"When I ran out of the underground subway tunnel, the sunset on the ground looked bright and gorgeous. The ruined city looked like a huge black whirlpool, and terrible monsters occupied it.
I knew that I had to fight them to survive, but after just two hours, I understood that my enemies were not these monsters.
In order to get rid of the mucus that stuck to my body in the subway car, I had to peel off part of the skin on my arm. The wound was very painful, but what was even more fatal was that the sanitary conditions here were very likely to cause the wound to become infected. I had to hurry up
Find a place to treat the wound.
I don't expect to find any professional medical equipment, at least there is a clean water source, and preferably some cloth that can be used for bandaging. Food and sleep are things I can only consider after I get rid of this damn pain.
I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but this kind of pain makes half of my body numb. I’ve suffered many injuries in the past, but none of them have paralyzed my muscles like the injury on my arm at this moment.
, dizzy.
Not surprisingly, I got separated from my friends, but happily, that chatty little animal was still with me. He greatly reduced my mental pressure.
It is always a good thing to have a member who is in good spirits.
I think I might be on a certain street in New York, but it's really hard for me to tell because I've been away from Earth for so long.
Soon, I discovered that I was very lucky. There was a hospital on the street where the subway station was located, and thankfully, there were no more scary monsters on this road.
Although I still see sparse black shadows in the clouds and mist in the distance, they don't seem to be interested in me, a weak creature, and this also makes me have another doubt. If in this universe, the end has really come.
So, can such a small number of monsters destroy the entire human civilization?
But I have no time to discuss such a grand issue now. I just want to rush to the hospital as soon as possible.
The good news is that before the sun sank below the horizon, I came to this abandoned hospital and found iodophor, hydrogen peroxide, bandages, cotton swabs and a series of medical treatments that I might need in the treatment room on the second floor.
Supplies.
This hospital is not big and looks old. There are old-fashioned radiators installed in the corridors and the grilles of the blinds are messy and falling down. But there is no disgusting mucus here. I also found a relatively clean hospital on the third floor.
Ward, maybe I can sleep here tonight.
I started to bandage myself with those medical supplies. The little animals with sharp teeth and claws helped me a lot. When the tight feeling of the bandage came from my arm, I rarely felt a little sense of security.
Great, I think that when things are extremely scarce and people are in a difficult situation, finding exactly what they want can bring greater comfort than I imagined.
And when I finished everything and came to the ward, through the gap in the curtains, I bid farewell to the last ray of sunset for the day. I leaned on the hospital bed and waited for darkness to fall. I really needed a good sleep.
After nightfall, I felt a kind of sleepiness in my heart. I am a person who can tolerate irregular work and rest, but I felt sleepy very early today. Fortunately, I was not hungry. I tightened the quilt around me and lay down.
When I was lying on the bed, sleepiness came up one after another, but then subsided one after another. I knew I needed sleep, but I couldn't fall asleep. I turned over according to instinct, but I touched the wound on my arm.
, the pain made me almost jump.
After struggling for a long time, I finally felt a little dazed, but at this moment, the tight feeling on my arm that gave me a sense of security became weaker and weaker. I thought it was because the bandage was loose, which made me very uncomfortable.
It felt comfortable, so I raised my arm to check the condition of the wound.
Unfortunately, the blood seeped out again. I wanted to get up and re-bandage it, but my sleepiness was like a pair of big hands pressing me firmly on the hospital bed. My body was numb, my head was dizzy, and my hazy illusions convinced me.
I'm not that delicate either. If I get some sleep, everything will be fine.
But the sweat produced while running soaked into my clothes and stuck the uncomfortable fabric to my skin. Every hair could feel the heat and humidity, and there was a regular "tapping" sound outside the window.
I thought it might be raining.
A late-summer rain pulled me into an endless dreamland. The monstera leaves washed by the rain, the water seeping into the soil, the damp dark gray brick walls and the large, ill-fitting shoes that my father often wore.
My rain boots made a "squeaking" sound when they stepped over the threshold.
I dream about my childhood in Englewood.
After my mother passed away, I went through multiple adoptive families, and was finally abandoned in an orphanage in this small town in New Jersey. In my memory, all the time I spent here is gray, like a ghost.
A photo that was casually placed on the table and faded by the sun.
After I moved my mother's grave here, I would always visit her after the first thunderstorm in late summer.
The feeling of humidity and heat got worse. I shouldn't have walked into the cemetery park wearing such a thick coat. I was covered in sweat, maybe it was the rain, but I endured the unbearable humidity and heat and came to my mother's house.
in front of his grave.
When I saw the photo, I found that I missed her more than I thought. But for some reason, her photo was covered with a thin layer of fog. I stretched out a hand and wanted to put the photo on it.
Wipe off the dust.
But just as I stretched out my hand, I felt my arm was heavy. I turned my head and found that the sleeve of my jacket was caught on the branches of the bush, so I stretched out my hand and started to deal with the difficult bush.
