The sound shattered the consciousness, and the scattered fragments seemed to pass through a long corridor, and after gradually putting them together, they found that it was pitch black all around, and they couldn't see their fingers. The pressure felt by the body is clearly not like it is in some open space. I can't see the stars, the moonlight, not even the clouds. It should be an enclosed space, I fumbled with my phone in my coat pocket, and suddenly it occurred to me that someone was calling me just now, so I looked back, and the darkness was as deep as all directions, empty. I turned on the lighting function of my phone, first illuminated the road under my feet, which was repaired with green bricks and cement, and then moved my phone to check the surroundings, which was a round arched space made of cement and steel bars.

It's a bomb shelter.

After the Treasure Island incident in '69, the entire Northeast followed the chairman's instructions: dig deep holes. The purpose was to prevent a surprise attack by Soviet Russia and endanger the lives and safety of the people. There are several holes in the city, most of which are in the north of the city, but there are also a few dug behind Temple Street because of the relatively concentrated population at that time, and this should be one of them. I sorted through the clutter of memories, but I had no impression of how to get in.

Why are you here? Questions are like tired muscles sticking to solid bones. I walked slowly along the way I woke up. The light of the mobile phone is like a short tentacle, constantly tapping in the endless void, and the shaking light and shadow make the sense of time and space unknown to where to lose.

My physical strength dropped to a critical level, and I leaned against the curved wall, panting constantly, and with one hand anxiously pulled out a cigarette from my coat pocket, and eagerly lit it and took a puff. In the darkness where the light did not reach, there seemed to be countless eyes, flickering with a cold light that had drained all feelings. I hung my head and hunched over, sweat dripping from my forehead onto the pavement, and the soaked piece quickly condensed into ice crystals.

I turned off the phone light, and the only light shrank to the end at a very fast speed, and the space seemed to be infinitely extended with the darkness, like a black hole eating away at a whale swallowing everything around.

And I was in the black hole, countless eyes were getting closer and closer, and the sweat did not mean to dry up, as if the black hole was wringing out the only water on my body with an invisible hand. I unscrewed the flask, drank what little vodka I had left, and then lit another cigarette, and the silence and darkness tore a small hole almost at the same time, and then healed quickly.

The flame on the tip of the cigarette brightens with each inhalation, and the "crackling" sound of the tobacco burning can be clearly heard. The eyes not far away stopped, but their gaze remained sharp, and although they could not be seen, the chill never stopped.

"What should be there is always when it should be. ”

The silhouette that popped out of my mind was the lips of the girl at the bar moving up and down. The voice stopped abruptly, and she looked at me silently, and I looked at her as she did.

"Do you want to travel?" her voice seemed to come from the end of the world.

"Where to go?"

"What about the Himalayas? I heard that the water there is the cleanest and the most spiritual. ”

"It's not bad. ”

"Wouldn't it be a problem to put down the work at hand?"

"It can be coordinated. ”

"Well, can you promise me one thing?" she looked away.

"Speak. ”

"Hold me tight, so that I can't breathe. ”

I did as she was told, but my arms could not be forced, and her cold body was as stiff as an ice sculpture. I was about to ask her. She lowered her head and said, "Don't turn your head, just hold me tight." "I didn't doubt what she said until her body melted.

The flame of the cigarette burned to the sponge butt, and the orange-red flame turned into a light blue mist, swaying and diluted by the dull air in the bomb shelter. As far as the eye could see, space seemed to be distorting, and everything that was sucked into the vortex was crushed. I closed my eyes and waited for the final bell to sound and remember, a brass Ben clock from Siberia, loud and powerful.