Valley of Terror Read online

  Two hours later, the last of the giddy guests had dispersed. A member of the hotel staff was cleaning the restroom when he discovered Chen Bin—by that time, already an ice-cold corpse.

  When he received the call from the Jinhua Grand Hotel, Luo was staring blankly at the autopsy photos of Yu Ziqiang. Upon hearing there had been another bizarre death, Luo called Zhang Yu and proceeded straight to the scene.

  The hotel manager was at the restroom entrance, fearfully awaiting the arrival of Luo and his team. “This happened out of nowhere. It makes no sense! It makes no sense!” he said, shaking his head repeatedly.

  Luo gave him a courteous nod before asking, “Who found him?”

  “Me.” A middle-aged man in a custodial uniform raised his hand.

  “Come with us. Everyone else, wait outside.” Luo led the way into the restroom.

  The custodian pointed at a bathroom stall whose full-length door was shut. “He’s in there. You have to see for yourself. It’s horrifying.”

  Luo gingerly pulled open the wooden door, and a bizarre scene unfolded before his eyes.

  “What on earth?” murmured Zhang Yu.

  A man was half kneeling at the toilet with his head stuck deep inside the bowl. It was obvious that, up until the very moment of his death, he had been trying with all his might to stuff his own head down the toilet.

  The custodian cleared his throat. “Around two this afternoon, I came by to clean up. The stall door was locked from the inside, so I thought someone was using it and decided to clean the rest of the bathroom first. But over half an hour passed, and no one came out. I tried knocking on the door, but no one answered. So I peered through the gap under the door and saw someone kneeling there, not moving. I immediately pried open the door, and the guy was hunched over, just like this. I wanted to pull him out, but he was really stuck in there. Then our manager came and told me not to move him since he’s already dead, and to call the police right away.”

  Luo didn’t say a word the entire time the custodian was telling this story, but his eyes swept every inch of the scene. The first thing he noticed was the sliding lock on the stall door. It was a basic bolt lock that could only be opened and closed from the inside. The partitions were taller than an average person, and there was nothing in the room that someone could climb on. Combined with the custodian’s account, these conditions seemed to eliminate the possibility of another person at the scene.

  The forensics assistant had already photographed every last detail of the scene, so Luo and Zhang Yu entered the stall. They grunted and sweated before finally managing to pry the corpse’s head from the toilet bowl, exposing a pallid face and bloodshot eyes that bulged in terror just like Yu Ziqiang’s. Wastewater trickled down from his hair, streaming over his eyes as though the victim were crying.

  Luo stared into the victim’s face for a long time. He could practically hear the victim’s last sobs—desperate, almost inhuman sounds.

  While Luo and the corpse were having this tender exchange, Zhang Yu set about determining the cause of death. When the call came in, Luo and Zhang Yu had both suspected excessive alcohol consumption. A quick test indicated that the blood alcohol level was 0.012 percent, which indicated he’d had roughly one beer or an ounce of hard liquor—not enough to get a person drunk.

  However, the cause of death was not difficult to determine. A froth had formed around the victim’s mouth and nose, and the membranes in his eyes were inflamed. Zhang Yu drew a preliminary conclusion: “This man drowned.”

  “He drowned?” Luo was still trying to get his head around it.

  “Yes. He bolted the door and held his face in the water, which led to his suffocation.” Zhang Yu shook his head in disbelief, then let out a bitter laugh. “Say, you don’t think there’s gold hidden in that toilet?”

  But Luo had his arms crossed and eyes down, stroking his chin in thought.

  The team recognized their leader’s posture and waited in anxious silence, afraid to interrupt.

  After a long while, Luo lifted his head. He looked once more at the victim’s face and nodded gravely. Then he muttered: “Ostrich.”

  “Huh?” Zhang Yu asked.

  “Ostrich,” Luo repeated emphatically. “The bird.”

  Everyone in the room looked at each other, baffled.

  “When danger is coming and there’s nowhere to run, ostriches stick their heads in the sand out of desperation. This man, he’s like an ostrich.”

