Chapter 31 Chapter Thirty-One A Terrible Day

Thomas' heart sank, and the redshirt man's eyes shone with sadistic pleasure.Thomas looked over to the Infected to see the blue jelly dripping down his feet and congealing around it.The guy is now completely encased in the hard plastic coating and can't move at all.The woman with the glue gun stood up when Thomas saw that her gun was an empty bag, which she folded and stuffed into the pocket of her green hazmat suit. "Let's get him out," she said. The four men bent down and lifted the infected man. Thomas quickly glanced at the man in red shirt, and saw that he was watching them carry the prisoner away.What did he mean when he said Thomas was going with him?Where are you going?why?If the man hadn't been holding a gun, Thomas would have run away.

When the others reached the door, Minho appeared.Just as he was about to step in, the man in red shirt drew his gun. "Stand there!" cried the man. "Get out!" "But we're with him." Minho pointed at Thomas, "and we have to go." "This man can't go anywhere." He paused for a moment, as if he had just remembered something.He looked at Thomas, and then at Minho. "Wait, are all of you immune guys?" Thomas panicked for a while, but Minho reacted quickly.Without hesitation, he ran away. "Stop!" The man in red shirt shouted loudly, rushing to the door.

Thomas staggered to the window.He saw Minho, Brenda, and Jorge just crossing the street and disappearing around the corner.The red shirt man stopped just outside the coffee shop. Instead of chasing the others, he ran in and pointed a gun at Thomas. "Look at what your mate did! I should have shot you in the neck and left you bleeding. Thank God Immune is so worth it, otherwise I'd do what I like, what a day. " Thomas could hardly believe that he was stuck in such a bad situation after everything he had been through.He wasn't scared, he just felt discouraged. "Oh, I'm not having a good day either." He murmured.

"You're going to bring me a lot of money, that's all. And, so far, you've been an annoyance to me." Thomas replied with a smile: "Yes, that's right, let's be each other." "You have a great sense of humor, huh? But you won't be laughing until the sun goes down. Come on," he said, pointing his gun at the door. "Trust me, I'm running out of patience. Do something For a small move, I'll shoot you in the head, tell the police that you are an infected person, and try to escape. Zero tolerance policy. No one will suspect me at all, it's so easy."

Thomas stood there, wondering if he had any other options.Ironically enough, he escaped from WICKED, only to find himself at the gunpoint of a common city worker. "I don't want to say it again," the redshirt man warned him. "Where are we going?" "You'll know when the time comes, I'm going to get rich. Well, let's go now." Thomas had been shot twice and knew what it was like.If he didn't want to get shot again, then going with this guy was his only option.He stared at him, then walked to the door and stopped. "Which way?" Thomas asked.

"Turn left, we'll go obediently up three streets, then turn left again. There's a car waiting for us. Need I remind you again? If you want to play tricks, you'll be fine!" "I know you're going to shoot an unarmed child. Got it, couldn't be more clear." "Okay, what a nasty immune guy, let's go." He put the gun against Thomas' back and walked down the street. They reached the end of the third street, and without saying a word, they turned left.The air was suffocating, and Thomas was drenched in sweat.He reached out to wipe the sweat from his brow, and the man in red shirt smashed his head with the butt of his gun.

"Don't do that," the man said, "I'll get nervous and punch a hole in your head." Thomas held on desperately, trying to keep silent. The streets are deserted and littered everywhere.The posters—some warning about the Flare, others an image of Prime Minister Page—covered the lower part of the wall.From the outside, each poster has been spray-painted layer by layer.At an intersection, they stopped and waited for a few cars to pass by. Thomas noticed an inconspicuous poster beside him, an advertisement without graffiti. Thomas thought it should be newly posted. He read the words on it. warning.

... It goes on to mention an incubation period of five to seven days and some symptoms about the early signs of the disease, such as restlessness and loss of balance, followed by dementia, paranoia and later severe violent tendencies.Thomas had been exposed to these people, and had dealt with demented patients on more than one occasion. The redshirt gave Thomas a push, and they moved on.As they walked, Thomas couldn't stop thinking about the dire message on the poster.He kept thinking about part of it, saying that the Flare was man-made, and it reminded him of something, a memory, not a particularly clear one.Although the poster didn't say it directly, he knew that there was something else hidden between the lines.At that moment, for the first time in his life, he wanted to go back to the memories of the past, even if it was only for a moment.

"It's here." The voice of the man in the red shirt brought him back to reality. Within a few tens of feet, there was a small white car waiting at the intersection of the street.Thomas was desperately trying to figure out how to get out, if he got in that car it would be over, but could he risk getting shot? "Sit me in the backseat," said the man in the red shirt. "There's handcuffs over there. I'll see you. Put them on yourself. You think you can handle them without doing something stupid, don't you?" Thomas ignored him, how he wished Minho was around with the others so we could make a plan together, he needed someone or something to divert the redshirt man's attention.

When they got to the car, the man in red shirt took out the car key card and pressed it against the front passenger window.The lock clicked and he opened the back door, but the gun remained pointed at Thomas. "Go in and be careful with me." Thomas hesitated, still searching the streets to see who was there or what was going on.The whole place was empty, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed some movement, a machine the size of a car was walking back and forth.He turned his head to see the machine swerve onto the street two blocks down and start heading toward them.The closer they got, the louder the roar.

"I told you to come in," the redshirt man repeated. "The handcuffs are in the middle console." "There's something like a police plane coming up," Thomas said. "Yeah, so what? He's on patrol, see 'em all day. It's ours driving, not yours. Bad luck, man." Thomas sighed, thinking he was lucky, where did the friends go? He glanced the place one last time, then walked over to the open car door and slipped inside.The moment he raised his head to look at the man in red shirt, there was a violent gunshot in the air.The red shirt man staggered back, twitching and writhing.The bullet passed through his chest and also hit his metal mask, sparks shot out all at once.He put down the gun, hit the wall of the building next door, the mask fell off, and the whole person fell heavily towards him.Thomas watched, half dead with fright. Then there was nothing, and Thomas froze, wondering if he would be the next to be hit.He heard a sustained roar, then saw the police plane stop right next to the open door, and he realized it was the attack.There was no one inside the thing, but it was fully armed, and a familiar voice came from the microphone above. "Thomas, come out." Thomas shuddered. He would remember the sound wherever he went. That was Jensen, the voice of the Ratman.