"Found it! This is it!"
Charles grew excited. The item was just sitting there, without a single guard in sight. As long as he took it back to the Coral Islands, the mission would be complete!
He lifted his foot, about to grab it, but froze. Could this be too easy? If it was that simple, why hadn't the others before me taken it? Why did they all disappear?
As Charles hesitated, the bandaged figure beside him moved. He walked straight over and picked up the Futan statue.
He then returned to Charles's side and said in his usual slow, dragging voice, "Let's... go back... The High Priest is waiting..."
Although Charles felt something was off, he couldn't dwell on it with the artifact now in hand. With a wave of his hand, he quickly led his crew away.
"That thing looks heavy. Let's take turns carrying it in thirty-minute shifts."
The bandaged man and James nodded at the same time. They followed the small path, hurrying toward the coast. The golden statue was heavy, and even carrying it in shifts was exhausting.
Halfway down the path, Charles stopped to rest. He couldn't wait until they were completely exhausted before resting; otherwise, if something happened, they wouldn't have the chance to react.
By the campfire, Charles sat on the ground, his eyes vigilantly scanning the surrounding darkness. If the journey in was safe, that means the danger must lie on the return trip. I can't let my guard down yet.
After resting for about ten minutes, Charles turned to the bandaged man beside him and said, "For this next stretch, we can't stop. We have to push all the way through."
The bandaged man nodded, then paused for a few seconds. He glanced from side to side before speaking. "I... I think I forgot something..."
"As long as we have the statue, nothing else matters. Let's go," Charles said, a hint of impatience in his voice. He grabbed the statue and pushed forward.
The bandaged man said no more and followed in silence.
The bizarre, phantasmagorical forest flickered in and out of view in the firelight. The silence was broken only by their ragged breathing and footsteps.
When Charles reached the beach again and saw the Rat in the distance, a hint of joy spread across his sweaty face.
This adventure was a success. Once I get back, once I deliver this to the Futan Sect, I'll be able to buy an Exploration Ship, recruit a crew, and find the way home.
But as he jogged across the sand toward the distant Rat, he suddenly stopped. The smile faded from his face as a question formed in his mind.
This big steamboat—did I pilot it here all by myself?
An unknown dread washed over Charles as he retraced the journey in his mind.
I was invited by the Futan Sect to find their Holy Relic. I piloted the Rat by myself, prepared food in the galley by myself, refueled the turbine by myself, swabbed the deck by myself, I... I stood watch on deck by myself, I... steered the ship by myself?
Charles clutched the golden statue and paced back and forth on the beach.
I used to have a crew. I sailed with First Mate Old John and Sailor Chief Dim. But Dim was skinned by something underwater, and John had disembarked at the Coral Islands. I've been alone on the Rat ever since. That's right!
A look of agony twisted Charles's face. The memories were crystal clear, but they contradicted reality. It just didn't add up.
Impossible! I'm no Superman—how could I possibly have done all that by myself? Something must have gone wrong!
As his gaze swept across the footprints in the sand, a shudder went through him.
There were seven distinct sets of footprints in the sand, large and small. The impressions were clear, proving they had been made recently.
Charles hastily tossed the statue aside, pulled off his own boots, and held one next to a print on the ground.
The pattern, the size, the curve—these are my footprints! I didn't come here alone. My memories have been altered!
Breaking out in a cold sweat, he looked at the empty boats docked near the Rat. Now he knew why those boats were all empty.
Charles took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. The evidence shows I wasn't alone—I had a crew. They're gone. They've not only vanished from reality, but they've been erased from my mind, too. I have to find them. I can't get back by myself.
But a new problem confronted him: how was he supposed to find six people he didn't recognize and couldn't even remember? Who were they? What were their names? Were they men or women?
Just then, a figure slowly stepped into the torchlight.
The moment Charles saw the figure's appearance, his pupils contracted. He instantly drew his pistol and aimed it at the thing's head.
It was a human-like figure wrapped from head to toe in old, yellow bandages. The wrappings were torn and ragged in places, revealing pitch-black skin underneath.
"Stop! State your name!"
"I... I'm called Bandages. No, that's not it, I... I'm not called Bandages. Who are you? I think I know you... Do you know me?"
Quickly glancing at the mummy's bandaged feet, Charles searched among the seven sets of footprints. The unique pattern of his bandages was clearly imprinted in the sand. As unbelievable as it was, this person was indeed one of his crew members.
Charles lowered his revolver and quickly explained the situation to Bandages.
"Is... is that how it was? I can't remember. Who am I? Do you know who I am?" Bandages asked, his tone hesitant and uncertain.
"We can figure that out later. Where did you escape from? Were there others there?" Charles pressed anxiously.
"The trees… inside the trees… The trees don't like me… The trees let me go. There were others there."
Charles couldn't make sense of what the bandaged man was saying, but it seemed he knew where the others were.
"Take me to them. We have to rescue them."
After memorizing the shapes of the remaining five pairs of footprints, Charles led Bandages back into the strange forest.
The misty forest was as silent as ever. Bandages guided Charles back along the path littered with footprints.
Now that he was on high alert, Charles finally noticed something was amiss. The further they went along the path, the fewer footprints there were. It was clear the others had vanished along the way.
Whether it was his imagination or not, Charles began to feel as if something in the forest was watching him.
After walking for half an hour, the shambling Bandages suddenly staggered and veered off the path into the woods. Now Charles understood why his bandages were so torn and tattered.