Chapter 1387 The Call of the Stars (Thirteen)

"When I ran out of the underground subway tunnel, the sunset on the ground looked brilliant and gorgeous. The ruined city was like a huge black vortex, and terrible monsters occupied it.

I knew that I had to fight them to survive, but after just two hours, I realized 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 painful, but more fatally, the sanitary conditions here were likely to cause the wound to become infected. I had to find a place to treat the wound quickly.

I didn't expect to find any professional medical equipment, but at least there should be a clean water source, and it would be best if there were some cloth that could be used for bandaging. Food and sleep were things I could consider after I got rid of this damn pain.

I don't know if it was my illusion, but the pain made half of my body numb. I have been injured a lot in the past, but none of them hurt like the one on my arm at this moment, which made my muscles numb and my head dizzy.

As expected, I got separated from my companions, but I was glad that the chatterbox was still with me. He greatly relieved my mental stress. It is always a good thing to have a member in a good mental state in the team.

I think I may be on a street in New York, but it is really difficult to tell clearly, after all, I have been away from the earth for too long.

Soon, I found that I was lucky. There was a hospital on the street where the subway station was located, and fortunately, there were no more terrible monsters along the way.

Although I was still far away I saw sparse black shadows in the clouds, but they seemed to be uninterested in a weak creature like me, which made me wonder another thing. If the end of the world really came in this universe, could such a small number of monsters destroy the entire human civilization?

But I have no time to explore such a grand question now. I just want to rush to the hospital as soon as possible.

The good news is that before the sun sank into the horizon, I came to this abandoned hospital and found a series of medical supplies that I might need, such as iodine, hydrogen peroxide, bandages, cotton swabs, etc. in the treatment room on the second floor.

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 off, but there is no disgusting mucus here. I also found a relatively clean ward on the third floor. Maybe I can sleep here tonight.

I started bandaging myself with those medical supplies. The small animals with sharp teeth and claws helped me a lot. When the tightness of the bandage came from my arm, I felt a little safe.

Great, I think, when the material resources are extremely scarce and people are in a difficult situation, finding what you want can bring more comfort than I thought.

And when I finished everything and came to the ward, I bid farewell to the last rays of sunset today through the gap in the curtains, leaning on the bed and waiting for the darkness to fall. I really need 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 was sleepy very early today. Fortunately, I was not hungry. I pulled the quilt tightly and lay down.

When I was lying in bed, I felt sleepy in waves, but then faded away. I knew I needed sleep, but I couldn't fall asleep. I turned over instinctively, but I touched the wound on my arm, which hurt so much that I almost jumped up.

After a long time of tossing and turning, I finally felt a little dazed, but at this moment, the tightness on my arm that gave me a sense of security became weaker and weaker. I thought the bandage was loose, which made me very uncomfortable, so I raised my arm to check the condition of the wound.

Unfortunately, blood seeped out again. I wanted to get up and bandage it again, but the sleepiness was like a pair of big hands pressing me down on the bed. My body was numb, my head was dizzy, and the hazy illusion made me convince myself that I was not so delicate. I would get some sleep and everything would be fine.

But the sweat produced by running soaked my clothes, sticking the not-so-comfortable fabric to my skin. Every hair could feel the dampness and heat. There was a regular "da da" sound outside the window. I thought it might be raining.

A late summer rain dragged me into an endless dream, with the leaves of Monstera washed by rain, the water seeping into the soil, the damp dark gray brick walls, and the "squeaking" sound of my father's large, ill-fitting rain boots stepping over the threshold.

I dreamed of my childhood in Englewood.

After my mother died, I went through many 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 was gray, like a photo placed on the table and faded by the sun.

After I moved my mother's grave here, I always visited her after the first thunderstorm in late summer.

The feeling of dampness and heat became even stronger. I shouldn't have walked into the cemetery park wearing such a thick coat. I was sweating all over, or it might have been rain, but I endured the unbearable dampness and heat and came to my mother's 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 wipe the dust off the photo.

But just as I stretched out my hand, I felt that my arm was heavy. I turned my head and found that the sleeve of my jacket was caught by the branches of the bushes, so I stretched out my hand and started to deal with the difficult bushes.

Suddenly, in the corner of my eye, the fog covering the photo dissipated, and my mother's eyes became two empty holes. I was so scared that I withdrew 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 the small animal next to me reminded me that this was reality, and the bandage on my injured arm was completely untied.

