Chapter 62

Mo Yi reached out and pressed his backpack. There was a rustle of paper in the nylon cloth under his palm.

He looked out of the window. In the dark sky, the countdown of blue light was slowly changing the last number, calculating the passing time one second orderly.

A new hour begins.

According to the speed of the monster, it may be downstairs now.

Mo Yi unconsciously suffered from his fingers. His cold and sweaty touch seemed to stay in his palm, as if the thrilling scene had not ended.

He took a deep breath, took a few steps towards the window, and set his flashlight on the dusty windowsill.

Under the illumination of the flashlight's cold halo, the tiny skeleton hanging in the air flashed with a cold halo. The goat skull hanging by the wall was staring at him with empty dark eyes, which looked very strange.

Mo Yi takes a deep breath, staggers his sight, and then reaches out to open his backpack.

Now that we have passed the dangerous period, the attic is relatively safe here.

In such a difficult copy, this kind of opportunity is rare, but we should take good advantage of it.

He took out the stack of paper that had been crammed into his backpack. The yellow paper was wrinkled by Mo Yigang's rude action, and its edge was rolled up. It looked pathetic.

Mo Yi carefully smoothes the creases on the paper and looks at it with the light of the flashlight.

It's a stack of writing paper.

It was simply fixed in one corner, which did not scatter.

It seems to have the same texture as the folded letter paper hidden in the music box.

However, it is different from the crooked and slightly crazy handwriting on the paper. The rough yellowing paper is quite clean, and there is no other stain except the dust on it. It is written in beautiful English, feminine ink, rational and exquisite handwriting. From the choice of words and sentences, we can see that it has been well educated.

Every letter was addressed to a man named Esther, but it never seemed to have been sent, signed or dated.

Mo Yi read the above text:

"Erica has a fever today. It seems that she has caught a cold. In addition, we are all very well. Don't read it."

He opened the next sheet of paper, and the crisp paper rustled under his fingers:

"it's still raining today, it's been seven days, the clothes have not been dried, and today John has a fever and fell down, God bless you."

It seems that the paper has been soaked in water, and the handwriting on it is a little fuzzy.

Mo Yi's heart has some vague guess.

He pursed his lips, hesitated for a moment, and then turned over the next one.

The handwriting on this piece is scribbled and flustered. There are a lot of marks on the rolled up edge, and the more traces of daubing and changing:

"the doctor came today, and they said Erica and John were typhoid. God, they are not eight years old. Please ask God to help them."

The rest of the paper seems to be soaked in tears, crumpled letter paper some brittle, like a poor wrinkled dead leaves.

The handwriting on the next one is more and more scribbled:

"it's still raining today, Erica and John are burning red all over. I'm by their side, and I can't sleep all night. Their weak breath can almost tear my heart.

I pray to God in the dark, let me take their place, just for a moment, take my life, let my children live... "

Acute typhoid fever is an equally malignant disease, with a high mortality rate in those days, especially for children.

What does this have to do with the plague, which has disappeared for nearly a hundred years?

Mo Yi took a deep breath, frowned and opened the next one.

The handwriting on the next one became more and more wild and scribbled: "the doctor said that he could do nothing, how could it be! waste material! Rubbish, impossible, my Erica and John, they will live for a hundred years. If anyone should die, it will be me

The rest of the blank space of a whole piece of writing paper was full of "God please help me", which occupied all the spare space. A desperate and crazy mother seemed to be in front of her, which made me unable to read more.

To my surprise, the next piece of paper is more blank and clean than this one, with only one line of small letters:

"God doesn't exist."

Mo Yi's heart is a little heavy, the palm of his hand subconsciously caresses the silver necklace wrapped in his wrists. The heavy pendant on the necklace sticks to his skin coldly and falls heavily.

If there is no accident, the two pictures here are the two children who died of an acute typhoid fever.

He ran his finger slowly across the rough edge of the bottom of the letter and compared it with the previous one.

This letter paper is a little shorter than the last one, and it seems that some of it has been torn away.

Maybe that's the key to this copy.Mo Yi smoothed and unfolded the pieces of paper, then carefully stuffed them back into his backpack. He looked up at the jingling bones hanging in the attic.

Dark eyes slightly convergence, pale face appears more and more bloodless.

I hope his conjecture is wrong.

