Chapter 3 3

Under the scorching August sun, the beach is dazzlingly white.The turquoise cool water washes the shells on the beach.Santa Monica's beaches are packed.Although it is a hot day in the far inland, here under the gentle breeze of the Pacific Ocean, it feels warm and comfortable. Some people cast curious glances at Joe as he passed a group of sunbathers slathered in coconut oil, because instead of beach attire, he was wearing a white sweatshirt, tan shorts, running shoes and no socks , it can be seen that he did not come to swim or sunbathe at all. A group of girls in bikini swimsuits walked past the lifeguards in a ghostly manner, giving a big smile to the lifeguards who were paying attention to the safety of swimmers.

The stars were playing in the waves, but Joe couldn't look at them more. Their laughter, noise and joyful screams were tormenting his nerves and igniting an unknown fire in his heart. Carrying an ice bucket and carrying a towel, we continued to walk north, and finally found a beach with few people.He spread out the towel, sat facing the sea, and took out a bottle of beer from the ice bucket.If the seascape here belongs to him, he is very willing to spend the rest of his life on the seashore.Listening to the never-ending sound of the ebb and flow of the tide, watching the thousands of scenes of the waves lapping on the shore in the sunset, and looking at the smooth sea water in the distance, he has no sense of peace and tranquility in his heart, and he has become numb to everything .

Two skinny teenage boys in baggy swimming trunks ambled up the beach from the north and stopped beside Joe.One had a ponytail, the other a punk cut, and both were deeply tanned.They turned and stared at the sea, their backs just blocking Joe's view.Joe was about to tell them to leave a little, when the boy with the ponytail said, "Dude, what do you have?" Joe ignored him at first, thinking he was talking to Punkhead's friend. "Do you have any stock?" the boy asked again, his eyes still fixed on the sea. "Do you want to do some business and make some money?"

"I've got nothing but beer," said Joe impatiently, and he looked them over with his sunglasses. "And it's not for sale." "Okay," said the boy with the punk hair, "since you're not from the Tao, some guys over there must think you are." "where?" "Don't look now," said the ponytail. "Wait until we're a little farther away, we just saw them watching you. Damn it, it stinks, how strange you can't smell them?" "Just fifty feet away from your six o'clock direction, not far from the lifeguard's lookout," said another. "Both guys in Hawaiian shirts, look like missionaries on vacation."

"One with binoculars and the other with a walkie-talkie." Joe couldn't figure it out for a moment, he put down his glasses and said, "Thank you!" "Hey!" said the boy with the ponytail, "be kinder from now on, we hate those self-righteous ruffians the most." The words of these brats are really dumbfounding.The little guy with the punk hair said, "Fuck his rules." Like a cub who doesn't know the heights of the sky and the earth, the two little guys continued to travel south along the beach, teasing girls along the way.Joe never got a good look at their faces.

After a while, he drank the first can of beer, turned around and opened the lid of the ice bucket, and looked back at the shore casually.Two men in Hawaiian shirts were standing in the shadow of the lifeguard's watchtower. The taller one, wearing a green shirt and white cotton trousers, was watching Joe with a pair of binoculars.When he sensed that he might have been spotted, he nonchalantly turned his binoculars to the south, pretending to be looking at a group of chicks in bikinis.The short one is wearing a red shirt, standing barefoot in the sand, holding shoes and socks in his left hand, and holding another thing in his right hand hanging beside him, which may be a small radio or a CD player, or it may be a intercom.

The tall one is dark and has sun-blown hair, while the short one is pale. He must rarely go to the beach to bask in the sun. Opening another can of beer, inhaling the fragrant foam, Joe turned to face the sea again.Although neither of them looked like they were visiting the beach, Joe was even less likely.The kids had said the dudes smelled of cops, but he'd been a crime reporter for fourteen years and he'd never smelled it. In any case, the police had no reason to be interested in him.When murders are rising, rapes are as common as romances, and robberies are so common that almost half the population is robbed, there's no way a guy can go to waste drinking two cans of beer on the beach Time to harass him.

Joe looked back toward the lifeguard's lookout. The two were gone, so he turned to face the sea again.The waves hit the sand and broke into white foam.Joe gazed at the waves as a volunteer hypnotist gazes at a chain swinging in the hands of a master hypnotist.But the waves couldn't hypnotize him at this moment, and his thoughts were so chaotic that he couldn't calm down.As planets attract satellites, Joe's mind was now orbiting the calendar. He couldn't stop thinking about that date—the fifteenth of August.Today is the first anniversary of death after the plane crash, and he was forced into memories.

