But she was sitting in the driver's seat now, and that thing had already entered the cab, pressed right up behind her.
How could she drive without turning around?
How could she run without turning around?
"Who are you?"
She forced herself to speak, squeezing the words out of her throat like a rusty blade scraping across an iron plate.
"I'm your Dean Granny."
The voice was so gentle, gentle enough to make someone want to cry.
"Child, what's wrong?"
"Don't you even remember Granny?"
Long Ya's nails dug deep into her palms.
She remembered something someone had said.
"Once people die, they're nothing anymore."
"Corpses don't talk. Only Eerie mimic voices."
"You're not Dean Granny."
Long Ya bit out every word. "She's already dead."
The voice behind her paused.
Then, as though soaked in ice water, it sank little by little.
"Little Ya, you've made Granny so sad..."
Long Ya waited no longer.
She snatched up her sniper rifle, twisted at the waist, and swung it behind her!
The stock struck the backrest of the cab's rear seat with a sharp crack.
She hit nothing.
But that chill was still there.
Still behind her.
"Hee-hee..."
The laughter changed, turning shrill and distorted, like the sounds several children made while their mouths were being covered at once.
"Sister Long, it hurts so much... turn around and look at me... please..."
That was... the voice of the boy with the cleft lip.
Long Ya's scalp prickled violently.
The little boy had been sleeping in the compartment behind her just a moment ago. How could he possibly have gotten into the cab?
Unless...
She dared not think any further.
"Sister Long, just look at me."
"Sister Long, my neck hurts so much."
"Sister Long, why don't you want me anymore?"
The voices