Chapter 1057 An Unspeakable Sight (Patreon)

Thanks to Old Mutto leading the way, the group reached Olduvai Gorge just past 3 a.m. There was still some time before 4 a.m.—the darkest hour before dawn and the period when most people are deepest asleep. Since the camp gate hadn’t been installed yet, the people inside had casually dragged two barriers to block the entrance, but those wouldn’t have stopped even a monkey, let alone people.

The unattended campfire was near extinction, and the boundary between light and darkness slowly crept toward the circle of tents. Two guards sitting by the fire hung their heads low, drooling onto the grass at their feet.

"Mmph!"

One of the guards, Guard A, felt his mouth and nose suddenly covered and awoke in shock from a sensation of suffocation. But before he could struggle, a sharp pain pricked his neck, and he lost consciousness again.

At the same time, across the campfire, Guard B had already slumped to the ground. Jack withdrew his knife from under the man's armpit and flashed a grin no less dazzling than the scout’s bright teeth beside him.

Clay released his grip from Guard A’s carotid artery and gently lowered his limp body to the ground. Jack stepped across the dying fire, grabbed the man's legs, and together they carried the unconscious guard out of the camp. Behind them, one of Old Mutto’s scouts stripped off his shirt and sat in Guard A's original position.

—

When a person accustomed to city life finds themselves alone in the wilderness, it’s difficult not to feel a deep fear. The unpolluted starlight was beautiful, but staring at it too long gave an eerie sensation of falling into it. When it wasn’t a full moon, even the faint moonlight couldn’t drive away the surrounding darkness.

Guard A was terrified now, even though he wasn’t exactly a city boy.

Anyone who wakes up with a knife at their throat and a ring of menacing figures around them isn’t likely to feel a sense of security.

Old Mutto pressed the three-edged bayonet harder against Guard A's throat, making his whole body stiffen and his breath hitch involuntarily—forget about struggling.

The bayonet slowly pierced the skin under Guard A's chin, blood trickling down its blade. Only then did Old Mutto release his rough hand from the man's mouth and nose and begin questioning him in the local dialect.

—

"Bang!" A sharp gunshot exploded beside his ear. Elijah, who had been sleeping in the only bed in the camp, instinctively reached under his pillow—but found nothing.

Next, he felt a sharp pain in his ankle, then a monstrous force he couldn’t resist as he was yanked out of bed and thrown through the air.

"Thud!"

Although Jack typically preferred to rely on skill over brute force, sometimes it just felt good to cut loose.

He’d roughly mimicked the Hulk slamming Loki, but at the last moment, he had eased up a bit—otherwise, Elijah's skull might have burst open right there.

Hannah, cradling the tearful little boy Nicholas, stepped over Elijah’s crumpled body and out of the chapel without a second glance. The dazed Elijah let out an inhuman wail and woke up immediately.

Jack’s gunshot had been the signal to start the operation. By the time Jack dragged the half-dead Elijah after Hannah outside, the entire camp was in chaos.

According to Guard A’s earlier confession, only Elijah was allowed to sleep in the small chapel. Everyone else, awaiting the completion of proper wooden huts, had to cram into tents.

Jack had been puzzled at first—the whole camp was easily visible, and there were only eight small two-person tents arranged around the fire. He couldn’t imagine how everyone fit.

Now he knew the answer: they just crammed in, regardless of numbers or gender.

After Old Mutto extracted the necessary information from Guard A, they left one militiaman to guard the prisoner while the others sneaked into the camp.

Two men to a tent, they pre-slit the guy ropes with knives. At the moment Jack’s gunshot rang out from the chapel, they simultaneously ripped open the tents and shone their flashlights on the nauseating scene inside.

Eight tents, over thirty people—men with women, men with men, women with women, black with white, white with black, every possible combination and number.

It was far easier than expected, and far more disgusting. Militiamen smashed their rifle butts down mercilessly—whacking any man they saw, regardless of race.

Ten minutes later, everyone had been rounded up at the campfire. Fresh wood was thrown in, and after a moment of flickering, the flames roared back to life.

"Put your clothes on!" Old Mutto barked, commanding two of his men to toss a heap of clothing onto the ground before repeating the order in English, Swahili, and several local dialects.

More than half the people, trembling, began hurriedly dressing. The rest remained dazed or hallucinating, making grotesque movements—mostly the abducted women.

"These were found inside the tents," Aubrey said, handing Jack several bags. Inside were some bags of marijuana and various dried mushrooms.

After force-feeding water and inducing vomiting, and much chaos, dawn finally broke. All the male cultists had been bound hand and foot, and the abducted women had mostly regained their senses.

Elijah, who had apparently broken several ribs when Jack slammed him, finally came to, groaning and immediately launching into his cult rhetoric.

"No matter whether you are CIA or Interpol, this place is beyond your jurisdiction. Everyone here gathered of their own free will, on this sacred land," he croaked.

FBI has no dignity, huh? Jack thought, and gave him a kick that sent him sprawling near the campfire, nearly subjecting him to spontaneous combustion.

"I’m FBI Special Agent in Charge Jubal Valentine. Cut the crap, Elijah. You’re under arrest for kidnapping 22 U.S. citizens and murdering one," Jubal said smoothly, snapping a shiny pair of handcuffs onto him.

"Nonsense! No one here was kidnapped! Here, everyone is safe! Only on this sacred land can you escape the crisis of the soul, build our utopia together, far from devils and darkness!"

"Smack!" A woman stumbled forward and slapped Elijah across the face with all her strength, then sobbed uncontrollably as she ran into Hannah’s arms, where little Nicholas was being held.

"My God! You devil, what did you do to my baby?"