Cavern of the Blood Zombies (2011)

by Xu, Lei

  Panzi had once been a soldier and he knew how to deal with this kind of emergency. Holding the barrel of his pistol, he used the wooden butt as a hammer, knocked the insect flat, and kicked it back down below. But more had already reached us. We battered at as many as possible, but a few still climbed onto our bodies and ripped flesh from us with their barbed claws.

  “Let’s run,” I said. “There’s simply no way to keep so many of them away from us.”

  Panzi grimaced. “Where should we run to?” I pointed to the back and said, “There must be a way out here. Look at this tunnel. It had to be built by the craftsmen in the ancient times so they were able to escape death. As long as we run along this tunnel, we’re certain to find our way out.”

  Panzi cursed, “Bullshit. You nerds always think whatever’s written in a book is right. Let me tell you. I’ve scoured all these tunnels for a way out. This is a maze. The fact that I found this place by the skin of my teeth is a miracle to me. If I were to go back out, I don’t know how long I would wander around before I got here again.”

  Perhaps my theory was wrong but there was no time to think of an alternative. More and more insects appeared and I shouted, “It’s still better than feeding these things!”

  With a sudden rumble, a man fell through the same trap that had snared me, his fat body pressing down on the corpse-eaters, frightening them away for a minute. The unexpected arrival stood up and said, “Damn, my butt hurts! Fuck. What kind of door opens from below?” He took out a flashlight, swept it across the room, and screamed, “Hell! What kind of shit is this? How come there are so many bugs?” We looked and realized this was the guy who had put the crock over his head to scare us in the main tomb.

  The corpse-eaters were surrounding us again but this fat guy was certainly efficient. He turned his flashlight into a hammer and struck them one by one. But it did no good—his body was soon covered with them. He let out a hair-raising scream and stretched his arm toward his back, as if he wanted to tear off his skin and all of the insects that were on it.

  Panzi suddenly took out every match in his chest pocket, lit them all at once, and jumped down through the hole before I could stop him. He turned a somersault and landed next to the fat guy. The corpse-eaters were afraid of fire and jumped away, but matches are not long-term torches. Besides, Panzi’s rapid series of movements had already extinguished most of them.

  He shouted, “Do you have any more?” I felt in my chest pocket and found a few, made up my mind, lit them all, and thought, Oh hell, here I go.

  Following Panzi’s example, I leaped into the opening and jumped down, clutching my flaming matches. But my skills were far inferior to his, and my body fell forward clumsily. The lit matches in my hand fell, dropping into the pile of corpse-eaters, and Panzi yelled, “My God, are you trying to make me die of anger with what you’re doing here?”

  I got up and ran to Panzi and the fat stranger. The insects, afraid of the matches, didn’t dare to spring at us, but as the flames died down and the glow grew dim, they began to move. I gulped. “Looks like we’re screwed.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  POKER-FACE

  The fat guy coughed and said, “Comrades, I’ve put you into this mess and now it looks as though we’re all done for. I’ve never been afraid of anything but I never expected to die like this.”

  He was wearing a hooded black jacket like a ninja so it was hard to tell what he looked like, but as I peered into the dark I saw this was a very corpulent man. I had never thought a man this fat could be a grave robber.

  Panzi cursed, “Hey fat ass. Where the hell did you come from? God damn it, just let me beat the crap out of you before I die!”

  I watched as the matches died rapidly. Close to tears, I begged, “You guys better find a way out fast. Or else it doesn’t matter who is beating up who—the insects will be the ones who win.”

  Panzi looked around and gave the pistol to Fats. Then he handed me the matches and said, “If we’d burned our clothes we could have bought some more time, but any fire made with these matches will be too small to make any difference now. We’d probably be dead before we even get them lit. On the count of three, I’ll cover you and distract the bugs while you guys run for your lives to the other side of the wall. One of you climb on top of the other and then pull your helper up—there ought to be enough time. I’ll move fast, and when you guys are safely up there, I’ll run over and you can yank me up. Let’s not waste any more time here!”

