Encounter

I stared at the cabin in front of me. Almost half of it had collapsed, as though its owner had gone away on a very long trip. I said to Ash, "Thanks so much for sharing your story. If you're finished, let's go..."

We went inside, and dust hit us both in the face. It was just as it had been seven years ago: cobwebs and dust, only without that frog. Following my memory, I made my way to the wooden hatch over the cellar.

I grabbed the latch, only to be stopped.

Ash was panting. "Wait, let me catch my breath and mentally prepare myself. Who knows what monsters will come out when you pull that open? Besides, cellars traumatized me. You know, PTSD..."

And then there was no more time. A battered machete smashed the fragile, rotten hatch to pieces. A hand gripped the edge of the cellar, and with a slight push, its owner climbed out.

Ash's voice changed pitch. "That's Jason? Your Jason...?"

I scrambled to my feet and told Ash, who was still a little stunned, "I suggest you run."

We had both been through things, after all. Without much hesitation, we raced out of the cabin.

Even as he ran, he remembered to say, "The Jason you described sounded like mommy's good little boy. Why does the Jason who just came out look like a psychotic killer in a hockey mask?" he asked in terror.

"Right, he's a bit of both," I said calmly. "And let me warn you: bullets don't scare him, blades don't scare him, and he can teleport. He's incredibly strong and heals incredibly fast..."

"What do you mean, a bit of both? Oh my God, are you sure he wasn't Superman before he died?"

"But he doesn't have X-ray vision or super-hearing," I added. "Listen, we need a plan."

"We'll both appear in front of him in a moment and see who he targets. Whoever he doesn't target goes to the cellar and finds a way to destroy that book. We don't regroup afterward, either. If you can get back to the car, drive. If not, you can still run out on your own two legs. Understand?"

"Yeah, a bet on who gets to be Doomsday? What a great plan." He swallowed. As the heavy footsteps drew closer, he muttered, "Let's just hope we're the protagonists this time."

A huge blade swung at us, chopping more than halfway through the tree Ash was hiding behind. If Ash had been standing, it would definitely have taken off half his head.

"Looks like I'm the lucky one," he said. We exchanged a look, and he even had time to give me a dry laugh.

"Run!"

We dashed in opposite directions. I circled around, making sure Jason had chased Ash far away before racing toward the cabin. Then something suddenly caught my ankle. I fell hard, my chin slamming into a rock. Warm blood ran down my neck, and my vision went black for an instant.

It was something... that could no longer be called human. The thing was, it looked very familiar.

Half his shoulder had been hacked away, and the exposed flesh writhed like worms. His face was a deathly gray, his eyes grayish white and bloodshot. His mouth gaped open, revealing yellow fangs. His whole body looked as though it had been boiled in hot water.

"Hello, boss. Do you remember who I am?"

I drove my other foot hard into his face. He was the unlucky bastard who had delivered the files to me and been hacked to death by Jason.

I got up and shot him square in the head.

"Remember now?" He still wasn't dead. Yellow jelly-like matter mixed with green flowed from the hole in the middle of his head.

Ash had said these things wouldn't die immediately even when hit with these special bullets and tools. Those things could only restrict their movements for a while. Once they recovered, they would still come swarming in like disgusting flies.

"My daughter's still waiting for me to come home. My daughter, Annie. She's still waiting for me to come home, but because of you, I can never see her again."

His words held no sadness, only a strange, mocking sneer. It slowly rotated its head, drool continuously spilling from its mouth.

I picked up my knife and swiftly chopped his head off. What flowed from the wound looked like congealed red blood.

His body stopped moving, apart from his mouth, which was letting out shrill, shrieking laughter.

"Don't you feel guilty? You male bitch. Your precious boy killed me. Before I died, I still had a photograph of my daughter tucked in my breast pocket. Will my poor daughter stand facing the door next Christmas, calling... Daddy, Daddy, Daddy...?"

I stepped on his head, reducing his voice to an indistinct gurgle.

"If there's still one damned scrap of human consciousness left in your head, you should know what kind of people work for me. That girl of yours with cancer received the best medical care because of your death. She's married now, with a brown-haired, freckled son named after you, Hansen."

The head stopped talking and simply stared at me with those red-and-green-tinged eyes. Red blood kept spilling from his severed neck, and then he went completely still.

