death of hope

Chapter 12 "Flying Windfall" (12) Waste car processing plant
After get off work, tired workers are waiting for the bus.

rain,
A light drizzle.

someone said,
York is a city of sorrow, and God weeps for it.

Roy doesn't think so,
He felt that there was no cure for the crimes of the city,
The streets are covered with smoke and dust, grease seeps into the cracks in the bricks, and flies are hovering around the corpses of rats that have been run over by wheels.

But the rain is not clean,

The chemicals mixed in the atmosphere were also brought down by the raindrops,
When it hit the ground, it was not a transparent drop of water, but slightly yellowish.

At the station, most of the workers wore simple raincoats made of garbage bags. Anna was holding a beautiful umbrella. The umbrella cloth was completely transparent, through which she could see the complete umbrella rib and the hazy sky.

This umbrella is particularly eye-catching among the garbage bag raincoats, just like her, pure and flawless.

When the rain stopped, several shirtless gangsters with luminous tattoos whistled at Anna:
"Hey, little girl, your figure is really hot! Look over here!"

Roy was furious, and he fumbled for the belt with his hand before remembering that he had smashed the automatic pistol into the trash in order to destroy the evidence.

I couldn't help cursing in my heart: (Damn it! I should have kept that gun...)
He's angry, he regrets, but he doesn't see it,
After that incident, my personality has undergone subtle changes,

Always want to use violent means to solve the problem, just like some people in this vice city.

"If you can't provoke us, we can hide." Anna said, "Don't pay attention to those people."

Unfortunately, these street gangsters were not only drunk, but also drugged. They were in a state of extreme excitement. With excess adrenaline, they wanted to find fault with everyone they saw, and they didn't want to let go of the beautiful girl in front of them.

"Hey, little girl, are you fucking deaf? Calling you!"

Roy couldn't bear it anymore, and cursed:
"X you X! Go away!"

The ending can be imagined, the opponents shouted and cursed and surrounded them, Roy knocked down one of them, and was beaten up by the gangsters.

A quarter of an hour later, Roy was leaning against the window of the train, with toilet paper stuffed in his nose, and Anna was bandaging the wound on the back of his hand with cloth strips:

"Honey, you are so brave.

But I don't want to see you get hurt, so don't pay attention to those bastards in the future, it doesn't matter if you get scolded a few times, and you won't lose a piece of meat. "

"I know, don't worry."

Roy said so, but he had other thoughts in his heart.

The life of a worker is exhausting and boring,

In the following week, Roy was in a state of extreme tension all the time,

Whenever he encountered a patrol or a gang member, he walked around and hid far away.

Whether it's on the production line of the factory or lying on the bed at home, he always thinks about the bag of money he hid, but he doesn't have the courage to take a look.

he dare not,
He fears,
Afraid of encountering an ambush, afraid of losing his life.

In the nightmare, I was shot into a sieve countless times, and a group of gangsters fed his body to the dogs, and then woke up in a cold sweat, looking at the sleeping lover next to me, my heart was beating rapidly, and I smoked a cigarette in the dark to relieve my pain. come over.

The nightmares continued, and he began to rely on sleeping pills to fall asleep.

The sense of security is not satisfied, and I always feel that I may die suddenly at any time.

Roy obtained a miniature pistol from the black market through a friend's relationship. This exquisite weapon is made of polymer materials, uses batteries as energy sources, and fires powerful pulse energy bombs.

Usually disguised as a cigarette pack, it can pass metal detectors on railways and factories.

He carried the gun close to his body, and even so, he lived with trepidation every day. Fortunately, the gun never came in handy.

In the second week, Roy's body and mind relaxed a lot, and he stopped taking sleeping pills.

In the third week, he even left his pistol at home several times and forgot to take it out.

One month later, he had forgotten his fear and was more relaxed than ordinary people.

Roy buys several newspapers every day and only reads the news pages.

The police terminated the investigation of the gun case, and the gang members were busy killing each other. During this period, they created many appalling murders. It seems that no one cares about the whereabouts of the money. The dead can’t speak, and the money is His.

The time has come, it's time to taste some sweetness.

Roy became more courageous. It was a rest day, and he and Anna lied that he was going to visit a sick friend.

After going out, Roy hailed a taxi, and the driver was a chatty foreigner. This man spoke with a thick accent, mixed with a lot of slang from his hometown, and Roy was tired of hearing it.

When passing by the shopping street, I suddenly remembered something. I got out of the car and bought a bottle of hardcover whiskey with a price tag of 15 yuan. It was a luxury.

After a long journey, I came to a waste car processing plant in the southern suburbs of York City.

Although the taxi driver was an annoying chatterbox, his knowledge of the road conditions was second-to-none. For this reason, Roy tipped him a dollar, and the driver started nagging again:

"You helped me! There are three children and four elderly people in my family. My wife can't work because of a disability. I rely on me to support me. I work ten hours a day, and sometimes I sleep in the car when I'm too tired... Really too difficult!

God bless you, sir! "The taxi driver happily drove away.

(Some people have tried their best just to survive...how can I complain?) Roy sighed and walked forward.

The early morning in the suburbs was a bit cold, and the wind and sand were blowing against his exposed skin. He put on the hood and put his hands diagonally in the pockets.

The wind blew the road sign creaking, and a broken tire was hanging on the iron shelf, and the iron sign below it was written in paint:

"Hill Mountain Scrap Automobile Treatment Plant",
The caretaker here, Old John, was a friend of Roy's, and he knew where to find him.

There are hills of scrapped and wrecked cars, with scavengers rummaging through the tops for usable items, occasionally dropping parts.

Walking alone through the gaps in the steel maze, Roy felt like a gutter rat running through the sewers,

The [-]-meter-high rubbish mountain is magnificent, and human beings seem so small. The crow screamed strangely, as if mocking. Roy stopped in front of a dilapidated RV with no tires, and knocked on the door:

"Hello! Brother John! Are you still asleep?"

A lazy and impatient voice came from inside the car:

"Oh... Fuck, it's so early in the morning, what the hell are you calling me, who are you?"

"It's me, Roy."

"Brat, are you here empty-handed again?"

"I brought the Wall brand whiskey, the hardcover edition, your favorite."

There was a loud noise in the RV. It sounded like someone hit his head, whoops, and the sound of an empty beer bottle falling to the ground.

The door of the RV was pushed open with a creak, or fell straight down, and a tall, fat, white-bearded old man squeezed out from the inside, who was the administrator of the place, Old John.

The man was wearing a faded baseball cap, a stained red plaid shirt, and a well-dried wine stain on the vest.
A pair of big ripped trousers were worn on his legs, and his two big furry feet were wearing plastic slippers and wooden clogs. This outfit must have been picked up from a garbage dump.

"Old man, well dressed, I guess you will lead the fashion in Yorktown."

"Screw you, kid, bury me again!"

Seeing the handbag beside Roy, the old man hurried over,

"This is... a gift for me... wine?" Before waiting for an answer, he had already taken out the box from the bag;
"Oh...yeah! The big 900ml bottle, you know me best, boy."

After all, the old man roughly tore the cardboard package like a wolf tearing open the throat of a little rabbit, took out the wine bottle and unscrewed the cap, and took a sip, with a happy expression on his face, then raised his head again, Tons and tons of gulps.

Old John was a drunkard and gambler,
It is not bad to be awake for five or six hours in 24 hours, and all the little savings in a lifetime are lost at the gambling table.

He got divorced when he was 40 years old, and his ex-wife and children stopped contacting him. They just broke the pot and lived in the garbage dump all day, living a life of drunken dreams.

(End of this chapter)