Chapter 4 Finding a Post-Apocalyptic Girl 4
From the moment I came into contact with a real gun, I knew very well that I might have to deal with official forces in the future, and I secretly hoped for this development.
Unexpectedly, the police arrived so quickly, and even more unbelievably, the reality unfolded so similarly to the previous nightmare.
Is it true that the girl is a serial killer?
Fear and excitement pounded violently in my chest at the same time.
Perhaps my control over my facial muscles had loosened a bit, because the policeman in front of me raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's wrong? Do you recognize this face?"
"It's nothing, I just feel..."
"feel?"
"Such a young girl... how could she be a serial killer?" I transferred the disbelief I felt earlier to my current tone.
“Oh, you mean this…” He nodded in deep agreement. “Someone asked this before. Actually, she found a handgun somewhere. Teenage girls are prone to extreme thoughts and sometimes don’t value their own or other people’s lives. They also harbor resentment towards adults and society, and then they happen to get their hands on a real gun, making them prone to accidental discharge, both psychologically and physically.”
"Could she also be classified as a murderer?" I asked probingly.
“If the situation is particularly serious, yes… You can check it online yourself later.” He didn’t seem to intend to say anything more about the extended topic, and asked again, “So, have you seen her or not? Do you remember this face? She has appeared in this area and poses a serious threat to the lives of the surrounding residents. Every minute earlier she is caught is a good thing. There will also be a cash reward for actively reporting her.”
I'm well aware that there are rewards for reporting crimes, but covering them up carries serious criminal consequences. While it might not be life imprisonment as my nightmare described, it will definitely bleak my future.
Last night, during the first half of my journey carrying the girl, I consciously avoided pedestrians and street surveillance cameras. For the second half, I moved her inside a large suitcase. Logically, this shouldn't have been so easily exposed. However, the problem is that I'm not a dangerous individual actively preparing for crime, so I can't definitively say I avoided all the surveillance cameras. Who knows, there might be other cameras lurking in some blind spot that I haven't noticed? The possibility of being caught by the authorities objectively exists.
The policeman in front of me may have already obtained incriminating evidence against me, and this is my last chance to confess. I'd better admit that I was confused for a moment before it's too late to turn back and quickly give up on that hot potato girl.
But after encountering such an extraordinary event and getting to this point, am I really going to end this mysterious encounter so abruptly, just as a concerned bystander? I haven't even heard a single story yet!
There are still several puzzling questions surrounding that girl, and the explanation of her being "a rebellious teenage girl who somehow found a real gun" is far from satisfying. If I let her go, I fear I will forever lose the right to continue participating in this bizarre incident.
I cannot hand over that child yet, not until I am satisfied.
When questioned by the police, I first pretended to recall before answering, "I don't think I've seen it before."
"Okay... I'm sorry to have taken up your time." The police officer didn't show any surprise or disappointment. He simply took the photo back and skillfully closed the door for me. "If you see her later, remember to call the police immediately."
"I see."
I responded in a normal tone, closed the door, and then eavesdropped on the sounds outside.
The policeman's footsteps moved to the house next door, and the knocking started again. It seemed he was going to his neighbors to continue asking for eyewitness accounts; he probably planned to visit each house one by one.
I seem to have heard somewhere before that in modern times, more than 90% of the cases that are solved are actually solved through this kind of simple and unpretentious field investigation and reviewing surveillance footage.
Just in case, I didn't immediately go back to the bedroom to talk to the girl. Instead, I picked up my phone next to the sofa and returned to the entrance hall. While silently eavesdropping on the police's movements outside the door, I took out my phone to check the recent serial killer cases in my city—Saltwater City.
Upon investigation, it was indeed found.
In the past two or three months, five gruesome bodies have been discovered in the city of Hampshire. The deceased were all officials and wealthy people with high social status.
Media coverage appears to have been somewhat censored; the news reports I could find didn't detail their causes of death, nor did they include photos or specific descriptions of the "horrific deaths." All I know is that authorities collected fibers and skin tissue that didn't belong to the victims from under their fingernails, presumably obtained by the victims from scratching the killer's clothing and body during their final struggles. It can be confirmed that the perpetrator in all five cases was the same person.
The true identity of the murderer has not yet been discovered, and the upper class is filled with fear, lest they become the next corpse.
I vaguely remember this news. When I saw it last month, I even thought about whether I should join in the investigation. However, I was focused on investigating other ghost stories and urban legends at the time, so I didn't pay much attention to this bizarre local serial murder case.
I initially thought it was just another twisted serial killer driven by resentment towards the wealthy, and that he would soon be apprehended by the powerful authorities. But so much time has passed, and the case remains completely unsolved.
Is that mysterious girl the murderer in this case?
I feel something's not right. If the victims were shot, it shouldn't be described as "a gruesome death."
