Wolfpack

Chapter 9: Debt? Fraud?

“So, I want you to work to pay off your debt.” The Butcher shoved me down into a seat.

“Work to pay off a debt? You mean be a slave! Don’t try to fool me. I’m telling you, it’s easy to kill me, but if you think I’ll grovel and act like a dog—no way!” I might not usually be someone with much backbone or righteousness, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let someone make me their servant.

“Calm down, calm down. Did I say you’d be a slave? Of course not. I just want you to work for us. You’re not a slave, not a dog, this has nothing to do with dignity—it’s definitely not what you think.” Seeing that I didn’t believe him, the Butcher added, “Once we get to the job site, you’ll understand. And don’t forget, you owe me 25 million dollars. If you did some servant’s work, how long would it take to pay that back? That wouldn’t be worth it for me!”

“25 million? Don’t take me for a fool. Even if you sold all three of us, we wouldn’t be worth 25 million!” I had just sat down when that massive number scared me so much I stood up again.

“You’re not worth it, but that doesn’t mean the two of us aren’t. We’re the best bodyguards money can buy. And just because you’re not worth that now doesn’t mean you won’t be in the future. Ask him if you don’t believe me.” The Butcher motioned toward Buck. When I saw Buck nod, I collapsed back to the ground. 25 million dollars. 25 million dollars…

I looked at these two guys supposedly worth 25 million and asked, “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“We can’t tell you yet. You’ll see when we get there.” The Butcher smiled. I smiled back, but my smile was worse than a grimace. When you’re under someone else’s roof, you have to bow your head.

The following days were a blur of turning left, turning right, climbing mountains—we trekked through who knows how much wilderness. The hardships showed in the tattered rags I wore and the cuts all over my body. Strangely, though, while my clothes barely covered my butt, these two didn’t have a scratch on them.

“How much farther do we have to go? I’m exhausted!” I poked open yet another blister on my foot—I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Not far now. Don’t be impatient. Look at you, can’t even handle this short distance. Back when China’s Red Army did the Long March—25,000 li—guys like you would’ve died on the first leg!” The Butcher rarely spoke, but when he did, it was always cutting.

“You know about the Long March? You even speak Chinese? You guys are something else! Are you spies or something?” I ignored his insults—since I couldn’t beat him, I had no choice but to tolerate him.

“i***t. Would anyone send a white guy to China as a spy? Or do you think a Black guy would attract less attention?”

“Then how much farther? If we don’t get there soon, I’ll be running around naked.” I pointed at my jeans that had basically turned into fishnet.

“You need to adapt quicker. Life in the jungle is going to be a long haul,” Buck said meaningfully.

“You’re not seriously saying we’ll be working in the jungle? Is this even a place for humans?” I cried out.

“That’s why the pay is high! You’ll be able to pay off your debt faster!” Hearing the Butcher shamelessly use a fake debt to pressure me, I felt more wronged than Dou E.

“Here, take this!” The Butcher tossed me a pair of army trousers from his pack.

“You had pants and didn’t say anything earlier? You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I was getting bolder now that I realized they weren’t so hard to get along with.

“You didn’t ask.” The Butcher gave an innocent look.

I put on the army pants. A bit long, but fine. Military-grade—tough and durable. At least I didn’t have to worry about flashing anyone anymore.

After three more days, I began to adjust to their pace and the rough forest ground.

Standing on a large rock, the Butcher closed his eyes, stood still for a moment, then opened them and said something cryptic: “We’ve shaken them.”

Buck nodded. I asked curiously, “Shaken who?”

“Someone was tracking us. A Chinese scout. He’s been following us for a while,” Buck replied.

“A scout? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” I asked, frustrated.

“To warn you so you could run? If it weren’t for you, we probably could’ve lost him sooner. Chinese scouts are pretty good. Following me this long means he probably didn’t have orders to kill—just tracking us. Probably trying to figure out which line we belong to.” The Butcher said grimly.

“How can you tell someone’s following us?” My frustration gave way to curiosity.

“Instinct. Just trust your instincts.” The Butcher patted me on the shoulder and walked on.

They say women have a sixth sense—but it turns out so do men, especially these two muscle-heads. I had no choice but to follow. The pace clearly slowed, meaning we’d been in a rush the past two days to shake the tail.

“The fact you kept up those two days means your stamina’s decent,” Buck complimented me.

“I trained with my brother. He’s a Chinese special forces soldier!” I announced proudly.

“Too bad China’s policies are too conservative. Otherwise, we’d love to test ourselves against Chinese special forces,” the Butcher and Buck said with a hint of regret.

Before dark, we entered a dense forest. It was already getting dim with little visibility. I had a strange feeling that something was off. I kept looking back as I walked—nothing there. Again and again—still nothing. Weird.

“What are you doing, lagging behind?” the Butcher called out.

“Butcher, something doesn’t feel right,” I whispered as I caught up to him.

“What doesn’t feel right?” He looked at me.

“I don’t know. I just feel... uneasy.” At that moment, we stepped into a round clearing surrounded by large trees.

“Heh... chirp chirp! chirp chirp!” The Butcher curled his lips into a smirk and mimicked a bird call.

Suddenly, the bushes nearby bulged, and from between the leaves, two cold, emotionless eyes emerged. Then, from behind us, in the trees and bushes, six or seven more figures appeared one by one, as if they were growing out of the trunks. Each one had a gun pointed at us.

“Easy—don’t let it go off by accident!” Buck smiled at the sniper in the tree.

“I never miss,” came the icy, inhuman reply.

A middle-aged soldier in his 40s with a beard and face camo dropped down from a tree. He looked at me, then asked the Butcher, “What’s going on? Who is this kid? Why’d you bring a kid?”

The Butcher pulled the man aside and whispered something. I could catch fragments: “He’s just a kid!... Yang’s dead?…” Eventually, they seemed to reach an agreement. The man came over, looked at me, and said, “Hmm, I’m Roger—their team leader. The Butcher told me about you… and… the debt. He said you agreed to work it off. So… you’re now… uh… one of our comrades. Welcome aboard.” He stared at me intently.

“Thanks!” I looked at the captain—he had stammered through most of that. This guy leads a team?

“Alright, let me introduce you to your… comrades…” Clearly, he wasn’t used to the word. “The blond one’s Cowboy, the green-eyed one’s Demon, the big guy is Grizzly, that one over there is Vanguard, the sniper’s Bolt-Action. Up in the tree is Primer.” Roger pointed each one out.

Just then, a loud roaring sound came from above. A UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter descended from the sky.

“Let’s go!” the captain shouted. Within five seconds, the whole team—including me—had boarded. After we took off, the captain pointed at the pilot and shouted, “That’s Hawkeye. And this is Xingtian—the new guy!”

Hawkeye turned around and yelled, “Welcome to Wolfpack Mercenaries!”