Rand thanked the Mexican, though he was tired of explaining that he was not in that relationship with Munster.
However, Munster now has the face of a porn star after all!
And its damn pecs!
Even a chattering Mexican was reluctant to believe that he and Munster really weren't that kind of relationship—he gave Rand a rainbow flag badge as a souvenir, or, as an encouragement.
"… "
Rand finally dropped the pointless defense.
He took the badge and handed it to Munster, and the latter's face instantly burst into a bright light - this is of course a metaphor, but you can clearly feel Munster's joy.
Its eyelids are still red and swollen (the new skin is just damn delicate), but the eyes are shining like fine gems, and it stares deeply at Rand in the passenger seat. The depression that wrapped around it was completely overwhelmed by the joy of receiving the gift.
The Mexican saw Munster's smiling face in the rearview mirror.
It has to be said that even if his legs and feet are inconvenient, this tall silver-haired young man is so handsome... He couldn't help but look at Rand, who looked haggard and absent-minded because of exhaustion.
He looked a little indifferent to the young man, but after getting something, the movement he handed to the other man was so logical, in the occasional exchange of glances, the Mexican could clearly feel the relationship between the couple. There is an appropriate warmth.
This is actually a bit strange, because usually, he only feels this kind of warmth in some old couples who have been married for more than 20 years - a strong feeling bred from a long period of mutual running and love for each other .
A loving couple.
Once again he stamped Munster and Rand in his heart.
After about 200 kilometers on Route 87, the well-meaning driver received a call from a fellow driver.
"… Sheka? God, I thought they were just going to torture the residents of Kansas... I don't think a terrorist would want to be in a small place like that... well, I'll try to detour..."
He didn't realize that the black-haired young man beside him was stiff from nervousness because of the few words he revealed on the phone.
"I'm sorry, man, where did you guys say you were going? My mate told me that the police ahead were setting up a card, looking for some suspicious people or something... I guess it's about the shit Kansas terrorists, there's a lot of traffic in front of me. Great, I have to turn at the next intersection and enter the city through another entrance, do you mind?"
After hanging up, he mumbled casually.
But unexpectedly, his hitchhikers unexpectedly said they could get off the bus before the next intersection.
"We really thank you very much," Rand said, "but we booked the Oak Inn, which happened to be at that intersection, and I think we'd have to put up with the traffic—if we're lucky enough to find the next tailwind car."
He explained to the Mexican.
He showed a different kind of acting, with a tired but gentle smile, and his eyes were very certain when he talked about the "Oak Tree Inn" that didn't exist.
"I've driven up and down this road dozens of times, and I didn't notice the Oak Inn there... you sure..." the Mexican muttered.
"We're pretty sure it's just a little bit hidden, but very distinctive, and Mang and I, my partner, love it there."
Rand nodded calmly towards the other party.
It's hard to explain why two people who are not lovers stay in the same hotel so many times, this time Rand candidly "admits" to his relationship with Munster.
They finally reassured the Mexican and got out of the car at the intersection.
Of course, no Oak Inn, no next ride.
Rand pushed Munster down a path for two hours.
The moon broke out from the gray, like a thread of silver, and projected on the silent two from between the leaves on both sides of the path.
Rand was tired and worried, and he kept thinking about what he should do next.
He had always been like a mouse, chased around by stinky dogs—those inexplicably dark white people. But this shouldn't continue, Rand thought, he has to have a goal, a destination, like...
Munster's tail accidentally protruded from under the blanket, and the moonlight reflected a hazy sheen on the blue scales.
Shiny like jewels... peeking out from the gaps in the pilling blankets and creaking wheelchairs.
Rand felt his breath stop.
A beautiful merman... Munster looked so good that Rand could call it that without any mental hindrance.
So beautiful, so dreamy, like the protagonist of a fairy tale, people can't take their eyes off.
"The sea."
He suddenly opened his mouth and murmured.
"what?"
Munster raised his head and looked at Rand with that trust and innocence, his eyes so clear that Rand felt himself at the thought that he might suffer even a little bit from the Deep White experiment. The heart was tightened.
"You should go to the sea."
Rand said to Munster.
He found Munster at the seaside, the vast expanse of the sea allows Munster to easily escape from the deep white roundup, and its biological structure proves that the best place to live is in the deep water...
"The sea? It's the 'sea' where the little mermaid lives, right?" Munster seemed a little confused. It didn't remember the salty and deep water where it first stayed. From the moment it had memory, it lived in The place is the fish tank in the living room, "If Rand thinks I should go... I'll go, and I'll be with you wherever you go, Rand."
together
Rand was slightly taken aback by that word, a kind of sourness permeated from the position of his heart.
Oh no, not "together", the one who will return to the sea is only you, Munster...
Rand heard a voice in his heart speak grimly to the excited Munster.
—Rand never forgot what he had done before.
—He killed Rogers with his own hands.
He would never shy away from his sins, and after everything was over, Rand clearly planned his future.
Where he should be is prison.
… But in the end, Rand just smiled bitterly at Munster.
"You're going to love that place, there's a lot of food and not so many people..."
Rand muttered to himself, his eyes condensed on the dark end of the path...
Vol2
After a long walk, Rand and Munster finally arrived at a residential area, and Rand's eyes circled blankly in this area, his brows furrowing more and more tightly. In the beginning, he thought there should be a small town like a truck driver by the side of the road, so he could find a hotel or two that didn't check the documents very carefully.
