Chapter 85

The date I first saw the vision was June 2, 1600. The date I saw in the vision was July 23, 1600. Even with the simplest calculation, the result was that a hurricane would strike this land in fifty-three days. The Lenape people were a nation spread over a vast territory, from what would become Delaware in the 21st century to New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and New York. This meant we had only fifty-two days left to evacuate them.

Fifty-three days. 

It might have been a ridiculously insufficient amount of time to evacuate people scattered across a land larger than Gyeongsang Province.

“But it’s narrowly possible.” 

“…” 

“…” 

“Most of them live gathered near the lower Hudson River and the Delaware River. If we move along the relatively flat lands next to the riverbeds and the paths people have already cleared… it should work.”

By that logic, we only had to run a few hundred kilometers. Furthermore, if we considered that the surrounding tribes would alert other tribes to the crisis and help evacuate them, the number of people we could save would increase even more. And so the journey began.

“Your Great Chief has come! Open the gates!” 

“The Great… Chief?” 

“He means Sir Nemo! Quickly!”

First, a handful of us, including myself, would race ahead in the Porter. We had already visited these places once, so we had no trouble finding our way. Then, I would use my ‘Eyes to Avoid Death’ to survey the area and find a safe zone where my head cleared. In the meantime, the rest of the people, and those who arrived later by wagon, would gather the villagers, inform them of the work I was doing, and warn them of the coming disaster. And then we would move on to the next village.

The time we spent repeating that process has already been… “Twenty-two days have passed, Sir Nemo.”

It meant that about forty percent of the time we had was gone. A sigh escaped me as I checked the date on my phone, which read June 24th.

“…Manteo, how many villages have we evacuated?” 

“Well… not even half yet.” 

“Tell me the exact ratio, please.” 

“…Only about a quarter.”

A quarter. At this rate, it would take another two months. We were desperately short on time.

“And considering that from here on, the tribes are scattered over an even wider area…” 

“Manteo, and everyone. We’re changing the plan.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Manteo, you will remain here. And for the remaining time, you will urge the surrounding tribes to evacuate to the safe zones.” 

“B-but, then Sir Nemo will be…” 

“I will be fine. Please, complete the work that needs to be done here. And please, do not get swept away by the storm.”

After finishing our meal, I gave Manteo a few more words of caution and immediately walked toward the Porter. We were that short on time. Every single moment was precious. Our meals became simpler and more meager, and our interactions were stripped down to only what was essential.

“Sir Nemo, before we reach the swamp up ahead, we need to turn right to get to the next village.” 

“Thank you, Raleigh.” 

“…” 

“…” 

“…”

Gradually, we began to move in silence. I pushed the Porter’s speed up to sixty kilometers per hour. It was a rather dangerous act on these primitive roads, full of obstacles, where a wild animal or a rock could appear at any moment.

“Mr. Harriot? I’m sorry, but you will have to remain here as well. I intend to entrust you with the same mission as Manteo.” 

“B-but, if you do that, the burden on you will become much greater, Sir Nemo! You can’t!” 

“I also object. It was one thing when one person left, but a second…” 

“I’ll just have to suffer. Isn’t that why I took on the role of Virginia’s Great Chief?” 

“…” 

“…” 

“…” 

“Mr. Harriot, I’m asking you.” 

“…Leave it to me.”

And as I pushed the Porter’s maximum speed to eighty kilometers per hour, the empty seats began to increase, one by one.

“Vicente? What’s the situation now?” 

“The area around this safe zone is still clear! I hear rumors that it will rain soon, I wonder if that’s true…” 

“What is today’s date?” 

“…June 30th.” 

“It is the day you are to disperse.” 

“…” 

“Vicente, stay alive.” 

“Of course.”

And then Vicente. The entire back seat of the double-cab Porter was now empty.

Vroooooooooom!

Driving the Porter at over one hundred kilometers per hour, day and night, had now become a matter of course.

“Please, listen! A storm is coming soon! This is not a metaphor, nor is it a scare tactic! A storm may soon rush in and crush this village!” 

“We’ve had our fill of storms. Their strength has weakened these days, what is there to worry about?” 

“You should worry, Chief. Because our Great Chief wills it.” 

“…Why is that?” 

“That… is a good question. ‘He’ wishes to save you.”

Raleigh devotedly spread the news to the surrounding villages, while I ran around like a mad beast, chasing the visions. Searching for places where my head didn’t spin or hurt, places where the horrific visions did not appear. I found the safe zones and told the tribes.

And… “Walter.” 

“…” 

“I’m counting on you. And stay alive.” 

“Haha… I know it is ridiculous for me to worry about you, Sir Nemo… but still, please take care of yourself.”

Raleigh also got out of the Porter. I checked the map, the clock, and the date. I was entering the lower reaches of the Delaware River. It was night. And the date was July 14th.

I turned on the Porter’s headlights and drove. A cone of yellow light raced under a strangely clear night sky.

Rattle-rattle-rattle.

