Chapter 138: Today (14)

The time reached 17:23.

Unfortunately, after flipping through the diary all the way to the end, up until yesterday, all Mark had been doing was experiments—experiments, and more experiments, nonstop. He had never even considered how to eliminate Xipe Totec.

As for today, Mark hadn’t had time to write in his diary before he seemingly died at home, likely due to a massive power outage that caused the monster to lose control.

As a result, even after Everly read through the entire diary, she still couldn’t find a way to destroy the monster.

The only clue even remotely related to killing the monster was a conversation between Mark and a Bokor from when the creature had first appeared.

[…After successfully using cameras to control Xipe Totec, I sought out that Bokor. Beating around the bush, I asked him whether it was possible to artificially create the “undead,” and if so, how they could be controlled.

The Bokor probably sensed something. After all, many of the witchcraft techniques I used in creating Xipe Totec were taught to me by him.

The Bokor told me that humans are not creators; a crude stitching together of souls can never produce true life.

“You’d best stop, and let them return to where they belong — ‘And he was gone into his hole, into the burning bowels of earth.’” That was his advice to me.

But I know very well—he’s just jealous of me… ]

“Bokor” is the specific term used in Voodoo for a sorcerer. As for the somewhat cryptic line spoken by the sorcerer, Everly looked it up online and found that it comes from a poem titled “The Snake,” where “he” refers to the snake in the title.

So, a simple translation of the line would be:

“The snake has gone into its hole, returning to the burning bowels of the earth.”

The snake has gone into its hole, returning to the burning bowels of the earth.

Horror Movie Survival Rule #1: Pay attention to the hints.

“Snake, hole, earth, burning…” Could that line from the poem be some kind of clue?

Everly thought it over. If the flesh monster were treated as the “snake,” then did the sorcerer mean that the monster needed to burrow into the earth—and then be set on fire?

Fire made sense. In mysticism, flames are believed to possess powerful purifying and destructive properties. Whether something is evil or sacred, once it is burned, its power is disrupted.

But what about “hole” and “earth”? What did those refer to? Did it mean burying the stitched corpse from the metal bed underground, and then burning it?

When something doesn’t make sense, it’s best to ask an expert.

Just like in the previous loop, Everly temporarily muted the voice call and used her phone to call Rebecca and Wester separately.

Rebecca picked up quickly. After listening to Everly’s description, she said this was the first time she had encountered such a situation. She would need to consult other spiritual practitioners in her group and asked Everly to wait a bit.

As for Wester—perhaps he was in the middle of some intense exorcism—no matter how many times she called, he didn’t answer.

Everly glanced at the time: 17:33. It had been 14 minutes since the monster killed the two people at the school. At its speed, it had likely already chased its target about 40 kilometers away by now.

Worried that something might happen to Orff while waiting, she gave up on contacting Wester, switched back to the group, and reconnected the three-person voice call.

“Everly, how is it? Did you find anything new?”

The moment she rejoined the voice channel, Orff’s tense voice rang out.

“Not yet. My friend said she needs to discuss it with other exorcists first. So I’m planning to dig a pit and put the stitched corpse inside. If it turns out we need to burn it in the pit, I’ll be ready to act immediately.”

In truth, if the flesh monster had intelligence—rather than indiscriminately hunting down everyone who had watched the video like it does now—Everly would actually prefer to keep it around and let it kill those beasts wearing human skin.

But the problem is exactly that: the monster operates strictly according to its rules, with no reasoning whatsoever. Its rule is that “everyone who has watched the video must die.” That means people like Orff, who accidentally saw it, and people like Chief Sawitt from the previous loop, who watched it for the sake of an investigation, are all on the kill list.

If this situation continues to escalate and people figure out the pattern, they could deliberately send the video to those they resent—or worse, spread it online just to cause chaos. Society would fall into complete disorder because of it.

Even Everly herself couldn’t be sure that someday in the future, she might not accidentally come across such a t*rture video.

So, for the sake of the greater good, destroying the flesh monster is the more reasonable choice.

Everly searched around the room and found a body bag. Suppressing her nausea, she forced herself to place the specially treated stitched corpse from the metal table into it. Even through her gloves, the sensation of the corpse—soft yet not quite soft, slightly sticky through the layer of rubber—made her stomach churn, deepening her disgust for Mark.

Perhaps because it had been drained of blood, the stitched corpse was lighter than a normal human body of the same size. Everly stuffed all the diaries and notes she could find on the table into her waist pack, then hoisted the body bag onto her shoulder and made her way upstairs along the steps.

When she left through Mark’s garage, she also grabbed a can of gasoline.

Anyone who frequently kills and buries bodies knows: burying is easy—digging the pit is the hard part. Especially a pit large enough to fit an entire body; that usually takes a long time to dig.

But Everly had no intention of digging a pit.

She had been lying in wait on the nearby hillside since morning, observing Mark’s house. While she was at it, she had also scanned the cemetery next to it. She remembered that there were several pits already dug there—whether they had been abandoned or the deceased simply hadn’t been buried yet, she didn’t know. In any case, those pits were perfect for disposing of the stitched corpse.

