Chapter 4 Chapter 4 The Interweaving of Memory and Reality

Memory, like a sharp knife, was inserted into the body, cutting a big hole deep in his heart with hatred. secret. At that time, he was riding a ten-speed bicycle to hang out with his good friend Terry.They rode to their heart's content on the special bicycle lane, and when they returned, they decided to take another road, which had to pass through the Amber Avenue Commercial Street.Unbelievably, Brian could remember all the details of that day clearly: he remembered that the time indicated by the big clock across the commercial street was 3:31 pm, the temperature was 82 degrees Fahrenheit, and the date.All the numbers that day became part of the memory, and his entire life became part of that memory.

Terry just turned his head to smile at him when Brian looked over the top of his head and saw—her. It's mom. She was in a station wagon, a strange station wagon.He looked at her, but she didn't see him.Brian wanted to wave or call her, but suddenly froze—there was another man in the car. Blonde short-haired man in a white tennis jumper. Brian saw this, and saw the secret, and then saw more, but the memory was broken into fragments, and the scenes unfolded before him-Terry smiled, and Brian looked over his head and saw the journey Car, mother and a man sitting in the car, the time, temperature, the front wheel of his bicycle, and the short-haired man, the man's white shirt, the memories of pieces of resentment are so vivid.

secret. Brian opened his eyes, screaming. For a few seconds, he didn't know where he was, all he knew was that the plane had crashed and he was dying, so he screamed until he couldn't breathe. The surroundings were quiet, and the air was filled with his whimpers and cries.How can you be so quiet?Just now, there were noises of planes, crashes, collisions, tears, and cries everywhere, but now, it is so quiet. The birds are singing. Strange, how could there be birds? He felt that his legs were soaked and tried to support himself with his hands. He looked down and saw that his legs were still submerged in the lake.strangeness.They fell into the water, and he tried to move, oh my god, the pain hit him so hard he couldn't breathe, he had to stop, but his legs were still in the water!

pain. memory. He turned around, the sun was shining on the water, it was the setting sun, yo, it was so dazzling, he had to turn his face away. It's all over, the crash is over. He is still alive. The crash has passed, but I am still alive, he said silently in his heart.Thinking of this, he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and remained silent for a few minutes, maybe longer.When he opened his eyes again, it was already evening.The pain had subsided a lot—it was just a dull ache all over his body—and he recalled the whole process of the crash. Drove into the jungle, then flew out again and fell to the lake.The plane fell and sank to the bottom of the lake, and he didn't know how to wriggle out of the plane.

After a painful struggle, he finally swam up and climbed out of the water.His leg was burning and aching.His forehead felt as if someone had hit him desperately with a hammer, and it hurt intermittently.But the legs could still move. He pulled them out of the lake, crawled and crawled on all fours, left the wet shore of the lake, climbed to the side of a small bush, and then lay down. Only this time, it was the real rest, he had to conserve his energy, didn't he?He lay on his side with his head on his arms and closed his eyes, which was all he could do now.All he could think of was sleep.He closed his eyes and fell asleep without dreaming at all, a deep and deep sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that there was no light around him, it was pitch black, and the night was heavy.For a moment, he was afraid again.To see, he cried to himself, to see, to see everything clearly, but he couldn't see.He turned his head without moving, only to find that the sky on the other side of the lake was slightly white, and the sun was about to rise, which reminded him that he had already slept the night before. "It must be morning..." he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost a whisper.A night of deep sleep brought him back to life. Of course, it still hurts, the whole body hurts.His legs ached painfully when they were straightened or tensed because of spasms.If I move a little, my back hurts.What's worse, every time the heart beats, it causes a sharp pain in the head, as if all the impacts are on the head.