  Zhang Yu caught on. “What you’re saying is that he came across something that terrified him, and there was no escape, so he stuck his head in the toilet?”

  “He would’ve shoved his whole body in if he could’ve.” Luo’s low voice sounded eerily detached, chilling everyone in the room.

  “But what could he have been so afraid of?” Zhang Yu asked in frustration, peering in all directions.

  That was precisely what Luo wanted to know. What had taken place inside that tiny, closed-off space that was so frightening it could cause a young man to drown himself?

  Inside the restroom, apart from the corpse, there was nothing unusual. But Luo couldn’t deny that a strange, fearful presence seemed to emanate from every corner.

  Zhang Yu took the corpse back to the forensic center while Luo and the others tracked down the wedding guests who’d been at the same table as Chen Bin, hoping that a chat with them might yield valuable clues.

  They had little luck.

  “Chen Bin? I don’t know who—oh, was that the kid with the crew cut? I didn’t really pay much attention to him. We clinked glasses during the toasts, I think. Why, what happened?”

  “Oh yeah, he was sitting next to me. We chatted a bit. He’s not from around here. I don’t know why he left so early. Everyone was having a great time!”

  “Chen? Chen Bin? Oh, from the wedding! Give him a call, and we’ll go out for another couple rounds. We’ll see who can really hold their liquor around here. You—you’ll be wasted in no time!”

  Among the guests at the table, not one knew Chen Bin well, and no one could say what time he’d left or why. Everyone had been too busy celebrating. Even hours later when Luo caught up with them, they were still basking in the afterglow.

  Luo, on the other hand, was exhausted. He’d spent the evening running around town, all for naught. After dinner, he took a break to regain his energy, then called Zhang Yu and arranged to meet back at the office.

  “Any news on your end?” he asked.

  “Not really,” Zhang Yu said. “We confirmed drowning as the cause of death. And like you said, the victim’s actions and expression suggest that he suffered a tremendous scare.”

  “Uh-huh.” Luo nodded. “Any other thoughts?”

  “Well, I wonder if these two strange deaths should be investigated together.”

  “I know what you mean,” Luo said, “but from a criminology perspective, I’m not sure that makes sense. First of all, the victims—an engineering student and a visitor from out of town—don’t seem to have a single overlap in terms of their professional or social networks. Plus, the engineering school and the Jinhua Grand Hotel are totally unrelated. You could say that the only common connection between the cases is that both victims apparently suffered a scare just before they died.”

  “But that’s also the most perplexing part.” Zhang Yu smiled wryly and shook his head. “I’ve been working in forensics for years—there isn’t a horror I haven’t seen. But I have no idea what could scare a person that bad.”

  “It’s hard to imagine.” Luo looked up, stroking his beard. Then suddenly he asked, “Have you ever read Sherlock Holmes?”

  “Sherlock Holmes? Umm, I guess I’ve read a few stories?”

  Luo leaned forward, his eyes shining. “In His Last Bow: Some Reminiscences of Sherlock Holmes, there’s a story called ‘The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot.’ Do you know it?”

  Zhang Yu laughed awkwardly, then shook his head.

  Luo arched an eyebrow disapprovingly. He lean
ed back in his chair, collecting his thoughts. “In ‘The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot,’ there’s an unusual type of plant that grows in Africa. Half of the plant’s root resembles a human foot, while the other half resembles a goat’s foot, which is where it gets its ominous name. When this plant is burned, it releases poisonous fumes that cause frightening hallucinations. The killer uses it to scare the victims to death.”

  “Hallucinations?” Zhang Yu gaped. “You think our victims were hallucinating?”

  “It’s the best explanation I can come up with.” There was a hint of dejection in Luo’s tone.

  “What produced the hallucinations, then? A devil’s foot?” Zhang Yu asked, baffled. “And if they were deliberately caused by someone, what was the motive? And with so many people at the scenes, why would only those two be affected?”