Not long after I started driving, I heard a sound from somewhere. At first, I thought it was coming from the car.

Rattle-rattle-rattle.

The vibrating sound came again. It was the kind of sound that put one’s nerves on edge.

Rattle-rattle-rattle.

“Please…!”

I briefly stepped on the brake, intending to check where this unpleasant sound was coming from. I let go of the steering wheel. And in that moment, the sound stopped.

“…”

I looked down at my hands. They were trembling.

July 19th. The date I saw ‘that day’ was July 23rd. The hurricane’s estimated landfall was the 22nd. …Three days until landfall. I opened the 21st-century map. A spiderweb of major mountain ranges, rivers, and roads that shouldn’t exist yet came into view. Cities that hadn’t been built yet had grown like blisters here and there, and roads and bridges that couldn’t possibly exist were stretched out like long scars. But the scale and the depiction of the topography were detailed and accurate. From a 21st-century perspective, of course.

Flip.

I opened another map. It was a different map, one drawn by me and my companions. The scale was far more inaccurate, and the depiction of the topography was noticeably imprecise, but at least it showed what existed now. The villages that existed now, the fragmented roads that existed now, the rivers, mountains, and all sorts of obstacles that existed now were on it.

Comparing the two, measuring with a ruler, and overlaying them, I estimated the rough distance to my destination. It was a result produced with the two most accurate maps of the eastern region of North America on the planet. The result was… a straight line distance of one hundred and fifty kilometers.

‘I can make it.’ 

It was a distance I could cover in a day. I could arrive before dawn. The faster, the better. With that thought, I pressed the accelerator, and soon the number on the speedometer hit one hundred and fifty kilometers per hour.

I hadn’t slept for a week, but my body was still alive and squirming. Even without looking in a mirror, I could tell. My eyes were completely bloodshot, then recovering, then trembling again, over and over. The beast of steel, heavier than any beast in America, raced across the road at a speed more overwhelming than any beast in America. The wolves and various animals that roamed nearby trembled and fled at the sight of the fiercely drawn line of light. But I did not stop.

There were not many stretches of road that continued all the way to my destination, a coastal village, the village of the Lenape Great Chief. If I didn’t pick up speed in places like this, there would be no other place to run. I pressed the accelerator again, increasing the speed. The chassis trembled and screamed, but I knew. After midnight, this guy would be fine again.

And. In that thought, I had overlooked one thing. That it was night. And that even if it was a ‘road,’ I had forgotten that this was a road made by barely packing down the earth with crude tools.

CRACK.

Until I heard that sound, for a moment, I didn’t even guess what had happened. Until one wheel lifted, the truck flipped onto its side, and a low-lying rock appeared before my eyes.

“Uh.”

That one word was all the sound I could make.

K-K-KRA-KRA-KRA-BOOM!

Soon, steel crumpled, wood splintered, and the world convulsed. I was tossed, flipped, and crushed like a pile of meat being ground in a blender. When I came to my senses again… I couldn’t even scream.

Beneath my torn and bloodied clothes, my flesh, whole as always, squirmed. And yet, I couldn’t move properly because of the pain. My body, which had moved calmly even when stabbed with a knife or burned by fire, was frozen. 

Ah… staying up for a week was too much, I guess.

With such thoughts, I gritted my teeth and crawled over the shattered windshield. Shards of broken glass embedded themselves all over my hands, arms, and legs, but the pain of my whole body twisting was so great that such trivial pains felt almost refreshing. And, after finally crawling out and turning back, I could see the wrecked Porter. Black oil, like blood, was dripping from its massive chassis. An ominous grinding sound and the dizzying smell of something burning arose from somewhere.

Oil, a grinding sound, a burning smell. Guessing what would happen next, I stood up and took a few large steps back. Soon, a flame erupted and swallowed the chassis.

“…”

Only then did it feel real. How much further to my destination? Ah, about one hundred and ninety kilometers left. The time remaining? It would be about two days. And before my eyes, the truck was burning.

“…”

I could offer no response to this situation other than silence. Soon, time passed, the flames died down, and each and every part that made up the Porter melted away as if evaporating into the air, and then disappeared completely. Including all the fixtures that had been inside.

It was midnight. Now, July 20th. Only two days until the hurricane’s landfall.

“…”

One hundred and ninety kilometers in two days… 

“…”

I unconsciously looked up at the moon. And when I looked around, the residents of this area, looking startled, were gathering from here and there. They were people I had already visited before, people who had not yet heard the news of the storm from Raleigh, who was supposed to be in charge of this area.

I knew well how I must look in their eyes. The one who commands a beast of steel, the one who crawled out from its dead carcass, and the one who survived the entire process. A few of them were coming to pay their respects to me. But they were not my responsibility. I trusted Raleigh.

So I pushed them aside and started to run blindly. A few people ran after me, but none could match my speed, and they all dropped off midway. I ran like a madman until they were out of sight. No, I ran even after they were out of sight.

