Valley of Terror Read online

  Luo was momentarily dumbstruck. “Ah, now I understand. I just assumed that he was your student, and he let me. Neither of us caught on, and this person slipped under the radar.”

  “So who is he?”

  “A reporter, I’m betting,” Luo chuckled. “He caught wind of the schizophrenia cases and came to interview you. He just happened to run into us as we arrived, and he saw an opportunity to get inside.”

  “What a disaster.” Professor Zhou sounded deeply worried. “Now that this information is out there, it could set off a panic.”

  Luo was momentarily silent. “The best thing for us to do now is to keep quiet. Don’t agree to any interviews.”

  “Right. My thoughts exactly. Maybe it’ll blow over.”

  But Longzhou wasn’t that big of a place. When people learned that the terrifying incidents in the story really were true, phones at both the hospital and the police station began ringing off the hook.

  Luo was under tremendous pressure to solve the case, and the manpower at his disposal was limited. He dispatched a team of nearly twenty investigators to conduct interviews and comb every corner of the city.

  Meanwhile, Professor Zhou had his hands full examining new patients admitted for psychotic episodes triggered by fear. Fortunately, the hospital’s psychiatry department was top-notch, enabling him to enlist the aid of exceptionally dedicated and talented doctors.

  At nightfall, the investigators returned to headquarters for a briefing. They placed their interviews in front of Luo in a massive pile. But when it came time to speak, they hung their heads—none had come up with significant leads.

  What was more, the situation appeared to have gotten even worse. By 4:00 p.m., another four schizophrenia cases had been reported, which raised the specter of a real epidemic. Numerous residents had also reported experiencing a strange feeling of terror, though not enough to trigger a total breakdown.

  This made Luo recall Xu Ting and what she’d experienced in the classroom. No one was able to articulate what they were scared of, but they all described being utterly choked with fear.

  Luo leaned forward over the table, resting his chin in his right hand. He’d sift through the interviews later. As chief, his most important task right now was to point the team in a clear direction. They had to stop this thing before it became one of the biggest catastrophes in Longzhou’s history.

  Everyone was hushed, looking at Luo expectantly.

  Just then, the conference room door was gently pushed open, and Luo’s secretary, Zhang Chenglin, entered.

  “Chief Inspector Luo, there’s a phone call for you.”

  “What is it about? I’m in the middle of a meeting.” Luo furrowed his brow a little.

  “It’s a long-distance call from Yunnan. Someone saw the story online and has a tip.”

  “Yunnan?” That was a long way away from Longzhou. Why would anyone there have a tip? Luo jumped up, walked briskly to his office, and grabbed the receiver waiting on top of his desk.

  “Hello, Luo speaking.”

  “Hello, my name is Xu Xiaowen.” Contrary to what Luo had expected, the voice on the other end of the line was warm, kind, and apparently that of a young woman.

  “You’re calling from Yunnan?”

  “That’s right. I read about what happened in Longzhou. Did that—did that really happen?”

  Luo was silent.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not some weirdo or nosy journalist.”

  That made Luo chuckle a little, and he told her frankly: “The article contains exaggerations, of course. But those are indeed the basic facts.”

  “So it really did happen. I can’t believe it,” she said with such wonderment that Luo could practically see the excitement on her face.

  “What? You knew this would happen?”

  After a long silence, Xu Xiaowen replied in a voice that suggested she was trying her best to stay calm. “What I’m about to tell you is something that happened to me six months ago. It may sound preposterous, but I swear to God, every single word of it is true. Do you trust me?”

  Although they had never met, Luo sensed her sincerity. “Go ahead, I trust you.”

  “I’m an Ethnic Minority Languages major at Yunnan University, and my main focus is the colloquial language used in dialects indigenous to the Yunnan area. About six months ago, I received a phone call from a mental institution asking for my assistance—”

  “A mental institution?” Luo asked.

  “That’s right. The institution had taken in a very strange patient, and as for his condition . . . I think you might be able to guess.”

  “Paranoid schizophrenia?”

