Chapter 69 Chapter 68

Well, history repeats itself: Garbage Worm was roasted alive in the Devil's Roasting Pot once - but this time there was no Civora's Fountain to save him. This is what I deserve, this is not worth what I deserve. His skin was exposed to the sun, and after exposure to the sun, it was no longer dark red but black.He walked up and down, worried that someone would notice him.Litterbugs look as if they've been doused with gasoline and set on fire.The blue of his eyes has faded from the frequent stimulation of desert glare, and he looks like a mysterious black hole in space.He was dressed like the Man in Black—a red striped shirt with an open cutout, faded jeans, and a pair of battered, twisted cowboy boots.He has thrown away his amulet.He can't wear that.He was going to look irrelevant, and like all bad devils, he was out.

He stopped under the scorching sun, stretching out his thin and trembling hand to cover his forehead.Here he was - all his life was waiting.He came here through the burning corridors of hell.He endured the Sheriff who killed his father, he survived Trey Haute's electric shock, he survived Callie Yates.After a strange and lonely life, he found friends: Lloyd, Ken, Whitney Hogan. However, he lost them all.He deserved to be roasted on the devil's griddle.Can he make it up?The man in black probably knew.Litterbugs don't know. He couldn't remember what happened now - maybe his traumatized mind didn't want to remember.He spent more than a week in the desert after his last disastrous return to Indian Springs base.A scorpion stung the middle finger of his left hand, "the hapless finger" (Callie Yates called it in the most vulgar terms long ago in Boultanville), and the left hand swelled up like a water-filled rubber boot .His head was on fire.And he's going to keep going.

He ended up at Indian Springs base feeling insignificant.When people examine him they talk about other things - small items like wires, mines, etc.For the first time since the scorpion stung him, Litterbug felt comfortable. Time passed without a sound, and he came to Pottanwell.Someone would say, "Did you wet the bed, Trash Bug." And he looked up, expecting to see Bill Jamieson, but it wasn't Bill, it was Richie of Boultanville, grinning and biting his teeth, fingers His face was black with oil—he hung around the casinos, intermittently playing nine-ball.Someone else said, "You'd better go, the trash bugs are coming." That sounded like Stahl Tobin at first, but it wasn't Stahl.That was Callie Yates in that old, frayed moto jacket.He became more and more frightened, seeing that they were all there, and the dead bodies that refused to be calm were resurrected.Ricky, Carley and Norman, this guy was pretty tough at 18.They were all talking about him in the street.Hey, garbage bug, why are you burning churches?Hey, garbage bug, are you burning your fingers?Hey, garbage bug, shall I buy kerosene?

Callie Yates says: Hey, trash bug, what did old Mrs. Semple say when you burned her pension check? He tried to yell at them, but his voice came out softly, "Don't ask me about old Mrs. Semple's pension." Then he ran away. The rest is dreaming.Connect the gunpowder to the truck in the garage.He was working on his hands, but he didn't know where his mind had gone.He was seen coming in, going in and out of the garage.Some people waved to him, but no one came to ask him what he was doing.Finally, he took Flagg's amulet. Trash Worm was doing his work, thinking about Trey Haut.

At Terre Haute, where they stunned him, the boss there looked sometimes like the sheriff who killed his father, and sometimes like Callie Yates.At this time, he always vowed hysterically to stop wetting the bed.But he always does. When the truck was connected to the fuse, he went to the nearest hangar and connected the helicopter there to the fuse.He wanted a timer, so he went into the large kitchen and found more than a dozen cheap plastic timers.Set it for 15 minutes or half an hour, and when they hit zero with a ding, you'll know it's time to take the pie out of the oven.And the only difference this time is that it won't ding, thought the litterbug, they'll ping.He likes the sound.That felt great.If Callie Yates or Ritchie wanted to go in one of those helicopters, they'd be in for a surprise.He hooked up the timer to the helicopter's detonation system.

When this was all done, he regained his sanity for a while.He thought for a while, what choice to make.He looked around at the helicopter parked in Curry again, and put his hands down.They smell like burning hats.But this wasn't Botanwell, and there were no helicopters in Botanwell.The Indiana sun is not as poisonous as the sun here.He is from Nevada.Cali and his car were both dead.They died from the super flu. Litterworm turned his head and looked suspiciously at his work.What did he do to destroy the equipment of the man in black?It makes no sense, it's just insane.He's going to dismantle it, right away.

Ugh, but what a blast that was. That lovely flame.Burning gasoline lights up everywhere.Helicopters were blasted into the sky.how beautiful. And he suddenly gave up on his new life.He strode back to his desert crawler, a sneer on his tanned face.He got in the car and drove away...but not far.He waited, and eventually a car pulled out of the garage and drove up like a big beetle with claws and claws.When it exploded, burning oil flames flew everywhere.Trash Worm puts down his binoculars and roars into the air, pumping his fists in excitement.But the excitement didn't last long.Instead, fear of death, and guilt.

He headed northwest toward the desert, driving his desert crawler to near-suicidal speed.How long ago was that?he does not know.Had he been told it was September 16, he would have simply nodded blankly. He thought he was going to kill himself because there was nothing left of him now.Everyone is now against him, and that's to be expected.When you bite the hand that feeds you, imagine that hand clenching into a fist.This is not just a truth of life, but an axiom.In the back of the car he carried three cans of petrol.He deserves to pour gasoline all over himself and strike a match. But he didn't do it.He doesn't know why.Something, much stronger than self-blame and loneliness, stopped him.Even if he set himself on fire like a Buddhist monk it would not be enough to atone.He fell asleep.And when he awoke, he found a new idea that had crept into his head while he was asleep: Compensation.

is it possible?he does not know.But if he finds something... finds something significant... and brings it back to the man in black in Las Vegas, it's probably possible.And even if compensation is impossible, there may be atonement.If this worked out, he still had a chance to die with dignity. what?What is possible?What is important enough to make amends, or at least to atone?It can't be landmines or a fleet of flamethrowers, or grenades or automatic weapons, none of which matter enough.He knows where there are two giant test bombers (built without congressional approval, paid for with off-the-books defense dollars) but he can't get them back to Vegas, and even if he could, there's no one there will drive them.Just looking at their size, they also need at least ten people, or even more people to drive.

