Chapter 42 Chapter Forty-Two

Puller turned off his headlights and drew his M11.The lights in the hotel business room were on, and a pickup truck was parked in front of the door. He would have gone in to check on Louisa's kitten, but there were people in there now. He lowered his body, kept his balance, and moved forward on tiptoe, his eyes watching the movement around him.Maybe not a big deal, but Puller, who was nearly killed today, doesn't want to take anything for granted.The guy who bombed him obviously knew he lived here, maybe the guy came back here to play with him again. He checks the pickup first.He opened the passenger side door to check the glove box, and saw the name on the driving license.

Craitus Cousins.The name meant nothing to him. He got out of the pickup truck, stepped onto the narrow porch in front of the office, and looked in through the glass windows.Inside was a short young man in his twenties, holding a large cardboard box. Puller twisted the doorknob and unlocked it.He opened the door and pointed the gun at the man's head. The cardboard box in the young man's hand fell to the ground with a clatter. "Oh God, don't, don't shoot." The man had a shaved head, a slack stomach, a trimmed goatee, and looked like he was about to wet his dirty jeans.

"Who the hell are you?" Puller asked. The opponent was shaking so much that Puller had to lower the gun a little.Puller showed his credentials. "Army Investigator," He said, "You give me a very good reason why I won't shoot. What are you doing here?" "My grandma made me come." "Who's your grandmother? Certainly not Louisa. She said she had no relatives around here." "She has no relations. But my grandmother is her best friend." "What's your name?" "Warry Cousins. My grandma is Nellie Cousins. We've lived in Drake County all our lives. Everyone here knows us."

"The name on the license is Craitus Cousins." "That's my dad. My car didn't come back from the shop, so I drove over in his car." "Okay, Wally, I'll ask you again, why are you here? What are you holding?" The young man pointed to the cardboard box on the ground.It had cracked, revealing its contents.Puller saw some old clothing, a Bible, a few other books, a framed picture, a few knitting needles, and a ball of colored yarn. "I have come to fetch these things," said the young man. "Why? Take Louisa to the hospital?" The young man looked confused.

"No, sir." "That is how the matter?" "Bring it to my grandma." "So you're going to take Louisa's stuff and give it to your grandma. If that's not theft, what is it?" The young man's eyes widened. "Well, she doesn't need the items anyway. She's dead." Puller blinked twice. "Dead? Louisa died? When?" "Yes, sir. Died about three hours ago. Louisa used to tell my grandma that she left these things to my grandma when she died. Like I said, they were good friends and they were about the same age .”

Puller looked down at the carton again, then raised his eyes to Wally and said, "You're quick enough, aren't you? Before her bones are cold, you—" "You really don't know, sir?" "what do you know?" "Many of the residents here are very poor. As soon as they find out that you are dead and have no other relatives, they will take your things away. Otherwise, why are there so many empty shabby houses here? So Louisa dies Immediately afterwards, my grandma told me to come here and take back what Luisa had promised her, and someone else would take it if I came too late."

Puller lowered his gun. "How did your grandma know Louisa was dead?" "She called the hospital." "Other people I know have called the hospital. They won't say anything to your grandma." "My aunt is a nurse in the hospital, and she told grandma." "I hear she's doing well." "I think she was well once. My aunt said she looked better. But then the machine started showing that she was not well, and she suddenly stopped breathing. My aunt said it happens to older people Happened, they gave up trying to survive. Tired of life, I guess."

Puller looked over the carton more closely to make sure there was nothing of value inside.He saw a photo of two girls in their twenties in flared skirts, tights, and pink heels, their hair so puffed up that they looked like they had beehives on their heads.He turned over the photo, and wrote the date on the back in pen: November 1955. "One of the ladies here is your grandma?" Wally nodded. "Yes, sir. Her hair is darker," he said, pointing to the blonde on the left. The girl in the photo has a mischievous smile and an air of challenging the world. "This is Ms. Louisa. They all look much different now, of course. Louisa especially, of course."

"Yeah," Pooler looked around, "are you taking the cat away?" "No. Grandma has three big dogs and they'll eat that little thing." He glanced at Puller's gun. "Can I go?" "Okay, let's go." Wally picked up the carton. "Say to your grandma, I feel sorry for her best friend." "I will. Your name?" "Puller." "I'll tell her, Mr. Puller." Moments later, Pooler heard the pickup start to fire and slowly drove out of the hotel parking space.He looked into the house and at the same time heard the cat's voice.He walked across the counter into the back bedroom.The cat was lying on the unmade quilt.Puller checked the cat's food, water and litter trays.Kittens don't eat or drink much.It was probably waiting for Louisa's return.If so, it is probably not far from death.Comparing the lifespans of humans and cats, this cat should be about the same age as Luisa.

