STB Chapter 33: Capture

This is machine translated and all copyrights belong to the author. Please note that the translator might take creative liberties for better readability. Thank you for reading.

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The target has been captured.

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Fourteen-year-old Johnson cautiously poked his head out from the ruins.

The rain had stopped.

In the distance, the noise of commotion was heard, and high-powered, homemade handheld torches shone brightly.

Hovercrafts and rubber dinghies moved through the puddles, with people still in raincoats using spear-like objects to clear obstacles and search for valuable items.

–They were not rescue workers but survivors who had evaded the hurricane.

They roughly fought over valuable goods, breaking into half-collapsed shops, prying open cash registers, and pulling out damp bills, while coins slipped through their fingers and rolled into the water.

“Look! Poor old Holli.”

They exclaimed as they found a body in the ruins, maliciously kicking it and laughing loudly.

“Did you take the gold ring from this old guy’s hand?”

“I didn’t see it!” The man who first lifted the furniture and found the body raised his hands and loudly defended himself.

The others clearly didn’t believe him, and soon a brawl broke out.

Johnson took advantage of the chaos to run away.

Gasping for breath, the boy was about to slow down when he heard screams and the dull sound of a blade cutting into flesh from the ruins behind him. Johnson shivered and, without resting, hurriedly fled under the cover of darkness.

He had never experienced such a terrible disaster, but he knew what people would do for money.

Their city had many bankrupt and smuggled people. Its economy was poor, and there were no large factories. The food distributed by the church was limited, as were the houses. Many people could only set up a broken tent in the slums.

Johnson had lived in a tent with his uncle Rick for many years. He had seen clients kill prostitutes, gamblers stab people in a rage, and scoundrels cheat sick elderly women out of their last possessions.

When he was seven, one of his friends died in a quiet alley.

A criminal who had just robbed someone ran into the alley, and shot the kind boy who had called him to collect relief food.

Johnson, who had collected food from the church and was puzzled why his friend didn’t show up, found only a cold body lying in a pool of blood when he returned to check.

The case was solved a month later.

The criminal had robbed a basketball player vacationing in the seaside city, who was also shot in the chest but luckily survived. The robber, realizing his victim was muscular and fearing he couldn’t overpower him, shot first before robbing him. After escaping two streets, the robber shot without thinking when a child called his name…

The case caused a stir, and the criminal was jailed. The newspapers paid a lot of attention to the innocent child who died, with full-page memorials and condemnation of the criminal, but they even misspelled the child’s name.

The only benefit that the child had after his death was moving to a cemetery beside the church.

Compared to his friend, Johnson was already fortunate. The newspaper made many people aware of the children in Pedrone, South Texas, who couldn’t fill their stomachs and didn’t even have a home.

It coincided with the year of election, and a candidate seized the opportunity. They founded a charitable organization to pay for these kids until they graduated Grade 12.

The matter was immediately taken seriously. The slum area was expanded, and many homeless families moved in, including Johnson and his uncle. However, as life improved, Rick slowly developed a gambling addiction.

Johnson started school a year later than other children, but he was finally able to study and receive free breakfast and lunch at school.

He couldn’t even transfer because the tuition was paid to the public school many years ago.

But no matter what, Johnson was determined to finish his education, knowing that opportunities were hard to come by and those who obtained them easily wouldn’t understand.

He never imagined that one day he would end up blowing up his school.

After escaping from the looters, Johnson struggled to swim through the floodwaters. When he woke up in the ruins four days earlier, he discovered a new strength in his body.

But he dared not use it, remembering clearly the tragic state of his school.

He needed to get out, to a less affected area, to seek help or pretend to be an orphan separated from his family. Fourteen-year-old Johnson Brown believed that staying alive was the most important thing.

Despite his fear, he had to leave.

Two days later, surviving on food found in the ruins, Johnson finally made it out of the disaster zone and found a relief center set up in a small town.