Suddenly, in the peripheral vision, the fog covering the photo dissipated, and my mother's eyes turned into two holes. I was so frightened that I retracted my hand and fell to the ground, but I felt a pain in my arm.
When I woke up again, I found myself lying on a hospital bed. The even snoring of small animals next to me reminded me that this was reality, and the bandage on my injured arm had completely unraveled.
After the skin was peeled off, the processed subcutaneous tissue showed a brown-black color, and the blood squeezed out by countless broken blood vessels was viscous and tangled together. When I saw it for the first time, I felt a strange feeling.
Inner disgust.
I took a few deep breaths and untied a roll of bandages to re-bandage them. When I finished everything and fell asleep again, a terrible itching spread along my arms and to half of my body.
Itchy, itchy, itchy...
I couldn't stand it anymore, my thoughts began to become chaotic, even crazy, and a terrible anger lingered in my heart - why are you itching? Didn't I deal with it in time enough? Why do you have to give it at this time?
Am I causing trouble? Am I not miserable enough?!
Half asleep and half awake, my consciousness tore at everything frantically. I was woken up by the screams of small animals. When I woke up again, there were bandages stained with blood and muscle tissue fragments all over the floor.
And when I saw my arms, I started vomiting like crazy.
The current look of the wound is so disgusting. The blood on my other hand shows that I not only untied the bandage just now, but also scratched it frantically, causing the medicine I applied previously to have dried and not yet
The clotted blood and the fleshy foam produced by scratching formed a ball.
I don't feel any pain, just nausea.
I felt like my chest was being pressed and I was fixed to the ground unable to move. My head was covered with warped iron pieces and dark rust from the subway ceiling.
And when I turned around, I found that the mucus that held me in place was secreted from the wounds on my arms, and the bugs that almost fell into my mouth were what I vomited out of my stomach pouch.
.
Something is coming out of there.
When this terrible thought occurred, I felt pain in more places all over my body, as if sharp hooked feet had pierced my skin, and I became a pupa being broken through, a hollow corpse being torn out.
I can no longer resist the attack of fear.
But what is clearer than fear is a kind of arrogance that is unique to humans.
Nothing in this world is nobler than human beings. This terrible arrogance expanded rapidly in my heart, and made me realize that what is more terrible than death is becoming a monster.
Even if I don't want to become a god, what can make me degenerate and become an ugly insect?
If someone asked me to do this, I would tell them to get out immediately.
The most praiseworthy thing about human beings is wisdom. If anyone wants to let madness replace reason, then I would rather abandon this weak body in exchange for spiritual greatness - eternal greatness.
I smashed the elbow joint completely with concrete fragments, cut off all the fascia and muscles with a dagger, and cut off my lower arm.
The night passed and daylight came.
Get out of here, those cowards."
The cursive English under the tip of the feather pen fell to the last arc. Schiller, who had written a long string of words in one breath, put down the pen and rubbed his sore wrist.
He looked up at the time. Three minutes before the appointed time, there was a knock on the door downstairs.
Schiller stood up, walked down the stairs and opened the door of the small clinic. Matt appeared outside the door carrying a food box.
Matt raised the Japanese food box with a cherry blossom pattern printed on it, shook the wine in his hand, and said: "I saw last time that you still like to eat sashimi, fresh mandarin orange sea bream and
Livzon ice wine, don’t you want some?”
"It seems that you are determined to bribe me." Schiller opened the door of the clinic and stepped aside to make way for the blind lawyer to come in.
The two walked to the sofa on the first floor and sat down. Matt opened the food box, and Schiller looked at the bottle of beer. Matt said while placing the plate: "Last time, I saw that you were not very interested in sake.
I guess I prefer a sweeter wine.”
"You're right, I'm a Potter, and only those picky old antiques like sherry."
Schiller went to the kitchen to get two wine glasses, and poured a glass of wine for himself and Matt. Matt picked up the chopsticks, but before he could pick up the food, he took his hand back with some hesitation.
"I can see that you are worried. If you have anything, just ask."
Matt pursed his lips and said, "I'm very worried about those children, especially Spider-Man, whether he is Peter Parker or someone else."
"Spider-Man's intimate mother, huh?"
Matt laughed sheepishly, and Schiller handed him the wine glass and said: "Not only one Spider-Man described Nick and you as parents. Compared with Nick's high requirements for them, all Spider-Man's
Like to come and tell Daredevil their growing pains."
"Don't say that, they are also happy to talk to you."
"But I have not fulfilled my responsibility as a teacher." Schiller tilted his head slightly and said, "At least not before."
"But..." Matt paused, showing an embarrassed expression, and then looked at Schiller with his dull eyes and said, "But even if you want to fulfill this responsibility, you don't have to..."
Schiller looked back at Matt and said.
"Since I am responsible for the laziness and lack of progress of the young heroes, I should naturally work hard to make up for it, right?"
"They actually have made some progress..."
“Is that progress in dealing with protests in a New York borough that haven’t happened for two months?”