He has a special ability, as if infrared rays can sense heat sources in the dark.He was capable and felt in a certain way what was hidden behind the ruins, where so many military projects were being carried out.He's going to head straight west, right up to Project Blue, where it all just started.But catastrophe wasn't to his liking, and through his chaotic but not entirely illogical mind, he figured it wouldn't be to Flagg either.In a catastrophe, everyone will be killed.It would be much better if the original proponents of Project Blue had thought of this. So he headed northwest from the Indian Springs base, entered the sandy wasteland of the Naris Air Force Experimental Range, stopped the car in front of the wire circle, and read the sign on it: US government property, no entry.Armed guards and police dogs, high voltage power grid.He rips the grid.Like the police dogs and armed guards, the power went out, and the Trash Worm moved on, constantly revising his progress.He was drawn forward by something.He didn't know what it was, but he figured it must be important, very important.

The crawler continued on, carrying the garbage bugs up the stony slope that seemed to be a half-protruding spine.The air is stagnant and dry.Temperatures rose above 100 degrees Fahrenheit.The only sound was the motor of the crawler tractor. He went up a hill to see what was down there, and stopped to see what was going on. Below was a vast expanse of buildings, glistening in the heat.Semicircular buildings and cinder piles.Vehicles are parked here and there on the dusty streets.The whole area was surrounded by three layers of barbed wire, and he could still see the ceramic conductors on the mesh.This is not a small conductive body the size of a knuckle on the road, but the size of a clenched fist. There are two roads leading to the guardhouse from the east.There's no signs like, "Let the guards check the cameras, tell your congressmen if you like us."The only sign is a red letter on a yellow background, a dangerous color, directly writing: "Check your identity immediately." "Thank you," whispered Trashworm.He didn't know who to thank either. "Oh, thank you...thank you." His psychic ability had brought him here, but he knew it was here.somewhere. He drove the caterpillar down the hill.After a few minutes he headed towards the guardhouse.There are black and white roadblocks on the road, and the garbage bug jumped out of the car to study it.Such places generally have large generators to ensure emergency power supply.He doubts whether there is still a generator that can naturally supply electricity for 3 months, but he still has to be careful to ensure that everything is safe.What he wanted was at hand.He can't let himself get so eager that he gets cooked like a roast in the microwave. Behind 6 inches of bulletproof glass, a mummy in military uniform peers out. Litterworms stooped through the barriers of the guardhouse to the steel-barred door.He opened the door.all the best.When a place like this must rely on emergency power, everything should automatically shut down.If you're taking a shower, you're locked up in the bathroom until the crisis is over.But if the emergency power is also gone, all the switches are turned on again. The dead guard has a dry, sweet flavor, like a mixture of camphor wood and sugar in preparation for a barbecue.He didn't rot: he just dried out.There is still a black discoloration under his neck which is a marking.In the corner behind him stood a Browning Automatic Rifle.Litterbug picks it up and walks out the door. He adjusted the gun to single shot, adjusted the distance between the eyes, and put the gun on his right shoulder.He aimed a shot at a ceramic conductor.There was a gunshot and the heady smell of gunpowder.The conductor exploded, but not the purple flame of the high voltage.Litterbug laughed. He roared through the gate, then checked.Like the guardhouse, it's open.He pushed away a little, then crouched down.Under the road there is a pressure mine.He didn't know why he knew it, but he did.There may be weapons here; there may not be. He got back on the tractor, put it in gear, and drove over the barrier.There was a tearing and crushing sound as they passed, and the crawler tractor ran over them.The desert sun was beating down.The Trash Worm's distinctive eyes gleamed happily.In front of the door, he jumped out of the car and started it up again.The driverless car rolled forward and opened the doors all the way.Garbage bugs rushed into the guard room. He closed his eyes and it didn't explode.That's fine, they're completely ineffective.Their emergency systems worked for maybe a month, maybe 2, but eventually the heat and lack of regular supplies drove them into a corner.He still has to be careful. At the same time, his crawler drove straight ahead and broke into a long semi-circular wall.Litterbug stalked after it, overtook it, and shut it, breaking into a place called Illinois Street.He hopped in the car, backed up, and drove in a circle to the front of the semicircle. This is a barracks.It was dark inside and smelled of sugar and camphor wood.There were maybe 20 soldiers there, about 50 beds.Litterbug was walking up and down the hallway, wondering where he had been.There's nothing he needs here, is there?These people used to be some sort of defense, but they died of the super flu. But something directly behind the building caught his attention, a sign, and he stepped forward to see it.It's very hot there.This made his head pounding with excitement, and he was a little dizzy.As he stood in front of the sign, he started laughing.Yes, it is here.That's exactly what he was looking for in this base. This sign shows a cartoon man taking a shower.He was busy washing his genitals, they were all covered with foam, and the following commentary was: Remember!Take a bath every day for yourselves! Below is a yellow-black symbol showing 3 downward facing triangles. This is the symbol for radioactivity. Litterbug laughed and clapped his hands quietly like a child.