It is a pity, however, that he has apparently not been in touch with the current urban planning for a long time. The road in the neighborhood now in front of him was clean, with well-tended lawns and hedges between villas, some houses with cars parked in their driveways, Fords and Toyotas and others…
It looks like it should be some middle-class residential area.
At times like these, the lights in the vast majority of houses go out.
The road was empty, save for the rustling of Rand pushing his wheelchair. Rand was exhausted, and his luggage was on Munster's lap, but his own soles and heels hurt like knives.
Rand's pace was getting slower and slower, he needed to rest, and even at this time, he still didn't dare to let Munster get off the wheelchair - even if it would be much faster.
For a moment, Rand was annoyed by his misjudgment, but more exhausted.
He was sleepy and tired, and desperately needed a rest.
On a right turn at an intersection, Rand saw a two-story villa painted in cream.
There were plastic sheets on the door and window, and the transparent plastic shuddered like ghosts in the moonlight. On the cluttered lawn at the door, Rand saw a wooden sign with the words "For Sale" on it, with a line under it. Phone number: 223-8721.
Rand breathed a long sigh of relief.
He turned around and looked around, and it was still the same lifeless silence typical of middle-class neighborhoods, and the poorly maintained bushes next to the house for sale were rattling in the night wind.
"Looks like we've found a place to rest."
Rand said to Munster.
He pushed it to the back door.
Rand had planned to use something to pick the door lock, but when he touched the door handle, he found that the door was ajar.
If he hadn't been as tired as he was tonight, he might have become a little more alert, but he's been on a long journey, frightened and hasn't eaten for a long time, and his ability to think has become a bowl of chaos. polenta.
So Rand simply dismissed it as a careless mistake by the real estate agent, and told Munster to wait outside the door, opened the door himself, and walked in.
The dark room smelled of paint and glue.
But Rand was moved to see the cardboard boxes and a lot of foam piled up on the floor, just need a little rest, Rand believes that he can make a comfortable cot for both him and Munster.
But the moment he got close to the pile of bubbles, something unexpected happened.
A tall black man appeared there.
"What the fuck do you want to do?"
His clothes are tattered and smelly, and on the other side of the foam, there are wine bottles and leftover pizza, veal stew, and bread... The messy food variety suggests that their source is likely to be a trash can.
This is a bum.
While this doesn't make sense in theory, it's the fact that this home for sale isn't the only homeless attraction that Rand...
"Sorry, I didn't see you—"
Rand, who had never really touched them, was taken aback by the rudeness of the other, and he couldn't help but take two steps back.
He tried to explain.
But he didn't know that for the person in front of him, his sudden intrusion was enough to make him react aggressively.
"I'm not malicious, I'm just the way—"
Rand's voice stopped abruptly.
With a sharp pain, a wooden stick slammed into the back of his head.
In the very brief moment when he fell, he saw in a trance that there was another person in the shadow of the room...
"John, he doesn't look like a 'bull' guy."
The wanderer's companion, another scavenger trembled and dropped the wooden stick in his hand, he stared nervously at Rand who fell to the ground, and then said.
"The devil cares about that! We can't let anyone know where we are right now! Don't forget how much we stole from 'Bull', he's going crazy, I don't know how he put up every intersection The level of…”
Here are two equally unlucky pursuers.
John and his little brother, oh, of course, they're scavengers too, but for the past few months they've been transporting drugs to a drug boss named "Bull." Then, one day, they suddenly became so fascinated... Why didn't they just walk along on their own? They've had enough of the ultra-low shipping fee of fifteen dollars each time, and you know, the goods in their rectum, even if it is only a fingernail, is ten times that price.
So they stole some goods and came out, but not so lucky, they soon discovered that every highway intersection and ordinary highway intersection were inexplicably set up a checkpoint.
Frightened, they almost took it for granted that this was a terrible measure by the "bull". They never thought that the seemingly unremarkable drug dealer had such a great ability - they were almost scared. .
So, at the moment Rand appeared, they instinctively launched an attack like a frightened bird.
"But John... oh god, we're not going to kill him... 'Bull' doesn't have white men, I still think..."
The timid companion crouched down tremblingly and put his fingers to Rand's nose.
"Snapped-"
A faint sound of water.
The companion felt an inexplicable drop of warm liquid dripping from his finger.
"This is?"
He took his hand back in confusion, squinting at his fingers.
It was a strange, watery-smelling slime.
"God, this is so disgusting."
He couldn't help muttering, then looked up at John.
John looked strange—the next moment, he thought.
The man with dark skin and tall stature like charcoal seemed to have an epileptic fit. He suddenly rolled his eyes, pointed one finger at the ceiling, and his facial expression was distorted.
"That-that-that-"
He stammered, repeating the word, as if he couldn't get the whole thing out.
"John? What's the matter with you?"
His companion looked confused, and after a few seconds, he slowly raised his head in the direction of John's finger.
…
"save-"
He opened his mouth instinctively, wanting to scream.
But the last time he shouted in his life, he was directly cut off by a tentacle that was as big as his throat.
A hot, scarlet liquid fountain rushed over him like a hurricane.
It was the blood spurting out of John's arteries—the companion's own blood was the same.
He staggered around in a circle, trying to cover the wound with his hand.
But more tentacles shot straight from the ceiling.
A face of exquisite beauty emerged from the darkness, and a cruel blood-red light flashed in his eyes.
This was the last scene the scavenger saw before he died.