Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Chaos

Du Phillips stumbled onto the plastic chair next to the payphone.After experiencing such a catastrophe, even a young and strong guy may be like a mess, not to mention the 56-year-old Du.His crumpled clothes stank of smoke and sweat disgustingly.The thick smell of black smoke is from the fire in that house.The smell seemed incompatible with a clean, unpolluted hospital.He knew he should be thankful that he was in a Toledo hospital waiting room instead of a sealed quarantine ward at the CDC in Cincinnati, but he didn't have the energy to celebrate the blessing. Greasy soot mottled the sun-battered, wrinkled left side of his face.His bald head was also stained, and there seemed to be traces of flames once dancing on his scalp.There is a little red hair from the ear to the root of the neck, which escaped the bad luck of being burned.

He looked weak and tired, and he was precariously sitting in his chair, as if he might fall off at any moment.He picked up the black phone receiver, sighed, and stood up slowly against the wall.He took out a coin from his pocket, threw it into the slot, and dialed the number he knew by heart. "Good afternoon!" A cheerful female voice, in a routine tone. "Find Murray." The phone beeped again, and Du waited.The Rolling Stones' song "Satisfaction" came through the receiver.Hell, the Rolling Stones have been relegated to background music for incoming calls, so what wouldn't happen?Murray Longworth's commanding tone came through the microphone, interrupting Du's thoughts.

"How's the situation, Du?" "Big mess, sir," Du said.The word chaos is an acronym for several English words, used in military terms to mean that the situation has been turned upside down and nothing can be done.He leaned his head against the light blue wall, glanced down, and found that the soles of his shoes had been completely burned through at some point, and after cooling and deformation, some sand and glass were firmly embedded in them. "Johnson is injured." "How bad is it?" "The doctor said the omens are in danger." "Damn it!"

"Yes," Du said calmly, "the situation is not optimistic." Murray was silent, he paused long enough, as if to make Malcolm's life seem more important than this mission, and he continued, "Did you catch anyone?" "No," Du said, "there's a fire." "Where are the remains?" "In the hospital, waiting for you to send that female doctor over for examination." "What's the situation?" "Somewhere between moderate and high burns. I think she's busy, if I'm not mistaken." Murray paused for a while, the atmosphere was very heavy, "Do you want to stay with Mal, or should I send some young boys from the Bureau to take care of him?"

"You can't drag me with a caravan of mules, sir." "Well then," Murray said, "has the neighborhood of Martin Brubeck's house been checked and disinfected?" "Three-level alert disinfection." "Okay, Margaret is on her way. Do your best to assist her. I'll be there too. You will report back to me in full then." "Yes, sir." Du hung up the phone and sat down on the chair suddenly. Malcolm Johnson, his partner of seven years, is in danger.Multiple third-degree burns on his body.The abdominal ax wound made his condition worse.Du saw many seriously injured people, and he knew that Malcolm's chance of survival was extremely slim.

Du has experienced many storms and waves in his life, not to mention storms, even tornadoes.In nearly 30 years, first in Vietnam and then in the CIA, he had never met a guy like Martin Brubeck.The lunatic's eyes had long been consumed by savage rage.Martin Brubaker, with a broken leg, sits in the flames like a stuntman in a Hollywood film, swinging an ax at Malcolm. Du buried his head deeply in his hands, if he reacted faster, even a second faster, to prevent Mal from going to extinguish the flames on Brubeck, then things would not be like this.Du would have guessed at that moment what would happen next: Brian Tanaraife, Charlotte Wilson, Gary Ryland—all cases that ended either violently or murderously.Where did I go wrong to think that Brubaker would be different?But the devil would have thought that this lunatic would actually set fire to his own house?

Du had one more call to make—to Malcolm's wife.He wondered if Malcolm would be able to carry Samika over from Washington. he does not know.He really didn't even have a clue.