Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

weeping, but with no more tears to shed. “I didn’t kill her,” he repeated, “and I didn’t rape her …”
    “You don’t have to tell me,” the section chief said, running out of patience. “But a medical expert from the county will be here soon, and he’s bringing attack dogs with him. Tell me now, and that will count as a voluntary confession.”
    “I didn’t kill her,” he said one more time, sleepily, “and I didn’t rape her.”
    The section chief took out a pack of cigarettes, crushed it, and tossed it into the water. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he said to the recorder, “Go to the farm headquarters building, Sun, and place a call to the County Security Bureau. Tell them to get over here as soon as possible.” He sniffed the air. “The body’s starting to stink, and if they don’t come soon, our investigation will be ruined.”
    “Boss,” the man said, “are you crazy? I tried calling the day before yesterday and couldn’t get through. The rain has washed away telephone poles.”
    “Shit!” the section chief cursed as he jumped down off of his chair, put on his rain cap, and waded over to the door, where he stuck out his head to look around. A roaring curtain of water drenched his shiny back as he ran over to the site of Jintong and Commander Long’s illicit liaison. Out in the yard, clean and dirty water merged, with dead chickens floating on the surface. The few surviving hens were perched atop the wall — heads tucked down, clucking piteously. Jintong had a splitting headache and his teeth were chattering. His mind was a blank, except for the movements of Commander Long’s nakedness. After impulsively entering her dying body, he had experienced terrible remorse, but now all he felt toward her was loathing and disgust. He struggled to break free of her likeness, but, as with Natasha years before, it stuck doggedly in his mind. The difference was that Natasha was a beautiful young image, while Commander Long was a repulsive, demonic one. At the moment he was dragged out to be interrogated, he made up his mind not to reveal the ugly details of what had happened. I didn’t rape her, and I didn’t kill her. She tried to force herself on me, and when I resisted, she killed herself. That’s all he would reveal under the pressures of the relentless questioning.
    The security chief returned and shook the water off of his neck. “Damn!” he exclaimed. “She’s all bloated. Like a debristled hog. Disgusting.” He pinched his throat.
    Off in the distance, the cafeteria’s red-brick chimney came crashing to the ground, still belching black smoke, and took the building itself — roof, windows, Venetian blinds, and all — with it, sending gray water towering into the air with a roar.
    “The building’s down,” the security chief exclaimed. “Now what? Forget the fucking interrogation — now we won’t even be able to eat!”
    The collapse of the cafeteria opened up an unobstructed view of the fields. It also created the terrifying sight of an ocean of water, all the way to the horizon. The dikes of the Flood Dragon River poked through the surface here and there, but the water within them rose above the level beyond. The rain fell unevenly to earth, as if dumped by a gigantic watering can moving rapidly across the sky. Directly below the watering can the downpour set up a roar, with torrents of water creating a mist over the land; everywhere else, sunlight lit up the gentle flow of floodwaters. Situated in the lowest spot of the Northeast Gaomi marshy lowland, the Flood Dragon River Farm was irrigated by water from three separate counties. Soon after the cafeteria collapsed, every farm structure, from those with rammed-earth walls to tile-roofed buildings, crumbled into the rushing water, except for the grain storage building, which had been planned and constructed by a rightist named Liang Badong. A few sections of the chicken coop, built with bricks from the graveyard, managed to remain upright, but the water had already reached the windows. Benches and stools floated on the water, which was up to Jintong’s navel as he too began to float in his chair.
    Cries of distress sounded everywhere, as people struggled against the flood. “Head for the river dikes!” someone shouted.
    The security section recorder kicked out the window and fled, followed by the curses of the section chief. He turned to Jintong. “Follow me,” he said.
    So Jintong followed the squat