Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 211 Human-like Dog

Two hours later, the road became even more rugged.

The red soil was soft after the rain, and there was occasionally cow dung.

Upon seeing the checkpoint at the village entrance, Zhou Yi slowed down.

Several rows of sandbags and a pickup truck with no tires were lying across the road, with a faded MONUC sticker on the front of the truck.

Three young soldiers carrying old AKs stood lazily behind a wooden stake.

When they looked at the oncoming car, they weren't wary; they just blinked.

Someone uttered a Lingra phrase, drawing out the words as if making a joke.

Colin, sitting in the back seat, took off his sunglasses, leaned half his body out of the car window, and shouted a couple of sentences at the top of his lungs.

The tall, thin young man who was leading the group laughed, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth, and waved to the side.

The obstacle did not move.

However, there was an opening in the sandbag on the far side, allowing people to go around it.

"All done." Colin put his sunglasses back on and leaned back in his seat. "What a great opportunity to learn a language."

Zhou Yi stubbed out his cigarette and stepped on the gas.

The camp was larger and more chaotic than expected.

The vehicle bypassed a flooded rice paddy and entered a low-lying area.

Temporary military tents, oil drums, and taut tarpaulins began to appear on both sides, spreading out along the semi-circular hills.

The highest point was enclosed by a blue tarpaulin, and several flags stuck on iron rods fluttered wildly in the wind.

Four or five Black men, dressed in slippers and resembling military officers, sat around a large pot of boiling water, with umbrellas covering their heads to shield them from the sun.

“You’d better be prepared,” Colin cursed angrily. “These bastards won’t say anything nice.”

Zhou Yi parked his car in an open space and walked over to them.

The sun is high.

The air smelled of a mixture of diesel and charcoal.

The loudspeaker was playing East African pop music, a strange mix of some kind of church chorus and disco beats.

The Black man sitting in the center looked up at them, then reached into the plastic bag again, grabbed a few moringa leaves, and chewed them.

"The one we were told to come from above has arrived," the young man next to him said in a low voice.

The black man immediately stopped what he was doing and quickly stood up.

He didn't greet him or extend his hand; he just stared at Zhou Yi for a few seconds.

"Are you John?" he asked in French.

"Yes." Zhou Yi's tone was restrained.

Upon hearing this, the Black man gave a stiff smile, then raised his hand in a somewhat awkward military salute:

"The boss has informed you, saying he'll take care of you." He spoke slowly and with a very heavy accent.

"welcome."

"Just tell me what you need."

Colin blinked in surprise but didn't say anything.

He expected to be subjected to another round of nonsensical questioning, but to his surprise, these usually arrogant rebels had learned to be polite.

Zhou Yi did not return the greeting, but simply nodded.

The Black man turned around and shouted a few words towards the tents behind him.

A few seconds later, someone dragged over a plastic chair, wiped the mud off its surface, and placed it next to Zhou Yi.

Colin's feelings at this moment were beyond words.

He stared at everything in front of him, his lips twitching slightly.

However, Zhou Yi had no intention of sitting down.

He waved his hand: "Thank you for your kindness, but I'd like to take a look at the camp first, if that's possible."

Although it was a question, the tone was firm.

Upon hearing this request, the Black man instinctively frowned, his expression slightly displeased.

But he ultimately said nothing, turned around and called out, "Omari, show them around."

A boy of about sixteen or seventeen years old ran over in response. He had dark skin, wore camouflage pants that were obviously too big, and had an empty magazine pouch hanging from his waist.

He first glanced nervously at Colin before turning his gaze to the unfamiliar Asian man.

Before he could say anything, he was kicked in the butt.

The boy stumbled a couple of steps and almost fell.

"Get the hell out of here!" the black man yelled, whether to show off or to express his protest, it was unclear. Omar didn't dare to resist, only saying "Follow me," and led the two away from the city center as if their lives depended on it.

They walked along the muddy path, their feet surrounded by puddles and damp red soil.

The air after the rain is hot and humid.

Along the way, blue-green plastic sheets could be seen everywhere, pressed down on makeshift bamboo sheds or wooden stakes.

Ropes were strung in the corners, and some were weighed down with stones.

“This is the kitchen,” Omar mumbled.

Beside the tent, a woman squatted down by a bucket, washing a pot, while her baby in her arms nursed with its eyes closed.

She glanced up at them, then looked down again and continued scrubbing the bottom of the pot.

Further ahead was an open space enclosed by plywood and cement bricks.

Ammunition boxes were piled up under the mango tree, and cigarette butts were scattered all over the ground beside them.

The two children sat in the shadows.

One of them was disassembling a FAL rifle with a blunt screwdriver, but it got stuck after a few tries, so he hit the bolt twice with a stone.

His companion held a sugarcane, chewing as he watched.

Colin sighed. "This is my classroom," he said. "The students? Fuck, complete idiots."

Zhou Yi stopped and looked at it for a while.

A little further away, the shorter man tried to insert the magazine into the rifle, but failed to align it after three attempts.

Finally, he simply pressed the gun to the ground, stepped on the gun body with his foot, and pushed the magazine with both hands.

With a "click," it was a success.

The gun barrel was also deflected and pierced the lower back of the person next to him.

No one reminded me.

No one cares.

"Look, I've been explaining the safety rules for three days—"

Colin loudly commented, completely disregarding whether the "trainees" could understand him.

"And then? They turned around and started joking around with real guns."

"There was also an idiot who used an AK as a hoe to dig up sweet potatoes in the ground to eat."

Zhou Yi paused for a moment, then asked Omar, "Where are your other instructors?"

The boy paused, as if he hadn't expected to be asked a question so suddenly.

“I just got back a few hours ago,” he said. “I came back from the north.”

"Where have you been?"

"fight."

"Where are they now?"

Omar did not answer immediately.

He kicked the stone at his feet, his lips twitching as if he were trying to recall the words.

"They are now torturing prisoners, men and women."

"That woman, white, with fair skin, was exceptionally beautiful."

He became a little flustered as he spoke, awkwardly making a shape in front of his chest, "And it's especially, especially, big."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Colin slapped him hard across the back of the head.

"I fucking taught you for half a month, and I didn't expect you to know how to flatter?"

Omari swayed slightly, showing no embarrassment, and continued to carefully observe Zhou Yi's expression.

One second, two seconds.

Finally, Zhou Yi couldn't help but laugh.

Colin was also laughing so hard he was doubled over.

The boy looked at the two adults with a puzzled expression, unsure whether he had said something right or wrong.

"Damn, he's a real dog incarnate," Colin said, shaking his head.

Zhou Yi took out a cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth.

“Let’s go then,” he said to the frightened boy, then pressed the lighter.

　This is a work of pure fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)