Chapter 5 chapter Five

As with all major events, this one was unremarkable at first—just the arrival of a Ford Crown Victoria government car, containing only a civil servant, two infant soldiers, and a mobile phone.But after a phone call and a few days of fuss, by this time Bellamy was stationed at the school.There are no students, no classes, nothing that should be there, just more and more Bureau cars and trucks, and the men and women of the Bureau.They camped here a few days ago. The Bureau has a plan for Arcadia.Because this small town is located in a remote place with inconvenient transportation, the economic development has not improved over the years, and this is exactly the condition that the Bureau of Investigation is looking for.Of course, Whiteville also had hotels, restaurants, and other facilities and resources that the Bureau planned.However, there are still people there, about 15,000 people, not to mention the highways and roads at all levels.Therefore, confidentiality becomes an issue.

In contrast, the small town of Arcadia looks like it never existed.There are only a handful of residents here, all of whom are unknown.Most of them are farmers, mill workers, car repairers, day laborers, mechanics and some foreign poor people, "no one cares about them anywhere". At least, that's what the Colonel said. Colonel Willis, just thinking of that name gave Bellamy a stomach cramp.He knew so little about the colonel that he was very disturbed.In the information age, you can never trust someone who can't be searched on Google's website.But it was only after Bellamy returned to the hotel late at night that she had time to think about it before going to bed.The non-stop work every day, especially the repeated interviews, has exhausted all his energy.

The school's rooms are small and reek of mustiness, lead paint and stale weather. "First," said Bellamy, leaning back in her chair, with the notebook in her lap, "does any of you want to talk about anything unusual that has happened recently?" "No," Lucille said, "I can't think of anything like that." Jacob nodded in agreement, his main concern now being the lollipop in his hand. "But I guess," Lucille continued, "you still have to ask what you should. The result is that we feel that something strange has happened in recent days. I think you are interrogating a prisoner."

"You put it a little harshly, I think." "Maybe," Lucille said, "I apologize." She licked her thumb and helped Jacob wipe a little candy stain off his face.She dressed him up for today's interview: new black trousers, a shiny white collared shirt, new shoes, even new socks.He has also been careful not to get his clothes dirty, he was such an obedient boy in the past. "I just love words, that's all," Lucille said. "Sometimes, certain words sound harsh, even though you're really just trying to say it differently." Lucille made Jacob's face blush. Get clean and start paying attention to your appearance.She stroked her long gray hair and checked whether her hands were dirty—fortunately, they were not.She rearranged her dress again, adjusting her sitting position so that it fell lower—not that her cream dress was too short, of course.Lucille felt that any lady with an elegant temperament, no, as long as she is a lady with a dignified character, should try to be well-behaved and decent in public. This point cannot be vague.

"Rules" is also a word Lucille particularly likes when talking. "Rules," she murmured, and smoothed the collar of her dress again. "We've had a report of a situation," Bellamy said. "The Resurrected are having trouble sleeping." He picked up the notebook from his lap and placed it on the desk.He didn't expect a school teacher in such a small town to have such a big desk, but if he thought about it carefully, he would understand that this was actually quite normal. Bellamy leaned forward to check that the recording equipment was working.He scribbled in his notebook, waiting for Lucille to answer his question, but he soon realized that if he didn't work, he wouldn't get any response.He wrote the word "egg" in his notebook to make it look like he wasn't idle.

"It's not that the resurrected ones can't sleep," Bellamy said, still deliberately speaking slowly to hide his New York accent, "it's just that they hardly need sleep. They don't feel weak or tired. It is said that one of them Some people have not closed their eyes for several days and nights, at most they rest for a few hours, and then they are full of energy." He leaned back, slowly feeling the comfort brought by the big chair, just like the big desk, "But it's also possible that this is just an isolated phenomenon," he said, "that's why we have to organize everyone to interview, trying to find out what is anomalous and what is not important. We want to learn as much as possible about the resurrected people, but also Learn about the situation of the non-resurrected."

"So your question is about me or Jacob?" Lucille said, looking around the room. "In the end it's sure to be a question for both of you. But now, tell me about you, Mrs. Hargrave. Do you have trouble sleeping? Do you have nightmares? Insomnia?" Lucille twisted twice in her seat and looked out the window.Today is a beautiful, sunny day, with a spring vibe and a humid summer that feels just around the corner.She sighed, rubbed her hands together, and put them together on her thighs again.But two hands couldn't seem to stay there, so she patted her thigh and put one arm around her son, which she thought any mother would do.

