Evidently, a significant incident involving profuse bleeding had transpired nearby.
By now, the sight of gore no longer struck fear into anyone.
Yet, such a scene invariably signaled an ‘accident’, an anomaly disrupting the new normal.
Though all three were intimately familiar with the surrounding streets, the moment Jing Lan hoisted his AK, armed with a mere four bullets, the other two tacitly maneuvered him to the vanguard of their group.
‘This is insane! I seem to be deliberately walking towards the source of the smell!’
Despite this stark realization, Jing Lan forcefully quelled the urge to ‘turn back immediately’.
He was consumed by an inexplicable desire to see it for himself, a choice starkly at odds with any semblance of rationality.
Yet, he mused, was he truly a rational individual to begin with?
The ground grew increasingly fouled.
Beyond the barely discernible refuse, a viscous, gelatinous substance now coated the surface, reminiscent of the balled-up adhesive left between sheets of paper peeled apart after a faulty bond.
Kong Cheng, his voice a strained whisper, asked, “Are we truly meant to continue down this path?”
As he spoke, the narrow alley abruptly yielded to an open expanse, a T-intersection from which a wider concrete thoroughfare branched left, leading into the bustling meat and spice street of the local market.
Ah, yes, the noxious odor must emanate from the putrefying meat lining the street.
And the filth staining the ground? Perhaps zombies had descended upon the market’s lingering animal carcasses, scattering their gruesome remnants far and wide.
This, it seemed, might well be a zombie’s ‘all-you-can-eat’ buffet, though whether any had ventured out for a nocturnal feast remained unknown.
Prudence, however, dictated a wide berth.
Yet, as he lowered his voice to suggest to his companions that they retrace their steps, Jing Lan sensed an unsettling presence nearby, radiating an intensely disquieting aura.
Was it merely the stench? The putrid smell had indeed grown more potent here, yet this was anticipated, hardly an anomaly in itself.
Had some unusual sight flickered at the edge of his vision? For their collective safety, the trio maintained only the barest illumination, Jing Lan’s wrist-mounted floodlight set to its lowest intensity, making it improbable to discern much.
Sound? He strained his ears, yet no discernible anomaly in the ambient noise could be detected.
And if no tangible, anomalous entity could be identified, then another possibility remained.
Namely, that something ordinary was manifesting in an utterly extraordinary form.
!
Almost synchronously, the realization of the anomaly’s true nature dawned upon Jing Lan.
It was still the stench.
The putrid odor of decaying flesh, a nauseating blend of paint and excrement, had not, in essence, altered its character.
However, it appeared to be undulating.
Jing Lan consciously regulated his breathing, expelling a deep breath before slowly inhaling, intent on discerning the nuances of the foul air.
The result was strikingly clear.
The stench wafted in, a series of slow, rhythmic surges, akin to ripples across water.
Or, perhaps, like the labored respirations of some colossal beast.
After a fleeting hesitation, he cranked the flashlight to its maximum luminosity, simultaneously raising the AK’s muzzle—its firing mode, he recalled, was set to single-shot, necessitating extreme conservation of his meager four remaining bullets.
Bathed in the stark, white beam of the flashlight, those present involuntarily drew sharp, collective breaths.
It took a harrowing two or three seconds for their minds to even begin to process what the flashlight’s beam revealed—no, ‘identify’ was too strong a word.
At best, they could only offer a preliminary definition of the colossal mass currently coiled at the entrance of a pork butcher’s stall.
It was a colossal, grotesque amalgamation of vibrant crimson and sickening pallor, its surface enshrouded in a black, web-like membrane that appeared to possess a disturbing rigidity.
Upon closer scrutiny, this black webbing proved to be a viscous, tar-like substance entangling a myriad of refuse—plastic bottles, sheets of plywood scavenged from dilapidated dwellings, and low-lying vegetation likely ripped from roadside planters, with faint, crimson Loropetalum leaves barely distinguishable beneath the stark white light.
Enveloped within this dark network was a vast, sickeningly pale mass of putrescent flesh, akin to a colossal lipoma surgically extracted from a dermatology ward, upon which lymphatic or vascular tissues coiled and pulsed with a slow, rhythmic beat.
The gargantuan flesh-mass, approximately four meters wide and three meters high, sprawled across the butcher’s corner.
Where it met the whitewashed wall, sinuous tendrils of viscous tissue unfurled like aggressive roots, these sticky strips seemingly pulsing in sluggish synchronicity with the larger mass.
The epicenter of the putrid odor originated from a near-oval organ atop the flesh-mass, strikingly akin to the lid of a pitcher plant, appearing to be a cartilage-like structure enveloped by a fascial sheath.
This ‘lid’ slowly articulated, opening and closing in rhythm with the mass’s pulsations, each movement exhaling fresh waves of the sickening stench.
Despite having long been desensitized to the horrific spectacle of zombies tearing into human flesh, the sight of this colossal, aberrant entity before them—its putrid stench mingling with the ghastly, dark crimson hue visible in the meager light—transformed the street corner into a twisted, alien realm.
Caught in this surreal tableau, the three humans stood momentarily transfixed, utterly paralyzed.
