"No!" The man stared at him as if afraid Murphy would suddenly slip into the village. "The Black Death appeared outside, so Grandmother and I have been standing guard here! It's been a week, and we haven't let a single person in!"
"A week?"
Murphy was a little puzzled. What did he mean, a week? Hadn't it been a hundred years?
Could time flow differently here than in the outside world?
And hadn't Serika come in through here?
"Young man, take off your mask..."
As the old woman spoke, she walked over and reached out to tug at Murphy's protective suit.
Murphy did not wait for her to get close. He drew the Glock from his waist, aimed at the old woman's arm, and fired.
Bang!
The bullet snapped off the old woman's arm, the one with a length of bone already exposed, but she seemed to feel no pain at all. Only after a while did she raise her severed arm, as though she could not quite understand what had just happened.
Her arm had been broken, yet not a single drop of blood flowed. Looking at the stump, the muscles inside had all turned fibrous, like blackened hemp rope left lying around for ages.
And in place of the severed arm, a faintly glowing blue arm was exposed to the air.
Just as he thought!
Having confirmed once again that what stood before him was already a dead person, Murphy no longer held back. Two shots blew apart the old woman's head.
Then he swung the muzzle around and put three shots into the young man, who had seen things turn bad and was about to run back.
Glancing in the direction the man had been running, Murphy understood his intention.
Beside the small house belonging to the