by Xu, Lei
"Then why weren't these corpses disposed of?" asked Ma Zaihai. "Couldn't they have just cremated them?"
For a moment I ignored his question and stared at the too-perfect arrangement of the corpses. Suddenly, an idea occurred to me. I turned to Ma Zaihai. "They must have been forced into leaving the bodies like this. Otherwise, why arrange the bodies one to a bed? It's an awfully inefficient arrangement. Were this room really a mortuary, only a third of the space could have been used to store all these corpses. Even when the Japanese were at the height of their military power, they still would never have been so wasteful as to wrap each of their dead in an individual sleeping bag."
Still, why were there so many corpses here and all of them arrayed as if in the middle of a deep sleep? Because, I realized, that's exactly what they were doing when they died. These were barracks, I guessed, and late one night, when most of the soldiers were already asleep, the toxic mist must have seeped in through the ventilation system. Only the lucky few would have escaped. Once the mist receded they would have returned to find that the barracks had become a tomb; all was quiet and everyone was dead. Faced with this terrible scene, the survivors must have panicked. With their ranks severely thinned, they would have been unable to properly dispose of the corpses until reinforcements arrived. But the sight of their comrades' faces, pockmarked and ravaged by poison, must have haunted them. They surely worried about what would happen as the bodies decomposed. So, to prevent the spread of disease, they'd boarded up every opening, including the air vents, and abandoned the area.
All of them soundlessly dying in a single night—I trembled just to think about it. Sure, it was a peaceful death, but I hated it all the same. When it was my time to go, I wanted to be aware enough to say goodbye.
Suddenly, Wang Sichuan cried out. I looked up. He was beckoning me over. I walked to the bed where he stood and climbed up. He'd opened another canvas sleeping bag. As he shined his flashlight on the corpse inside, he motioned for me to look closer. There was a bullet hole through the corpse's brow.
Giving me a look, he said, "This guy was executed. Now take a look at this." He pointed at the body of the corpse. Bullet holes riddled its chest. "First they shot him in the lungs," said Wang Sichuan, "and then they put one in the brain. Probably just wanted to help the guy die a little easier."
He jumped down from the bed and opened a number of sleeping bags in quick succession. Sure enough, several of the men inside had been shot to death. Some had a single bullet wound through the front of the skull. Others were riddled with them. Very strange.
"The poison may have killed some of them," said Wang Sichuan, "but just as many were executed by their comrades. This situation is a lot more complex than you said."
It didn't make any sense. After executing these men, the Japanese had wrapped them in sleeping bags and then placed them neatly upon the beds. For some unfathomable reason, they'd made this room a mortuary, and although the corpses must surely have stunk, they didn't incinerate them. Why? I could think of only one possible explanation.
"What if something happened to these corpses?" I asked. "Perhaps they changed somehow—terribly—and the others boarded up the openings because they were too frightened to come close."
Wang Sichuan shook his head. "That's too big a leap," he said. "Boarding up the openings could just as easily be to keep something out as to keep something in."
"This isn't some desolate wilderness where wild beasts lurk in the shadows," I said. "What would they need to protect the corpses from?"
Wang Sichuan's face lit up as if something had just occurred to him. "Why leave so many corpses to rot instead of just cremating them?" he asked. "I'd say it's somehow connected to the devils' abrupt departure. Think about it. If all these soldiers died shortly before the Japs had to abandon the base, then there was probably no time left to deal with the bodies."
Wang Sichuan had raised the most unsettling part of the whole affair. Why had the Japanese left as they did? Their secret installations had remained perfectly intact. We'd found troves of data, codebooks and potentially revealing files, all unburned. Their departure had been much too casual. It was as if they'd simply vanished. As for the dam itself, too much of it defied explanation—the immense icehouse and the frozen warheads we had found, the Wurzburg Giant we had seen. What had the devils been planning? There seemed no logic to their activities, no clear motive to the structures they'd built. Thinking about it, I was overcome by a feeling of deep unease.
We tabled our discussion for the moment and continued searching the room. There wasn't a single air vent in its walls or floor. No other clues were found. Wang Sichuan then suggested we tear the boards from the other entryways and look inside.
Not all the rooms looked like this. We could see that others led to dark passageways, and who knew where these ran? One had to be a way out. Better to return to the ventilation shaft and continue on from there, I thought. Although cramped and tough to negotiate, it was still preferable to searching the countless rooms and tunnels sealed inside this giant tomb.
We debated it back and forth, but couldn't come to a decision. Suddenly Ma Zaihai, who had been silent, motioned for us to stop talking. He was standing by the door, his ears pricked. With a finger to his lips, he beckoned us over. Quietly we approached. Then I heard it. The sound was very low, emerging from somewhere out in the vast tunnel. I listened closer. It was a noise, like creaking wood, like something was pushing up against one of the sealed entryways. What was out there?
We looked at one another, then quickly climbed through the door opening. The tunnel was empty. Sweeping our flashlights across the black expanse, we followed the sound. It was coming from somewhere far ahead. As the baleful creaking continued, I thought of the rotting tomb we'd just left. Goosebumps ran down my arms. I looked over at Wang Sichuan. He strode into the darkness gripping the club so tightly his hand trembled.