When the skin was peeled off, the treated subcutaneous tissue was brown-black, and the blood squeezed out by countless broken blood vessels was viscous and entangled together. When I saw it for the first time, I felt a kind of nausea from the bottom of my heart.

I took a few deep breaths, unrolled another roll of bandages and prepared to re-bandage. When I finished everything and fell asleep again, a terrible itch spread along my arm to half of my body.

Itchy, itchy, itchy...

I couldn't stand it anymore. My thoughts began to become confused, even frantic. A terrible anger lingered in my heart-Why do you want to itch? Didn't I deal with it in time? Why do you have to trouble me at this time? Am I not miserable enough? !

Between half asleep and half awake, my consciousness frantically tore everything apart. I was awakened by the screams of small animals. When I woke up again, there were bandages stained with blood and muscle tissue fragments on the ground.

And when I saw my arm, I started to vomit crazily.

The wound now looked so disgusting. The blood on my other hand showed that I had not only untied the bandage just now, but also scratched it crazily, making the medicine I applied before, the dried blood and the flesh produced by scratching into a ball.

I didn't feel pain, just nausea.

I felt like I was being held down on the chest, fixed to the ground and unable to move, with the raised iron sheet and dark rust from the subway ceiling above my head.

When I turned my head, I found that the mucus that was holding me was secreted from the wound on my arm, and the bugs that almost fell into my mouth were vomited out of my stomach.

Something was coming out from there.

When this terrible thought came up, I felt more pain all over my body, as if sharp hooks pierced my skin, and I became a pupa being broken through, with hollow corpses torn out.

I could no longer resist the invasion of fear.

But what was clearer than fear was a kind of arrogance that was unique to humans.

There was nothing in this world that was nobler than humans. This terrible arrogant thought expanded rapidly in my heart and made me realize that what was more terrible than death was becoming a monster.

I didn't even want to become a god, so what could make me degenerate and become an ugly bug?

If someone asked me to do this, I would let him get out immediately.

The most praiseworthy thing about human beings is their wisdom. If anyone wants to let madness replace reason, then I would rather abandon this already weak body in exchange for spiritual greatness - forever greatness.

I smashed my elbow joint completely with concrete debris, cut off all the fascia and muscles with a dagger, and cut off my lower arm.

The night passed and the day came.

Those cowards are gone. "

The cursive English under the tip of the feather pen fell the last arc. Schiller, who wrote a long string of words in one breath, put down the pen and rubbed his wrist, which was a little sore.

He looked up at the time. Three minutes before the agreed time, the door downstairs was knocked.

Schiller stood up, walked down the stairs and opened the door of the small clinic. Matt appeared outside the door with a lunch box.

Matt raised the Japanese lunch box with a cherry blossom pattern in his hand, shook the wine in his hand, and said: "Last time I saw that you still like to eat sashimi. Fresh Mikan sea bream and Livzon ice wine, how about some? "

"It seems that you have made up your mind to bribe me." Schiller opened the door of the clinic and stepped aside to make way for the blind lawyer to enter.

The two walked to the sofa on the first floor and sat down. Matt opened the lunch box, and Schiller looked at the bottle of beer. Matt said while arranging the plate: "Last time I noticed that you were not very interested in sake. I think you like sweeter wine."

"You are right. I am a Potter Party. 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 picked up the food, his hand was withdrawn with some hesitation.

"I can see that you are very worried. Ask if you have anything."

Matt pursed his lips and said, "I am very worried about those children, especially Spider-Man, whether he is Peter Parker or someone else."

"Spider-Man's intimate mother, huh?"

Matt laughed embarrassedly. Schiller handed him the wine glass and said, "There is more than one Spider-Man who described Nick and you as parents. Compared with Nick's high demands on them, all Spider-Mans like to come to Daredevil to tell him about their growing troubles."

"Don't say that. They are also happy to talk to you."

"But I didn't fulfill my responsibilities as a teacher." Schiller tilted his head slightly and said, "At least not before."

"But..." Matt paused, showing an embarrassed expression, then looked at Schiller with his lifeless 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 the laziness and lack of progress of the young heroes are my responsibility for neglecting to guide them, then I should naturally try to make up for it, right?"

"They actually have some progress..."

"The kind of progress that has been made in dealing with protests in a district in New York for two months without any movement?"

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