Chapter 278: Chapter 237: Acquaintance (2)
The sound was exceptionally clear in the quiet environment.
Feng Mountain, Nash, and Jeff tightened their grips on their guns. They exchanged a look, nodded, and stood up simultaneously, aiming their muzzles in the direction of the sound.
They would pull the trigger without hesitation at the slightest movement.
Just as the tension became suffocating, a voice suddenly called out.
"Friendly!"
Then, a tribal police officer holding an AR-15 stepped out from the shadows of the woods.
The mud and sand on his combat uniform were clear signs of a recent, fierce battle.
The tribal police officer gave the three a small wave, signaling for them to come over.
"We’ve caught them all."
Seeing it was one of their own, Feng Mountain, Nash, and Jeff slowly let out a breath of relief. However, they didn’t lower their guns, only dipping the muzzles slightly as they cautiously approached the officer.
"What’s the situation?" Jeff asked hurriedly.
The tribal police officer was wearing a face covering that revealed only his eyes, so his features were unclear. But from his bright, sharp eyes, they could tell he was probably very young.
His eyes glinted with post-battle excitement and a trace of lingering tension.
"It wasn’t seven men, it was nine. Three were shot, six surrendered. We have no injuries."
As they spoke, the group made their way through the dense woods, which were like a green labyrinth.
The surrounding trees were tall and lush, their branches and leaves intertwining to completely block out the sky. Only a few rays of sunlight managed to struggle through the layers of foliage, casting down mottled specks of light.
Before long, the gurgling sound of running water grew clearer, and they arrived at the bank of a river two or three meters wide.
However, the sight before them made everyone’s brows furrow instantly.
The river water was murky and yellow, thick with mud and sand that churned slowly with the current, like a turbid ribbon of slurry.
Even more distressingly, a large number of dead fish lay scattered along the riverbank. Their once-living bodies were now stiff, some with their white bellies turned up, and the stench of decay filled the air.
It was obvious this was all man-made.
Those greedy white invaders, in their quest for gold, had completely disregarded the ecological damage.
They walked upstream along the riverbank, their steps laced with a mixture of urgency and anger.
The murky yellow water continued to flow beside them with a dull sound, as if recounting the suffering it had endured.
Soon, they entered a cove.
The current was much calmer here. The water’s surface shimmered under the sunlight, but the glint was somewhat dim due to the murkiness.
On a sandy beach by the cove, two tents stood out starkly before them.
Around the tents, various machines and pipes were scattered about in disarray.
Some of it looked like drilling equipment for mining, caked with a good deal of mud and sand, clearly having been used for some time.
Other unknown devices emitted a faint humming sound, seemingly on standby and ready to resume operation at any moment.
Mining tools like shovels and pickaxes were also strewn about, carelessly discarded on the sand.
In the open space in front of the tents, several strangers—some Black, some white—were squatting with their hands on their heads, guarded by tribal police officers with weapons raised.
Their expressions varied. Some were filled with terror, while others kept their heads down, trying to hide their faces, but their slightly trembling bodies betrayed their inner fear.
Three others were lying on the sand, crying out in pain.
Feng Mountain walked onto the beach and looked around. He couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect; these people really embodied that old saying.
The bolder the man, the bigger the yield.
To dig for gold, this crew had certainly gone to great lengths.
They had even brought in a diesel generator and wrapped it in soundproofing cotton to keep the noise from traveling.
"Feng, want to see what they dug up?" Jeff asked, pointing at one of the tents.
Of course Feng Mountain did.
He had only ever heard about gold mining; he’d never actually seen it.
He followed Jeff to the entrance of one of the tents. As Jeff lifted the flap, a foul stench stung their eyes.
BLECH!
It smelled like years of accumulated foot odor, even more pungent than dried shark meat.
They held the tent flap open to air it out, waiting a moment before going inside.
The scene inside the tent was one of utter chaos, no different from a garbage dump.
A few single beds were placed haphazardly, the bedding on them wrinkled and emitting a foul smell.
