Hanta
"Mr. T.B. We have to go back to the camp to call the police to investigate the scene. You should not touch the dead body. You must preserve the scene so as not to lose important evidence." Anderson Jr. Seely yanked T.B.'s arm, his fingers digging in, while T.B. crouched, gripping a tree branch, prodding at the bloated corpse. The stench of decay filled the air, a sickly sweet rot that made Anderson gag. The body had been in the water too long—swollen flesh peeling, eyes eaten away by scavengers. The once-human thing was barely recognizable. T.B. barely reacted. He’d seen worse. This corpse was only terrifying in the way it had surprised him—lurking beneath the surface like some monstrous thing waiting to drag him under. He had seen men die screaming, throats gushing blood, eyes wide with
- Writer