  Before I could refuse, Panzi jumped into the crowd of corpse-eaters. The insects all rushed toward him like a tsunami, and a clear path appeared before us. I screamed and tried to rescue Panzi, but Fats pulled me back and said, “Up!”

  He dragged me along as he ran and with the support of his fat body, I climbed to safety. Then I reached out my hand and pulled him up.

  I looked down. Panzi’s body was covered with corpse-eaters and he was rolling on the ground screaming in pain. I nearly cried when I saw him like this. Fats yelled down to him, “Quick—climb up here. There are only a few steps to go—hurry up!” But it was impossible for Panzi to climb. Corpse-eaters were crawling into his mouth and each time he tried to stand, he was pushed back onto the ground by the attack power of these insects. He curled his body into a ball, saw us screaming, and shook his head.

  His face was completely covered with corpse-eaters, and I saw him stretch out his hand and make the sign of a gun. His arm was torn to shreds and I knew he was telling us to shoot him and make sure we killed him when we did it.

  The fat guy couldn’t bear to look; he clenched his teeth and yelled, “Brother, forgive me.”

  The trap suddenly reopened and another person leaped down from above to the spot where Panzi lay in agony. This person did not fall but made a deliberate jump that had him still on his feet when he hit the ground, although the jolt of the fall made him waver slightly. He regained his balance and took a deep breath.

  The corpse-eaters were stupefied and began to rattle away in all directions frantically, as if they were doing their best to stay away from this man. Those insects that had come upon us like a tide now retreated like a tide and disappeared into several large holes in the stone walls.

  I looked carefully. Wasn’t this Poker-face? Fats screamed, “My God! This guy actually survived!” I took a second glance and saw that Poker-face’s clothes were torn to shreds and his body was covered with blood, as though he had suffered some serious injuries. In spite of his own state, he picked Panzi up to carry him over to us. We stretched down our arms; I grabbed Panzi, Fats took hold of Poker-face, and we pulled them both up.

  It was as if the sea changed into mulberry fields and mulberry fields into the sea. In a desperate predicament we were given a way out. A moment ago we were sure we were going to die, and now the situation was suddenly reversed. We wanted to check Panzi’s injuries, but Poker-face waved his hand and said, “Come on quick. It’s chasing us.”

  Although I didn’t understand what he meant, Fats jumped up immediately as if he knew his meaning all too well. Poker-face carried Panzi on his back while I picked up Panzi’s lamp and illuminated the path ahead. Together we ran into the depths of the tunnel.

  I did not know how long we ran nor could I tell how many turns we had taken when Poker-face pulled the fat guy to a stop and said, “Okay. There’s something quirky about the design of the tunnels at this spot. It should not be able to find us too quickly here.” We stopped and I found that I was sweating all over. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  Poker-face sighed without replying and put Panzi down on the ground. I thought, oh right. The most important thing now was to tend to Panzi’s wounds.

  He was really badly injured; nearly his entire body was covered with wounds. If we bandaged him up, if we only had any bandages, he’d be wrapped up like a mummy. I checked him out. Most of his wounds weren’t deep but there were several on his neck and abdomen that could be fatal. Evidently these insects were extremely g
ood at attacking the softest and most delicate parts of the human body.

  I remembered the corpse whose hand I had touched earlier. His abdomen was also the most severely wounded part of his body.

  Poker-face pressed his hand on Panzi’s belly and took out the iron sword that he carried on a belt around his waist. “Help me hold him,” he told me.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked with a dreadful feeling of foreboding.

  He stared at Panzi’s stomach like a butcher staring at his victim. He moved his two freakishly long fingers into Panzi’s wound and said, “One of the corpse-eaters has crawled into his stomach.”

  “That can’t be…” I looked at him suspiciously. Then I looked at Fats, who was already holding down Panzi’s legs and said to me, “Judging by both of you so far, I have more faith in him.”