Mo Yi picked up the flashlight placed on the window sill and roughly swept the whole attic. He was about to continue to look for any clues that he had not found just now -

a familiar sound came out of the window.

"Chucha" of friction, rolling, and soft and fuzzy hum.

Mo Yi was stunned and went back to the half open window and looked down.

On the bare and barren ground, the fragmented man who had just chased him was wriggling along the crooked path, and the bony dead wood beside him pointed to the dark sky, looking strange and strange.

The man's body next to several bloody amputated limbs, followed him to climb forward, leaving behind a deep and shallow bloodstain.

The man slowly crawled into the suspended platform and disappeared into the vast darkness with his rolling head and wriggling body.

However, to Mo Yi's expectation, those who followed the men should be fresh limbs that once belonged to the players. They were in a different direction, wriggling and struggling to move forward there.

Mo Yi was stunned and leaned out to look out.

The broken limbs slowly crawled into the back and side of the house and disappeared into his sight. Only a long bloodstain remained behind, which looked particularly dazzling on the deserted land.

According to previous experience, these bloodstains must disappear within ten minutes.

Mo Yi suddenly turned around, lifted the secret door on the attic floor, and then quickly climbed down the wooden ladder and ran out with his fastest speed.

The wooden floor with the dirty carpet creaked violently under his feet, and the thick dust was lifted up by his actions. The cold and humid air pressed against his cheek, penetrated into the thin clothes, and the wind filled his ears.

Mo Yi ran across the corridor and came to the narrow and twisted staircase.

He held the handle of the stairs with his hand, and the flashlight in his hand swayed violently with his action, and the aperture was not stable on the crooked stairs, which made people almost dizzy.

The sounds of breathing and heartbeats mingle in a noisy tone, hitting the eardrum.

Mo Yi's lips are tight, the sharp lip line is tight, and a pair of extremely deep colored eyes are palpable.

He ran down the stairs.

Other players who were still alive were shocked to see him - when the split man came down the stairs, none of them thought that Mo Yi was alive.

But he's still alive?!

Incredible!

Mo Yi didn't pay attention to the different faces of the people. Instead, he quickened his pace, pushed open the wooden door that had not been closed and rushed out.

All the players left behind were staring at each other.

Mo Yi ran out of the porch and breathed a sigh of relief - great, the blood has not disappeared.

He still did not dare to slack off. He kept his speed just now, and walked quickly along the intermittent bright blood on the ground, and walked around the twisted room to the side.

On the way, Mo Yi saw several bodies that were also drained of blood. Their eyeballs had disappeared. It should be the players who were killed by the deformed mice after they ran out.

But, unexpectedly, the hands of the corpses were gone, and there was no trace of blood on the pale fracture.

He frowned and continued to follow the spread of blood on the ground.

Mo Yi walked to a place that he had not seen just now.

Because the shape of this house is too strange, the vertical and horizontal walls and the twisted and protruding room block people's sight. If you just walk around the house, it is almost impossible to find a strange land behind the overlapping walls.

The smell of blood is getting stronger.

Mo Yi walked forward a few steps, and the soil under his feet felt moist.

Different from the vast barren loess outside, the ground here presents a strange dark red.

Mo Yi squatted down and picked up some soil in his hand. His fingers twisted gently, and a moist red appeared on his white fingertips.

Blood.

The whole land here is dyed with blood.

Mo Yi stood up and looked around the land, barely recognizing that the window protruding half of the corner was the kitchen on the first floor.

He frowned.

According to the rough map in his mind, the land - probably in the center of the whole house.

The bloodstains on the ground slowly infiltrated into the moist soft soil, and the visible traces slowly disappeared.

Mo Yi walked forward a few steps, and the shape of the land was more clearly revealed in front of him.In the middle of the land, there are two small mounds of earth. The color of the soil above is the most bright red. It seems that it has just been watered with blood.

In front of the mound stood two crude tombstones with two familiar names:

"Erica".

"John.".

In front of the tombstone, there is less than half of the torn letter paper. Mo Yi walks up to it and picks it up. It's the other part of the last piece of writing paper that is incomplete.

It's almost soaked in blood, and only a few faint words can be recognized:

"Dear Esther, God has taken you away from me, and I will never allow him to take our children again."

"- I will do whatever it takes."

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