The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

In the suburbs of Emerald City after the rain, the air was still filled with the earthy smell and the dampness unique to the city. Occasionally, a breeze would blow by, bringing with it the faint salty smell of the distant harbor.

Lin Zheng rode his old motorcycle, the engine emitting a weary roar, the tires rolling over the puddles and leaving muddy tracks.

He couldn't tell whether the droplets on his face were rain or tears.

The exhaustion from last night weighed heavily on him, but he had to go; it was a promise he made to Sam and to old Mrs. Martha.

The motorcycle stopped in front of a dilapidated house on the edge of the slum, the corrugated iron roof rattling in the wind.

He raised his hand and tapped lightly, three long taps and two short ones.

This was the secret code he had agreed upon with old lady Martha, because debt collectors had already come to harass them.

The door was pulled open a crack, making a piercing creaking sound.

The woman, who was once quite healthy, now looked haggard, with fine lines around her eyes and her hair was much whiter than she remembered.

She wore a pair of yellowed reading glasses, and through the lenses, her eyes, which looked empty and lifeless from excessive grief, lingered on Lin Zheng.

"Lin?" Her voice was hoarse, still tinged with sobs.

"Auntie," Lin Zheng replied softly.

He tried his best to suppress his trembling.

He handed over an envelope, the reward he had earned from staying up all night "building Gundams," all he could offer at that moment.

She didn't take it immediately, but just stared at him blankly.

Those cloudy eyes slowly filled with tears, but not a single drop rolled down; even the tears had dried up.

Lin Zheng tried to offer her a false sense of comfort in the calmest tone, even though he knew it sounded utterly weak and ineffective.

"Auntie, Sam...he would want you to be well," he said.

The woman's withered hands trembled as she accepted the envelope.

She didn't open it, but just gripped it tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force. It wasn't just a sum of money; it was the last vestige of dignity she could hold onto for her son.

Her tears finally found an outlet, bursting from her eyes and silently sliding down her wrinkled cheeks, soaking her old collar.

She didn't make a sound, she just cried silently.

This is a grief more heartbreaking than wailing.

After a long while, Grandma Martha gradually stopped crying.

She raised her weathered eyes, tears blurring her vision, yet she still held Lin Zheng's hand tightly.

"May you be safe, my dear child... Don't be like your friend; sometimes ignoring things might allow him to survive."

He nodded without answering, but simply squeezed those withered hands tightly, feeling the warmth from their fingertips.

After leaving Mrs. Martha's house, Lin Zheng got back on his motorcycle, the roar of the engine masking his inner turmoil.

Grandma Martha's words rang in his ears like a warning bell.

Getting away might be the only way to survive.

But the piece of Sam's finger bone evidence in his pocket, and the horror Sam saw in his eyes before he died, kept reminding him—

Once you see something, you can no longer ignore it.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the damp air fill his chest, carrying the smell of earth and decay.

Escaping will only allow those silent, wronged souls to continue to sink into despair.

He suddenly opened his eyes and stepped on the gas.

The motorcycle roared out of the slums and sped toward the black market, a place rife with chaos and crime.

After passing through several narrow and dirty alleys, Lin Zheng arrived at a black market bar hidden deep in the slums.

There was no sign, only a heavy iron gate and two staggering drunkards outside. The air was thick with the stench of cheap alcohol, tobacco, and some unknown sour smell, creating a nauseating, sticky atmosphere.

Push open the door.

Only a few dim light bulbs flickered on. Lin Zheng looked up and saw the sallow-faced patient struggling to breathe as he lay dying.

"call--"

Noisy voices, vulgar curses, and distorted music from a cheap record player.

He walked through the swaying crowd and headed straight for a booth in the far corner of the bar.

"Little Bones" Jones was lounging lazily on a worn-out sofa, his yellow teeth gleaming in the dim light, and amber liquid swirling in the glass in front of him.

