Chap­ter 7 – The Lost Con­ti­nent throws the group of explor­ers into a deep­er spi­ral of uncer­tain­ty as they con­front the dev­as­tat­ing loss of their launch. This ves­sel was more than just a boat—it was their link to safe­ty, to retreat, to the last ves­tige of con­trol they held over their dan­ger­ous jour­ney. Its absence not only weak­ens their logis­ti­cal advan­tage but also sends a sharp blow to morale, espe­cial­ly for Tay­lor, who embod­ies silent res­ig­na­tion more with each pass­ing hour. Among the remain­ing crew, shock slow­ly gives way to scat­tered frus­tra­tion and the desire for action. The nar­ra­tor, bur­dened with lead­er­ship and inward con­flict, rec­og­nizes that despair must be fought with resolve. Instead of allow­ing the group to splin­ter emo­tion­al­ly, he pro­pos­es a cal­cu­lat­ed pur­suit, aim­ing to track the launch using their under­stand­ing of the river’s twists, aid­ed by their com­pass and the maps they’ve man­aged to pre­serve.

The group’s path for­ward becomes a blend of rugged per­se­ver­ance and emo­tion­al endurance. Trav­el­ing on foot, with only their makeshift gear and wits to guide them, each man bat­tles his own inter­nal demons along­side the phys­i­cal hard­ships. The con­ver­sa­tions shift to Snider—the man now believed to have stolen the launch and abduct­ed Vic­to­ry. What began as anger soon evolves into philo­soph­i­cal reflec­tion: if they cap­ture him, what then? Is jus­tice still a pri­or­i­ty when law and order feel like dis­tant mem­o­ries? The nar­ra­tor tries to remain neu­tral, though his per­son­al feel­ings grow hard­er to sup­press. He can­not ignore the tan­gle of fear, admi­ra­tion, and guilt that Victory’s mem­o­ry stirs with­in him. She comes from a world whol­ly unlike his own, yet he can­not detach the emo­tion­al weight she now holds in his thoughts.

One after­noon, when fatigue near­ly claims them all, the unex­pect­ed hap­pens. The river’s slow bend reveals a famil­iar shape drift­ing aimlessly—it’s the launch, seem­ing­ly aban­doned. Two of the strongest swim­mers are sent out, cling­ing to hope that Vic­to­ry may be onboard. What they find instead is a grim tableau: Snider’s life­less body sprawled inside, marked by a deep stab wound. Clenched in his stiff­ened fist is a strand of long, dark hair. No fur­ther ques­tions are need­ed. What­ev­er had occurred, it’s clear that Vic­to­ry had defend­ed her­self, and did not wait around after doing so. Snider, viewed already as a cow­ard and trai­tor, receives no fan­fare in death. A shal­low grave by the water’s edge is all the hon­or his fate allows.

Now reunit­ed with their launch but not their com­pan­ion, the group recal­i­brates. With renewed urgency, they set off upriv­er, steer­ing the recov­ered ves­sel slow­ly, call­ing Victory’s name at inter­vals. Hopes remain cau­tious­ly alive, buoyed only by a smol­der­ing camp­fire found nes­tled beneath thick foliage—a silent sig­nal that some­one had passed recent­ly, some­one who per­haps hoped not to be found. Time, how­ev­er, is no friend in this wild ter­rain. Just as the mood flick­ers between antic­i­pa­tion and fear, the nar­ra­tor strays slight­ly from the group to scout ahead. In an instant, he is struck down, ambushed by hid­den fig­ures whose pres­ence had gone unno­ticed in the dense wilder­ness. The world spins, and with it, the frag­ile bal­ance they’ve tried to main­tain teeters toward chaos once again.

What began as a hope­ful recov­ery ends in vio­lence and renewed sep­a­ra­tion. The ter­rain, unfor­giv­ing and alive with unseen threats, reasserts its dom­i­nance over the frag­ile secu­ri­ty they’d briefly reclaimed. The chapter’s events under­score the volatile nature of survival—not just in phys­i­cal terms, but in the emo­tion­al and moral bat­tles each char­ac­ter qui­et­ly endures. As they bury one of their own and con­tin­ue their search for anoth­er, they are forced to rec­on­cile what kind of world they have entered. This is no longer just an expe­di­tion; it’s a test of humanity’s resilience, adapt­abil­i­ty, and abil­i­ty to cling to val­ues in a place where old rules no longer apply.

The jour­ney down this lost con­ti­nent is reshap­ing them, strip­ping them of assump­tions, and forg­ing a deep­er under­stand­ing of who they are when stripped of society’s frame­works. Every mile for­ward is earned not just through sweat, but through soul. Victory’s fate remains uncer­tain, but her spirit—unbroken, resource­ful, and fierce—now serves as a com­pass just as much as any nav­i­ga­tion­al tool. She may be out there, hid­ing or watch­ing, and they must press on not only to find her but to pro­tect what­ev­er remains of their shared human­i­ty.