  Xu Xiaowen gave an affirmative grunt. “When the staff was trying to treat him, they ran into a problem: The patient’s speech was completely incomprehensible. Because he kept repeating the same phrases over and over, they suspected it wasn’t just babbling, but actually speaking some kind of minority dialect.”

  “So they brought you in to interpret.”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you understand what he was saying?” Luo asked with bated breath.

  “He said that now, in August, an evil spirit from the Valley of Terror would descend upon Longzhou.”

  Each of Xu Xiaowen’s words sent icy fear through Luo’s veins.

  Following his conversation with Xu Xiaowen, Luo told his secretary to adjourn the briefing and headed to the morgue, where he knew Professor Zhou had gone to work alongside Zhang Yu.

  By the time he arrived, it was dark outside.

  “Wow, it’s freezing in here. How do you stand it?” Luo exhaled deeply and crossed his bare arms, rubbing them for warmth.

  Dressed in a long white lab coat, Zhang Yu came over to greet him. Then he silently gestured in the direction of the autopsy table.

  Professor Zhou stood at the head of the table, hunched over the naked corpse of Yu Ziqiang. The professor’s eyes were bright, and he didn’t so much as look up.

  Luo took a delicate step forward and realized that Yu Ziqiang’s head had been completely shaved and his skull had been opened up. Professor Zhou held a small flashlight in his left hand, and in his right was a long metal instrument that probed the brain of the deceased.

  Luo watched in amazement.

  After a few more moments, Professor Zhou set down his flashlight, heaved a deep sigh of relief, and turned to Luo.

  “Hello, Chief Inspector Luo.”

  Luo noticed a ring of sweat along the man’s brow.

  “I thought doctors were only interested in living patients,” Luo teased. “I had no idea that you studied corpses as well.”

  “Your perspective is biased.” Professor Zhou shook his head. “Treating patients is only one part of our job. In my view, preventing the outbreak of illness is actually more important.”

  “That’s right!” Luo felt as if he’d discovered a kindred soul. “That’s something that doctors and police have in common. Law enforcement isn’t only about chasing criminals. What’s more important is preventing crimes in the first place.”

  Professor Zhou gave him a knowing smile. “That’s why I’m here. We can’t let this horrific epidemic spread further. In order to prevent an outbreak, we need to conduct pathological research. And from that standpoint, corpses are more valuable than patients, since the bodies of the dead contain all kinds of vital clues. My objective is to analyze the brain of the deceased for any abnormalities that might be linked to the cause of death.”

  Luo frowned as he processed this, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Professor, but this brain stuff is new to me. Maybe you could explain how someone could possibly be so scared that they could run themselves to death or drown in a toilet or suffer a psychotic break? I’m dying to learn more about all this.”

  “Oh really?” Professor Zhou murmured, rubbing his palms. “Very well, then. Let me give you a quick primer.

  “Fear begins with an external stimulus and concludes with a strong physiological response,”
Professor Zhou began. “This response can include shallow breathing, rapid heartbeats, and clenched muscles. External stimuli can likewise take a variety of forms. Everything from a spider gliding down from the ceiling to the feel of a knife against your throat can cause the sensation of threat.”

  Professor Zhou walked over to the corpse and pointed to the opening in the skull. “Fear is controlled by an almond-shaped part of the cerebrum known as the amygdala. When the situation is sufficiently threatening, the amygdala sends impulses to the hypothalamus, which then triggers distress signals that initiate autonomic responses to fear throughout the body. The severity of those responses depends on how great the amygdala perceives the threat to be.”

  “So it’s the responses that can kill you?”

  “Yes, possibly by sending out so much adrenaline that it sets off a process in which the heart muscle contracts and goes into abnormal rhythms, resulting in sudden cardiac arrest. Or, in this case, by causing our victims to engage in behaviors that kill them. The thing is, there doesn’t have to be a real threat for the amygdala to send out those signals—just the chemicals telling it there’s a threat.”