Jones jumped to his feet when he saw Lin Zheng arrive.

Those cunning eyes sized up Lin Zheng through the smoke, a smile playing on their lips.

"Lin, I knew you would come looking for me one day."

Jones's voice was hoarse, with a hint of mockery.

"Tell me, why didn't you want to play with the dead in the cold storage today, but instead came here to have fun with the living?"

"If I were toying with the living and finding pleasure in the dead, would you be afraid?"

Jones covered his buttocks upon hearing this, but then realized what he meant and chuckled.

Lin Zheng sat down opposite him, took out a sealed bag from his pocket, and pushed it in front of Jones.

Inside the transparent sealed bag, a "Gundam" organ that had undergone preliminary processing lay quietly.

Its shape is twisted and bizarre, and its surface is covered with blood vessels and nerves. Even after it has left the body, it still emits a faint biological activity and continues to pulsate rhythmically.

This is what he "pieced together" in the cold storage last night to raise money for Mrs. Martha. The extra parts are his only bargaining chip for exchanging information.

When Jones saw the "Gundam" organ, a glint of greed flashed in his eyes. He picked up the sealed bag and weighed it in his hand.

"Lin, this stuff is really substantial." He grinned, a smile tinged with satisfaction.

"It's fresh, do you want to eat it while it's hot?" Lin Zheng joked with Jones to ease his tension.

"I will, Lin, after you've asked what you want to ask. Whatever you want to know, remember, some things are too hot to handle if you know too much."

Lin Zheng took another piece of evidence out of his pocket.

He carefully placed "Sam's finger bone evidence" on the table and pushed it in front of Jones.

Do you recognize this symbol?

Lin Zheng asked directly.

Jones picked up the finger bone and ran his fingertip along the tiny, ancient engravings on the bone fragment.

The snake, its head and tail joined together, devouring its own tail, looked exceptionally sinister in the dim light.

The nonchalance at the corner of his mouth quickly faded, replaced by an unprecedented solemnity and a hint of barely perceptible fear.

"This...this ouroboros..."

Jones's voice became low and hoarse.

"Hey, Doctor, this isn't a good thing. It's older and more complex than you think. There are some things you'd better not touch, or you'll be devoured alive."

He abruptly put down the finger bone and leaned back slightly.

Lin Zheng keenly caught the fleeting fear in Jones's eyes, which made him even more certain that this thing was far beyond the control of street thugs like the "Viper Gang".

"I know the Viper Gang is using it, and I want to find out some things."

Lin Zheng's voice carried an undeniable firmness.

"What's behind this."

Jones fell silent. He picked up his glass, downed it in one gulp, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he suppressed some discomfort.

"Back then, there was an old detective named Arthur Morgan who accidentally touched this thing, and as a result... everything he owned was shattered into pieces."

Jones avoided Lin Zheng's gaze, lowering his voice to an even lower level, almost drowning out the noise of the bar.

"Before he went mad and became an alcoholic, he always said that there was an old snake in the city, coiled in all the shadows, devouring everything."

He gave a mocking laugh, but his laughter was visibly trembling.

"The police file says he abused his power, framed others, and was eventually kicked out of the police force, ruining his reputation."

"But I know he saw something he shouldn't have seen, otherwise, given that old guy's tough bones, he would never have admitted defeat so easily."

Jones slammed his glass down on the table.

He gave Lin Zheng a deep look, his eyes filled with a complex mix of warning and a strange expectation.

"He opened a firm in Drunken Alley and is probably still just coasting along there. Maybe he'll give you a different answer."

As Jones spoke, he grabbed the 'Gundam' organ from the table, and a gray shadow quickly disappeared from Lin Zheng's sight.

Lin Zheng sat there, clutching the "Sam's finger bone evidence" tightly in his hand.

The name "Arthur Morgan" kept echoing in my mind.

Perhaps the truth can be found by finding a drunkard who was bitten by the same "snake".