When the crash investigation and detailed relic sorting were complete, the remains of Michelle and the two children were returned to Joe, who received only fragments of their bodies.The closed spirit shaft is only as big as that used to bury babies.He received them like a reliquary for a saint.Although he knew the situation after the plane hit, he also knew the consequences of the flames.But to Joe, it was weird how small the remains of Michelle and her daughters had become.Because in his life, they had been so huge. Without them, the whole world seemed like a place where aliens lived, and he no longer felt like he belonged here.He has to get up two hours more every day before he can adjust himself and return to normal.Sometimes, twenty-four hours a day, he was so confused that he couldn't help himself. Obviously, this was the case today.

When he finished his second can of beer, he put the empty can back into the ice bucket. He didn't plan to drive to the cemetery yet, what he needed most right now was to find a toilet nearby.He stood up and turned his head, and caught sight of a tall man with blond hair in a flower-and-green Hawaiian shirt.He wasn't holding any binoculars at the moment, and he wasn't near the lifeguard's lookout on the south side, but was sitting on the sand by himself on the north side, about sixty feet away from Joe.In order to block Joe's view, he chose a seat in front of a young couple sitting on a rug, and a Mexican family, who made a small enclosure with a few folding chairs and a biathlon beach umbrella.

Joe scanned the beach casually, but missed the short one.The guy in the green shirt was trying to avoid looking directly at Joe, who was smacking his right ear like he was wearing a crappy hearing aid, and had to use his hands to block out the noise because he couldn't hear well.At this distance, Joe was not sure, but he thought the man's mouth was moving, as if talking to his missing companion. Joe left the towel and ice bucket on the beach and headed south to the public restroom, knowing without turning his head that the guy in the green Hawaiian shirt was staring at him.Joe thought it over and decided not to get drunk on the beach, so as not to get caught by the law.After all, no matter how much corruption and violence are condoned in this society, it still has to find some people who have made small mistakes to kill chickens and respect monkeys to show that it is still regulated. The crowd near the breakwater gradually increased after Joe arrived at the beach. Skateboarders were screaming in the entertainment center.He took off his sunglasses and walked into the overcrowded toilet.There was a smell of disinfectant and urine in the room, and there was a half-squashed big cockroach on the floor, circling aimlessly, and everyone who saw it was anxious to avoid it. While washing his hands after urinating, Joe watched other people in the mirror, looking for someone who could help him.Finally, his eyes fell on a long-haired boy about fourteen years old wearing a pair of swimming trunks and walking on a pair of slippers. Joe followed the boy as he walked to the tissue box, and when he had finished fetching the tissues, Joe quickly pulled out a few and said, "There are two guys out there who look like memes waiting for me." .” The kid looked him in the eyes and went on wiping his hands without saying a word. Joe said, "You go and find out for me, and come back and tell me where they are, and I'll give you twenty dollars." There is a bruise around the child's eye socket that appears to be recent.He looked Joe straight in the eyes without fear and said, "Thirty dollars!" Jo could not remember, at the age of fourteen, daring to look grown-ups in the eyes so boldly and defiantly.If a stranger came up and made such a request to himself, he would have fled shaking his head. "Pay fifteen yuan first, and another fifteen yuan when I come back." Joe crumpled up the tissue and threw it in the trash. "I'll pay you ten yuan now, and I'll pay you twenty yuan when I get back." "make a deal!" Joe took out his wallet and said, "One of them was about six feet two inches tall, dark skinned, blond, and wearing a floral green Hawaiian shirt. The other was about five feet ten inches, brunette, bald, a little pale, wearing A bonus Hawaiian shirt." The kid took out the ten-dollar bill, but kept his eyes on Joe. "Maybe it's just a cover. There's no such person out there. When I come back, you'll ask me to go with you to the toilet cubicle to beg for another twenty dollars." This made Joe embarrassed, not because he was suspected of being a pedophile, but because the child, the time and space environment in which he grew up, honed him to be so weird at such a young age. "It's not a pretense." "Because I don't do that." "learn. At least a few people have heard about their deal, but no one has