American Zombie Detective

Qin Jin shook off the grime from the blade, sheathed it, and Alessa also put down her gun, her face expressionless, as if she had just completed a routine target practice.

Gleason slumped in the cold mud, soaked to the bone, his face a mixture of blood and rain.

Watching Qin Jin and Alessa so easily defeat the terrifying monster that had cornered him, his fear subsided, and an indescribable rage welled up inside him—

He abruptly raised his head, pointed at Qin Jin, his voice sharp and distorted with extreme emotion:

"Qin Jin! You cold-blooded monster! You devil! You were here all along! You were clearly capable! You watched James being dragged away! You watched those people being killed one by one! You bastard! Executioner! Director Simone sent me to bring you back to save lives! Is this how you treat your colleagues?! James, he..."

"Gleason".

Qin Jin interrupted his roar, his voice calm and even slightly amusement.

He slowly turned around, raindrops sliding down his angular face, a broad smile on his face:

"Before you accused me, did you even consider this question?" Qin Jin's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly drowned out the sound of the rain.

"Why were we able to kill that monster that killed so many people so easily?"

Gleeson was caught off guard by the question, and an angry roar got stuck in his throat.

Qin Jin didn't wait for his reply, and continued in that chillingly calm tone:

"There's one more thing. Just now, when you were about to pounce on me, why did that monster pause?"

Gleason's pupils contracted sharply, and an even more ominous premonition instantly gripped him:

"What...what do you want to say?"

"I said, even a monster can see I'm scarier than him, so why do you... dare to court death?"

Qin Jin took a step forward, his smile widening:

"I was just thinking about how to find an excuse to kill you, and then you delivered yourself right to my door..."

Gleason only saw a pair of small hands reach out and grab his neck, so fast that he had no time to react!

Click!

Alessa beat Qin Jin to it and crushed Gleason's throat and cervical spine!

Gleason's body swayed violently, his mouth agape but unable to inhale a single breath. His expression froze, his eyes bulged, and his distorted face turned crimson with pain and suffocation, then became congested with blood...

Gleason swayed, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and collapsed limply into the cold mud!

The last thing he heard was a vague praise:

"That was good this time. No guns or grenades used. Great! Alessa, you've matured..."

Then came nothingness and darkness!

After praising Alessa's composure, Qin Jin went to his car, took out the bag containing the gold jewelry, and led Alessa into the motel, casually remarking as he did so:

"Don't waste these stolen goods. Put them in waterproof bags, bury them in a place with distinctive features, and after a hundred or eighty years, you can take them out and use them."

Alessa blinked her grey-blue eyes and nodded without objection. She understood this long-term investment approach; they had plenty of time to wait.

Upon arriving at the front desk, they went directly into the room behind the counter, which should have been the elderly couple's residence.

The room was quite large, with a toilet, dining room, living room, and two bedrooms. However, some bloodstains remained. Although the floor had been wiped, there were still traces of blood in the corners and on the chair legs.

It must be the blood of an elderly couple.

Qin Jin glanced around; the bedroom was filthy, probably the work of the tall, thin man and the giant butcher. There was no suitable container, and just as he was about to grab a plastic bag, Alessa pointed to the cabinet in the corner:

"Qin! There's wind and smell behind us."

Qin Jin went over and opened the cabinet. On the dusty floor, there was a square wooden hidden door!

The gaps along the edge of the hidden door were very well concealed, clearly indicating that no one had touched it.

"Creak—"

The heavy, hidden door was lifted, revealing a narrow, steep wooden staircase leading to a deep basement, where a strong smell of dust and dampness assaulted the senses.

Without the slightest hesitation, Qin Jin and Alessa went down the wooden ladder.

The sight before him made Qin Jin raise his eyebrows slightly.

Dozens of travel bags and suitcases of different sizes and styles were piled up against the wall in the basement; some were bulging, while others were already shrunken.

Clothes were scattered on the shelves in the corner, most of them covered with a thick layer of dust, and they came in various styles, ranging from cheap synthetic fibers to decent-looking leather jackets.

The table was piled with a jumble of odds and ends: cameras, cell phones, digital products, trinkets...

The most eye-catching thing is the desk in the corner, on which sits a thick leather notebook with severely worn edges, indicating that it has been around for many years.

Picking up the notebook and flipping through it casually, I saw the elderly couple's diary written on the yellowed pages. They were clearly not as simple as they seemed.

The contents of the record unfolded before Qin Jin and Alessa like a dark scroll:

Date: Year, Month, Day:

...This lost salesman is too poor! There's no profit to be made! But old Martha said his gaze made her uncomfortable, oh well, might as well deal with him...

Elliott killed a puppy today, but his method was very clumsy; he actually poked its eyes out first. This needs to be corrected. Next time, he should go straight for the throat. If he's going to play, he should wait until the puppy is dead before he plays with it...

Date: Year, Month, Day:

...Tourists are still the best prey! Lots of cash, lots of stuff, enough for us! Elliott had a really good eye when he watched us clean up, no wonder he's our kid...

Date: Year, Month, Day:

Old Martha was too hasty! How old is Elliott? She sent him to do it! Those two girls almost got away. But Old Martha has admitted her mistake and decided to let Elliott practice more so he won't act rashly again…

Date: Year, Month, Day:

Elliott lost his temper again today, making a complete mess! We need to be careful; this kid is getting increasingly violent, and he seems to really like the iron hooks he's gotten his hands on. Why doesn't he like using guns? I just don't get it…

Date: Year, Month, Day:

Elliott is dead! That idiot! How could he fall off a cliff? Old Martha fainted from crying, and I'm heartbroken too...

...We buried Elliott near the cornfield, close to the hotel. We dug our own graves next to Elliott's too... Maybe soon we'll be able to join him... This damn world...

The diary ends abruptly here. It seems that after their son's death, the couple also lost the habit of writing a diary.

The truth is already very clear:

The hotel's owners were a pair of serial killers, and their son was the same, inheriting his parents' murderous and twisted nature, even surpassing them in this regard. He was obsessed with torture and murder, and ended up falling to his death and being buried in a cornfield.

This kind of evil being was born with a powerful resentment, and the tragic death of the old couple made its resentment, which it was unwilling to leave, even stronger, until it finally exploded and twisted into that sack-headed scarecrow, guarding this evil land.

"Heh," Qin Jin closed the diary, letting out a soft, ambiguous chuckle, "They died a worthy death! None of them were good people!"

Qin Jin casually picked out a bag of a suitable size from the bag, and led Alessa out of the basement, gesturing for her to drag Gleason's body inside.

After stuffing the gold jewelry into his bag, Qin Jin found gasoline in the back and poured it everywhere, including the hotel room, the restaurant, the basement, and the elderly couple's bedroom...

Then, light a fire.

Although the rain is heavy, once everything inside is burned away, nothing can be found. Furthermore, the rain will wash away all traces.

"I'm gone."

They left the hotel; the cold rain continued. Qin Jin ultimately went to collect blood samples from Tong Zhenjiang and Tong Jizong as evidence.

By all accounts, we should have killed at least half of them, right?

Qin Jin started the Dodge Ram, the engine roaring low, the headlights piercing the rain and illuminating the muddy road ahead.

The tires rolled over the mud and water, leaving two fleeting tracks.

The Dodge Ram drove steadfastly northeast along the slippery county road, toward the lights of Chicago.