Chapter 5: Collapse of Trust
3319words
Six survivors spent a thoroughly sleepless night in the lobby. Anna Chen's video played repeatedly in their minds like a demon's curse, each word cutting into their conscience like a sharp blade. Now they understood that they were not just criminals, but killers—they had not only killed those direct victims, but also indirectly killed a mother who sacrificed her life in pursuit of justice.
Richard sat on the main sofa, looking ten years older than his actual age. His hair was disheveled, his beard untrimmed, and his eyes bloodshot. His hands trembled constantly as he tried to light one cigarette after another, but each attempt failed due to his shaking hands. Tobacco scattered on his knees, making a faint rustling sound, like the sound of time passing by.
"Seventy-two hours..." he repeated this number over and over, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper rubbing, "How much time left? How much time left?"
His eyes were hollow and bewildered, constantly glancing at the clock on the wall. Each movement of the hands was like the rhythm of Death swinging his scythe, reminding them that death was approaching. He recalled Mrs. Wilson's final gaze, remembered Anna Chen's haggard face in the video, these images flashing alternately in his mind, torturing his fragile nerves.
Victoria curled up in the armchair in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her body swaying slightly without stopping. As a doctor, she understood the process of death better than anyone, and this knowledge had now become her greatest curse. She could imagine the suffering Anna Chen had endured in the late stages of cancer: the emaciated body, the excruciating pain, the fear of death, and the thirst for revenge.
Her hand unconsciously touched her abdomen, as if she could feel the cancer cells spreading inside her body. "I killed her..." she repeated continuously, her voice growing weaker and weaker, "I killed her with my own hands...not just her daughter...but her too..."
Tears slid down her cheeks, dropping onto her expensive silk blouse, leaving dark spots. She recalled the oath from medical school: "First, do no harm." But now it seemed that oath had been completely shattered by her greed and indifference.
James paced back and forth in the room, but his steps had lost the confidence and decisiveness of a businessman that they once had. His footsteps were heavy and slow, each step like struggling through a swamp. He occasionally stopped to check his phone, though he knew there was no signal, but this mechanical action seemed to bring him a bit of psychological comfort.
"There must be a way..."he said to himself, with desperate persistence in his voice, "There must be a way out of here...there must be..."
But his words sounded unconvincing, even to himself. Anna Chen had spent three years designing this trap, she was a genius scientist who wouldn't leave any loopholes. James remembered those families who went bankrupt and committed suicide because of his fraud, remembered the desperate figure of Robert Jones kneeling outside his office. Now, it was his turn to experience the taste of despair.
Thomas sat on the floor, his back against the wall, knees held to his chest, looking like a frightened child. His young face was filled with confusion and fear, with a desperation beyond his years occasionally flashing in his eyes. His fingers kept sliding across his phone screen, even though it had long gone dark, but this habitual movement seemed to be his last connection to the real world.
"Why is it us?" he murmured, his voice filled with childlike confusion, "Why specifically the eight of us?"
But deep down he already knew the answer. They weren't randomly chosen victims, but carefully selected targets by Anna Chen. Each of them had committed unforgivable crimes, each of them had killed innocent lives with their greed and indifference. Jessica Lee's face flashed in his mind, and the desperate look in that young mother's eyes made it difficult for him to breathe.
Sara sat near the bar counter, appearing calmer than the others, but close observation revealed that her hands were also trembling slightly. In front of her lay that notebook and recording equipment, like a forensic examiner inspecting evidence. Her gaze shifted among the others, as if she was evaluating something, or calculating something.
"We need to make a plan," she suddenly spoke, her voice calm but with a forced steadiness, "Anger and despair cannot change our situation. We need to rationally analyze our circumstances and find a way to survive."
Her words broke the suffocating silence in the hall, but no one responded. Everyone was immersed in their own pain and fear, unable to focus their thoughts on practical matters.