  I could only obey and hold down Panzi’s hands. Poker-face raised his sword and began to probe at the hole on Panzi’s stomach. Then, his lightning-fast fingers stabbed into Panzi’s wound, found what they were looking for, hooked onto their quarry, and pulled out a light green corpse-eater. Although all of these motions were extremely fast, they still were painful enough that Panzi curled up his body and thrashed about so violently that I almost couldn’t hold him down.

  “This just suffocated in his stomach,” Poker-face flung the dead insect away. “The wound is already too deep. If it isn’t sterilized, it will become infected and that’s big trouble.”

  Fats took the last bullet out of Panzi’s gun and said, “Why don’t we learn from those advanced lessons taught by the American people, and put this bullet to use? We can pull it apart and use the gunpowder to sterilize his wound.”

  Panzi grabbed Fat’s feet, gritted his teeth in pain, and yelled, “I wasn’t wounded by a bullet! You want to…want to goddamn well blow up my intestines?” He took a bundle of bandages out of his trouser pocket. They were bloodstained and looked as though they were the ones that had been wrapped around his head. “Thank heaven I didn’t throw these away,” he muttered. “Just wrap me up, and do it tightly and properly. These injuries are nothing!”

  Fats said, “Being a hero is out of fashion this year, comrade. I can see your guts. You don’t need to put on an act.” He began to pull the bullet apart but Poker-face and I stopped him. “Don’t be so reckless,” I said. “If the gunpowder burns into his internal organs, he’ll die instantly. Let’s just wrap him up first.”

  The fat guy listened to me, agreed, and helped us wrap Panzi’s wounds. I tore off pieces of my clothing and added another layer of bandages while Panzi almost passed out from the pain. I saw him leaning against the wall, gasping for air, and felt guilty. If I hadn’t messed up with the matches, he wouldn’t be going through all this now.

  Suddenly I was struck by curiosity and asked Fats, “Oh right, who the hell are you?”

  He was about to answer when Poker-face motioned for us to shut up. As we fell silent I could hear a terrifying rattling sound coming from the other end of the tunnel.

  Chapter Fifteen

  FART

  Fats raised the pistol into which he had put back the last bullet, as if signaling to us that if we wanted, he would raise hell. Poker-face raised his hand in disagreement and motioned for us to copy him as he covered his nose. He then covered Panzi’s nose with one hand as he turned off the lamp with the other.

  We sank into absolute darkness. I could hear only my own rapid heartbeat and the terrifying rattles that surrounded us. All my attention was devoted to that noise as I heard it approaching closer and closer. At the same time, an extremely disgusting stench pervaded the air.

  I was so petrified that I almost suffocated. As the noise became more and more distinct, I felt as if I were a death-row inmate waiting to be executed. Suddenly the noise stopped and my heart trembled—could it have found us?

  After several minutes, an extremely deep but clear rattle abruptly sounded close by. It was so solid and real—shit, it was almost near the edge of my ear. My scalp instantly tingled, and I pressed my hand tightly over my mouth to keep from screaming.

  It was truly intense suffering for the next few minutes. My mind went blank. I had no idea whether death or life waited for us. Another thirty seconds passed, and the noise finally began to move away. I sighed and thought, holy shit, maybe we’re going to live. Then a “pop” sound came out of nowhere, and I wondered what son of a bitch would fart at a time like this?

  The rattling suddenly disappeared. At the same time, the lamp came back on and I saw a strange, gigantic face in front of me, right at the tip of my nose. Two eyes without pupils stared straight into mine. I was so shocked that I staggered back a few steps while Poker-face shouted, “Run!”

  Fats looked clumsy but he was actually very agile. He rolled onto the ground next to Panzi, put him on his back, got to his feet, and began to run. I followed close behind and cursed at him, “You fat fuck. Was it you who farted?”

  Fats’s face began to flush. “Hell! Which one of your eyes saw me farting?”

  Pissed off, I yelled, “I say you’re a fucking walking disaster,” and Fats screamed, “Ahh…”

  Just as I was about to ask him what was up, the ground under my feet suddenly gave way, and I let out a similar cry. Without a lamp we could see nothing in the dark, but we knew what we had been running upon had vanished. And so we fell into what seemed like a bottomless abyss.