shown any interest. This is an era of sweeping the door. When the kid turned to leave, Joe said, "They're not going to just stand outside and wait, that would be easy exposure. They're going to hide away, and find a place where they can see it and not be seen easily." How did the boy react, and walked out with his shoes on. "You took ten bucks from me, and if you don't come back," Joe warned him, "I'll find you and kick your ass hard." "Yeah, so what." The boy said contemptuously and walked out. Joe went back to the rusty sink and washed his hands again.That way it doesn't look like it's being closed.Three young men in their twenties were watching the cockroach with a broken leg.It was still spinning on the floor in a circle twelve inches in diameter, and the men were betting with bills on how fast it would go around. Joe bent down, took the cold water with both palms and splashed it on his face. There was a pungent smell of bleach, the disgusting smell of drains, and the poor ventilation in the toilet. The stagnant air was hotter than outside. The smell of sweat acid, urine, and disinfectant turned the place into a gas chamber. That kid really took too long. Joe splashed more water on his face and looked at his own face in the mirror. Although she basked in the sun for an hour and her face was flushed, she still didn't look very healthy.His eyes used to be shiny gray and piercing, but now they are loose and bloodshot. The fourth person joined the cockroaches' betting camp. He seemed to be in his fifties, a full thirty years older than the others, but he happily joined them in doing this boring thing.A few gamblers obstructed the passage of others, and became more and more outrageous, shouting at a twitching insect, "Run! Run, run!" It's like watching a race. Joe looked into the gray eyes in the mirror and wondered why he had sent the boy to spy on the two men in Hawaiian shirts.If they were following him, they must have mistook him for someone, and they would soon find out they were wrong, and Joe would never see them again.So there is really no reason to collect any intelligence from them to fight against them. He came to the beach to prepare for the cemetery. He wanted to surrender himself to the eternal rhythm of the sea since ancient times, just like sea water washing away rocks and sharp edges and corners, to wash away his inner anxiety and trauma.The message from the sea told him that life was a meaningless void.Joe needs another can of beer to numb himself, so that he can take the teachings of the sea and walk across the city to the cemetery. He didn't need to panic, act, or pretend to be mysterious. For him, the mystery of life disappeared with an explosion of fireballs that night on the Colorado grasslands. The slap of the slippers on the tiles told Joe that the boy had come back to collect the remaining twenty dollars. "Didn't see the big guy in the green shirt, but the other one must be right outside, his bald head is getting burnt." Some of the group of gamblers shouted with joy, while others cursed under their breath because the dying cockroach was so unlucky. The boy craned his neck curiously to see what was going on.Joe took out twenty dollars from his wallet and asked, "Where is it?" The boy was trying to peer through the gaps between the bodies of the gamblers. There is a palm tree about 60 to 80 feet from here to the beach. There are a few tables on the beach. This ruffian plays chess with a few Korean guys. " "look at me!" Kid distracted by cockroach contest: "What?" "look at me!" Startled by the anger lurking in Joe's voice, the kid glanced at him, then fixed his bloodied eyes back on the twenty-dollar bill. "Is that guy you saw wearing a bonus Hawaiian shirt?" Joe asked. "Yes, there are other colors, but mostly red and orange." "What pants is he wearing?" "Pants?" "Be honest with me. I won't tell you what he's wearing. If you really see him, you can tell me." "Hey man, how do I know if he wears pants or shorts?" "You tell me!" "White? Brown? I'm not sure. How would I know there's a damn fashion report coming up. He's just holding a pair of shoes with his socks tucked in and standing there looking." That's right, he is the guy who Joe went to the observation deck first and saw the guy holding the walkie-talkie. The group of gamblers laughed, cursed, and yelled, making the game even more lively.They shouted wantonly loudly, and the sound waves reflected from the concrete wall made the mirrors vibrate. "Is he really watching Koreans playing chess, or is he just pretending?" "He's staring at the place while flirting with Cream Pie." "Cream pie?" "Bitches in bikinis, man, you should see that redheaded bitch in bikinis. Bet you ten she's only twelve, but man, she'll catch your eye. " "He wants to fuck them?" "I don't know what he's up to," said the child. "A bum like him, even