Old Harris did not stay too long in the shelter camp. He was still worried about his son's condition. The priest in the camp was helpless, but he comforted him: "We are so helpless, we can only rely on God for everything."
the will of."
You're fucking kidding me!
Old Harris, who was on the road again, cursed non-stop. The coming of the catastrophe and nuclear winter had completely disrupted human thinking. People who originally had faith began to become unbelievers, and those who had no faith were eager to find support for their souls.
.In short, humans are advanced creatures and have corresponding spiritual needs.
The rest of the journey went smoothly. Old Harris also saw several other internment camps, but he did not waste time by going in again. At dawn, he finally ran back to Washington, D.C., and hurriedly headed to the White House.
Although the one-man messenger team was too shabby, Old Harris still met the 'zombie' Bill who was in charge of the management of mutants. But when he was thinking about how to think of some tricks to make the other party happy, Bill could not ignore it.
If not, let him leave.
"Leave? I am the envoy of the New Jersey Brotherhood, personally appointed by Commander Simon."
"He appointed at least three or four envoys like you. Someone flew over before you, so you are said to be late."
Shit! I was rushing so slowly and I was actually late. Old Harris stayed for a while, "Then..., where is my son?"
"You should have breakfast at the nearby reception camp. You can go find it yourself."
After three full days of being anxious and tired, Old Harris found that his identity as an emissary was of no use. He was inexplicably kicked out again, and then found his son among a bunch of refugees on the South Lawn of the White House.
"Little Harris, God bless you, I'm really afraid of losing you right now." Seeing that his son was safe and sound, Old Harris ran forward with joy and burst into tears while hugging his son, "Okay, kid, don't worry.
Be afraid. Dad will take you out of here."
"Dad, don't be nervous. I think it's pretty good here." Little Harris wasn't too scared. Teenage boys seemed to be very courageous.
"Don't be ridiculous, there are mutants everywhere here, and I don't want to stay here." Old Harris looked serious, dragging his son and wanting to leave.
"Dad, I'm not kidding. Although mutants look fierce, they are actually no threat as long as they are full." Little Harris took his father's hand and came to the camp and shouted to a man who looked like a chef: "
Can you bring me a breakfast for my father?"
With a simple tray, an iron spoon, and a large portion of sticky breakfast, the Harrises also occupied a small table and two chairs in the camp.
"What the hell is this?" Old Harris had been up for three days and three nights. He was hungry and exhausted, and he had no resistance to food. He ate a spoonful and thought it tasted okay. This was a mushy breakfast.
Salt and a small amount of fat are added to make it edible.
"I heard it is protein powder, which is rich in nutrients and easy to digest. I have been eating this for the past three days. There are six flavors and I have tried them all. However, refugees can only eat one meal a day." Little Harris lowered his voice as he spoke.
: "Dad, I've found a way to make a fortune here."
"What way?" Old Harris quickly put the food into his mouth and looked up at his son. He was now sensitive to any way to survive.
"I have been working as a handyman for those 'zombies' and mutants in the White House these past two days, and I listened to them talking about how to recruit more professionals. Although there are many refugees here, most of them do not meet their requirements.
It is said that behind this mutant group is the 'Aurora Legion', which needs various industrial equipment and manufacturing personnel, or specialized agricultural people. They offer a very high price to acquire talents in this field.
Many people have already organized slave-catching teams to arrest people. We think we can also start this business. I know that there are many people in Philadelphia who should meet the requirements of the legion. We can make a lot of money before the news spreads.
One stroke." Little Harris is a kid, and he seems eager to give it a try.
"No." Old Harris flatly refused, "We can't do this kind of thing. This is a sinful act against the will of others."
But little Harris immediately changed his perspective and said: "Then it's okay for us to help others get rescued? How many people are living on the verge of death now? We try to get them to Washington or Baltimore to let them live, and we
You can also make a lot of money.”
This... seems impossible to refute!
The spoon that Old Harris used to eat stopped in mid-air. He recalled that just a few hours ago, on his way to Washington overnight, there was an endless stream of people hoping to be taken into custody, and there were a large number of dead bodies lying in a line on the way.
Or wailing or numb survivors.
"We are rescuing others, and God will approve of it. And the reward from the 'Aurora Corps' is really good." Little Harris had been hanging out with mutants for the past two or three days. He waited for his father to finish a simple meal.
After breakfast, they took each other to a small port in Washington.
This port has been transformed into a market, specializing in human trade. Harris Jr. explained: "Currently, many people have voluntarily joined the Aurora Legion, but not many can get on the ship. The Legion does not want ordinary service workers.
population."
The port market was extremely noisy and chaotic, with a lot of people. Old Harris saw groups of people making noises, but in the face of the heavily armed mutant soldiers, no one dared to attack the defense line of boarding the ship.
"Everyone knows that they can survive by boarding the ship, but not everyone has permission. Those who are crying are those who were unable to get visas and were rejected. Some people even couldn't accept it and committed suicide on the spot." Little Harris also sighed over and over again.
Many people are registering their information, but there are more than a dozen "zombiees" handling the work. The emotionless "zombiees" simply ignore the pleas and cries of the applicants. They will ask various questions or perform on-site tests to strictly select them.
needed people.
"The legion has three levels of personnel selection: A, B, and C, which are high-end talents, professional talents, and non-technical or service personnel. Level C will be kicked out, level B will be able to board the ship, and level A will receive preferential treatment.
If you provide a B-level person, you can get five gold coins, and an A-level person can get 100 gold coins. The materials here at the port are quite abundant, including weapons, ammunition, and living supplies, which look extremely tempting." Little Harris said with excitement.
.
Old Harris walked around the crowd in the market and had to admit that there was no forced slavery here. On the contrary, many people wanted to be slaves in order to board the "Aurora Legion" rescue ship.
But only people with a college degree or above, or people with technical expertise, or young and beautiful women can truly be rescued. Others can only watch those lucky ones board the ship and leave, with no choice.
And everyone who boards the ship will get a gift bag, which contains cigarettes, coffee, and even candies. A small number of A-level high-end talents can even get small pieces of grilled chicken and wine.
Most of the people were so hungry that they couldn't help but eat on the spot after receiving the food. The look of them gobbling up the food made them want to board the ship.
Little Harris drooled as he looked at the meat. He took his father's hand and shook it: "Dad, please. Let's do it. We have guns and motorcycles. We can recruit people to organize a rescue team now.
What do you think?"
Old Harris was really shaken. He himself was aroused by the food distributed by the 'Aurora Legion' and couldn't help but swallow his saliva. He glanced at the crowd and selected a tall man who was also bringing his family.
, stepped forward and said: "Hi, I want to organize a slave-catching team, are you interested in partnering?"
The man on the opposite side immediately brightened up after understanding Old Harris's proposal and nodded repeatedly. Even other people around heard their proposal and all gathered around. A simple slave-catching team was put together in this way.