Puller sat on the bed and looked around the room.From flared skirts and visions of a futuristic world in 1955, to worthless remnants decades later.Before the burial is in the ground, people rush to take your things. I thought I saved her.I failed, just like I failed to rescue my comrades in Afghanistan.They were not saved.The development of such things is out of your control.The Army wants you to be in control.Master yourself, master your enemies.But the single most important thing all the training in the army can't tell you is whether to live or die is almost entirely out of your personal control.He scratched the cat's belly, got up and left the room.

He opened the suitcase, took out a roll of isolation tape, carefully locked the door and circled the entrance of the hotel business room. The yellow barrier is very eye-catching and can be seen from a long distance.Its message was clear: do not enter. Then he watched his door carefully from a distance.He looked for things like strings, small pieces of wood he hadn't seen before, but found nothing.He picked up a large stone from the flower bed that surrounded the small parking lot and threw it at a point towards the door.As soon as the stone was shot, he immediately squatted behind the car.The stone hit the door, but nothing happened.He picked up another stone and threw it at the doorknob. The stone hit the target hard. Still nothing happened. He took out a telescoping pole from his backpack, and at the end of the pole was a small clamp that could be turned to almost any angle.He fastened his room key to the clamp and stretched the telescoping lever.He looked around, it was empty, it seemed that he was the only one here at the moment. He inserted the key into the lock, unscrewed the lock, and opened the door with the telescoping lever. No explosion occurred.There was no fireball. He put away the telescoping lever, locked the car, and walked into the room.He stood by the door for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. Everything seemed to be the same as when he left the room.He checks the small traps set up to see if anyone has infiltrated.No trace of touch. He locked the door and sat on the bed, counting his own mistakes. He didn't catch the bomb's tripwire in time.He failed to save Louisa's life. He looked at his watch, wondering if he should make a phone call. Cole would probably be in bed by now.And, what exactly was he trying to say to her? He lay down on the bed, and the M11 would lie in the palm of his hand all night. His phone vibrated.He glanced at the number display and couldn't help groaning silently. "Hello, sir." "Things are terrible, Gunnery Sergeant," his father said.The old man's address to Puller was generally between "Killer Eight" and "Gunnery Sergeant", and sometimes it was simply "You bloody private first class". "What is it, sir?" "No orders from above. Nothing to do on Saturday night. How about we go out and have some fun? We can go to the base and take a military transport plane out on duty and fly to Hong Kong. I know some places. I used to be there Still good. Some of the pussies are cute." Puller unfastened his boots and kicked them aside. "I'm on a mission, sir." "If I say a word, your mission will be released, soldier." "This is a special mission, sir, assigned directly by the headquarters." "Why didn't I know?" His father's tone was fierce. "Orders were issued bypassing the immediate chain of command. I didn't ask why, General. This is the army after all, and I'm just carrying out orders according to military law, sir." "I'm going to make a few phone calls. This has to stop. If I hang on to it again, they'll regret it." "Yes, sir. Understood, sir." "They will definitely pay the price." "Yes, sir. I wish you a pleasant stay in Hong Kong." "You work hard, Gunnery Sergeant. I'll call you when I get back." "Understood, sir." With a snap, his father hung up the phone.Puller wondered if the hospital had stopped giving his father his nighttime medication.It was already so late, and the father who usually took the medicine had already fallen into a deep sleep, but recently the old man had called his son twice at this time.He went back to find out what was going on. Puller took off his underwear and lay down on the bed again. After each such exchange with his father, Puller felt that something had literally eaten away at him in some part of himself.Maybe one day, Puller will literally believe everything his father says on the phone, and his father will return to the commanding officer of the army, and Puller will really become his knoll eight or his guns. Sergeant or his "damned corporals" One ten-thousandth of it.Maybe one day.But not tonight. He turned off the light and closed his eyes.He needs sleep.So, he fell asleep.But sleep lightly.Wake up in three seconds.Take aim and fire at the enemy. bomb.bullet.The god of death that could come in an instant.It was as if he had never left Afghanistan.