a bitch like that won't use him." "Don't call them whores!" "what?" "They are women." The child's eyes shone with razor-sharp rage. "Hey! How old are you? Pope? " The sound of the toilet flushing made him sick to his stomach, and Joe suppressed the nausea and said to the boy, "Describe that woman." The boy's eyes are more aggressive than before. "They are all beautiful, especially the red haired one, but the brunette one is as good as her. I will climb on broken glass and jerk her off, even if she is deaf." "Deaf?" "Must be deaf or something," said the boy. "She puts something like a hearing aid in and out of her ear, puts it in and takes it out, and never seems to get it right. That bitch is sweet. " Joe wanted to choke him and strangle him until he promised not to blurt those words again, until he understood how damnable it was, and once it became a mouth" How to belittle one's own identity after the head Zen. Joe gritted his teeth, the veins on his forehead popped out, and his eyes were blurred due to the sharp rise in blood pressure.Shocked by his subconsciously violent reaction, his nausea intensified, he took a deep breath to calm his agitation. Apparently, the look in Joe's eyes made the boy hesitate. He didn't dare to look at Joe, but focused on the rowdy gamblers. "Give me twenty dollars, that's what I earned." Joe didn't let go of the banknotes. "Where is your dad?" "How about it?" "Where's your mother?" "none of your business?" "Where are they?" "They're living their lives happily." Joe's anger turned to frustration. "Son, what's your name?" "Why do you want to know? You think I'm just a baby and can't come to the beach by myself? Fuck you, I can go wherever I like." "You can go wherever you please, but you have nowhere to go." Their eyes met, and there was a trace of loneliness and trauma in the child's bruised eyes.They were so deep that it struck Jo's heart.That's what everyone goes through at the age of fourteen. "Nowhere to go? What does that mean?" Joe felt a subtle connection had developed between them, a door had been opened between him and the problem child.As long as he can cross that gap, he can change their fate. But his own life is as hollow as an abandoned shell by the sea.He had no faith to share, no wisdom to impart, no hope to give, and no estate.He is a complete loser. Suddenly, the boy snatched the twenty-dollar bill from Joe's hand.When he mockingly repeated what Qiao just said, the expression on his face was more teasing than smiling. "They're women," he said, stepping back. "They're all whores when you turn them on." "Are we beasts?" Joe snapped, but the kid sprinted out of the bathroom before he heard the question. Although I have washed my hands twice, I still feel triumphant.He wanted to go back to the sink, but six big men were standing in front of him now, swarming the cockroaches. The heat exchange in the crowded bathroom was difficult, and Joe was already sweating profusely. The stale air almost corroded people's lungs.Moisture condensed on the mirror surface, reflecting that this group of noisy people did not look like flesh and blood, but ghosts from purgatory. The gamblers who are full of gambling are holding banknotes in their hands and yelling at the cockroaches.Their voices were heard in Joe's ears, and the screams seemed to tear his heart, making his headache worse. He pushed the two people away, squeezed into the middle of the circle, stepped on the cockroach, and ended its poor little life. His intrusion caused a burst of consternation.Joe turned away from the group, shaking his head repeatedly, but the high-pitched voice was still ringing in his head.He headed for the exit, desperate to get out of the place before he exploded. When the gamblers recovered from their consternation, they shouted and sternly, like a group of devout believers who were enraged by a slovenly drunk who vomited in front of them in the temple. One of them grabbed Joe by the arm and turned him around. "Dude, what the hell are you doing!" "let me go." "I'm winning money you don't know, man." The stranger's damp hands clutched at Jo's dirty, short nails, nearly digging into the flesh to keep them from slipping. "let me go!" "I'm winning money!" the guy repeated, his mouth contorted with rage, a trace of blood dripping from his chapped lips. In an instant Joe seized the gambler's wrist and pulled back one of his fingers, and the fellow opened his eyes wide and screamed out in pain.Joe twisted his arms behind his back and pushed his whole body forward, pressing his face against the toilet door. Joe's full stomach of anger has long wanted to vent. The conversation with the teenage boy earlier made him feel extremely frustrated, and now his anger has been ignited again.He didn't know why he did this, what did these people have to do with him.Just before he realized he was