I ran. They say that if professional marathon runners run 42.195 kilometers in over two hours, normal people run it in four to five hours. So what about me? A person with a constantly regenerating body, if they run, ignoring the pain, how quickly can they arrive? I didn’t know. And in that unknown, I could place my hope.

I fumbled in my pocket for my phone to check the time, then let out a hollow laugh when I realized it was empty. Ah, I threw it on the passenger seat of the truck. I wonder if it’s being kept safe in my house on Croatoan now.

I didn’t know my location, my speed, or the current time. I just ran like a fool, guessing the general direction and path. The surroundings were dark. Even the stars were hidden by clouds.

Around sunrise, my legs gave out and I almost fell. And when the sun set again, my whole body was trembling. I fell countless times, but the minor cuts and scrapes were easily erased, like water stains. Again, my torn clothes were mended, and the bloodstains began to disappear. I realized that midnight had come again.

July 21st. One day until the hurricane’s predicted landfall. My legs were shaking. When I spat, blood pooled on the path, and it felt as if my whole body were melting down. I blinked again, and all those abnormal conditions were healed.

My heart was beating as if it would leap out of my body. My head began to hurt and pain set in, as if my body were lacking water. And after moving a few more steps, the pain was shaken off again. I repeated that process countless times. Visions of death flashed past me, and the after-images of pain pricked my nose, but I ran. I just ran. As if I had been running since the moment I was born.

Muscles tore and regenerated again. Broken bones knit back together and regained their former strength. Sweat flowed like rain, and my whole body was on the verge of dehydration, then it disappeared again.

I ran. I fell again, bled, and my clothes were torn. Still, I stood up again. And. I ran.

I didn’t even know how much time had passed. My destination was just there, beyond the horizon, at the end of the vanishing point.

I ran. Until I reached my destination. Until I could see the sea, the horizon.

I ran.

***

Rain was falling. The people had given up on hunting and gathering and were sitting around in their own huts, chatting with their families or inviting neighbors over to share good food. But a few people, even in this rain, did not stop going in and out for a moment. It was because the time for the Great Chief to arrive was not far off. They were waiting for the day their new Great Chief would return.

He had said that their tribe would now become more noble than corundum, and that the only thing greater than them would be the diamond. But in the meantime, they had persuaded more tribes to send gifts. Now, they could become an even greater tribe. Now, they could obtain even more steel axes and various sparkling luxury goods.

Driven by such greed, people had been loitering around and looking about for several days. They wandered nearby like someone who had lost a beloved dog, scanning the outskirts of the village for a long time. When would the Great Chief return? Shouldn’t he be here by now? No. Maybe tomorrow…

Filled with such anticipation, Sassoan and the other young men of the village loitered around this area. Even though they knew that when the Great Chief came, he would lead several carts, with that giant cart of steel at the forefront, and arrive at a swift pace. He would return with that brilliant procession, dressed in his strange clothes. He would return with that reassuring smile of his. He…

“…Th-there, look over there!” 

“…” 

“…”

Sassoan, who had been patrolling the outskirts of the village again today, saw a man. A man covered in wounds and blood, dressed in tattered rags, walking slowly. He was blinking, looking around as if trying to get his bearings. And his gaze turned this way. Only then did Sassoan understand why his companion had called out to him so desperately.

He had returned.

“…” 

“…” 

“…”

In a form no one had expected. With every step he took, the wounds on his body disappeared as if washed away by the rain. With every step closer, all the various marks on his body scattered into the wind.

“…Sassoan.” 

“Ah… uh…” 

“I remember your name. Call your chief. No, gather all the people of the village.”

And as he lifted his bloodied face to look at the sky, the dried blood on his cheeks fell away. And his torn clothes knit back together and returned to their original state. Like a beautiful snake, shedding its old skin to reveal its true form.

The young men who had gathered there were stunned and ran to gather the people. He had come. He had returned. He was, indeed, not a person. He was a spirit. And a very great spirit at that.

At those words, people gathered even on a day when the rain was pouring down in sheets. Fearful and joyful, they gazed at the man. Then, the man pointed to one place. “…To there.”

And the people walked, following the man. They walked and walked without a destination, and then he stopped on top of a certain hill. He suddenly picked up a branch and drew a large circle that encompassed them all, then said, “At the very least, until the third day comes… do not step outside this circle.”

That was his last word. As his tired, unfocused eyes closed.

Thud.

He collapsed. On the day he collapsed, a downpour fell, so heavy that the quiet of yesterday was unimaginable. And on the first day after that, a storm arose. The people were afraid, bowing their heads and cowering at the screams of the atmosphere. They ate the provisions they had brought, as the man had said, and waited for this moment of terror to pass. And on the an second day, the wind continued. The people saw the wind clawing at their village. They saw everything they owned being submerged in water.

And yet, the circle the man had drawn was not erased at all in the storm. It was just a circle, drawn with a branch. In their fear, not a single person touched that circle. Even the children just watched, as if that thin line were protecting them. And, on the first day, and on the second day, the man just lay there.

Finally. 

The storm stopped. 

The third day he had spoken of had come.