All sorts of living supplies were scattered everywhere in a mess—pots, bowls, worn-out clothes, leftover food scraps, and so on—all jumbled together in a nauseating sight.
But in a cabinet in the corner sat a very inconspicuous cloth bag.
Jeff walked over, reached out, and picked up the bag, testing its weight.
A look of astonishment instantly appeared on his face.
"Feng, do you know the current price of gold?" Jeff asked, clutching the bag tightly, his eyes filled with unconcealable excitement.
"No. Just spit it out," Feng Mountain replied nonchalantly, having just picked up a dagger that he was now toying with in his hand.
Jeff shook his head, exasperated by his lack of engagement.
"The latest international price for gold is 1,302.60 US Dollars an ounce."
"And?"
Feng Mountain responded indifferently and continued rummaging through the garbage heap of a tent, as if hoping to find some other treasure.
"And... and the gold in my hand is worth 150,000 US Dollars!" Jeff raised his voice, emphasizing the amount. He found it hard to understand Feng Mountain’s utter lack of interest.
’This is a small fortune.’
Besides, it was confiscated from these illegal white trespassers, which made it especially significant. But Feng Mountain acted as if he’d just heard about some trivial, everyday matter.
"Come on, it’s just 150,000 US Dollars, not 1.5 million."
To him, that amount of money...
Feng Mountain really didn’t think much of it. A single trip out to sea on the River Beach could earn a thousand times that sum.
"Alright, you win!"
Jeff’s initial joy from discovering the valuable gold felt like it had been doused by a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguished.
’Trying to share this with Feng was a fucking mistake.’
"Hey, man, look what I found! This trenching tool is military-grade," Feng Mountain said excitedly, holding up a sapper shovel he had unearthed.
Heh!
Jeff couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh, his frustration nearly boiling over.
’I have a thousand curses I want to scream right now,’ he thought. ’Just a moment ago, I thought finding the gold was a huge surprise.’
He had been overjoyed and wanted to share his excitement with Feng Mountain, but it turned out Feng couldn’t care less. Instead, he was getting worked up over a stupid trenching tool.
Fuck!
"I’m heading out. You can keep treasure hunting by yourself."
He walked out of the tent.
Jeff checked on the condition of the three wounded men.
One gold miner had been shot in the shoulder, another in the lower leg. The last one was particularly unlucky; a bullet had hit him in the ass, tearing off a large chunk of flesh. He’d probably have trouble sitting balanced on a chair from now on.
While they waited for the helicopter to arrive...
Jeff crouched in front of one of the surrendered miners, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, and handed it over with a smile.
"Which gang are you with?"
"I’m n-not a gang member. I’m just a hired worker," the miner said, fearfully accepting the cigarette.
"Then who hired you?" Jeff changed the question.
The miner took a drag from his cigarette, glanced at the Black man squatting nearby with his hands on his head, and said in a very low voice, "It’s the Wolf Gang."
’The Wolf Gang?’
Jeff, of course, knew of this gang.
He immediately stood up, walked over to the Black man, and nudged him with the tip of his boot. "I thought you Wolf Gang guys were poaching seafood over in Anchorage. Since when did you get into gold mining?"
The Black man looked up at Jeff, opened his mouth to reveal two rows of large, gold-capped teeth, and said dejectedly,
"Seafood isn’t selling well. We’re developing a new line of business."
Just then, Feng Mountain walked out of the tent with the trenching tool in hand. He happened to see the Black man, and his eyes narrowed as he walked over.
"Hey buddy, have we met before? You look familiar."
The Black man looked up at Feng Mountain, grinned again to show off his gold teeth, and said, "Fairbanks. You’re the one who knocked my teeth out."
Ha!
’So it is an old acquaintance.’
Feng Mountain smiled. He rested the flat of the trenching tool against the man’s cheek and patted it lightly twice. "You Wolf Gang guys really have a wide range of business. First you were dealing illegal abalone, and now you’re mining for gold on the reservation. You’re not picky at all, are you?"
...
