Chapter 12: Chaos

With a heavy splash, the burly man plunged into the water like a bomb. He tried to scramble back to shore, but already another water-logged corpse had seized him about the neck. A second sodden head broke the surface, and in the midst of his frenzied screams, its jaws clamped down viciously on his throat. No matter how he thrashed, it was all in vain.

Chaos reigned on the bank as well. When one of their companions was suddenly dragged underwater, another man glanced back instinctively, his grip slackening in the process. It had taken three of them to restrain the water corpse before; now, with this disruption, they were hopelessly outmatched.

At last, the water corpse on the shore released Li Lan’s ankle and slipped through the breach left by the loosened hold. Its skin was slicker than any fish, its body riddled with wide patches of rot and decay, but none of this seemed to hinder its agility.

No matter how well-prepared one might be, when calamity truly struck, confusion was unavoidable.

A thunderclap split the night, louder than any before. Moments later, as a wave of hot wind swept past, rain began to fall in heavy, pounding sheets.

The water corpse, now free, immediately lunged at one of the two men on shore. Faced with such a monster at close quarters, what hope was there? In an instant, it had the man pinned to the ground, adding another scream to the night.

Meanwhile, the second water corpse had finished off its victim in the lake and was now hauling itself onto the shore. The canopy overhead offered little shelter from the deluge; the downpour was so fierce it was impossible to see far, and the muddy ground grew even softer and more treacherous. The flashlights had long since vanished, lost in the chaos.

“Don’t panic!” Mr. Zhao roared, leveling his pistol at the newly emerged water corpse. Abandoning any attempt at careful aim, he pulled the trigger.

As his gun thundered, Qi Yan spun away, easily breaking free of Zhao’s grasp. He drove his knee into Zhao’s backside, sending him sprawling face-first into the mud. But Zhao had no time for retribution; already, a water corpse was scrambling toward him like a monstrous spider.

The stench of decay, mingling with the rain, hit him full in the face. Swearing, Zhao fired again and again.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Driven by panic and confusion, he emptied eight shots, the deafening reports echoing through the trees. Whether he hit the monster, he couldn’t tell; all he knew was another of his men had begun screaming.

Li Lan was still lying on his side in the mud. Qi Yan, his hands bound behind his back, bounced over to him. “Cut me loose with your knife—hurry!”

“I—I dropped it earlier. No idea where it landed,” Li Lan replied, clutching his ankle, unable to rise.

Qi Yan grew anxious. “Are you hurt?”

“No, it only grabbed my pant leg. I twisted my ankle struggling, but I’ll manage,” Li Lan gritted out as he forced himself upright.

The rain was coming down harder and harder, blurring vision and making the ground slick as ice. Qi Yan abandoned any thought of looking for the knife; with his legs unbound, he could still run, hands tied or not.

But without training, how could anyone hope to run fast like this? He managed only a few stumbling steps up the embankment before his foot sank deep into the loosened muck.

He was just about to pull himself onto level ground when the red-haired youth, who had been standing silently nearby, lashed out with a sweeping kick to Qi Yan’s chest. Despite his slender, frail appearance, the youth’s strength was astonishing. Qi Yan gasped, toppled backward, and tumbled down the slope, dragging the limping Li Lan with him.

By now, of the three men in camouflage, one was dead, one wounded, and the third had taken a stray bullet—luckily only in the arm—leaving him able to flee in terror.

The water corpse caught in the net gave chase as he tried to escape, but in the confusion, he almost immediately collided with his leader.

Zhao’s pistol went flying as the wounded man slammed into him. The water corpse was right behind them. Reacting on pure instinct, Zhao grabbed his hapless subordinate and hurled him at the monster, leaving the two grappling in the mud as he bolted in the opposite direction.

Qi Yan and Li Lan fared no better, tumbling to a halt right beside another water corpse. The thing twisted its limbs at impossible angles, moving with the boneless flexibility of a serpent. In a flash, it pinned Qi Yan’s chest.

Mud clogged his nostrils; a sickening stench filled his lungs as the water corpse’s dripping hair fell across his face, its gaping black mouth aiming for his throat.

Death—his first true taste of mortal peril. The surge of terror sent a jolt of strength through Qi Yan’s body. He arched his waist, hurling his upper body forward and smashing his head into the monster’s skull.

With a dull thud, Qi Yan saw stars and nearly blacked out. The water corpse, though seemingly unhurt, paused for a fraction of a second.

It prepared to bite again, but suddenly froze. Its sodden hair draped over Qi Yan’s face.

It let out a shriek, louder than thunder, louder than the rain—an inhuman, guttural cry.

The corpse rolled away, convulsing on its back in the mud, limbs spasming wildly. Its pale belly began to swell, inflating visibly until it was round as a basketball. With a sickening pop, its skin burst, spilling black fluid everywhere. From the mess of ruined flesh, a blood-slick mass began to crawl—alive.

An ear-piercing wail, shrill and furious, rang out—a baby’s cry, but laced with venomous malice. A monstrous infant, its head grotesquely large, writhed out from the water corpse’s belly, glistening and raw like a skinned rabbit, more agile than its mother.

The water corpse itself was now truly lifeless, sprawled in the mud as the rain began to dissolve its flesh.

Li Lan, who had witnessed the entire scene, was dumbstruck.

It had only straddled Qi Yan for a moment—how could it have given birth so quickly?

Before he could make sense of it, a chorus of infant cries rose all around, a cacophony echoing from every direction. The wounded man, the water corpse grappling with him, and Li Lan himself—all clutched their heads, the sound threatening to shatter their minds.

Even the red-haired youth’s composure broke at last. He had thought, despite the chaos and the likelihood of returning empty-handed, that he would at least escape unscathed. But now, like the others, he was forced to cover his ears against the overwhelming howls.

Meanwhile, Mr. Zhao had long since fled into the rain-soaked night, stumbling through the forest’s winding paths, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the deadly lakeshore. He was uninjured, his chances of escape high.

Still, he could only hope that red-haired brat had enough skill to survive, for if he perished here as well, Zhao’s own days would surely be numbered.

He cursed under his breath, gasping for breath, but at last reached a stretch of level ground. Just a bit farther and he would reach the spot where they’d parked.

But as he staggered forward, his curses died on his lips. There, just a few paces ahead through the curtain of rain, stood a woman swathed in rags, her long hair matted, and in her arms, she cradled a child.