Most concerning was Ross. She was still kneeling on the carpet in the center of the hall, maintaining a posture of prayer, but her body had begun to shake violently. Her lips moved continuously, emitting faint and disjointed mutterings, a jumble of confused prayers and words of confession.
"Lord... Please forgive us... Please forgive those innocent children... I misappropriated their life-saving money... I killed them... I killed them..." Her voice grew increasingly faint, but the tears in her eyes multiplied, "Please let me atone for my sins... Please let me atone with my life..."
Her mental state had clearly reached the brink of collapse. The pressure, fear, and guilt of several consecutive days surged like a tide, breaking through her last psychological defense. She began to hallucinate, believing she could see those children who had died due to delayed rescue, standing before her, looking at her with innocent eyes.
"Children... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." She began speaking to the air, as if someone was truly listening to her confession, "Auntie did something wrong... Auntie will be punished... Please forgive Auntie..."
Around ten in the morning, it started to drizzle outside. The raindrops gently tapped against the windows, producing a monotonous and heavy rhythm, like the accompaniment to some ritual. This sound was particularly clear in the quiet lobby, reminding everyone that time was passing and death was approaching.
James suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to the others: "We can't just wait to die! We need to take action!"
His voice carried a hysterical desperation, but at least it broke the suffocating silence. "Anna Chen said the system would shut down in seventy-two hours, but she didn't say there were no other resources on the island. An island this big must have other food sources, there must be a way to leave!"
Sara nodded in agreement: "James is right. We need to explore the entire island, look for possible resources and escape routes. Waiting to die is not a solution to our problem."
Richard slowly raised his head, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes: "Do you really think it's possible?"
"We must try," Victoria also stood up, the doctor's professional instinct making her strive to remain rational, "As a doctor, I know that we should never give up hope in any situation. We need to act in groups and search the entire island systematically."
Thomas also got up from the ground, and though his face was still pale, there was some vitality in his eyes: "I can check the hotel's technical systems, maybe find communication equipment or other useful things."
The five people began to formulate an exploration plan, which was their first real collaboration since arriving on the island. Hope, even faint hope, can give people tremendous strength. But Ross remained kneeling on the carpet, seemingly not hearing their discussion.
"Ross?" Sara walked toward her and gently shook her shoulder, "We're going to explore the island, would you like to come with us?"
Ross slowly raised her head, her eyes hollow and bewildered, as if she was no longer in this world. "The children are waiting for me..." she said softly, "those dead children... they're waiting for me to atone..."
Sara felt a sense of unease; Ross's mental state was clearly dangerous. "Ross, you need to be with us. We can't leave you here alone."
But Ross shook her head and lowered it again to resume praying: "I don't deserve... I don't deserve to be with you... I need to stay here and wait for God's judgment..."
The others exchanged worried glances. Ross's condition reminded them of Emily and Michael's behavior before they died—that attitude of giving up resistance and accepting fate. According to Anna Chen's theory, this psychological state would allow the toxin to work more quickly.
"We can't leave her behind," Victoria insisted, "she needs medical help, she needs someone to take care of her."
"But she doesn't want to leave," James pointed out the practical issue, "we can't force her."
In the end, they decided to leave Sara to look after Ross, while the other four people split into two groups to explore the island. Richard and James were responsible for exploring the eastern side of the island, looking for possible docks or boats; Victoria and Thomas were responsible for exploring the western side, searching for other resources or communication equipment.
At one o'clock in the afternoon, the two exploration teams set off. Richard and James walked eastward along a winding path, with dense tropical vegetation on both sides of the trail, and the air filled with the damp scent of plants. The jungle was especially quiet after the rain, with only occasional bird calls and insect sounds.
"Do you think we can really find a way to leave?" James asked as they walked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Richard pushed aside the vines blocking their way with a branch, his shirt already soaked with sweat: "I don't know. But it's better than sitting there waiting to die."
They walked for about an hour, and the path gradually became rough and difficult to traverse. The tropical sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, creating dappled light and shadows on the ground. The air grew increasingly stuffy, and both of their energy levels began to decline.
