Part 2 The Faceless Men Chapter 263 The Straws
Where Ince Zangwill had disappeared, the light was suddenly gone, colored by the thickest and deepest darkness.
In the darkness, there was the sound of chanting poetry, peaceful and quiet, hypnotizing people to sleep, even the countless pale arms under the pitch-black water constantly grasping became slow, no longer frantic, as if obtaining the salvation of the soul.
In such a “dark night”, a figure came out, it was the Ince Zangwill who had just been dragged into the spirit world.
Compared to before, he had lost the fedora on top of his head, and his left shoulder was torn and tattered, with a piece of flesh torn off, and yellowish pus bubbles gurgling out one after another.
His eyes are no longer indifferent, full of pain, seems to be suffering from others can not imagine the torture.
”0-08,” the quill continued:
”Some regret, some rejoice, that Ince Zangwill has an ‘Evil God’s Umbilical Cord’ in his body, that comes from the baby in Mego’oth’s belly, from the ‘True Creator’, and that through the use of the ‘Umbilical Cord’, he successfully escaped the confinement of the unknown being and forcefully returned to the real world, but he also completely lost that magical item and will suffer the resentment of the Evil God’s children not being born for a short period of time.
”It left his strength like certain items in a department store during a seasonal change, only 55% of what it was originally, well, that number is very accurate.”
……
A street deep in the East End.
The elder Kohler was hurrying back toward his rented apartment, clutching a ham in a paper bag.
He looked around warily, fearing that hungry men with wolf-like eyes would pounce on him and snatch his “New Year’s gift”.
He had seen wolves when he was still in the countryside, but he never thought he would experience that familiar feeling in Birkeland.
”It’s still too expensive and too big, so I can only buy one with someone and saw it into several parts …… This is enough for me to eat during the New Year’s vacation, and I can have two, three, no, at least five slices of ham meat for every meal, and I can even cut some down and make soup with potatoes without even putting salt on it! …… “Thinking of this, the old Kohler looked at the ham in his arms, looking at the red meat that was interspersed with a lot of white, his throat couldn’t help but wriggle a little, swallowing a mouthful of saliva.
Walking, he felt the fog around him thickened quite a bit, and the church bell tower that was still clear in the distance was gradually engulfed by the color of pale yellow mixed with iron black, even the pedestrians around him, more than ten paces away, were only left with blurred shadows.
Old Kohler instantly had the feeling of being forgotten by the world, and raised his palm to cover his mouth and nose.
”Why does the fog smell so bad today?” He muttered and quickened his pace.
One step, two steps, three steps, the old Kohler felt his face burning and his forehead seemed to burn.
His chest tightened, his throat became uncomfortable, and he soon had symptoms of breathlessness.
”Sick? Damn, I still want to have a good New Year, now I can only send my savings to the clinic to the hospital …… No, maybe I’ll be fine after a nap, just cover me with my quilt and sleep!” Old Kohler muttered silently to himself, his head growing hotter and more confused.
Ho, ho, ho, he heard his own hard gasp, his hands went limp, and the paper bag containing the ham fell heavily to the ground.
Old Kohler subconsciously crouched to pick it up, but fell there at once.
He pressed down on the bag containing the ham and struggled to gather it into his arms.
At this moment he thought a thick phlegm had risen and blocked his throat, and, struggling against it, made a sound like the pulling of a bellows.
Puff! Old Kohler’s vision began to blur when he saw the same man a few paces away, falling and gasping for breath, about his age, also in his fifties, gray at the temples.
Suddenly, he had the realization that he was about to die.
It reminded him of his wife and children, who had done the same thing, suddenly contracted the plague and died quickly.
It reminded him of the time when he was hospitalized for his illness, and the patients in the same room who were still laughing and chatting that night had been taken to the morgue by early morning.
It reminded him of the friends he’d made when he’d been a hobo, and how many of them had disappeared as a winter passed, eventually being found stiff and stiff in bridge holes or street corners where they could be sheltered from the wind, and a handful of others had died from the sudden availability of food.
It reminded him of the time when he was a nice worker, when his neighbors on the block would die so suddenly, some of them dying of headaches and convulsions, some of them accidentally falling into freshly baked steel, some of them dying of pain in the bones all over their bodies and swelling, and some of them even collapsing without a word, batch after batch, in the factories.
It reminded him of the words he heard from a drunk in a bar when he was poking around earlier, who said:
”People like us are like straw in the ground, when the wind blows, we fall, and even without the wind, we may fall ourselves.”……
The wind came …… Old Kohler flashed this thought at once.
As he clutched the paper bag containing the ham, he reached into the pocket of his stale jacket and tried to pull out the crumpled cigarettes that he had been so reluctant to smoke.
What he couldn’t understand was why his healthy self had suddenly contracted the disease; it wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced that kind of fog before.
What he couldn’t understand was why he suddenly collapsed when his life was just on track, heading in a good enough direction, and he had reaped the rewards of Detective Moriarty’s early payment for a piece of ham he had wanted for a long time to welcome in the New Year, and was looking forward to savoring its deliciousness.
Old Kohler pulled out the crumpled cigarette, but his arm, no longer able to lift it, hit the ground hard.
