Chapter 15 Chapter Thirteen The Night Walker Is Gone

I'm not that paranoid.I can't believe I'm surrounded by mysterious enemies who want to frame me, torture me, and kill me.But I also understand very well that once the disguise is removed and my true face is exposed, the whole world will join forces to deal with me and make me die.It's not an overkill, it's the judgment of public opinion by a calm and level-headed person, and I'm not afraid of that.I just have to be careful so that that doesn't happen. However, a large part of my vigilance is listening to the subtle whispers of the night walker, but it is trying to twitch at this moment, just not to reveal its thoughts.I have never experienced such anxiety and dead silence before, which made me restless, and ripples of uneasiness appeared in my heart.When I was in front of the ceramic drying oven, I felt that I was being watched or even secretly followed by someone.Afterwards we drove back to headquarters and I kept feeling as if a car was following us, and I couldn't get that feeling out of my head.is this real?What's wrong with it?If so, was it for me or Deborah, or just any random Miami driver going crazy?

I saw a car in the side view mirror, a white Toyota "Avalon".He followed us until Deborah turned into the parking lot, and he drove away without slowing down, and the driver didn't seem to be looking at us, but I still couldn't get over the absurd feeling that he was really Follow us.Still, I can't be sure unless Nightcrawler tells me, and it doesn't—it just makes a few hissing noises like clearing its throat, so I didn't say a word to Deborah because it sounded solid. Stupid. As I walked out of the building to my car at night to go home, I had that feeling of being watched by someone or something again—but it was just a feeling, not a warning, not an inner whisper from a shadow, or something. It is not the flapping of black wings calling me to action.Just a feeling, but it makes me nervous.When the Night Walker speaks, I listen and I act.But it doesn't talk now, it just squirms, which makes me wonder what to do.In this daze, I drove south toward my home, keeping my eyes on the rearview mirror.

Isn't this like being human?Walking on the journey of life is like walking on the road in a safari park. If you accidentally stumble and stumble, the tiger sniffs your heels.It's this eternal feeling of being at stake.Knowing this, it is easy to understand many human behaviors.I myself am a predator, stalking would-be prey in disguise, ready to kill anytime I choose.It feels great.But the Nightwalker didn't say a word, so I didn't dare to act rashly.In fact, I myself became one of the herd, vulnerable and helpless.I don't like the feeling of being prey.This made me all the more alert.

After getting off the highway, I found a white Toyota "Avalon" following me. Of course, there are plenty of white Toyota "Asia Dragons" in the world.The Japanese lost the war and then took over our auto market rightfully.Of course, any "Asian Dragon" can go the same way with me, and go home from get off work along this crowded road.It stands to reason that there are only a few roads that can be walked, so it is absolutely justifiable for a white "Asian Dragon" to drive on one of the roads. It is unreasonable to think that others are following you.What did I do?I mean, who can prove what I did?

So it's ridiculous to feel like I'm being followed, let alone explain why I've suddenly turned right onto a fork off US 1 Highway. Also unexplained, the white "Asian Dragon" continued to follow me. Like all predators afraid to disturb their prey—or like any other normal person who happens to turn in the same direction—the car kept a fair distance from me.I made another mysterious turn, this time to the left, into a small residential area. A moment later, the car followed again. As I said before, the dauntless Dexter never knew how to write without fear.That's enough to explain that all the pounding heart, dry mouth, and sweaty hands I'm feeling right now are nothing but great unease.

I don't like this feeling, I am no longer the "Knight of the Blade", my knife and armor are lost somewhere in the second basement of the castle, I stand unarmed on the battlefield, and suddenly I am a soft and delicious prey, Some inexplicable reason leads me to believe that my scent has filled the predator's nostrils and moved its index finger. I turned right again and didn't see the sign saying "This road is not accessible" until I passed the sign. I turned into a dead end and was cornered. I consciously slowed down and waited for the car to catch up.I was eager to make sure that the white "Asian Dragon" would really follow.it comes.As I continued down the street, the road ahead widened into a small bend that allowed vehicles to turn around.There were no other cars in the driveway in front of the garage at the end of the bend.I drove up, turned off the engine, and waited, my heart beating like a drum, powerless, I could only sit and wait for the sharp teeth and claws that chased me all the way.

The white car was getting closer and closer.It slowed down as it approached the bend, getting closer and closer to me... It passed my car, rounded the curve, and rolled out of the neighborhood, into the afterglow of Miami. I watched it go, and when its taillights disappeared around the corner, I suddenly remembered how to breathe.I enjoyed this lost and regained skill, and it felt good.After the oxygen levels in my body were restocked and I recovered, I started to feel stupid.In the end what happened?It looked like a car was following me, but it drove off again.There are a million reasons why it could have gone the same way as me, and most of them can be boiled down to two words: coincidence.And then, what the hell was the big bad car doing while poor shivering Dexter was sweating in the car?It drives away.It didn't stop to look, curse, or throw a grenade.It just kind of drove by, leaving me in the abyss of my own fear.