overreacting a bit, he'd slammed the guy's face against the door once, twice, three times. Joe was still angry, his veins were racing, a primal violence was running through him, but he knew he was out of control.He let go of the gambler, who fell to the toilet floor. Jo trembled all over, from rage, and from fear of her own anger.He backed up a few steps until the sink blocked his way.The rest of the people in the bathroom avoided him and didn't dare to say a word. The gambler was lying straight on the floor, with one yuan stacked on him. Five dollar winning bill.Blood dripped from his chapped lips to his chin.He smacked the face on the left that collided with the door with one hand. "It's just a cockroach, my God, it's just a rotten cockroach!" Joe wanted to say sorry to him, but couldn't. "How can you smash my nose for a cockroach? Just for a cockroach?" Joe wasn't sorry for what he'd done, because the guy deserved what he deserved, he was sorry for being so pathetic as the walking dead. Joe walked out of the stinking house, and the sea breeze was blowing head-on, and it seemed that it couldn't make the dirty world any fresher.Even under the sun, he was still trembling, because a trace of remorse was gradually rising in his chest. Joe dodged left and right, avoiding the crowds sunning on the beach, toward his towel and cool beer.Still thinking about the pale guy in the bonus Hawaiian shirt, he didn't stop, didn't look back, just staggered forward on the sand. He was no longer interested in the people who were following him - if they were following him.Joe couldn't figure out why they were interested in him, and if they were cops they must be fools who mistook him for someone.He doesn't need these two guys in his life.Joe would never have noticed the two if the boy with the ponytail hadn't reminded him.They'll soon find out they've got the wrong guy, and then, go head-to-head. More people came around Joe, and he wanted to pack up and leave, but he wasn't going to the cemetery.Because what happened in the bathroom disturbed his mood, the two cans of beer he drank were in vain. So he lay back on the towel again, and reached for the ice bucket with one hand, not for beer, but for a half-circle of ice and placed it on his forehead.Joe stared at the sea, the green waves like the cogs of a gigantic machine. The waves reflected the golden light of the sun, like sparks produced by the current passing through the electrodes. The sea is a never-ending machine. It has existed for a long time without any worries, and has been sung by countless poets and poets, but it does not know the passion, suffering and promise of the world.Joe thought it necessary to study the cold mechanical world, because there was no need to understand its unconscious workings.After all, a clock is not to blame for going too fast, nor is a loom to be blamed for its cloth being used as a mask by the executioner.If he can adapt to the indifference of the mechanical world and no longer care about the impermanence of life and death in the human world, then he will eventually gain peace. Perhaps only a hard-hearted person can do this, but the only thing Joe hopes for now is to stop worrying, stop nightmares, and stop worrying. Two newly arrived girls spread their white beach towels twenty feet away from him.One had blazing red hair and was wearing a green bikini so small that even a stripper would blush.Another brunette, as pretty as her friend. The redheaded girl has pretty short hair and the other has long hair. No doubt, this must be to facilitate the concealment of the communication equipment worn on her ear. For women in their twenties, they seem too loud and childish. Even if they are not so beautiful, their words and deeds like no one else will attract attention.I saw them lazily taking turns wiping each other's backs with sunscreen, laughing and joking as if they were making an adult movie, attracting the attention of every opposite sex on the beach. It was such an obvious ploy that no one would suspect that he was being watched by two agents wearing so little clothing.They wouldn't wear it as easily as the two men in the Hawaiian shirts.With their slender thighs, deep cleavage, and rounded hips, they seemed to have been chosen to suit Joe's taste, to entice him to strike up a conversation with them.If this was their task, they had failed, and beauty would have no effect on Jo. In the past year, he occasionally had sexual fantasies and urges, but whenever he recalled the deep memory of his wife, her graceful body and fiery enthusiasm, he would inevitably think of his life in Colorado. The crash situation, the smoke, the fire, and the death, all desires vanish in an instant. The two women distracted Joe because he was annoyed that they had picked the wrong one.He considered going over and telling them what he did wrong, but after