But it wasn't over. Applause came from behind me, without a trace of crispness, like a rotten loaf soaked in water being slapped against a wall.

"Oh, you have such a gift for manipulating people, Luoyaer, Little Roya, Luo Ya. You deceived our poor Hansen, darling Jason. What else can you say besides that?" He pitched his voice high like a third-rate stage actor.

It was a man in his thirties. Through that ruined, hideous, disgusting face, I still vaguely remembered him.

Paul.

"So glad you still remember my name. That dick-faced boyfriend of yours hacked up my upper body with a huge machete, like slaughtering a dog."

I looked at him.

"I warned you, but you still let them barge in. You were their guardian. You bear the main responsibility."

I gave him a bullet too, but it didn't hit him between the eyebrows, only in the shoulder. He merely staggered backward, then lifted that face. His cheeks seemed to split all the way to his ears, exposing sharp yellow teeth.

"I really hope they think so too."

"Come out, kids."

Then a bunch of dead kids really did appear around me-no, dead teenagers. There was also a cop and a crazy old man. Of all the damned people, I had met every one of them.

Several of them lunged at me with roars, and I hurriedly dodged. I switched to the Mossberg 500 compact shotgun. That worked much better, blowing off the head of the one closest to me with a single shot.

The dagger worked much better too. Pure silver, soaked in salt and holy water for three full days, it could take out half their throats.

But I clearly wasn't the only one there with a weapon. There was a cop. He drew his battered gun and shot me in the right leg. The tremendous impact made me stumble.

The others swarmed me. Unfortunately, of the eleven including Hansen, I had only taken out three. Eight remained. I actually liked that number quite a lot. It was a lucky number for me.

Someone stomped hard on my left ankle, and piercing pain spread through it. It seemed it wasn't so lucky for me now.

"Keep talking, Little Royal. Or would you rather I called you Luo Ya?" Paul stepped forward and punched me hard. I even felt something stick to my face.

"Of course, to repay you for that shot, let's have our dear policeman go first."

The fat cop walked over.

"I told you before, hiding here smoking weed wasn't a good idea, you damned rich bastard. I know your kind better than anyone. But now the police are coming for you."

Then he drew the pistol at his waist and aimed it at my head.

"I'll visit you often in hell too, bitch."

The pistol was aimed at my head, and then he pulled the trigger.

But nothing happened. I wrenched my right hand free and grabbed a handful of salt, making sure everyone in the ring around me got some.

They immediately screamed, letting out beastlike howls and impish shrieks. They backed away several steps.

It looked like this was still my lucky number. I deftly slit the throat of the one on my left, snatched back my gun, and neatly blew away the one on my right.

They grew wary and backed away a few steps. I straightened up too, watching them warily. I had killed the cop and the crazy old man. Now six teenagers remained.

They were clearly much harder to deal with, hopping around and even climbing trees to throw rocks at me, like a bunch of uncivilized savages.

But staying outside clearly wasn't a good option for me. I seized an opening and ran into the cabin.

The rotten wooden door banged under the blows, wood chips showering down. I braced my back hard against it as I reloaded the gun in my hands. The roars outside drew closer. They were clawing at the planks, their nails scraping like dull knives cutting into my eardrums, making my scalp crawl.

The cabin had only one small window, now nailed shut with thick boards. On top of that, a thin layer of black mist hung outside the whole time, leaving the cabin as dark as a coffin.

Creak- A crack opened in the door, and a grayish-blue hand suddenly thrust inside, its nails sharp and black, carrying a rotten stench. Gritting my teeth, I tightened my reverse grip on the silver dagger and stabbed hard. The instant the silver blade pierced its flesh, the hand let out a shrill scream, released wisps of black smoke, and withdrew. The curses outside grew fiercer, and the blows against the door abruptly intensified, jarring my shoulder painfully.

I couldn't just sit here waiting to die. I staggered back to the middle of the cabin, gripping my shotgun. Bang! The door finally shattered, and six devils squeezed inside through the flying wood chips. Their skin was bluish black, their eyes cloudy, and their mouths split all the way to their ears. Strange rasping sounds came from their throats. They seemed even less human than before.

"Enjoy, idiots!" I sneered. I had already pulled the trigger the moment the door shattered.