CHAPTER
8
Sounds of the Tomb
We stood in the dark tunnel and listened. Near silence. For a time none of us even breathed. All the while the low creaking continued, without pattern, incessantly. It sounded almost as if someone were repairing one of the boarded-up entryways. Wang Sichuan was about to say something, but I stopped him.
"We need to keep quiet," I whispered.
Dozens of rooms and passageways extended from both sides of the tunnel. It was a vast and complex place. I could gauge the sound's approximate direction, but who knew how long it would take to find the source?
What was causing the sound? I could think of a few possibilities. If we were especially unlucky, it might be the spy, still hunting us. Maybe he'd checked the projection room and discovered our escape. Maybe he was trying to enter the tunnel through another of the blocked-off passageways. No, not nearly enough time had passed, I decided. He couldn't have already realized we were gone, figured out where we'd fled, and arrived here himself. A second possibility seemed a little more probable. What if it were Old Cat, Old Tang, and the rest of our group? Perhaps they'd gotten lost and ended up here. But Old Cat and Old Tang were each leading groups of soldiers. And they were armed. They wouldn't be making such cautious, little noises. As for the third possibility, well, I couldn't help but think of the rotting corpses back in that silent room. Cold sweat dripped down my back. Was there something wrong with these men? Was that why the devils sealed off this place?
The three of us spread out and began to search. As we continued down the tunnel the sound became clearer, but after I went a little farther it abruptly became harder to distinguish. Echoes emerged from every direction. No matter where I moved they all sounded more or less the same. One by one I pressed my ear to the wooden boards nailed to each entryway. At some there was merely a dull echo while at others the creaking was almost perfectly clear. Then I found one entryway where I could literally hear the sound rolling down the passageway. I beckoned Wang Sichuan over.
Raising the iron club to his shoulder, he stepped quietly
in front of the entrance. He squatted down and softly rapped his fist against the boards at the bottom. He carefully pulled one off. This board had merely been set in place with no nails fixing it to the entryway. Shining my flashlight across the other boards, I could see they were riddled with cracks—pry-marks—and they'd had been made a long time ago. Wang Sichuan looked up at me, his expression saying, Now isn't that interesting?
He continued to lift the boards away. A hole big enough for a man appeared, clearly many years old. Whoever had made it was careful to close it up behind him, so that this looked no different than the other entryways. Was this really the exit taken by the Japanese? I wondered. Why had they decided to conceal it?
With the boards pulled away the sound was much clearer. We cautiously climbed through. Inside the temperature sharply dropped. We had to be getting closer to the icehouse. We found ourselves in a long, narrow hallway. A number of doorways appeared on both sides, though most were boarded shut. We approached one of the open few, only to find another pitch-black corridor. We'd entered a maze, passageways weaving in and out of one another. Taking great care, we followed the sound into the darkness. With each step it seemed to grow clearer. When at last we arrived at the entrance to a second black-mouthed corridor, we stopped. The sound was less than a hundred feet ahead. Wang Sichuan raised his club in readiness. Ma Zaihai and I shined our flashlights inside. The moment the beams pierced the darkness, the sound vanished. An abrupt silence fell all around us. The passageway was sunk into the shadows, but I could tell something was moving inside. It looked like a person.
"Who's there?" cried Wang Sichuan.
At once the shape darted to the side and was gone, disappearing into some adjoining corridor or room.
"You think it's that spying son of a bitch?" Wang Sichuan asked me, rolling up his sleeves in anticipation.
I quickly shook my head. "No way could he have found us this fast. He's probably still back at the projection room." I waved my hand, dismissing the idea. "It doesn't matter who it is. Either way we have to catch him. Come on."
We hurried into the dark passageway and soon we'd reached its end. A doorway, also boarded over, appeared on the left. Several of the boards had been ripped away, creating a large opening. Inside all was blackness. I was about to climb in when Wang Sichuan pulled me back.
"Careful," he said. "It might be an ambush."
He leaned up against the boards and shined his flashlight through. Suddenly someone appeared on the other side of the entryway. A hand shot through the opening and grabbed Wang Sichuan's flashlight. Before he could react it was gone. He reached for it, but grasped only air as he fell. The beam of the flashlight flew back deep into the room. With a roar, Wang Sichuan leapt to his feet and dove through the opening. Ma Zaihai and I immediately clambered in after him.
By the time I was inside, I heard Wang Sichuan yell out, "We've been tricked! Quick, block the entrance!"
I heard a commotion to my right. Turning just in time, I saw one of the beds falling towards me and a black shape leaping from the top bunk. I dodged backwards and the bed crashed down. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the fleeing shape. It was already halfway through the hole in the doorway. A millisecond slower and he would have been gone, but I pounced on him and pulled him back inside the room. My flashlight swung wildly and the beam momentarily illuminated his face. I was stunned. The face was filthy and ghostly white, but I recognized it immediately. This was no man. It was Yuan Xile.
I managed only to blurt out two words. "Engineer Yuan!"