Suddenly, Richard stopped in his tracks. Not far ahead, he spotted traces of man-made structures—several rusted metal poles and some concrete blocks, looking like some kind of abandoned facility.
"There's something over there," he pointed ahead, "let's go check it out."
As they approached, they discovered it was an abandoned observation station, possibly once used for meteorological observation or marine monitoring. The building was severely damaged, with a collapsed roof and walls full of cracks, clearly abandoned for many years.
James rummaged through the ruins, hoping to find useful equipment. "There's an old radio device here," he said excitedly, "although it's severely damaged, perhaps it can be repaired."
Richard was also searching, but what he found made him feel desperate: a yellowed document that recorded the closing date of this observation station—twenty years ago. This meant that the island had been abandoned for a long time, and there would be no rescue.
Meanwhile, Victoria and Thomas were exploring the west side of the island. The terrain here was steeper, filled with rocks and cliffs. The sea breeze brought a salty, humid scent, and waves continuously crashed against the rocks, producing a monotonous and heavy sound.
"Watch your step," Victoria reminded Thomas, "these rocks are slippery."
Thomas nodded, but his attention was drawn to a cave not far away. "There's a cave over there, let's check it out."
The entrance to the cave wasn't large, but the interior space was quite spacious. They used their phones' flashlight function for illumination and discovered some artificial traces deep in the cave—several metal boxes and some pipeline equipment.
"This looks like some kind of storage room," Victoria observed the facilities around her, "perhaps prepared by Anna Chen."
Thomas opened one of the boxes, which was filled with canned food and bottled water. "Food! There's enough food here to sustain us for months!"
But Victoria's expression didn't relax. As a doctor, she immediately realized the problem: "Thomas, don't you think this is too much of a coincidence? Why would Anna Chen prepare food for us? Doesn't she want us dead?"
Thomas's excitement instantly vanished. He remembered the poisoned delicacies at the hotel, remembered Emily and Michael's deaths. "You think this food might be poisoned too?"
"I can't be certain," Victoria said cautiously, "but we need to be very careful. Perhaps this is another test, testing whether we would choose to take risks in our desperation."
It was already five in the afternoon when they returned to the hotel. Sara was sitting alone in the lobby, with a grave expression. Ross was still kneeling on the carpet, but her condition had obviously deteriorated.
"She's been praying there," Sara reported, "without eating anything or drinking water. Her temperature has risen a bit, and her breathing has become rapid."
Victoria immediately walked over to Ross and began to check her physical condition. Ross's pulse was weak and irregular, her skin flushed, clearly she had a fever. More worryingly, her eyes had completely lost focus, as if she no longer recognized those around her.
"Lord... please accept my confession..." Ross said in a feeble voice, "please let me atone for those children... please let me join them..."
"Ross, look at me," Victoria tried to keep her conscious, "you need to drink water, you need to rest."
But Ross seemed not to have heard her words and continued to be immersed in her own hallucinations. She began to see those children who died in the disaster; they surrounded her, looking at her with innocent eyes. In her hallucination, these children were not angry, but waiting for her arrival, waiting for her to repay her debt with her life.
"Children... Auntie is here..." She stretched out her trembling hand as if caressing some presence in the air. "Auntie has finally come to atone..."
Others surrounded Ross, their eyes filled with fear and compassion. They knew Ross was walking down Emily and Michael's path—mental breakdown, followed by death.
"We must stop her," Richard said. "We can't let her die like this."
"But what can we do?" James asked desperately. "We have no medication, no professional equipment, and don't even know what poison she has been exposed to."
Victoria continued to check Ross's condition, but her medical knowledge seemed pale and powerless in this situation. According to Anna Chen's theory, the lethality of the poison was related to one's psychological state. Ross had completely fallen into a state of despair and self-condemnation, and her body was giving up the fight.
As night fell, Ross's breathing became increasingly labored. Her skin turned as pale as paper, her lips taking on an unhealthy bluish-purple hue. But her eyes had become calm, as if she had finally found inner peace.