  The falling sensation was quickly replaced by a pain in my butt. As I recovered from the dizzying plunge into blackness, a flash of light suddenly appeared. Fats had found his flashlight.

  I looked around. Here we were, again in another room with walls of stone. It looked very simple and crude, quite similar to the one where we had just battled with the corpse-eating bugs. But because it was a different size, I knew it was definitely a different room. Nervously Fats asked me, “Could this be another trap? We couldn’t be extending an invitation for the insects to come and bite us again, could we?”

  We have Poker-face, I thought, we don’t have to worry about the insects. As I turned and looked, I found he wasn’t there. Was it possible that we all had run off in different directions? I hastily recalled my memory and discovered that in all the commotion, I simply didn’t pay any attention to whether he was following us or not.

  I switched to a different train of thought. We had no idea what that monster was—how could it have let us escape so easily? It must have been because Poker-face had helped us by blocking its pursuit. Had he survived?

  As I continued with my thoughts, my heart sank further and I felt worse. If this kept on, we would sooner or later be dead! Fats stared around the room as he put Panzi down in a corner. He sat, rubbed his butt, and said, “Oh yes, I have to ask you this: Did you also come here to look for the royal seal of the commander of the dead?”

  “Is there really such a thing?” I asked in bewilderment.

  Fats listened carefully for a minute to be sure that nothing was approaching us before he whispered, “What? None of you know about this, and you dared to come down to this grave? Don’t you know about the Ghost General and what he did?”

  As soon as I heard this, I knew Fats had some valuable information and asked, “Wasn’t he just a marquis or one of the minor princes? I heard that his only power was his ability to gather troops from the netherworld to fight with him in battle.”

  “My ass,” Fats looked at me contemptuously. “Listen to me. This so-called Ruler of Dead Soldiers and the so-called troops he borrowed from the world of the dead were all part of a blatant lie. If I didn’t tell you the hidden secrets of this ancient grave, you would never be able to guess them no matter how hard you tried.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A SMALL GREEN HAND

  In my job, I had gained some experience in watching and judging people over the years. I had learned how to assess the quality of the people I dealt with as well as the objects I bought and sold, and I knew that Fats wasn’t for real the minute I first saw him. I
f I wanted to get information out of him, I knew I couldn’t be too nice so I reacted as if I did not believe a word that he said. “Like you know what you’re talking about. If you really knew, then why would you be in here buzzing around like a confused fly?”

  Sure enough, Fats took the bait. He pointed his flashlight at my face and said, “You still don’t believe me, kid? Before I came, I put more than a month of preparation into this expedition. Do you guys know what this Ruler of Dead Soldiers did? Or what the whole story was about borrowing troops from the netherworld? And what the royal seal was used for?” My speechlessness put a proud smile on his face. “Let me tell you. This Ruler could be referred to as a general if you wanted to put it nicely. But the truth is he was just like us—a grave robber.”

  I suddenly remembered that Uncle Three had mentioned the same thing but had no idea how he and this guy knew this. Fats explained, “But his skills were much better than ours—as you can tell by the honor he received when he was given a title from a king for his grave-robbing accomplishments. Records indicate that his troops worked all night and rested during the day. They would often disappear completely and then suddenly materialize in a different place. The places they had been were often filled with “abandoned graves,” and when asked about this, the explanation was that the Ruler had used both living soldiers and troops from the world of the dead to fight these battles. They definitely robbed graves everywhere they went, and if the graves that they had worked on were discovered later by other people, they would say the Ruler of Dead Soldiers had “borrowed the spirits” of those who had occupied these graves. This story spread everywhere since people at that time were very superstitious. They believed it was a miracle that spirits of the dead would fight their battles for them.”

  This story wasn’t too credible in my opinion so I asked, “How can you and my uncle form a theory about the importance of this tomb based on this information alone? Haven’t you both jumped to a hasty conclusion?”