Someone knocked on my car window, and I jumped up, hitting my head on the roof of the car. I turned my head to see a middle-aged man with a mustache and acne scars bending over to look into the car.I hadn't noticed him until now, which is further proof of how isolated I am. I roll down the window. "Is there anything I can do for you?" the man said. "No thanks," I said, a bit puzzled how he thought he could help me.But he didn't let me go on guessing. "You parked in my driveway," he said. I "oh" for a while, only to realize that it seems to be the case, and I have to think of a reason. "I'm here to find Pooh," I said.Not very smart, but good enough for this situation.

"You've gone to the wrong place." The man spoke with a viciously smug expression, which lifted my spirits. "Sorry," I said.I rolled up the windows and backed out of the driveway.The man stood there watching me go, probably to make sure I didn't pop out and attack him with a machete.After a while, I was back in the bloodthirsty traffic of the National Highway 1, and the usual rough traffic in front, back, left, and right wrapped me like a warm blanket, and I felt that I was slowly regaining my vitality.To be home again at last, to hide behind the crumbling walls and empty basements and all of Dexter's Castle.

I've never felt so stupid—that is, I feel especially human right now.What on earth am I thinking?In fact, I wasn't thinking about anything other than dealing with the cramping feeling of panic.It was so absurd, too human, too ridiculous, if I was human and could laugh.Ah well.At least I am really ridiculous. I spent the last few miles thinking of nasty words to call myself out for being cowardly and overreacting, and by the time I pulled into Rita's driveway, I'd pretty much ruined myself , which makes me more comfortable.I got out of the car with a very close to real smile on my face, the kind of joy that came from the heart of stupid Dexter's genuine heart.When I took a step away from the car and looked sideways towards the gate, a car drove slowly by.

Of course, it was a white "Asian Dragon". If there is justice in the world, it must be tailor-made for me at this moment.Because so many times I've enjoyed watching other people stand there, mouth gaping as if jaws were dislocated, completely seized by surprise and fear; now it's Dexter's turn to stand in the same silly position .I froze in place, I couldn't move a bit, I couldn't even raise my hand to wipe my bum.The only thing I could think of as I watched the car go by was that I must look really stupid. At this moment, it would make me look even more stupid if that godly guy in the white car did anything other than drive slowly past.But to the relief of many who know and love me—at least two, including myself—the car drove past without stopping.For a moment, I thought I should be able to see a face looking at me from the driver's seat.But the car immediately accelerated, turned slightly and entered the middle of the road.There was a flash of light on the silver bull head of the Toyota logo, and the car drove away. My mind went blank and I couldn't think.I finally shut my mouth, scratched my head, and stumbled toward the house. There was a soft but very deep and powerful drumbeat, and a surge of joy filled the atrium; this joy came from a sense of relief and longing that was relieved.Then a horn blows, and it gets closer and closer, and in just a moment, everything starts, happens, and repeats itself over and over again.Joy ascends to melody, and that melody climbs and climbs until at last it is omnipresent.I felt my feet taking me to the bliss that the voice had promised, where all things were filled with the joy of coming, and the sense of immense fullness was ecstatic. I woke up with a pounding heart and a sense of relief for no reason.This feeling is very inexplicable, and it is not entirely caused by drinking when extremely thirsty and sleeping when extremely tired. But—what troubles me even more than this confusion is that I have the same feeling as I did on those nights when I took the moonlight operation.It seemed to say to me that my deepest longing had been fulfilled and that I could now relax and rest contentedly. But this is impossible.There is no way I can feel this most intimate and personal feeling when I lie in bed and sleep. I look at the bedside clock: it's 12:50 a.m., which is not the time for Dexter to be up and wandering, not tonight when he's supposed to be sleeping. On the other side of the bed, Rita was snoring softly, twitching her body occasionally, like a dog dreaming of chasing a rabbit. On this side of the bed lay a bewildered Dexter.Something crept into my dreamless night, and made waves on the quiet sea where I slept soundly.I don't know what that is, but it makes me unspeakably elated, which I don't like at all.My moonlight addiction allows me to have fun in a nonchalant way, that's all.Nothing else was allowed into the second-floor corner of Dexter's dark basement.I like that.I have my own little guarded inner space, demarcated and locked away, where I feel joy that is only mine—only on those moonlit nights, and no other time.Feeling otherwise means nothing to me. So what is it that has trespassed and smashed this door uninvited, flooding my cellar with unwelcome waves?What is it that can barge in so swaggeringly? I lay down and decided to go back to sleep to prove that I was still in control; nothing had happened and it certainly wouldn't.This is Dexter's domain, and I'm the king, and nothing else is allowed.I closed my eyes and turned to that authoritative voice in my heart to confirm that the undisputed monarch entrenched in the dark corner was still me.Nightcrawler, I wait for it to agree, for it to let out a reassuring hiss, and then the rambling music and intermittently chaotic fountains of emotion will all return to their place, out of the darkness and into the light of day.I waited for him to say something, anything, but he said nothing. I am very annoyed.So I poked it viciously, and said to myself, "Wake up! Come out hard!" It remained silent. I ran wildly in every corner of my heart, calling out to the Nightwalker more and more urgently, but the place where it used to stay was empty, like an empty house that was cleaned up and just waiting to be rented out.It's gone without leaving a trace of the past. In its old lair, I can still hear the echoes of the music, bouncing off the hard walls of the empty apartment, sweeping through this sudden, agonizing void. The Night Walker is gone.