On a winter night, with freezing temperatures and a massive blackout, the nearby residents were all staying indoors, huddled around stoves for warmth. No one was wandering outside. Everly walked to the front gate, found the key, unlocked it, then—carrying gasoline in her left hand and the corpse over her right shoulder—strode out of Mark’s house and hurried toward the cemetery.

Just as she tossed the corpse into one of the pits, her phone began to buzz. It was a call back from Rebecca!

Everly quickly answered, hoping that Rebecca’s expert group would once again come through with some brilliant solution.

But unfortunately, there was nothing.

“My group isn’t made up entirely of ‘good people’ in the conventional sense,” Rebecca said. “Some of them can be kind and friendly when something doesn’t concern them. But once they realize something could benefit them, even if it threatens ordinary people’s lives, they won’t care. So when I relayed your situation, I couldn’t be too explicit about the parts involving dark magic. Because of that, everyone lacked critical information and couldn’t provide any useful suggestions.”

At this point, Rebecca let out a sigh. She had her own dilemma. Helping Everly’s friend was important—but she couldn’t reveal the method of creating the monster just to do so. If those with ill intentions in the group learned such forbidden techniques, it could lead to more victims in the future—and the birth of even more monsters like this one.

“Right now, there are three main interpretations of that line of poetry in the group. The first is what you mentioned—bury the stitched corpse in the ground and burn it. The second believes that what should be burned isn’t the corpse, but the flesh monster itself. The idea is to find a way to trap it in a sealed space made of earth, then burn it.”

“And the third?”

“The third is that it’s just a line of poetry, with no special meaning.”

“…”

“Even though I can’t give you any concrete advice, as the daughter of an Amaran witch, I can share my own perspective. ‘Earth’ doesn’t necessarily mean literal soil. In Amaran belief, the earth goddess Pachamama is regarded as the mother of all living things. Voodoo, which traces back to the Taíno people who migrated from South America to Haiti, also carries traces of a ‘Mother Earth’ figure in its legends. So I think that perhaps the ‘earth’ in the poem isn’t literal—it could be an abstract concept like a ‘place of origin’ or a ‘source of birth’…”

The earth is not the earth, but the source of origin… the place of birth…

Like a sudden flash of insight, a thought struck Everly.

In the previous loop, when she asked Wester for a solution, he told her: “Find its origin, understand its obsession, locate its weakness, then destroy it.”

The Bokor who had taught Mark countless things told him: “The snake has gone into its hole, returning to the burning bowels of the earth.”

And Rebecca said that “earth” might represent not just the ground, but a place of origin—a source…

So then—where was the origin of the flesh monster, Xipe Totec?

Everly thought there were two possibilities.

The first possibility: the source refers to the stitched corpse in front of her. Since Xipe Totec was born from this body, returning the monster to it and burning it would fit a classic horror-movie trope.

The second possibility was that the origin was the camera.

Xipe Totec had no physical body—it was a “revenant” driven entirely by resentment. Its weakness was “being filmed,” and the reason for its birth could very well also be “being filmed.”

Because it was recorded, it died. Because it died, it was filled with hatred. And because of that hatred, it longed for revenge…

Both explanations made sense. So Everly decided she had to proceed on two fronts at once.

“Thank you, Rebecca, I think I understand now!”

After quickly thanking Rebecca, Everly hung up. She jumped down into the pit, dragged the body bag she had just thrown in back out, then hoisted the corpse over her shoulder and headed toward her car. At the same time, she rejoined the three-person voice call and rapidly gave instructions to Misha and Orff.

“Misha, I’ve found a way to destroy the monster, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”

“Go ahead.”

“In Michael’s basement, there’s a computer and a camera, the equipment used for the t*rture livestream. I need you to take them and head south, be careful. Michael set traps in the ranger’s cabin. You can ask Orff about their locations…”

Back in the twenty-second loop, Everly had explored the basement of the ranger’s cabin and later told Orff about it. But since all of that information had only been described verbally, there was a chance of misremembering or missing details. So over the call, Everly repeatedly warned Misha, afraid that a single misstep might trigger a trap and get her injured.

“Don’t worry, Everly. I know what I’m doing.”

As soon as Misha received the instructions, she set off. Meanwhile, in the voice channel, Everly began sharing the rest of the plan with Orff.

“Based on what I’ve discovered, to destroy the flesh monster, we need to lure it to Misha and me. Then we’ll use either the corpse I’m carrying or the camera Misha has to restrain it, and finally purify it with fire. Orff, if I remember correctly, if you keep driving forward along the road, you’ll soon enter the city. The advantage is that you might be able to get more recording equipment, which can help you control the monster. The downside is that traffic conditions will greatly slow you down, and the monster will catch up to you very quickly.”

“Once Misha gets the camera, she and I will head toward you with what we need to destroy the monster. Your job is to plan your route carefully and hold on until we arrive. Got it?”

A very audible gulp came through the voice channel, followed by Orff’s stammering reply:

“G-got it… I’ll do my best. You… you have to come save me as fast as you can!”

…

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Author’s Note:

“And he was gone into his hole, into the burning bowels of earth” — from the poem Snake by D. H. Lawrence