She had disappeared earlier and we had no idea what happened to her. She did not return my greeting. Instead, she reared back and struck me hard in the face, knocking my teeth into my lip, drawing blood. Without hesitating for a second, she threw me off, grabbed my flashlight and sprinted for the door. I dove after her, but she was already gone.
Wang Sichuan, still without flashlight, came hurtling out of the darkness. "It's me!" I cried, but it was too late and his head smacked straight into mine. I fell back, seeing stars.
He swore incomprehensibly—Mongolian, most likely—then asked if I'd seen who it was.
"It's Yuan Xile!" I yelled. "After her!"
Wiping the blood gushing from my lip, I leapt to my feet and struggled through the opening. The darkness was overwhelming. Yuan Xile's flashlight beam was already far down the corridor and moving fast. Without another thought I took off after her, running like a madman. The network of narrow corridors and abandoned rooms spider-webbed out, but luckily most of the entrances were blocked off. Stumbling through the pitch-black passageways at high speed, I followed the distant flashlight beam, smacking into objects unseen and turning one corner after the next until the light suddenly disappeared. Yuan Xile must have switched it off. I paused for a moment to let my eyes adjust. Twenty steps on I hit an intersection. The sound of footsteps came from all directions. I couldn't tell which was the source and which the echo. I looked back. Wang Sichuan and Ma Zaihai were nowhere to be seen. I started to feel a little nervous.
"Guys?" I called.
"I'm here!" cried Wang Sichuan from somewhere behind me.
"You two wait right there!" I called back. "Her light is gone and I can't tell where her footsteps are coming from, but I think she's somewhere up ahead. Once I have her we'll regroup!"
Turning back toward the intersection, I listened hard for the footsteps. They seemed to have vanished. I listened again. Then I heard it—directly ahead of me, the faint sound of someone walking. She sounded some distance away, but fortunately she still seemed to be in the same passageway. I hurried on. By now my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I picked up my pace, crushing all manner of things underfoot as I chased the sound. After following it for some time, the sound abruptly disappeared. I continued a few steps farther before realizing I was in a dead-end. A great deal of shadowy objects were piled all about, but Yuan Xile was nowhere to be seen.
I crept forward. "Engineer Yuan, I'm a fellow prospector!" I called out. "Please don't run. I'm on your side."
She didn't answer. Not that I had expected her to. I took a few more steps forward. In front of me was a huge box of ammunition. I walked closer. There was Yuan Xile. She was huddled tightly against the side of the box, trembling uncontrollably.
Breathing a deep sigh of relief, I let down my guard. "Engineer Yuan," I said, "there's no reason to be afraid. You and I are on the same team."
But something was wrong. Her trembling grew even more severe and every few seconds she would glance off to one side. Suddenly I realized: Yuan Xile wasn't hiding from me; she was hiding from something on the other side of the ammo box. Something I couldn't see. What was at the end of this corridor? An ominous feeling fell over me like a black cloak. I took a few steps forward. Something was waiting in the darkness. I looked closer.
It was a man, standing absolutely still.
CHAPTER
9
The Madman
Before I could register my surprise, the man dove forward, knocking me to the ground. The stink of piss and shit filled my nostrils. Recoiling in fear and disgust, I swung my fist hard into his face and threw him off of me. I struggled to my feet, but he was on me again and we tumbled back to the floor. His smell was nauseating. I retched, my mind reeling as I swung wildly for him. This time I didn't connect. Panicking, I reached forward and tried to throttle him.
A sudden stabbing pain shot up my arm and I saw red. Howling with rage, I smashed my forehead into his nose and rolled to my feet. My mind buzzed from the impact and my arm throbbed like hell. Blood soaked through my shirtsleeve and I pulled it back. My forearm was torn open, belching blood. Eyes narrowing, I looked at the shadowy figure crouching in the darkness and holding his face. Anger pulsed through my veins. I rushed forward and kicked him viciously in the gut. As he doubled over, I grabbed my flashlight back from Yuan Xile, switched it on, and swung it back towards him. He dodged out of the way, but not before I saw a cold, metallic light glint off s
omething in his hand. He staggered heavily against the back wall. I raised the beam and shined it directly into his eyes. Immediately he turned away and raised his hands to protect his eyes, but I'd already gotten a good look at his face. I couldn't believe it. This son of a bitch was Chen Luohu. His face was as pale as a corpse, covered in blood, mucus, and filth. A crazed, furious look was in his eyes. He'd gone absolutely mad.
"Luohu!" I cried.
He made no response, only turned his mangled face back towards me. He rushed forward, a long, sharp blade in his hand. He thrust it at me, once, twice and then again, but I dodged each time. The beam of my flashlight swung with my movements, illuminating his glinting blade, then his murderous visage. The tunnel was so narrow that there was barely room to maneuver, but I managed to grab his hands and force him up against the wall. I dropped my flashlight and it rolled out of reach. For several interminable minutes I struggled blindly against him. Then a pair of flashlight beams cut through the darkness, moving fast. A moment later Wang Sichuan and Ma Zaihai appeared. At once they rushed over to help and together we immobilized him.