With the last of his strength, he tried to shout out the words that had accumulated in his heart, but he could only let the weak words linger on the edge of his mouth, unable to get them out.
He heard his last words.
He heard himself ask:
”Why?”
……
Inside an apartment building on the edge of the East End.
Liv hung up the last of the laundry she had pulped and was waiting to dry.
She looked outside at the sky, a little uncertain of the time by the fog that had become thick at some point.
”Anyway, it’s still early, and we’re all done with the pulping ……” Liv’s expression grew heavy.
It wasn’t good to finish a job too early, it didn’t mean being able to rest, it only indicated a lack of starts and a lack of income.
Liv took a breath and turned to her eldest daughter Freya, who was scrubbing her hands next to her and looking straight into the word book in the next room:
”It’s almost New Year’s and most of our employers have left Birkeland for vacations elsewhere, we can’t go on like this, we’ve got to find new work.”
She said as she headed for the door:
”On holidays like this the rich people throw party after party, they don’t always have enough servants, maybe they hire temporary kitchen cleaning ladies, I’m going to ask, Freya, you stay home and pick up Daisy at the right time, we need the income, and so do those sons of bitches, thieves, robbers, and traffickers to welcome in the New Year. ”
In the East End, every woman who did not enter the factories had to be either crafty or shrewish to survive.
Freya replied briskly:
”Good.”
Her mind had drifted to the small table and word book next door.
Liv had just pulled open the door to her room when she suddenly stumbled and fell to the floor.
Cough cough cough! She let out a violent cough, her face flushed red and every joint in her body sore and aching.
Freya ran over in alarm and crouched down:
”Mom, what’s wrong with you? Mom, what’s wrong with you?”
”No, ahem, there’s nothing wrong with me.” Liv’s breathing grew hard.
”No, you’re sick, sick! I’m taking you to the hospital right away!” Freya struggled to assist her mom.
”It’s too expensive, too, expensive, ahem, go to, Charity Hospital, Charity Hospital, I can wait, no, it’s nothing serious.” Liv gasped in reply.
Tears flowed from Freya’s eyes and her vision flew blurry.
Just then, she felt her lungs burning and her body went limp for a moment, taking Liv with her as she fell back to the ground.
”Freya, what’s wrong with you? Ahem, are you sick too?” Liv cried out anxiously, “The money’s in the, ahem, in the cupboard blocking the, ahem, broken hole in the wall, you, get, get to the hospital! Get a good, good doctor!”
Freya tried to say something, but couldn’t make a sound, and her gaze angled upward to the door of the next room.
It was their bedroom, the one with the high and low bed that belonged to them, with her favorite little table and word book.
Her body jerked suddenly.
Liv’s coughing stopped abruptly.
Inside the public elementary school on the edge of the East End, the fog wasn’t quite thick yet, but a number of students had already begun coughing.
The teacher on duty had been trained to do so, and immediately ordered:
”Quick, to the church, to the next church!”
Daisy stood up in a terrified panic and ran after the crowd towards the church next to the school.
Suddenly, her heart throbbed with the panicky feeling of losing something important.
…… Mom …… Freya …… Daisy whipped her head around violently and tried to rush home against the crowd.
But she was stopped, grabbed by the teachers and dragged forcibly toward the church.
Daisy struggled as hard as she could, screaming at the top of her lungs:
”Mom! Freya!”
”Mommy! Freya!”
……
In the East Side, in the docklands, in the factory district, those who were old or had hidden illnesses fell down in the mist like trees being cut down, and those who came into contact with them at that moment were infected with the plague and died quickly, while the adults and children who were still fit and healthy were also in slight discomfort.
In their eyes, the yellowish and iron-black mist looked like the “Grim Reaper”.
The foggy Tuesday of the last week of 1349 in Birkeland.
……
In the corner of the hall, Klein pressed himself against the stone wall to keep himself out of Mr. A’s sight.
Soon he heard a muffled grunt and smelled the odor of blood and flesh.
”Give your life for the coming of the Lord.” Mr. A’s voice suddenly rang out.
Flop, flop, the movement of the figure falling heavily reached Klein’s ears, and a strong spiritual fluctuation surfaced and kept echoing.
Mr. A sacrificed his four attendants? Klein had just floated such a thought when the sound of illusory cascading cries came to his ears, someone shouting for his mother, someone coughing violently, and someone moaning in pain.
As half an occultist, Klein seemed to see a figure with unwilling resentment transformed into an illusory and transparent figure, entering the ceremony one after another, and a tidal wave of numbness, despair, pain, resentment, and other repressed emotions that had been deposited for many years in the Factory District, Docklands, and Eastern District came with it.
Has it officially begun? Klein closed his eyes, his back pressed against the wall, his right hand clenched and unclenched violently.
For him, the best option at this point was to slip out of the hall and flee far away while Mr. A was focused on the ceremony.
His right hand loosened and tightened, and tightened and loosened, many times in succession.
After seven or eight seconds, Klein’s eyes opened and the corners of his mouth turned up pompously.
He reached out and gripped the revolver in his hand, turned with a jerk, and sprinted away.
Dressed in a long black double-breasted tuxedo, he raised his right hand and aimed at the altar.