  Luo laughed heartily. “No idea. That’s why I called you! Medically, could what happened in the story ever happen in real life? What kind of drug or psychological mechanism could trigger such strong hallucinations?”

  Zhang Yu shrugged defensively. “I’m afraid that’s beyond my training.” He lowered his head and reflected for an instant. “But I do know who you should go talk to.”

  “Oh?”

  “Zhou Liwei, the associate dean at Longzhou University’s School of Medicine. He’s one of the foremost psychiatry experts in the nation!”

  Luo had heard the name before. Zhou had earned his doctorate in the US and, in addition to his prestigious role at the university, was the head of psychiatry at the municipal hospital. He was also known for his neurological research. The man was a marvel. “Do you know him well? Can you put us in touch?”

  An hour later, they pulled up to Longzhou University’s School of Medicine. The towering building was pitch black except for a lone window on the third floor. A young man in his twenties stood at the entrance.

  Luo and Zhang Yu got out of the police car and hurried up the front steps.

  The young man called out, “Are you here to see Professor Zhou?”

  Luo nodded. “Are you his student?”

  “My name is Liu Yun.” Smiling, the young man turned to lead the way. “You’re just in time.”

  Soon after, the three of them were outside the office. With the utmost courtesy, Liu Yun gently knocked on the door.

  A man’s voice came from inside: “Come in!”

  Liu Yun pushed open the door, and they filed in. It was a roughly two-hundred-square-foot room. The walls on either side were lined with bookcases housing all kinds of highly specialized tomes. Near the window was a desk, and opposite it sat a sofa and a coffee table. There was no other decoration.

  Professor Zhou was reading at the desk, but once the three had entered, he stood up and took a couple of steps forward.

  This world-weary man appeared to be around forty. Though he wasn’t particularly tall, he looked athletic. Perhaps it was because he’d been working long hours that his eyes were a little red. But his steps were energetic and steady. Cowed by the man’s reputation, Luo couldn’t help staring.

  Professor Zhou turned to Zhang Yu and, smiling, asked, “And who’s this?”

  Zhang Yu promptly introduced Luo, and now it was the doctor’s turn to stare, as the situation must have been rather serious for the chief inspector to pay a visit so late at night.

  “Please, gentlemen, take a seat. Then you can tell me why you’re here.”

  Settling into the sofa and handing him the autopsy reports and photos from the scenes, Zhang Yu gave a comprehensive account of the two cases, including Luo’s “Devil’s Foot” theory. There was a grave expression on the professor’s face as he listened and paged through the reports, interrupting periodically to ask incisive clarifying questions. The entire time, Liu Yun wordlessly recorded details in his notebook. When Zhang Yu finished speaking, a silence fell over the room.

  Luo let the scholar reflect for a moment, then said, “Professor Zhou, we’re here tonight because we need your expert advice. I know it sounds crazy, but is it possible that the victims experienced hallucinations? If so, what triggered them? Was there foul play involved?”

  “At the moment, I can only respond to your first question with a tentative yes.” Professor Zhou heaved a sigh. “As for your latter questions, before the two of you arrived, I was already perplexed.”

  A puzzled look crossed Luo’s face. “You knew? How did you hear about this?”

  “No, I wasn’t aware of your cases. But you weren’t aware of ours.”

  Professor Zhou turned around and picked up a pile of documents. “When Zhang Yu called me, we’d just gotten back from the hospital. The situation may be far worse than you realize.”

  Luo’s heart sank as he reached out to accept the papers. As he scanned through them, he grew increasingly appalled.

  The dozen medical records all involved preliminary diagnoses of schizophrenia made over the last two days. What was more, each and every one identified the same cause: emotional trauma caused by an extreme shock.

  “Let me get this straight: Yu Ziqiang and Chen Bin aren’t the only ones in Longzhou who suffered an excessive shock in the past two days—they’re just the only two who died.”

  It was the first time that Zhang Yu had seen Luo in such an emotional state. He regarded Luo as a wise and prescient man, courageous and confident. He was the one who everyone at the station could turn to in the face of difficulty, and a chat and laugh later, the problem would be resolved. But now, anxiety shone in his eyes.