"No," she said at last, "I haven't had a good night's sleep in fifty years. I sit up every night because I can't sleep, and during the day I'm awake and wandering about. It's like I can't do anything, Just being awake. I'm sick of it." She smiled. "Now, I can fall asleep every night. It's so quiet, so deep, so deep, that I never thought, and I don't remember, that I could Get a good night's sleep like this." Lucille put her hands on her lap again, and this time they were obedient. "Now I sleep like everyone else," she said. "I close my eyes, and when I open them again, the sun is already out. I think this is normal sleep."

"And Harold, how did he sleep?" "Very well, sleeping like a dead man. He has always slept like this in the past, and he will probably continue to sleep like this." Bellamy is "recording" in a notebook: orange juice.Beef (maybe steak).Then he crossed out the word steak and changed it to roast beef. He turned to Jacob again. "So how's your time?" "Very well, sir. I'm fine." "It's all kind of weird, isn't it? All these questions and tests and people making such a fuss about you." Jacob shrugged. "Do you have anything to say?"

Jacob shrugged again, his shoulders raised almost to ear level, just to set off his soft little face.At first glance, he looked like a painted figure, the product of ancient paint and some skill.His shirt fits well over his ears, and his brown hair falls almost below his eyes.Then, as if inspired by his mother, he offered, "I'm fine, sir." "I'm going to ask you one more question, okay? This one's a little difficult." "My mother taught me that you can only say 'can you ask', not 'you have to ask'." He looked up at his mother, who had an expression of surprise and approval on her face.

