Page 89 of The Girl with a Thousand Faces
So, you do it.
You put him on.
Moments after entering the sea, the same soldier climbs out onto the sand. He moves woodenly, like a puppet. Feet stumble and he jerks to a stop, swaying and dripping.
By the fire, the prisoner—who has been wide-awake and watching this whole time—goes perfectly still. He saw you lure the soldier in, and has figured out what is happening.
The other men are awake, now. They heard the yelling and shot to awareness. As the soldier stumbles out of the water, his brothers in arms exclaim in Japanese.
He blinks at them, looking uncertain and embarrassed.
First their faces are incredulous; then, one by one, they each begin to crease in laughter.Toma, you drunk idiot, they chide.Did you fall in while taking a piss?
Toma doesn’t laugh. He points behind him. “Something… in the water,” he says, thickly, in Cantonese.
The other men pause and exchange glances, their laughter dying off. They’ve been stationed in South China long enough to pick up a smattering of the local dialect, but none of them choose to speak it among themselves, unless there is good reason to do so.
“S-s-something… water.” Toma gazes blank-eyed at the lapping ocean, then backs slowly away toward the land. Seeming to ignore them entirely.
The sergeant, who is most senior, hoists his gun and steps forward, scanning the waves warily. The other three men do the same, muttering in low voices that their companion is surely drunk or sick, yet still doing their due diligence in checking. Better safe than sorry.
While their backs are turned, Toma lifts his dripping Mauser and fires repeatedly.
He lacks experience with guns, but it doesn’t matter at this range. They’re not expecting it and two die immediately. A third falls into the surging waves, already bleeding out. The sergeant is the only one left standing; Toma’s shots missed him.
The sergeant returns fire with his own weapon.
Bullets strike Toma’s body. The sound is like flour bags being whacked. Oneof them pierces the left chest, straight into the heart. Blood jets out erratically. The soldier remains standing, gaze fixed flatly on the sergeant.
“Toma?” the sergeant stutters, rendered inane by fear.
“Sorry,” you say in Cantonese, looking out through Toma’s eyes. Your spirit moving Toma’s lips. “He’s dead.”
You leap at the sergeant, taking him into the water with you. His gun goes off again but the bullets are just annoyances, destroying flesh you don’t care about, and soon enough, you’ve caught a second victim for the night.
“Where is she?” you ask, hands around his throat, reveling in the air that fills and departs your lungs in a blessed cycle. “Where is the girl you pulled from the ocean?”
He yelps in bug-eyed terror, attempting to speak with broken Cantonese. “What girl? Who? Please—”
You dunk him repeatedly and reiterate the question. He only grows more confused and desperate, thrashing in your arms.
Eventually, tired of playing and bored of his ignorance, you drag him under one final time.
It’s only after you finally climb back to dry land for the second time… and wearing the sergeant’s skin… only then, do the realizations dawn.
First, you didn’t die from being shot. Even after you took a skin, the body being harmed meant nothing. Yes, it hurt, but so what. When weapons make the body unusable, you can simply slip free.
And second, possessing someone means you can breathe without pain, and walk on dry land like a human. This gross act is like being alive again. You don’t have to exist as a ghost, not if you don’t want to. You’re conscious of my warning in the cave, about what happens to water ghosts who stay in a body too long, but that just means you’ll have to be careful.
Careful is good. You can do careful. With a little foresight and common sense, you can functionally be immortal, now. Because whatever it is that puts water ghosts to rest, it’s not having their stolen bodies destroyed.
And whatdoesput a water ghost to rest? An interesting question. Perhaps if you take enough damage in the sun, or your spirit body is destroyed with weapons. Not that you want to test this theory anytime soon. There is a more pressing matter, at the moment.
Still dripping from the ocean, walk to the dying fire and look down at the captured prisoner. He tilts his head and meets your gaze boldly. He is alarmed, sure, and alert to what is happening, but not afraid.
How interesting.
Bend down, remove the gag.
