Chapter 38 Chapter 38 Mom's Little Girl

Clarence Otto was knocking on the door of a cottage on Miller Avenue, and Margaret and Amos stood not far behind him.The hut looks warm and comfortable, and there should be no danger.But she was happy to stand behind Otto's broad arms, just in case. The ground was white, and the dry branches were also covered with snow.The lawns in front of most households in this street are like a thick layer of white quilts, clean and smooth.Others, like this house, are covered with crooked little footprints in front of the door, and the holy white snow is spoiled by children who are laughing and playing.

The door opened.A little angel stood at the door—a golden ponytail, a blue dress, and a sweet little face.She also had a rag doll in her arms. "Hello, sweetheart," said Otto. "Hello, sir." She didn't look scared at all, but there was no expression of joy or joy on her face, which seemed to be a perfectly normal thing to her. "Are you Missy Hester?" She nodded, and her golden curly ponytail danced happily. "We're going to see your mother," said Margaret. "Is she home?" "She's sleeping. Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you," said Otto.He entered the room, followed by Margaret and Amos.This is a simple and neat two-story house.She led them into the living room, where Margaret and Amos sat down on the sofa, while Otto stood aside.The living room has a view of the staircase, door and a porch that leads to a corner of the kitchen dining area. "Where's your father?" Margaret asked. "Is he home?" She shook her head. "He doesn't live with us anymore. He lives in Great Rapids, Michigan." "Honey, can you wake up your mom? We need to talk to her and you."

The girl nodded, her braids jingling, and turned and ran up the stairs. "She looks perfectly healthy," Amos said. "We're going to get her checked out, but she doesn't look like she has any signs of infection." "Maybe removing the fibrous root helped a bit," Margaret said. "There have been several years of cases where the triangular growth didn't appear. Something must have happened in between." "They're much better built now," Otto said. "No offense, but you're thinking too much. Murray is right. Sometimes the simplest, most obvious, and most overlooked thing is the ultimate Answer."

"Occam's razor seems to work very well," Amos said. "What does that mean?" asked Otto. Amos smiled. "Nothing. I mean you have a point." All three turned their heads in unison when a young boy appeared on the porch leading to the kitchen.He should be under 7 years old, maybe 8 years old-wearing a cowboy hat, a pistol holster hanging from his hip, tassels dripping from the legs of leather trousers, and a somewhat shriveled black mask on his face- Dressed in standard Lone Ranger attire.Otto was nervous at first sight of the six-shot revolver in the boy's hand, but then realized that it was filled with bright orange plastic bullets.Just a plastic gun.Toy.

"Stand still, boys!" said the boy.He tried to keep his voice down, trying to sound rough, but on the contrary, it made him sound cute. Otto laughed. "Oh, we're not moving, Lone Ranger. Any questions?" "Unless you put your hand up where I can see it, sir." Otto raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, "No problem, Lone Ranger, no problem." The boy nodded, looking very serious. "Okay, let's all stay still like this, and we'll get along very well in a while." Missy strode down the stairs, her footsteps sounding much heavier than the little six-year-old's body could possibly make.

"My sister will take good care of you," said the boy. "I have important things to do." "Be safe, Lone Ranger," Otto said. "Lovely boy," Amos said when the boy slipped into the kitchen.The boy closed the door, and then they heard shouts of chasing robbers. But the behavior of the little boy made Margaret feel ominous.They acted hastily, so sloppily—they didn't even check how many people were in the house.Father is absent, an older brother.Do you have children?Do you have any sisters? "Mom won't wake up," Missy said. "I've been calling her for days, but she won't wake up. And she smells weird."

The girl took a step forward, "Are you sent by the government?" "Yes, honey, we are. How do you know?" "Because my brother said you would come over." Margaret wanted to leave, right now.They had come for this girl, but they hadn't expected that another person in the house might be infected.There was a sound in the kitchen, the sound of the oven door being opened. "Oh no," Amos said, "do you smell the gas?" Margaret smelled it.The smell from the kitchen, strong and pungent. "Take the little girl away," said Otto.His voice was flat, calm, but irresistible, "Let's go now."

Margaret stood up and took two steps towards Missy, suddenly hesitated.She didn't want to touch the little girl—was there a growth on the little girl?What if they misjudged and the little girl was already infected? "Margaret, take her away," Otto urged. She shook off her worries, and then picked up the little girl. The moment she touched her, she felt goosebumps all over her body.She took a step toward the door, but just as she was about to take another step, the kitchen door opened. The little boy came out with a toy gun in each hand.Natural gas is gushing out of the kitchen right now.

He still wears a cowboy hat, but no mask.He had only one eye, and in the other eye socket a misshapen blue mass grew under the eyelid, pushing his eyelid and eyebrows high and looking hideous.The eyelids stretched open, and the little boy opened his eyes wide, revealing the dark rough skin underneath.The thing, whatever it was, was just right between the little boy's eyeballs and eyelids—his eyeballs were still black, just hidden behind that thing.... "You guys are so bad," said the little boy. "I'm going to shoot... you guys." He raised the toy gun. Amos ran past her, toward the door.She followed closely behind, holding the little girl tightly with both hands.Heavy footsteps told her Agent Otto was right behind her.

Margaret ran to the door, and she heard the click of plastic bullets, and the boy kept pulling the trigger. She finally rushed out into the corridor outside the door and began to walk down the steps.At this time, the natural gas was detonated. This was not a violent explosion, only a loud bang.It wasn't even like what was shown on TV, a cloud of flames broke through the glass, but the window lattice was shaken and rattled.She kept running, and felt the scorching heat behind her—the absence of an explosion did not mean that the temperature was not high, it did not mean that there were no raging flames, and it did not mean that the little boy was not drowned in a sea of ​​flames.