Bellamy grinned. "Sure," he said, "well, can I ask you a harder question?" "Sure," Jacob replied, and then, "Would you like to hear a joke?" His eyes lit up suddenly. "I know a lot of good jokes," he said. Agent Bellamy folded his arms and leaned forward. "Okay, let's hear your joke." Lucille prayed silently in her heart again—please, Lord, don't let him tell that beaver joke. "A chicken crossing the road, how do we describe it?" Lucille held her breath. Most chicken jokes were gross. "'Birds are so beautiful'!" Before Bellamy had time to think about the answer, Jacob had already said it himself, and he was still laughing and patting his thigh like an old man. "That's interesting," said Bellamy. "Did your father teach you that?" "You said you had a difficult question." Jacob said, looking away.He looked out the window as if waiting for someone. "Well, I know this question has been asked of you before, and I know it has probably been asked many times, and you are reluctant to answer it. I asked you myself, but I have to ask it again. The earliest you can remember What's the matter?" Jacob said nothing. "Do you remember that you have been to China?" Jacob nodded.For some reason, his mother didn't scold him this time.Like everyone else, she's curious about the Risen's memories.She habitually wanted to nud him lightly with her elbow to signal him to continue, but she reacted immediately, restrained herself, and put her hand back on her thigh. "I remember waking up," he began, "by the water, actually the river, and I knew I was in trouble." "How did you get into trouble?" "Because I know that my parents can't find me. When I can't find them, I will be afraid, not because I am afraid of trouble, but because I am afraid that they will not be around. I thought my father was nearby, but he was not." "and after?" "Some people came, some Chinese, and they spoke Chinese." "and then?" "Then two more women came and they said some funny things, but in a very gentle way. I don't understand what they're saying, but I know they're good people." "Yes," said Bellamy, "I know exactly what you mean. It's like when a doctor or a nurse tells me some medical term, and I never get what they mean, but from the way they say it, I To see that they all mean well. You know, Jacob, you can tell that from the way a guy talks, and it's amazing. Do you agree?" "Agreed, sir." Then they talked a lot more, mainly about what happened after Jacob was found by the river in that small fishing village outside Beijing.Children love to talk about this.He sees himself as an explorer, a hero on a legendary journey.True, he was terrified then, but only at first.Then things got interesting.He was in a strange land, surrounded by strange people, and they fed him strange food, and thankfully, he got used to the taste of the food very quickly.Even now, sitting in his office with the Bureau of Investigation civil servants and his dear mother, his stomach is still rumbling at the thought of real Chinese food.He doesn't know the names of those foods, but he knows the aromas, tastes, and ingredients. Jacob gushed about Chinese food and how nice those people were to him.Then the government came—and soldiers with them—but they treated him like one of their own.They made him a big meal.While he was eating, those people looked at him with surprise and doubt on their faces. Then he got on a plane and flew for a long time, but he wasn't afraid at all.He'd been looking forward to getting somewhere by plane, and now he'd spent eighteen hours in one go.The flight attendants on the plane were nice, but when he met Agent Bellamy, Jacob found that he was the nicer. "They've been smiling at me," Jacob said, thinking of the flight attendants. When he told his mother and the man from the investigation bureau, there were not many vivid descriptions in his words, but simply said: "I like them all, and they like me too." "Sounds like you're doing fine in China, Jacob." "Yes, sir, quite interesting." "Okay, good." Agent Bellamy stopped taking notes, because the notebook was already filled with the names of various foods. "Are you tired of these questions, Jacob?" "No, sir, it's all right." "I'm going to ask you one last question now, and I hope you can think carefully before answering me, okay?" Jacob had finished his lollipop and sat up straight, his pale face turning serious.He looked like a small, well-dressed politician—black trousers, a white shirt with a collar. "You're a good boy, Jacob, and I know you've tried your best." "Yes, my dear." Lucille also said, stroking the child's little head. "Do you remember what happened before you came to China?" silence. Lucille put her arms around Jacob and held him tight. "Mr. Martin Bellamy doesn't want to embarrass you, so if you don't want to answer, you don't have to answer. He's just curious. Your old mother is also curious, but I don't seem to be as serious as him. I just want to gossip." She smiled, and stretched out a finger to tickle him.Jacob giggled.Both Lucille and Detective Bellamy were waiting for him to speak. Lucille rubbed Jacob's back, as if she could feel his memory just by putting her hand on his body.She wished Harold had been there, and she felt that it would be helpful if his father rubbed his back at this moment and showed his support.But Harold had been so uncooperative today, yelling at the "fucking stupid government," just as Lucille had been dragging him to church over the weekend.So, in the end, it was decided that Lucille and Jacob would be interviewed by the Bureau while Harold waited outside in the truck. Bellamy put the notebook on the table next to the stool, signaling to the child that this was not a routine government questioning.He wanted the child to understand that he was really interested in his experience.He liked Jacob, he had taken a liking to the kid when they first met, and he thought Jacob liked him too. The child still didn't speak, and the atmosphere was a little awkward.Agent Bellamy said, "Well, Jacob, you don't have to—" "I did everything," Jacob said. "I really did." "I'm sure you're very obedient," Inspector Bellamy said. "I didn't want to make trouble that day, it was the day by the river." "In China? Where they found you?" "No." Jacob said after a pause.He lifted his legs up to his chest. "Do you remember what happened that day?" "I didn't want to make trouble." "I know you don't." "I really haven't," Jacob said. Lucille sobbed, but made no sound.Her body kept trembling, like a weeping willow in the spring breeze.She fumbled in her pocket to find a pack of tissues, took it out and wiped her eyes. "Go on." She choked up. "I remember there was water," Jacob said, "just water, first it was the river at home, and then it wasn't. I don't understand either, but that's how it is." "Did anything else happen?" Jacob shrugged. Lucille wiped her eyes again.Her heart seemed to be blocked by a stone, although she didn't know why.All she could do was try not to pass out on the little chair beneath her.In that case it would be very disrespectful, and it would never be nice to have Martin Bellamy tend to a fainted old woman.Out of courtesy, she struggled to control herself, and then asked a crucial question. "Did you see anything before you woke up, baby? Between