He turned over, touched his ribs and legs with his hands, moved his limbs slowly, and rubbed his arms again.Oddly enough, it doesn't appear to be shattered, not even seriously sprained.He remembered that when he was nine years old, he once drove his little broken car into the back of a parked car, twisted his ankle, and had to spend eight weeks in a cast to heal it; Broken at one place, but no fracture! It was just a few flesh injuries. He touched his forehead, and suddenly felt that the forehead was swollen and high, bulging like a hill above the eyes, soft, and when his fingers touched it lightly, it hurt so much that he almost cried out.But what can he do?Like everywhere else, it seemed to be full of bruises and bruises, no broken bones.

I'm still alive, he thought.I'm alive.It shouldn't be like this, I might die, my little life might have died long ago. Like a pilot, wait, he suddenly remembered.The pilot is still in the plane, sinking to the bottom of the water, at the bottom of the blue lake, chained to the seat... He sat up, or struggled hard.The first time, he fell again; but on the second attempt, though with great difficulty, he managed to sit up, muttering, and rubbed sideways until his back rested on a small tree.He sat facing the lake, watching the sky get lighter and lighter, and the dawn was approaching.

His clothes were soaked, clammy and clammy, and there was a chill around him.He desperately wrapped the torn windbreaker around his shoulders, trying to warm his cold body.He couldn't think, couldn't get his mind to function properly.Thoughts go back and forth between reality and imagination, but it all turns out to be real.For a moment, he seemed to only be able to imagine a crash, and he struggled to climb out of the sunken plane and swam to the shore.These all happened to other people, or just scenes in movies and TV dramas.Afterwards, he could feel that his clothes were wet and cold, and his forehead was throbbing with pain.Then he knew it was true, that it all happened.Yet all this is hazy, all in a hazy world.So he sat there, looking at the lake, feeling the waves of pain rising and falling, watching the sun rise over the edge of the lake.

An hour passed, maybe two hours.He couldn't count the time, and he didn't care about the time. The sun had risen in the sky, bringing some warmth.Just a little at first, but as the heat rose, swarms of insects came—a dense mass of mosquitoes pounced on him, swarming around him like a living coat over his exposed skin .When he inhales, it plugs into his nostrils; when he opens his mouth to exhale, it pours into his mouth. Simply incredible!This is not good, he survived the crash, but the little insect couldn't handle it.He coughed them up, spit them out, sneezed them out, simply closed his eyes, and slapped his face desperately, slapping, slapping, and how many mosquitoes lost their lives.However, as soon as the killing started and a small area was cleaned up, more small bugs rushed up again, those dense, hissing, buzzing, piles of annoying ghosts!Large mosquitoes he had never seen before, and some small black flies.They all came running to sting him, bite him, and eat him.