"Forgive me... please forgive me..." she said intermittently, "I can see them... those children... they're calling to me..."
By midnight, Ross quietly stopped breathing. She remained in a posture of prayer, with an expression of release on her face, as if finally freed from the burden of guilt.
Victoria checked her pulse and breathing, then announced heavily: "She's dead."
Just as the others were about to observe a moment of silence for Ross's death, Sara suddenly noticed an odd detail. She crouched down and carefully examined Ross's tightly clenched right hand.
"Wait..." Sara frowned, "there seems to be something in her hand."
Victoria also crouched down and carefully pried open Ross's already stiff fingers. In her palm was a small piece of paper soaked with sweat, with a few blurry but still legible words written in pencil.
"'Basement...truth...not all...'" Sara read the contents of the note, "The writing after that is too blurry to make out."
Richard asked anxiously: "What basement? What is she talking about?"
"I don't know," Sara shook her head, "but Ross must have discovered something important before she died. She used her last strength to write down these words."
Thomas looked at the note carefully: "'Not all'... What does this mean? Not all of what?"
James looked around: "We need to find the basement she mentioned. Perhaps there are secrets there we don't know about."
Victoria stood up, the doctor's rigor making her question: "But this could be a trap. Ross might have been hallucinating before she died, and this note might not mean anything."
"But this is our only lead right now," Sara insisted, "We can't ignore any possibility."
Just as they were discussing the contents of the note, a disturbing change suddenly occurred in the hotel. The lights in the lobby began to flicker, emitting a buzzing electrical sound. Then, they heard a sound they had never heard before—a low mechanical operating noise that seemed to come from deep within the building.
"What's that sound?" Thomas asked nervously.
The sound lasted for about thirty seconds, then suddenly stopped. Immediately after, they noticed a crack on the wall on one side of the lobby that they had never seen before. The crack extended downward along the wall, all the way to the floor.
Sara walked toward the crack and gently pushed the wall with her hand. To everyone's astonishment, part of the wall actually moved inward, revealing a hidden entrance.
"There's a secret door here!" she exclaimed excitedly, "The basement Ross mentioned might be right here!"
The five people gathered in front of the secret door, peering inside. A cold draft rushed out from the opening, carrying a strange chemical smell. The stairs descended and disappeared into darkness.
"Why has this secret door only appeared now?" James asked puzzlingly, "Was it triggered by some mechanism because of Ross's death?"
Richard shined his phone's flashlight toward the stairs: "Whatever the case, we must go down and see. This might be our only chance to find the truth."
But Victoria still remained cautious: "This could be another trap set by Anna Chen. She might have anticipated someone would discover this basement and prepared something more dangerous waiting for us."
"So we just sit here and wait to die?" James retorted, "We don't have any choices left."
Sara looked at the note in her hand, pondering Ross's final words: "'Not all'... perhaps she meant to say 'not everyone will die,' or 'not everything is true.' Whatever the case, this basement must hide important secrets."
The five people looked at each other, each with eyes full of fear and hesitation. But they also knew that time was running out, and death was approaching. This suddenly discovered basement could be their last hope, or it could be the final trap.
Outside the window, the moon still hung high in the sky, but its light now seemed more cold and ominous. The waves continued to crash against the rocks, but the sound now resembled more of a calling, summoning them toward an unknown fate.
"Are we... are we going down there?" Thomas asked, his voice trembling.
No one immediately answered the question. They stood before the trapdoor, staring at the stairs leading into the dark depths, each weighing in their hearts the hope of survival against the risk of death.
Ross's death had not only taken a life but revealed a secret that could change everything. And this secret lay hidden in the dark abyss below their feet, waiting for the arrival of either the brave or the desperate.
Time was running out, and a choice had to be made. Would they continue waiting for death on the surface, or venture into the unknown underworld to seek the truth? The answer would determine the fate of them all.
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