No one among them knew which course of action was correct.
To observe passively might be to invite certain doom, yet to preemptively strike could just as easily be a fatal miscalculation.
A knot of saliva convulsed in Kong Cheng’s throat.
“Ugh… what, what is this thing?”
As if in direct response to his query, the sluggishly pulsating flesh-mass abruptly ceased its movement, leaving only the mist-laden stench to continue billowing from the barely parted fissure of its lid.
‘This is bad,’ Jing Lan thought.
‘This thing appears to possess sentience.’
Jing Lan, positioned at the very front of their trio, slowly raised three fingers of his left hand, which cradled the AK’s foregrip, before deliberately retracting one.
‘Countdown,’ he thought, ‘then a diagonal flash to the rear.’
Whether his companions would grasp the unspoken signal remained to be seen.
He retracted a second finger.
Beneath the flashlight’s intense glare, something appeared to be writhing beneath the fleshy mass’s diminutive lid.
Just as he prepared to retract his final finger, the entity beneath the lid seemed to subtly recoil.
A faint, distant voice resonated within Jing Lan’s mind.
“Want to catch grasshoppers? If you manage to get one, you can fry it up and eat it.”
‘Mother?’ he mused.
‘When was that?’
“But when you’re trying to catch them, pay close attention to their movements; many animals exhibit a tiny preparatory twitch just before they leap—”
‘No time!’ Jing Lan’s inner voice screamed.
‘Jump!’
With a swift, lunging leap, Jing Lan sprang aside.
Simultaneously, his AK barked a single shot, the thunderous report seemingly rousing dormant horrors throughout the silent street.
Almost precisely as the bullet tore through the air, the fleshy mass’s lid was violently ripped open, and something hurtled forth, only to be instantly perforated by the projectile.
A gut-wrenching shriek tore through the air from directly behind Jing Lan.
It was, he realized, a projectile violently ejected from the flesh-mass, roughly the size of two steamed buns, now a blood-red glob splattered across Kong Cheng’s face.
The grotesque projectile, acting like potent acid, instantly seared away a significant portion of Kong Cheng’s facial skin.
His eyeballs ruptured, their crystalline lenses oozing like jelly onto his temples.
Jing Lan’s second bullet was mercifully aimed at Kong Cheng.
The M43 round obliterated half of Kong Cheng’s head, along with the adhering fleshy mass, bringing the man’s agonizing screams to an abrupt, chilling halt.
Concurrently, the flesh-mass’s lid fully unfurled, and from its depths, a corpulent body began to emerge.
Having already put several paces between himself and the horror, Jing Lan glanced back, noting with a surge of relief that Doctor Gu, displaying surprising agility, had kept pace.
From the grotesque mass, an entity unmistakably identifiable as a Night Demon was now clawing its way free.
“A Night Demon nest, then.”
Though its monstrous form bore little resemblance to the Night Demon nests depicted in the game ‘Dying Light,’ Jing Lan instinctively bestowed that name upon it.
There was no leisure for deliberation now; both survivors were in dire peril.
They dashed frantically down the slaughter street, only to stumble upon yet another Night Demon nest mere dozens of meters ahead.
This one, though, did not disgorge a Night Demon—or perhaps it already had.
Nevertheless, as they sprinted past, a fleshy projectile was still expelled, mercifully missing both of them.
The grotesque mass splattered against the rolling shutter of a shop across the street, then detonated with a wet *pop*, sending shards of flesh and gore scattering.
Fortunately, they had already put significant distance between themselves and the explosion, escaping unscathed.
Yet, the cacophony had successfully drawn every nearby zombie, forcing the pair, despite their intimate knowledge of the labyrinthine streets, to continually deviate from their intended escape route.
“We’re just running further and further afield like this!” Doctor Gu gasped, his breath ragged.
“First, to my cousin’s house!”
Yet, moments later, Jing Lan discovered the path leading to Keke’s residence was similarly choked by a relentless horde of seven or eight zombies.
Moreover, these particular zombies, as if fueled by an unholy elixir, were unnervingly energetic, exhibiting no stumbles or hesitation.
They surged forward from a standstill, charging directly at the two survivors.
Jing Lan swiftly discharged two rounds, felling the two lead zombies, then unceremoniously discarded both his AK and his melee weapon, dragging Doctor Gu down a different, narrower alleyway in a desperate sprint.
“That’s the back entrance to the Construction Bureau residential complex!” Doctor Gu cried out, his voice strained.
“It’s usually locked!”
“It’s open during the day!” Jing Lan retorted, “I’m betting this city’s biohazard crisis erupted in broad daylight!”
“It certainly feels like it was daylight!” Doctor Gu exclaimed.
“Let’s hope it was!”
They hurtled towards the formidable iron gate.
The heavy iron lock on the gate hung uselessly, unlatched.
The door was not secured.
Yet, when they shoved against it, the gate met with an immovable obstruction from behind.
Someone had parked a vehicle directly against the inner side of the gate.
“Illegal parking, you motherfucker!”
Amidst their furious roars, the surging tide of zombies poured relentlessly into the now-trapped dead end.