the violence in the bathroom, he became agitated, and now he was suppressing his anger, but he didn't know how long he could hold it. The tide washed up on the beach, turned into white foam, then receded, and came up again.Joe watched the never-ending wave, and his mood gradually calmed down.After half an hour, the beer finally ran out, and Joe was ready to leave for the cemetery. The two beautiful girls in bikinis are being attracted by the two boys.Fortunately, under the cover of sunglasses, Joe can see that these two girls like these two boys are actually pretending, because they are not wearing sunglasses, and when they are flirting with each other, they will steal from Joe's side from time to time. aim.He strode away from this ridiculous place without looking back.Put some sand in the shoes, so that he will remember the indifference of the sea in his heart. But he is still curious about which police unit can have such stunning beauties. He also knows some Thunderbolt police girls who are also beautiful and sexy, but these two seem to have surpassed the standard of movie stars. In the parking lot, he expected two men in Hawaiian shirts to watch his car.If so, they are well hidden.Joe pulled the car out of the parking lot, turned right onto Pacific Coast Highway, and checked his rearview mirror to make sure he wasn't being followed. From Wilshire Boulevard onto the San Diego Highway, turn north onto the Ventura Expressway and head east.Drift away from the breezy coast into the furnace-heated San Frando Canyon.In the hot August sun, these suburban homes are baked like pottery just out of the kiln. Three hundred acres of gentle slopes, shallow valleys and wide grasslands constitute the Memorial Park of the City of the Dead, the burial place of Los Angeles people.The campus is divided by winding roads.Famous actors and young salesmen are buried here, rock stars and journalists are buried next to their families. Joe passed two small funerals in progress. There were many cars parked on the side of the road, rows of folding chairs on the grass, and the grave was covered with a green tarp. Mourners in both cemeteries sat hunched over.They were smothered in black mourning.The heat, combined with the thought that their own days were numbered, made them all feel sad. Joe buried Michelle and her daughters near a slow glass, where the shade of stone pines and laurel covered the grass where squirrels would chase each other on a clear day.At dusk, hares also come out of their burrows.He believed that the king woman he loved would like it here, and the sound of the breeze rustling through the trees. A long way from the second funeral, Joe turned off the fire, quietly developing courage in the 100-degree heat.As he began to walk slowly up the hill, he hardly dared to glance over at their graveyard, for it would frustrate him and turn him away. It has been a whole year, and every time he comes to pay his respects, what he sees is not the cemetery, but the mutilated body parts in the morgue.He didn't know how long it would take to heal the pain in his heart. He lowered his head, like an old horse that knows the way, going home along the old road.Because of this, I didn't notice a woman next to the tomb until I was ten or fifteen feet away. She was standing in the shadow of the pine trees, Polaroid camera in hand, with her back to Joe taking pictures of the ground-level tombstones. "Who are you?" he asked. The woman didn't hear Joe's words, maybe his voice was too quiet, maybe she was too focused on taking pictures. Joe came closer and asked again, "What are you doing?" Now she was startled, and turned to face Joe. She is petite but looks like she is still full of vigor.A pair of jeans and a yellow cotton blouse, light brown skin, dark almond eyes, seems to be of Asian descent.Her thick, natural, straight hair is jet black and shiny, making her more Asian.But her skeleton is not black at all, with smooth eyebrows and high cheekbones with extremely graceful arcs.She appeared to be older than Jo, in her early forties, but the innocence in her eyes, and the faint childishness of her strong features, made her look younger than Jo. