0104 A Task of Searching Without Clues

After quite some time, Hou Rui finally dispelled the despair in his heart. He gathered his thoughts and asked Baburu, who was sitting under the tree, "Then tell me about the Somali Liberation Alliance led by General Garcia. Through this organization, can I definitely find my mission target?"

"The Somali Liberation Alliance—though the name sounds noble, they are essentially a group of separatist terrorists. The vast majority of their members are religious extremists who govern the areas under their control through terror. They plunder people, resources, and wealth on a large scale, making them the most troublesome separatist force for the Somali government. In the past fifteen years, sixty percent of the millions lost from Somalia’s population were due to this group," Baburu summarized the nature of the organization in a few blunt sentences.

"Do they accept foreigners into the Liberation Alliance?"

"It's generally dangerous for Westerners to approach them. However, since your skin is a bit tanned, you might pass as Mongolian or Central Asian. It's worth a try. At least they won't shoot you on the spot."

Hou Rui couldn’t think of a better option at the moment. It seemed he had no choice but to cautiously approach this so-called Liberation Alliance.

"What’s the internal structure of the Liberation Alliance?"

"General Garcia is the absolute supreme dictator. He commands a loyal personal guard of about 3,000 men who practically never leave his sight. Below him are four colonels, each governing several towns with armed forces ranging from a few hundred to over a thousand. At the bottom are a dozen or so captains, who are fanatical worshippers of General Garcia and form the core strength of the entire Liberation Alliance."

As Hou Rui pondered these details from his perch in the tree, a small boy suddenly dashed out of a wooden hut, carrying a blanket which he handed to Baburu before obediently nestling beside him. Looking down, Hou Rui thought the boy resembled a puppy cuddling up to Baburu.

"Your son is very cute!" Hou Rui complimented sincerely.

"You’re mistaken. He’s not my son," Baburu replied coldly.

"Not? Then who are the woman and these two children in the hut?"

"Heh, in Somalia, you can find such mothers and children anywhere if you want. They’re just props I use to disguise my identity."

At this, Hou Rui felt the conversation had reached a dead end and fell silent, turning his mind to strategizing how to infiltrate the Liberation Alliance.

Early the next morning, after a simple meal of fruit, corn cakes, and fish soup, Baburu sent Hou Rui off from the fishing village. From this moment on, Hou Rui would be alone in this unfamiliar land, seeking traces of General Garcia.

Perhaps because of its proximity to the ocean, Somalia’s scenery was far more vibrant than Egypt’s. Walking along the mountain path, Hou Rui no longer saw barren yellow wasteland but vast stretches of lush greenery. Although the temperature remained hot, it was far more bearable than Egypt’s stifling heat.

After spending the entire morning walking, Hou Rui estimated he had covered about 167 kilometers and was feeling somewhat fatigued. He rested under the shade of a large tree and began eating. The small pack Baburu’s nominal wife had prepared contained nearly three days’ worth of dried fish and corn cakes—enough to sustain him as he entered the Liberation Alliance’s territory.

After several meals of corn cakes, no matter how good Baburu’s wife’s cooking was, Hou Rui’s appetite waned. Resigned, he shoveled the dry food into his mouth while carefully surveying the surrounding terrain and environment. He wanted to understand the details and precautions necessary for moving through this semi-desert, semi-jungle land.

Suddenly, the wind shifted, and Hou Rui caught a faint whiff of decay.

"Damn! What big beast died here to smell this bad?" he muttered, quickly moving away. Curious, he glanced into the nearby woods and saw a swarm of flies buzzing about some tens of meters away.

"What rotten luck! Can’t people just eat in peace?" Hou Rui grumbled, then decided to throw a stone at the flies.

With a whoosh, the swarm scattered, revealing a body hanging by the neck. This was the source of the foul odor.

Suppressing his nausea, Hou Rui hurried onward. After walking several more kilometers and rounding a bend, he came upon a small bus slumped by the roadside, its exterior blackened by fire.

Cautious, Hou Rui drew his nine-millimeter pistol and slowly approached. Peering through the shattered window, he saw a grotesque pile of bodies twisted in unnatural contortions inside.

The corpses had likely been there for days. Most of the torsos were liquefying, and the foul-smelling viscera oozed out, a feast for countless flies and maggots. When the flies took wing as Hou Rui neared, their buzzing sounded like a ghostly sigh.

Holding back the rising acid in his stomach, Hou Rui covered his mouth and nose and sprinted away, covering 5,600 meters before releasing his breath in great gasps of fresh air.

"They say this country is chaotic and human life is cheap, but I never imagined there wouldn’t even be a single corpse collector on this main road. I have to be extra careful—I don’t want to become one of these nameless bodies," he warned himself repeatedly, then resumed his journey southward.

According to Baburu’s information, the Liberation Alliance’s territory lay just over 100 kilometers to the south. Hou Rui’s plan was to reach that area first, then find an opportunity to infiltrate the Alliance, lie low, and wait for General Garcia to appear.

Time passed swiftly.

Two days later, at noon, Hou Rui finally spotted a town in the distance. Over the journey, he had passed at least 56 villages, and after struggling to communicate with the locals, he learned that after passing through a small town called Baka, the Liberation Alliance’s territory began. In the locals’ words, “That is the entrance to hell, a place unseen by Allah.”

Hell or not, Hou Rui had to venture in.

Discarding the wooden stick he’d been carrying, he rested briefly before calmly approaching Baka. Upon entering, he immediately noticed government soldiers manning a checkpoint at the town’s entrance, alongside camouflaged jeeps. They were meticulously inspecting everyone entering—women and even livestock were not exempt.

While keeping a wary eye on the checkpoint, Hou Rui debated whether to conceal his pistol and try his luck slipping through. Suddenly, a black youth in a floral shirt shouted loudly, drawing the soldiers’ attention. Hou Rui watched as 23 soldiers raised their carbines, aiming at the shouting boy.

Neither side spoke a language Hou Rui understood, but the tense standoff ended with the youth turning to flee. The soldiers mercilessly opened fire, riddling his back with bullets and killing him in the street.

The gunfire panicked those waiting to enter the town, many preparing to flee. At that moment, a government jeep arrived, and several soldiers jumped out. One, seemingly an officer, fired several shots into the air, barely restoring order.

Watching this from afar, Hou Rui made a swift decision. He crouched low, edged to the roadside, and resolutely tossed his pistol into the grass. Though now unarmed, it was safer than risking a firefight.

He soon rejoined the queue and faced two dark-skinned soldiers. One trained his gun on Hou Rui’s chest while the other swiftly searched him. Confirming he carried no weapons, the first soldier slightly lowered his carbine.

The soldier who searched him suddenly grabbed Hou Rui’s collar, pointing at his clearly yellowish skin and muttering something Hou Rui couldn’t understand. To seize the initiative, Hou Rui grit his teeth and spoke quickly in English: "I’m American. I’m a journalist. I was attacked by bandits and need help!"

"American?" The officer who had fired shots earlier approached, speaking broken English.

"Yes, I’m American, a journalist," Hou Rui replied, turning toward him.

"What are Americans doing here? Where’s your pass?" the officer demanded.