Chapter 1383 The Call of the Stars (IX)

"If you write about a disaster, you don't have to use a grand perspective to describe the destruction of the entire world, nor do you have to use a detailed tone to count the tragedies that happened to each person.

Because what I heard, saw, and thought of alone is enough to outline the bizarre and terrifying appearance of each abyss undercurrent in this dark vortex. This is the truth I learned when I was rushed into the dark hole and shuttled through the dark and narrow corridors of the world.

After we embraced the light trap like unconscious prey, we woke up and what appeared in my vision was the rust under the iron sheet with a corner of the ceiling of the subway car..."

"Oh my God, where am I?" Quill covered his head and wanted to sit up from the ground, but found that his forearm seemed to be stuck to something. He tilted his head to the left and saw that the thin filaments formed by the pulled mucus connected his left arm, which had just left the ground a little, and the ground.

"What the hell is this?" Quill cursed with a grin. He put his arm back on the ground, shifted his body's center of gravity, and tried to lift his arm from the ground.

But when he used his right hand to support the ground, he found that his right forearm was also stuck by the mucus on the ground. Quill smiled helplessly and said, "I know what it feels like to be stuck on a sticky board. Oh my God, Rocket, Rocket, are you there?"

"Puff, puff, puff..."

A series of subtle sounds came from a distance, and Quill's movements froze. He instinctively turned his head to look in the direction of the sound.

There was endless darkness there.

With the only cold light somewhere, Quill saw the situation above his head clearly. It was not an ordinary roof, but an iron sheet. One of the iron sheets had a foot raised, and mottled rust was exposed on the ground.

It seems that he is in the subway car. Quill sighed. He even had time to comfort himself in his heart that although he is an old antique, he has seen the subway after all.

"Puff, puff, puff..." The sound continued.

Quill listened carefully and found that the sound came from a far distance, and there was no sign of getting closer. He simply ignored the sound and focused on finding a way to get rid of the mucus that fixed him to the ground.

The center of gravity shifted from the left to the right, from the abdominal muscles to the back muscles, Quill cooed on the ground for a long time in a somewhat funny posture, and finally got half of his body free from the entanglement of the mucus.

Quill clenched his fists to cheer himself up: "Okay, Peter, you have done half of it. As long as you work harder, you will be a free cockroach!"

Suddenly, a cold feeling came from his forehead. Quill touched the left forehead with the hand that broke free and found some dark marks. Because the light was too dim, Quill couldn't see what it was.

He wiped his hand on the ground, and the relatively dry mucus he had escaped from became the best cleaning agent, and the traces were wiped off, but soon, two drops of unknown liquid dripped onto Quill's forehead.

Quill shook his hand with some disgust, and then found that the state of the two drops of liquid was a little wrong, and the way they flew out was not like water.

Suddenly, he heard the "slapping" sound of some mucus rubbing from above his head.

Quill slowly raised his head, and then saw that under the raised iron plate, where he originally thought it was rust, there were dense, dark eggs surging.

More and more eggs fell down, flowing along Quill's forehead and high nose bridge to his chin. Quill screamed and wiped the things on his face frantically with his hands.

Like an elk with a broken leg, he tried to move his position with half of his body to avoid the terrible nest above his head, and weakly rubbed the dark marks on his face with his arms. He could even feel the very regular heartbeat in the eggs that looked like fine gravel.

They are about to break out of their shells.

The moment this thought appeared in Quill's mind, he could no longer care about much. He grabbed the ball of dried mucus and rubbed it on his face and body, wiping off the marks on his face as quickly as possible, and then threw it hard, and the mucus ball just rolled under the faint cold light.

Quill saw the source of the light clearly. It was actually the indicator light of the subway door. At this time, under the light, the dense eggs wrapped in the mucus ball began to hatch.

Countless black insects with shells and three pairs of hooked feet crawled out of the translucent embryos, but what awaited them was not rebirth, but the closed and constantly squeezed mucus ball.

The blood-red mucus had obviously lost its vitality, but it still entangled the densely packed insects, crushing their shells, breaking their hooks, and even directly crushing them into fine corpse foam.

The black insects struggled to escape, but they suffocated in front of the last barrier. Quill could even see their desperate expressions when they suffocated, but more hooks pierced the mucous membrane, turning the red mucus into corpses full of holes.

Quill felt terrible suffocation, and he tried his best to get rid of the mucus stuck on his body, because more and more insects were hatched and grew bigger and bigger.

But the mucus on the other side showed no signs of drying up. It seemed as if it still had life, biting Quill's skin tightly and unwilling to fall off.

Under the simple appearance of this lonely boy, a terrible ruthlessness was aroused. Quill reached for the dagger at his waist, held the knife in his right hand, and cut a big hole above the skin stuck by the mucus.

Then Quill put his hand into the wound, and with a "squeak", the whole piece of skin was peeled off and left on the mucus. Then, Quill stood up staggeringly.

This decisive action saved his life.

Because the next second, the iron plate on his head could not support the densely packed eggs that were breaking out of their shells, and it fell down with a "bang", followed by the "clattering" sound of mucus pouring.

Quill was panting, and he didn't even have time to look at his bleeding arm. He stepped on the spot and turned to run in the direction of the indicator light.