  To make matters worse, the famed Professor Zhou was equally stumped. “I’ve undertaken a detailed analysis of about a dozen cases, and from a psychological standpoint, I haven’t been able to come up with any significant clues. The first such patient the hospital accepted was a thirty-two-year-old woman with the family name Wu. Yesterday, sometime after 2:00 p.m., she entered a fitting room at the mall. There was a commotion, and one of the sales attendants rushed in to find her passed out from an extreme shock. The second was a nineteen-year-old man. Last night, he and his buddies were doing drugs at a small music venue when he started screaming like he’d seen a ghost. It took four or five bouncers to get him under control. We originally suspected those drugs were the culprit, but when we examined him, he was trembling from head to toe, unable to focus his eyes, and obviously petrified of something. This morning, it was an even stranger case, a seventy-year-old who was doing tai chi in a public park with a group of other seniors. I really can’t imagine what, in that tranquil environment, could have so severely startled a person. In short, the cases have involved men and women, young and old, from different social backgrounds and occupations. The times and places in which the incidents occurred follow no particular pattern. The only thing they have in common is that the patients suffered a terrible shock that caused them to psychologically unravel—and they did so surrounded by witnesses, none of whom noticed anything out of the ordinary. Toxicology reports show nothing unusual. How could that be? What unseen thing could scare someone so badly?”

  A silence enveloped the room. Everyone hung their heads, lost in thought.

  Then Liu Yun, who hadn’t uttered a word, suddenly declared, “Demons! The demons have chosen their sacrificial offerings.”

  Luo looked up sharply, disgusted that anyone would make jokes in such grave circumstances. He looked to the young man’s teacher, but Professor Zhou was also staring at Liu Yun, astonishment on his face. In a burst of proud excitement, Liu Yun picked up his pen and began scribbling frantically.

  Luo closed his eyes and shook his head. “Professor Zhou, may I take these medical records with me? There are some details that I’d like to have our people look at.”

  “I think that would be an excellent idea,” Zhou replied. “It seems we’re going to need to cooperate if we’re going to solve this.”

  Luo had come hoping for answers, and instead he’d only gotten more questions. What he didn’t know, of course, was that this was only the beginning.

  C
hapter 3

  A MYSTERIOUS PROPHECY

  Fine morning light shone through the window, but Luo’s expression was somber. He sat rigidly at his desk, scowling at the computer screen in front of him.

  That morning, an online news portal had featured an eye-grabbing headline: INVISIBLE DEMONS DESCEND ON LONGZHOU; NUMBER OF TERROR VICTIMS UNCLEAR. Within just a few hours, the story had already gotten more than ten thousand hits and had been reblogged almost one thousand times.

  Using the most sensational language possible, the writer delivered an exhaustive account of the terror cases. What most astounded Luo was the following paragraph:

  On the evening of the thirteenth, Longzhou City Chief Inspector Luo rushed over to Longzhou University’s School of Medicine, seeking the aid of renowned psychiatry specialist Professor Zhou Liwei. The two conducted a formal analysis of the situation based on their respective areas of expertise, focusing on what exactly had caused the victims in these cases to suffer such a terrible fright and why bystanders remained unaffected. At present, no clues to the answers to these questions have been identified. Could it be that invisible demons are appearing in Longzhou and have made their choice of sacrificial offerings?

  Luo dialed Professor Zhou’s number.

  Professor Zhou answered immediately. “Yes, I saw it. Quite a few journalists have already contacted me for interviews. It’s a madhouse. How did the writer get access to confidential information?”

  “I’m sorry, Professor, but it must have been that student of yours who leaked it.”

  “Student?” Professor Zhou sounded as if he had no idea what Luo was talking about.

  “Yes, Liu Yun. He even used the words ‘demons’ and ‘sacrificial offerings.’”

  “You mean that person from last night? He’s not my student. I thought he was a member of your team!”