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" he asked again. Her red lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she was too surprised to speak.She gazed at him like a ghost, then put out a hand and stroked Jo's cheek, which Jo did not resist. At first he thought it was surprise in her eyes, but when Jo looked at her again under the tender touch, he realized that it was sadness and sympathy. "I'm not ready to have a long talk with you." Her voice was soft like fairy music. "Why are you taking photos of...their graves?" She clasped the camera in both hands and said: "I'll be back soon when the time comes, don't be upset, you'll see like everyone else." For a moment Jo thought she was a ghost, for her touch was so soft it was hardly real, but a spiritual touch. But the woman herself was actually in front of his eyes, small in stature but full of vitality, more real than anything today, more real than the blue sky, green trees, August sun and Granite Friday.Although she stood there quietly, she seemed to be approaching Joe step by step.She stood in the shade, but she was brighter than Joe in the sun. "Are you okay?" she asked. Joe shook his head blankly as an answer. "Not good." She whispered to herself. Jo looked at the granite and bronze medals behind her.He seemed to hear himself saying from far away: "Farewell." It seemed to be speaking to his wife and daughter, and it seemed to be talking about himself.When he turned his attention to the woman, he found her staring into the distance behind him.At this time, there was a sound of a sports car engine, and she narrowed her eyes and frowned, and Joe turned instinctively to see what was bothering her.I saw a white Ford truck approaching like lightning along the way he came. "Bastard!" she cursed under her breath. When Joe turned again, the woman was already running across the slope towards the side of the hill. "Hey! Wait a minute." But she continued on without looking back. Qiao rushed to catch up, but his physical strength was not as good as others. It seemed that she was a long-distance runner. Qiao had to stop after a few steps. It was only because the weather was too hot that he could not catch up with her. The van's windshield reflected the harsh sunlight as it roared past Joe as the woman weaved between the rows of cemeteries while the van pursued parallel to the direction she was running. Joe headed for his car down the hill, not sure what he was going to do.Maybe he should run after it and see what's going on. There was a screech of emergency brakes, and the van was five ahead of his Ximei.At sixty yards it stopped abruptly, leaving two skid marks on the road.The two front doors slammed open, and two men in Hawaiian shirts jumped out, chasing the woman. Joe was dumbfounded, starting from Santa Monica, and he was sure he wasn't being followed by any cars, especially white vans.But they just had a way of knowing he was coming to the cemetery. Because the goal of these two people is not Joe, but chasing the woman like a hound.So they watched Joe by the sea, not because they were interested in him, but because they hoped that he would join her somewhere today. That woman is their prey. Damn, they must have spied on his apartment too, and followed him all the way from there to the sea. So they've been with him for days, maybe weeks.He has lived in isolation for too long, and he just spends his days in a daze, without noticing these people lurking around him at all. And who is she?Who are they?Why did she take pictures of the grave? The woman was running a hundred yards east, in the shade of the pine trees lining the road, her tan skin matching the shadows, but the yellow smock gave her away.She ran all the way towards the top of the mountain, seeming to be quite familiar with the terrain.There was no other vehicle parked in the neighborhood except Jo's Himey and the Ford van, who probably walked into the cemetery. The two men who got off the van were some distance away from her.Among them, the tall man in a floral and green shirt gradually caught up to her by taking advantage of his longer legs than the woman.Although the short man was left behind, he was still desperate.He frantically ran towards the top of the slope, and tripped over the stele twice on the way, so he got up and continued to chase.Like an animal smelling blood, frantically chasing its prey. In front of the well-manicured cemetery, there is another natural landscape of mountains: light-colored sandy land, mudstone walls, yellow lawns, smelly vines, mesquite bushes, and stunted rocks. Southern shrub, tangled dwarf oak.The desolate canyon extends above Gulliver's Observatory, and a barren land east of the Los Angeles Zoo is overgrown with weeds and full of poisonous snakes. 她若能在被抓之前跑进草丛中，而且仍能认清方向，那就可利用曲折的小径摆脱追逐的人。 乔朝白色的货车走去，他可能会在车上发现些什么。他希望那女人能逃得掉，虽然他也不知道为什么会同情她。她也许是个犯案累累的通缉犯，罪大恶极，无理不容。可是她看起来不像，声音听起来也不像。 但这就是洛杉矶，在这里，一个看来规规矩矩的孩子，会用猎枪射杀他的双亲，然后哭哭啼啼地乞求陪审团，可怜可怜他这个孤儿。人心隔肚皮，以貌取人，失之子羽。 但是……她触摸乔脸颊的指尖是那样的轻柔，眼神是如此地哀伤，亲切的声音显示她是一位充满同情心的女士。不论她是否犯了法，乔都不希望她是个歹徒。 从墓园的另一端传来一声平板的巨响，回荡在静谧的空中，接着又是一声巨响。 那女人几乎已到达山壁的边缘，在两棵苍劲的松树间，依稀可见到她的牛仔裤和黄罩衫。她跨着大步，褐色的手臂在身体两侧前后摆动。 穿花红衬衫的矮个子落在最后，他的同伴紧跟在那女人后面，已可以清楚的看见她的身影。他停下脚步，两手握着一样东西，举起手臂。那是支手枪，他正拿枪要射她。警察不会从背后射击一个手无寸铁的通缉犯，正派的警察绝不会干这种事的。 乔想要助她一臂之力，但又想不出什么办法。他们如果是警察，他无权干涉。他们如果不是警察，那么就算追上他们，也许在他还未来得及动作，就会先被他们撂倒了。 boom! 那女人已到达山顶。 “跑啊！”乔嘶哑地催促她，“跑啊！” 他车里没有行动电话，所以无法打九—一报警。当记者时曾携有一具，但这段时间，几乎不曾用过。 尖锐的枪声划破沉闷的空气。 这两个人如果不是警察，那他们一定是丧心病狂。居然在这样的公共场合动刀动枪。枪声传得很远，应该会惊动墓园的管理人员。他们只需把入口的铁门关起来，这些枪手就出不了墓园。 很明显那女人没被击中，她从山头消失在灌木丛中。那两个穿夏威夷衫的男人，继续追了过去。