Just as he looked beyond the indicator light into the deeper darkness, he heard a familiar voice, cursing in a language he didn't understand.

"Rocket, Rocket! I'm here!" Quill shouted.

Quill rushed over, and then saw the small figure next to the seat by the door, who was obviously also stuck by the mucus.

Rocket Raccoon grabbed his tail and cursed in a low voice. The moment he saw Quill, he didn't even have time to explain his situation, but said to him with trembling beard: "That damn doctor is crazy! He threw us into hell, and I shouldn't have listened to him!!!"

"Don't worry about it for now." Quill took out a dagger, and with a "swish", he shaved off the hair on Rocket Raccoon's tail. Fortunately, the raccoon's skin was not stuck by the mucus, so he only lost a strand of hair and successfully escaped.

He jumped onto Quill's shoulder in two steps, and then shouted in his ear: "Peter, I have to apologize to you! I believed the damn conspiracy of an evil doctor, who asked me to use drugs to lead you to the spire!"

Rocket Raccoon's voice was sharp like a faulty tape, but Quill made a silent gesture to him, and then pricked up his ears to listen carefully.

"Puff, puff, puff..."

The sound was still far away, but it was approaching here at a slow speed. Quill's eyeballs turned rapidly, and then he said: "The sticky sticky mucus that sticks to us is very sticky, definitely not saliva or something."

Suddenly his pupils contracted sharply, highlighting a word: "Flytrap...Run!!!"

Just as Quill took a quick step, a huge wave with a strong sour smell surged from the rear carriage, and the splashing water droplets carried countless insects' shells, hooked feet and eyes with uniform whiskers.

Quill suddenly stopped, because the cockpit was in front of him. He looked around and shouted, "Hold on tight!!"

"Bang!!!"

Quill rushed out of the side window glass, and with a "crash", he fell to the ground with the broken glass, but he didn't stay for long, but crawled to the corner of the wall.

Then, he leaned against the corner, panting, watching the layers of giant maggots like tumors wrapped around the train, spraying their gastric juice into the interior of the train, sweeping all the creatures inside the train, swallowing them into their stomachs, and then leaving new mucus, waiting for a new wave of prey.

Quill leaned against the wall and panted weakly. He turned his head to look at Rocket Raccoon and said, "What's the matter with the 'doctor' you mentioned?"

"I, I..." Rocket Raccoon seemed to have difficulty speaking, but he still pursed his lips and said: The hallucinations you saw before, those tree roots and so on, were actually caused by drugs. "

Rocket Raccoon stretched out one of his paws, and Quill saw a small nozzle between his paws. Rocket Raccoon retracted his paw tremblingly, and then said: "The doctor called it 'fear gas', and only a little bit can make people swallowed by fear."

"So, you tricked us here?"

"Damn, I didn't know he was going to do this! I thought the test he was talking about was just stuffing some monsters into that spire-shaped building for you, or walking through a maze or something, he played too big!"

Rocket Raccoon hung his head, seeming to be very self-blaming. He thought he would wait for Quill's scolding, but at this time Quill held his head again and said to him: "Shh... did you hear it?"

"What? "

"Puff, puff, puff..."

The sound was getting closer and closer, and Quill felt his hair stand on end, but he didn't see anything in the dark. He looked around and didn't find his travel bag, and even his mountaineering bag was gone, so he couldn't find any lighting equipment now.

But at this time, Rocket Raccoon stretched out his other paw, and a ray of light appeared. He looked up at Quill and said, "If we get out alive, you can do whatever you want to me, but we have to leave this place first."

"I think so too."

Quill listened carefully to the source of the sound, then pointed behind Rocket Raccoon and said, "There, there is something..."

Rocket Raccoon turned his head suddenly and pointed the lighting device on his paw at the place where Quill pointed, but there was nothing there except the damp tunnel wall.

"No, no, no." Quill closed his eyes with some pain. A kind of pain that perception did not match reality troubled him. He grabbed Rocket Raccoon and held him in his arms, staggering in the opposite direction of the sound.

"What did you see?"

"I didn't see anything!"

"Then why did you run?"

"Because I can't see!"

Quill ran all the way with Rocket Raccoon, ran up the subway station, crossed the gate, and quickly ran into the elevator that had stopped operating.

At the moment of seeing the light again, what appeared in front of Quill was a grand sunset in the world devoured by monsters.

The golden light shone on the end of the ink-stained feather pen, and the tip of the pen gently fell on the paper, and even the words were illuminated in gold, but the content written on it fell into deeper and deeper darkness.

"Dusk is always called the moment of demons, but I have never seen such an evil and terrifying scene in any dusk. The canvas of the sky and the earth is filled with monsters, and twisted freaks shuttle between them, as if they are the masters of this world.

That is not Dante's Divine Comedy, I am sure of this, because I can see their unique and vibrant ecological order in this terrifying, twisted and chaotic scene.

But I know that this is just an appearance. Some thoughts have been bothering me. Those things that I can occasionally feel but cannot see, which make me always glimpse the leopard in the tube and have no way of knowing the whole picture, are still hidden in the shadows at dusk.

They are calling me, stretching their arms from the darkness, wanting to embrace me, just like the stars I saw on the day I was born."

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