  “I get it!” Luo clapped. “So the fear response could have been stimulated by a hallucination—or even a foreign chemical!”

  “The devil’s foot!” Zhang Yu cried. “Like the Sherlock Holmes story.”

  “Correct. Hallucinations would be perceived as a real threat, and if there were foreign chemicals in this man’s brain, they might well have provoked extreme fear.”

  “So,” Luo said, stroking his chin, “if chemicals stimulate the fear response, do chemicals also stop it?”

  Professor Zhou’s eyes shone with admiration. “You astonish me, Chief Inspector Luo. Every one of your questions is on point. Yes. The human brain can secrete a hormone called oxytocin that can control the amygdala’s activity in response to fear.”

  “So you could administer oxytocin to mitigate a person’s experience of fear, correct?” This time, it was Zhang Yu’s turn to demonstrate his wit.

  “Theoretically, but synthetic oxytocin isn’t on the market yet. As luck would have it, I’ve spent the past two years working on precisely that. And this is what I’ve come up with.” Professor Zhou reached into the pocket of his lab coat and removed a tiny medicine bottle of powder.

  “If you have a treatment, why haven’t you helped the patients?” Luo asked. “The terror in their eyes—I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Because it’s only been successful in the laboratory. We know it can be used to control fear, but it’s still unclear what the side effects might be. Before a treatment like this can be put into use, it must undergo years of testing. Just another way in which our jobs are similar, Chief Inspector Luo! Sometimes the police know who the culprit is, but they don’t have enough evidence, so they can’t do anything about it. It’s the same kind of frustration.”

  Luo laughed, delighted by how well they understood one another.

  “Modern medicine is really a marvel,” Zhang Yu gushed. “These cases seemed impossible, and yet Professor Zhou has a solution—just like that!”

  “Actually, I’m afraid the cases might be more complicated than brain chemistry.” Luo adopted a more solemn tone. “This afternoon I received a phone call, the contents of which are sure to confound you.”

  “What kind of phone call?” Zhang Yu asked, wide-eyed.

  But Professor Zhou was unsurprised. “You mean the call from Yunnan?”

  “Wait, she called you, too?” Luo asked. “So you already know about the prophecy?”

  Professor Zhou nodded.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  Luo was certain the scholarly, traveled doctor would think the woman’s claims preposterous, more than likely a complete fabrication. His answer took Luo by surprise.

  “I’ve already booked a plane ticket. I’m flying to Yunnan tomorrow.”

  Chapter 4

  THE FIRST PATIENT

  Kunming Changshui International Airport in Yunnan Province

  Though it was still summer, the air in Kunming was pleasantly cool and refreshing. Luo took a few deep breaths to shake off grogginess from the long flight. His nerves, which had been tense for the past two days, finally relaxed.

  Professor Zhou led the way, his shoulders and chin held high, clearly accustomed to a jet-setting lifestyle.

  At the exit, other travelers fixed their stares on them, wondering at the men’s distinguished air.

  “Are you Professor Zhou?” An elderly man squeezed out of the crowd and extended his hand. Despite the fact that he was many years Zhou’s senior, his tone and demeanor conveyed enormous respect. He was obviously aware that he was in the presence of one of the nation’s foremost psychiatry experts.

  Professor Zhou politely shook hands. “You must be Dr. Liu.”

  Luo stood behind Professor Zhou, taking no interest in the formalities. A young woman accompanying the elderly gentleman had caught his eye.

  In her T-shirt and jeans, she looked like a typical college student. Slight and energetic, she had jet-black hair that fell past her shoulders, and she came across as quiet and good-natured.

  Seeing Luo sizing her up, she smiled, flashing straight, perfectly white teeth. “You must be Chief Inspector Luo. I didn’t expect you’d be able to get here so soon.”

  “Hello. You must be Xu Xiaowen.”

  “You’re the one who called?” Professor Zhou turned to face the young woman. He frowned. “The scenario you described is difficult to believe.”