Of course, if all five bodies were found with their heads blown off by a handgun, that would be a different story. But in that case, would there really be room for the victims to scratch at the killer in their dying struggles, and more than once? Ultimately, given the range of a handgun, it's not very realistic for the victims to have close contact with the killer.
However… we can’t be so sure. Maybe the girl’s marksmanship is terrible, and she can only hit the victim if the victim is within her reach; or maybe the girl used her fists and feet to commit the crime, just like she used joint locks on me before.
Moreover, the police officer had indeed accused the girl of being the murderer, and although the girl dressed like a victim, she herself had not suffered any harm.
If she really is the murderer, then what I'm doing now...
No, let's stop here. There are still too few clues. It would be too hasty to draw conclusions now.
Why not just ask her directly and see how she reacts?
-
After the police outside finished their rounds on this floor, I turned around, took out the pistol I had hidden behind the sofa, unlocked the safety, and then went to the bedroom and pushed the door open.
The girl was sitting cross-legged on the bed, arms crossed, seemingly lost in thought, completely oblivious to her scantily clad state.
She seemed to have stayed in the same spot the whole time, but I noticed subtle signs that the room had been disturbed. It looked like she had discreetly investigated the bedroom while I was talking to the police, trying to find out more about me.
Hearing the door open, she immediately snapped her head up, quickly glanced behind me, and then looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"Why are you hiding me?" She frowned deeply, her tone revealing strong suspicion. "You heard it yourself, didn't you? I'm a vicious serial killer. Since you're just an ordinary citizen, shouldn't you have reported me?"
"So are you a murderer?" I asked her in return.
"I'm not." She initially denied it firmly, then paused, becoming uncertain herself. "...I'm not?"
"Whether it is or not, I hope you can give a definite answer."
"Yes and no." Her wording was still imprecise this time, but her tone was certain. "At least, I have never killed anyone in this era."
"That's incomprehensible," I said. "Are you trying to say you're from the future?"
“Answer my initial question first.” Her tone hardened, attempting to regain control of the conversation. “Why did you hide me?”
I had no intention of arguing with her or fighting for control, and I had already prepared my response, ready to reply fluently: "Because you are not the murderer."
"What makes you say that?" she asked suspiciously.
“None of those victims died from gunshot wounds.” I tossed her my phone, which was displaying a webpage, and continued, “Besides, I don’t think the perpetrator in this case would be like the victims, lying in the ruins covered in blood in the middle of the night.”
This is a lie. Although I haven't seen any direct evidence to prove she's the murderer, I've already mentally prepared myself for the possibility that she is, and even to some extent, prepared to deal with her secretly.
She pressed on relentlessly: "Even if you don't believe I'm the murderer, there's no reason to hide me. Whether I'm the murderer or not, it's a fact that I possessed firearms and ammunition in violation of the laws of this era. Telling the police about my situation is what you should do."
"Didn't I tell you before that you told me not to call the police?" As I spoke, I slowly walked to the desk, placed the pistol on the table, and then turned to face her. "I don't know what your secret is, but since it's all about guns and ammunition, it means your secret is life-threatening."
"To me, you're just a ragged girl lying in the night. Is it really that strange that I want to stand up for you?"
I don't know if it was because my carefully prepared "line" was too forceful, but she retreated to the corner of the bed as if she had been burned, then swallowed hard and asked in disbelief, "Just... just because of this little reason?"
Since things have come to this, I'll grit my teeth and play this role to the very end.
"Isn't that enough?"
"How could this be? Could people in this era really be like this..." She unexpectedly wavered.
I originally thought I would need to use more persuasion, but to my surprise, she seemed to believe me right away.
But what exactly does she mean by "this era" and "that era"? Does she have some kind of adolescent delusions? Or does she really have some hidden story that I can't even imagine?
Just as I was about to express my confusion again, she calmed herself down first, looked at me for a while, and then relaxed her guard a little before introducing herself: "My name is Ma Zao, Ma as in sesame and Zao as in breakfast. What's your name?"
“I am Zhuang Cheng, Zhuang as in solemnity, Cheng as in success,” I replied.
Asaha seemed to have made an important decision in her mind.
She straightened her posture, sat upright on the bed, and placed her hands on her knees.
“Alright, Zhuang Cheng… Next, I’m going to reveal my true identity and background. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I hope you can listen to me first.”
Is she finally going to confess?
Is this too fast? Is she going to tell me the truth, or is she going to lie to me?
Full of anticipation, I nodded and said, "Go ahead and tell me."
“Just as you said before, I don’t belong to this era. I’m someone who traveled from the future to the present.” Her words were earth-shattering. “And in the future, human civilization has been destroyed, and the world has entered an apocalyptic era.”
(End of this chapter)
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com