when you... fell asleep and woke up? Was there a bright warm light? Was there a sound? Was there anything else?" "Why do monkeys hate parallel lines?" Jacob asked. Everyone was silent.There was only silence, and a little boy, torn back and forth between what he couldn't say and what his mother wanted to know. "Because there is no intersection (banana)." Seeing that no one answered, he had to say the answer himself. "He's a good boy," said Inspector Bellamy.Jacob had gone, to the next room, accompanied by a young soldier from the Midwest.The two rooms were separated by a door with a small window through which Lucille and Agent Bellamy could see them.It was important that Jacob was within Lucille's sight. "He's a gift from heaven," she said after a moment.Her gaze shifted from Jacob to Bellamy, and finally to her own small, slender hands, resting peacefully in her lap. "It sounds like everything is going well, I'm very happy." "It did go well," Lucille said.She smiled slightly, still looking at her hands.Then, as if the answer to some riddle suddenly came to her mind, she sat up straight suddenly, and the smile on her face became brighter and prouder.Only then did Agent Bellamy notice how forced her smile was. "Is this your first time here, Agent Martin Bellamy? I mean, south?" "Does it count if you have stopped at the airport a few times?" He leaned forward, clasped his hands and put them on the big table in front of him.He sensed that she had something to say. "I don't think so." "Are you sure? Because I've been in and out of the Atlanta airport more times than I can remember. Strange, but somehow every flight I've ever been on has to go through Atlanta. I swear, there are Once I was flying from New York to Boston, and I was stuck in Atlanta for three hours, I don’t understand what happened.” Lucille laughed dryly: "How come you are still single, Agent Martin Bellamy? How come you don't have a family of your own?" He shrugged and said, "Maybe it's because I never had a chance." "You should try to create opportunities," Lucille said.She made a gesture to stand up, but changed her mind immediately. "You look like a nice guy too. The world needs more nice guys. You should find a girl who makes you happy and have some kids." Lucille said, smiling, even though Agent Bellamy had Notice that her smile is gradually fading. Then she stood up with a groan, went to the door, and saw Jacob still in the room. "We're afraid we won't be able to make Strawberry Day this year, Martin Bellamy," she said, her voice growing steady. "It's that time of year when all of Whiteville has a festival, at least as long as I can remember. Maybe you People from these big cities don't think it's a big deal, but for us residents, this festival is a part of life. "It's true to its name, it's all about strawberries. Back in the day people just had a farm and they grew crops and they could feed a family. It's not that common anymore, so people don't understand; the farms I knew as a kid, Gone many years ago. There might be one or two left, and the Skidmore farm up north near Lamberton is probably still in business, but I can't say for sure." As she spoke, she had come across the door and stood behind the chair she had been sitting in, looking down at Agent Bellamy.Just now he was sitting behind the table like a child, and when she looked away, he stood up from his seat, which seemed to be able to get rid of her gaze.He looked like an adult again now, an adult from a faraway big city, who had ceased to be a child years ago. "The festival lasts all weekend," she continued, "and it gets bigger every year, but even in the early years it was a big deal. Jacob, like any kid, had fun. You don't think we've ever taken him anywhere! In fact, even Harold was excited when he got to Whiteville. He tried to hide it, you know, before he was as stubborn as he is now. Old fool. Anyone can see how happy he is! And rightfully so, when he was a father with his only son in Columbus for Strawberry Festival. "It was beautiful then! They were both like kids. There was a famous dog show, and Jacob and Harold loved dogs the most. It wasn't the kind of show you see on TV now, it was traditional. Dog shows only in the country. Only working dogs, like blue brindles, walkers, and beagles. But lord, they are so beautiful! Harold and Jacob always run from one kennel to In the other, we were discussing which dog was better and why. A certain dog seemed to be good at chasing a certain animal in a certain place or in a certain weather condition, or something like that.” Lucille was beaming again.In 1966, she was so lively and proud, and her heart was extremely at ease. "The sun is shining everywhere," she said. "The sky is so clean and blue. It's hard for you to imagine that now." She shook her head. "Maybe it's because the pollution is too serious. Everything is different now." Then, suddenly, she stopped talking. She turned her head and looked at the window above the door.Her son was still there, still alive, still the same age as eight, still as handsome. "Things have changed," she added after a moment's silence, "but you should have seen it, Martin Bellamy. How happy they are--Jacob and his father. Half the day he takes his son On his back, I was really worried that he would be exhausted. We walked a long way that day, walking and walking, and Harold carried the child like a sack of potatoes. "The two of them played a game. They went to a stall at random, looked around, and then started talking nonsense to their heart's content. Then Jacob turned and ran, and Harold followed. They never I nearly knocked people over when I was walking through the crowd, and I had to yell behind them, 'Stop, you two! Don't run around like animals!'” She stared at Jacob with a look on her face that seemed to say that she didn't know how to face his return, so she had to wait ambiguously. "He's truly a gift of God, Agent Martin Bellamy," she said slowly, "and even if one doesn't quite understand the meaning and purpose of such a gift, it doesn't make it any less . . . does it? " She knew he would come, she just had to believe and wait.He was always humble when he spoke about himself, but he was actually smarter and more serious.His qualities are never mentioned by himself. She had almost found him.She made it all the way east to Colorado, but they caught her.A local police officer found her at a rest area on the highway.She hid in a truck all the way, and the driver, fascinated by the stories of the resurrected, kept asking her about death.When she refused to answer any more questions, he left her in the rest area.There, everyone looked at her and acted full of doubts. She was first transferred to Texas, where she repeatedly asked the Bureau's interviewer a question: "Can you find Robert Peters for me?" Mississippi, where she used to live.They then locked her in a building with other people of similar fate, and put some men with pistols to guard them. "I've got to find Robert Peters," she repeated to them at every opportunity. And the most decent answer she heard was "he's not here", and the speaker had a mocking expression on his face. He will come to her.Can't say why, but she just knows.He'll find her, and everything will be back to normal.