  “I can attest that it really did happen.” The elderly doctor answered in her stead. “Six months ago, when I invited Xu Xiaowen to the Kunming Behavioral Health Center, she interpreted our patient’s dialect. Of course, we assumed it was a fantasy born of the patient’s mental illness. But then we read the news from Longzhou yesterday. Professor Zhou, Chief Inspector Luo, with your combined expertise in psychiatry and solving mysteries, I hope the two of you can get to the bottom of this.”

  Luo and Professor Zhou exchanged a look, and they knew they were thinking the same thing. “Take us to the site and let’s see what we can do.”

  The mental institution was about forty minutes away. On the drive over, Dr. Liu told them more about the strange patient.

  “We still haven’t been able to determine his identity. In January, a local TV crew was shooting in the forest near the border, and every day this man would appear and steal their food. At first, the crew thought they’d encountered a wild savage like in old legends. But, after a few days, they captured him and discovered he knew how to operate modern devices. What no one could understand was why he seemed to be gripped by tremendous fear. So the crew brought him back to Kunming and sent him to us. But without knowing what caused his condition, it was difficult for us to administer an appropriate treatment. He seemed to understand when we spoke, but he’d only reply in his strange dialect. We wondered if what he was saying might contain meaningful information about the period before this condition emerged.”

  “That’s right.” Professor Zhou nodded. “And that information would likely point to the cause of the condition.”

  “Exactly. So we brought Xu Xiaowen in to interpret, and now, the implications of what he said have created an even bigger mystery!” Dr. Liu threw his hands in the air.

  “Well, Chief Inspector Luo and Professor Zhou are here now, so I’m sure that the case will be solved soon enough.” Though Xu Xiaowen said both of their names, she had eyes only for Luo.

  Luo flushed slightly and let out an awkward, self-deprecating laugh. “Your expectations may be a little high. At this point, I haven’t the slightest clue.”

  “I know you can do it.” Warmth flashed in Xu Xiaowen’s eyes. “I can tell.”

  Luo blushed. At that moment, the car pulled up to the mental institution, cutting off the conversation.

  Because the patient’s condition was so unstable, the institution had placed him in a small, remote bui
lding designed for severely ill and dangerous patients. It hadn’t been renovated in ages, and the atmosphere inside was oppressive.

  They filed up the stairs to the second floor and headed toward the small room at the end of the corridor. Recalling the petrifying events of six months earlier, Xu Xiaowen felt a chill down her spine. Scrunching her neck, she edged closer to Luo.

  Dr. Liu stopped at the wooden door and inserted the key into the lock, gently turning it . . .

  From behind the door came a bloodcurdling scream. Xu Xiaowen’s breathing quickened, Luo’s brows furrowed, and Professor Zhou’s eyes darted sideways. Only Dr. Liu behaved as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  Dr. Liu pulled open the wooden door and switched on the light inside. The patient was huddled in a corner, his entire body shaking.

  “Now, now. Don’t be afraid. We’re not here to hurt you,” Dr. Liu said gently.

  The patient stopped screaming and shakily lifted his head to reveal his face.

  He was a wide-eyed young man with bushy brows. Though his face was stubbled, he didn’t look very old—perhaps not even thirty. His face was thin and angular. With some grooming, he would probably be rather handsome. But at that moment, he wasn’t the least bit charming, because he was a mess, and because there was something terrible in his gaze. It was as if all of mankind’s ugliest emotions—fear, despair, anger, hatred, and more—had coalesced into a spine-chilling stare.

  Glowering at the four visitors outside the door, the young man slowly stood up and unleashed a string of incomprehensible words.

  Luo flinched and looked away. There was one word he understood very clearly.

  Longzhou.

  “It’s the same as before,” Xu Xiaowen breathed. “‘In August, demons from the Valley of Terror will descend on Longzhou.’”

  “Have you asked him what kind of demons?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  Xu Xiaowen looked at the young man. Switching languages, she asked, “What kind of demons?”

  The patient stepped forward. Then, with his eyes rigidly fixed on Xu Xiaowen’s face, he started toward the door.