After a while, his eyes were swollen and narrowed, and his face was swollen and round, just matching his swollen forehead.He hurriedly pulled the torn windbreaker over his head, trying to protect his head, but the windbreaker was full of holes, and it was useless.In desperation, he pulled up his T-shirt and covered his face, but in this way, his back was exposed again, and the soft fresh skin on his back became the target of public criticism. Mosquitoes and flies rushed to bite him. He had to put the T-shirt down again. Finally, he put on his windbreaker, fanned himself with both hands, yelled and howled, frustrated and distressed, he was helpless.The sun was fully up, scorching him, driving the moisture out of his clothes, and he was bathed in warmth, and the mosquitoes and flies were gone, all of a sudden.One minute he was sitting among a swarm of mosquitoes; a minute later they were all gone, and only the sun was shining on his head. Vampire, he cursed inwardly.Apparently they don't like the late night, maybe because it's too cold and they can't stand the direct sunlight.When the morning was gray and warm and the sun hadn't quite risen -- God, he couldn't imagine it.Never, in all the novels and film and television programs he has read and watched, never, not even once have mosquitoes and flies been mentioned.Those programs about the natural world always only show the beautiful scenery or the good time of animals jumping in it, and never mention mosquitoes and flies at all. "Woo." He tried to stand up, leaned against the tree, and stretched, causing new pain.Whoops, the muscles in his back must have hurt - when he stretched, it was tearing.However, the pain in his forehead seemed to be lessening.He barely stood up, and this action almost made him fall to the ground, which was weak. Thanks to the mosquitoes, the backs of his hands were swollen high, and his eyes were so swollen that he couldn't keep his eyes open, and he had to strain to see through a small slit. Fortunately, there is nothing to see here, he comforted himself, and kept tickling, in front of him was the lake, the lake was blue and deep.A picture suddenly flashed in my mind: the plane sank to the bottom of the lake, just under the blue water, the pilot's body was still sunk in the seat, his hair was fluttering... Oh no, he shook his head violently, and it hurt even more now.Don't think about it! He looked around, and the lake stretched beneath his feet.He stands at the starting point of the L-shaped lake, looking up, it is the long side of L, looking to the right, it is the short side of L.In the morning sun and silence, the quiet lake was as smooth as a mirror, and he could even see the reflection of the opposite jungle.The inverted image in the water is like another forest, an upside-down forest and the real forest.He was fascinated by the sight of a large bird—it looked like a crow, but bigger—flying out of the real forest, and the reflection of the bird echoed it, and both flew across the water. The surroundings were all green, so green that he couldn't breathe.The forest is made up of contiguous pine and spruce trees, scattered with piles of low shrubs, lush grass and another extremely low shrub throughout the forest.Except for the evergreen trees and some broad-leaved trees that he thought might be poplars—he had seen poplars growing on the mountain on TV, he didn't recognize most of the other trees.There are many mountains around the lake, but these mountains are so small that they can almost only be called "hills".There are very few rocks here, except to his left.From there jutted out, overlooking the lake, a rocky knoll about twenty feet high. If the plane had landed a little to the left and hit the rocks rather than the lake, he would have fallen to pieces. Ruined. The word popped out.I'm going to be finished, shattered, shattered, on the rocks, dead. Lucky, he thought.I was lucky.Here, I'm very lucky.But he knew in his heart that he was really unlucky. If he was lucky, his parents wouldn't get divorced because of that secret, he wouldn't fly, and the pilot had a heart attack, and he wouldn't stay here , but thanks to damn good luck, he was saved from death! He thought, if good luck goes, bad luck will come. His face twitched, and he shook his head violently, not daring to think too much. The dome is round and appears to be some kind of sandstone stacked with darker layers.On the opposite bank directly in front of the knoll, at the corner of Lake L, is a berm of twigs and mud, raised about eight or ten feet above the water.At first, although Brian couldn't get the name, he knew what it was - as if he had seen it in a movie.At this moment, a small brown head popped out of the water near the berm and swam along the short side of L Lake, leaving a series of V-shaped ripples. He must have seen this scene somewhere.Come to think of it, this is the home of the beaver. He had seen it on the public channel of TV, and people called it "the hotel of the beaver". A fish jumped out of the water. The fish was not big, but it made a big splash near the beaver.It seemed to be a signal, and suddenly, there was a small commotion by the lake.Only to hear "plop, plop", a string of fish jumped up one after another along the coast, and hundreds of fish jumped and slapped the water.Brian stared at them for a while, still too dazed to think.The scenery here is so beautiful!There are endless new things to see here, but everything here is blue and green.He has long been accustomed to seeing the gray and white of the city and hearing the noise in the city. The endless traffic and people's conversations constitute the noise and restlessness of the city. Here, at first, it was quiet, or so he thought it was.But once he started listening, listening with his heart, he heard a thousand sounds: hissing, chirping, many small sounds, insects, birds, fish jumping and splashing— —It was noisy here too, but the sounds he had never heard before, and the colors here were also new to him.All the color and noise merged into his consciousness, mixed into a blue and green tone, this hissing lullaby sounded so comforting, he was really tired. Extremely exhausted. So tired! For some reason, just standing was exhausting him.What is certain is that he is still in shock from the crash, excruciating pain and dizziness.This feels really weird. He found another tree, a tall pine with no branches reaching to the top.Brian sat with his back against the pine tree, overlooking the lake, the sun warming him.After a while, he curled up on the ground and fell asleep again.