeling in his heart.
"With Jin Lang, Yu Hui is in sight and has a home."
Family.
This thought made him turn his head and looked through the rows of swaying crops to the farmhouse on the other side of the field.
He saw the sloping roof corral, the round barn-shaped barn, and the chicken coop he built for his father, as well as the stables for horses and half a dozen alpaca.
After this, he saw the farmhouse he grew up in, a two-storey building with a low wooden entrance hall, neither new nor old, but sheltering several generations of their family.
At this time the window sash was wide open, facing the setting sun.
Larne did not need to enter, and knew that his mother was preparing dinner at the moment, his brother and sisters were setting the table, and his father was picking up utensils in the workshop in the basement.
When the work is over, they will sit down and eat.
His family is working like this every day, only changing with the seasons, but tomorrow night will be different.
No one remembers when this life began, but as long as there are still people cultivating this land, life will continue accordingly.
Tomorrow evening, it is destined to be a little different.
Tomorrow evening, he will fulfill the responsibility of an eldest son.
Tomorrow evening, he will accept the blessings of his family.
Tomorrow evening, he will bid farewell to the female companions of the sweetheart.
Tomorrow evening, he will leave...