Carter looked back at Aman, who was running stumbling, really away from the scene behind him.
He didn't stop him. Just let the boy go. Maybe he'd find that Japanese Major. Maybe he'd kill him. One could hope.
Then, silence.
A strange air, heavy and oppressive, settled around the tent like a fog. Something about it made the back of Carter's neck twitch.
"He already knew I was here, huh?" Carter muttered to himself, glancing around. "Probably sent his men to come collect me already. What a man... letting his own captain die just to lay bait." He looked down again.
The captain's body lay twisted, unnaturally arranged an obscene form of art. Morbid. Statement making.
"What a piece I've made," Carter whispered. "But... it should've been someone else."
And with that, he disappeared. Just like that. No trace left behind. No sound. No scent. Gone.
Like a ghost.
...
Aman stumbled out of the tent, his steps erratic, his heart pounding but not from fear.
Relief.
He blinked at the scene in front of him: Japanese soldiers, surrounding him, rifles aimed squarely at his chest.
Relief.
He never thought there'd come a day he'd feel grateful for the sight of Japanese soldiers ready to shoot. But right now, they were the lesser evil. They were reality. Predictable.
Behind him, the soldiers surged into the tent. Moments later, murmurs filled the air confused, unsettled. Their superior officer lay inside, his body disfigured, posed into some perverse imitation of sculpture. A message.
And yet, the perpetrator?
Gone. Slipped away, unnoticed. The wind didn't even rustle.
A ghost.
...
The Major arrived soon after. He stood at the tent entrance, silent. Observing.
His sharp gaze scanned the scene his eyes lingering on the corpse of the captain.
"Rearrange the body," he said finally. "Make it look whole. Give him a proper burial."
There was no emotion in his voice. Just... order.
He stepped into the tent, knelt beside the body. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the grotesque arrangement.
"He really planned this," he said under his breath. "An artist, huh? Didn't think I'd see this sort of thing myself. But... the artist is already gone."
He sighed and stood up, the weight of something unknown pressing against his back.
"He did this to my favorite captain," the Major said. "Well... he'll pay. Eventually."
Still no anger. Just... a thought. Maybe even disappointment.
Then he turned to Aman.
"You knew him, right?" he asked.
Aman nodded. He couldn't speak. He sat trembling on the ground, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Mei Lian lay beside him, still unconscious her mind lost in some twisted drug induced journey.
"That bastard will pay," the Major muttered. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. "He slipped through again. Just like you."
Aman's mouth opened, but no words came.
Was he seriously joking?
"How can you laugh?" Aman finally asked, voice raw. "You were close to him, weren't you? And now look at him!"
The Major tilted his head thoughtfully.
"How?" he repeated. "Because in the end, he's replaceable. Like me. Like you. There's always someone ready to take our place. That's how things work. But yes... he was my favorite. That's why it stings a little."
He said it so plainly, so casually, that Aman didn't know how to react. There was philosophy in it. A frightening calm. A man who had made peace with monsters.
"So what now?" Aman asked.
"Now? I continue my orders, an order that i need to obey" the Major said. "We're to link up with my division and push forward to Kuala Lumpur. But I have no doubt I'll see him again. A man like that doesn't disappear forever. No... he's like a ghost. A shinobi."
The end was near.
They were so close now Kuala Lumpur just ahead.
And somewhere out there, Carter was still running free. Still killing. Like a force of nature. Like madness personified.
...
The Major turned suddenly toward Aman, eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief or something darker.
"Well then. Time to make you useful."
Aman narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Kuala Lumpur doesn't have much in the way of defenses right now. But I still need someone on the inside. A set of eyes."
"You want me?"
"Yes. There's a high chance they won't shoot you. A lot of Kesatuan Melayu Muda the KMM(Young Malay Union) are in the area. They've been helping us with intel. You'll go. Meet with them. Help them. And help me."
The Major cleaned his glasses, wiped the lenses carefully. Then his gaze slid to Mei Lian.
"I'm... a hostage now?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Smart girl," the Major replied. "Not that I plan to harm you. But yes... something to keep your friend here from running off. Insurance."
Aman clenched his fists. "You bastard! You're using her to force me into spying?! So i can play as your spy!?"
"Relax," the Major said calmly. "I've kept my promises so far, haven't I? You've had good food. A warm place to sleep. You're not in chains."
He reached into his coat.
Pulled something out.
A gun.
A snub nosed revolver.
Henry gun.
He placed it on the table with a soft clink, then gestured for Aman to come forward.
"You ever heard of consequentialism?"
Aman stared. "What?"
"Consequentialism," the Major repeated. "It's the idea that the morality of an action depends on its outcome."
He picked up the revolver and handed it to Aman. Guided Aman's hand until the barrel was pointed at his own forehead.
"Go on," the Major whispered. "Shoot me. You hate me, right? I can see it. Do it. You're a killer. A murderer. Let's see if you'll follow through."
Aman's hand trembled violently. Sweat dripped from his brow.
"You're insane..."
He tried to pull away, but the Major held him firm.
"Careful," he said with a smile. "If your finger twitches, the gun might go off. And then what? My men storm in, see me dead, and you holding the murder weapon. You think they'll believe I guided your hand? No. Their truth will be what they see and hear. And what they'll see is you, with blood on your hands."
Aman was frozen. His heartbeat was deafening.
And then
SLAP!
The sound cracked through the air.
Mei Lian had stood, stormed forward, and slapped the Major across the face with all the strength she had.
The Major stepped back, hand on his cheek. The gun dropped to the floor with a metallic thud.
Aman fell to his knees, gasping.
"Why did you do that?!" he shouted.
"Shut up!" Mei Lian snapped, stepping between them.
"Take me as hostage. I don't care anymore. But if he dies because of your little game, I swear I'll make you my first kill before I take my own life."
"Mei.."
"Don't!" she turned on him. "Don't say a word."
The Major chuckled.
"Well... that's a consequence I didn't anticipate."
"You shut up too!" she screamed. "I get it, okay? I understand your stupid point! We're just pawns. Just unlucky people thrown into a broken world. What do you want from us? We don't have choices anymore!"
Silence.
They all stood frozen.
Mei Lian was shaking. From anger, from exhaustion, from the sheer hopelessness of it all.
She and Aman... they would be separated.
Forced to obey.
Forced to survive.
There were no choices anymore. Not real ones.
Choices were for people who had freedom. For people with options. For people not living under boots and barrels and blades.
Mei Lian was tired.
The Major... he was a monster cloaked in logic. A philosopher with blood on his hands.
And Aman?
Aman didn't know who he was anymore. A traitor? A survivor? A coward?
All he knew was that he hated himself more than he hated the war. More than he hated Carter. More than he hated the Major.
What came next?
They didn't know.
There were no maps for where they were going. No compass for what they were becoming.
Only hope.
And even that felt paper thin.