His emaciated appearance quickly drew attention, and soon he had a warm blanket, a cup of hot milk, and digestible biscuits.

Though starving, he controlled himself.

His manner of slowly drinking milk was very polite, and no one suspected he was a child from the slums. When they asked about his family, the boy kept his head down and said nothing.

“Oh God! This poor child,” said a plump old woman distributing supplies, who compassionately hugged the boy.

Johnson stiffened because he recognized her.

The old woman was the owner of a bakery in Pedrone City, known for harshly driving away the homeless. Johnson had once been hit on the head with her cane when he was younger. Her current behavior clearly showed she did not remember him; she embraced a boy who had lost his family in the hurricane, not the dirty child from the slums destined to become a criminal.

The embrace was warm, but Johnson’s heart was cold.

The awkwardness didn’t last long as the South Texas rescue convoy returned, bringing many survivors and making the relief station busy. No one continued to inquire about Johnson’s origins.

The boy quietly sighed in relief and observed his surroundings until someone called out to him with surprise.

“Hey, little Johnson!”

Johnson stepped back warily, like a startled hamster.

The man did not grab him but looked at him worriedly, “Katie just called me, she saw the news and was very worried about you. It’s so good to see you’re safe.”

Katie was the public school teacher who had helped Johnson. After being dismissed, she had left South Texas.

The man, who looked concerned and adjusted Johnson’s blanket, was the teacher’s friend and a lawyer who had tried to help Johnson escape school violence. He had failed due to a lack of evidence and witnesses.

“How did you get here? Where is your uncle Rick?”

“I don’t know,” Johnson said quietly.

The lawyer looked at the boy sympathetically. “Forgive me for saying this, Johnson, but I think that in a legal sense, the disappearance or death of your guardian might actually be a good thing for you.”

Johnson looked up, bright eyes looking at the other.

“The child who lost his family in the hurricane has a chance to be adopted by a well-off middle-class family in another state. You could get a better education, a new environment, and a bright future.”

“But I don’t know…”

Johnson lowered his head as if trying to shrink into himself, looking pitiful enough to make someone want to pat his head.

“I really don’t know where Uncle Rick is. Maybe he… maybe he actually escaped.”

“Yes, that’s very possible! God will bless you, Johnson.” The lawyer patted the boy’s head, deliberately not specifying what God should bless. He was satisfied to see Johnson becoming uneasy.

—-Wishing for his uncle’s death was a heavy burden of guilt for a child.

The man patiently said to Johnson, “Katie and I are getting married next year. Due to work, we’re not planning to have children yet, but we don’t mind making an extra breakfast every day. Johnson, darkness doesn’t last forever; you can overcome it by stepping out.”

Johnson slowly nodded.

“Good boy.” The lawyer patted the young man’s shoulder, like an encouraging father.

Gambler Rick? Of course, he was already dead, shot before the hurricane arrived, his body dumped in a roadside ditch.

***

Three days of dense fog severely affected traffic on the Haihuai Highway.

Long-haul trucks were congested at the highway entrance. Drivers yawned, leaving their cabins to wander around. Bored of waiting, they began discussing strange occurrences.

“…Right on this road! A few days ago, I drove past here, surrounded by news crews and police!” said a middle-aged driver, flicking ash from his cigarette. “They say a young girl died under the riverbank.”

“Nonsense! This is a highway with guardrails. You can’t die even if you roll down. Did she jump into the river to commit suicide?”

“Who knows? My son said two girls went to see a movie one night and never came back. One is still missing, neither alive nor dead.”

The middle-aged driver fetched a newspaper from his cabin and showed it to everyone: “The missing girl’s family is offering thirty thousand for information. Keep your eyes open, you might make some extra money…”

While speaking, someone suddenly pointed into the fog.

Everyone was baffled.

“Just now, there was a figure in the fog.” The shouting driver’s voice trembled, “It looked like a female student, similar to this photo.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

“Brother, that’s too outdated! If you want to scare someone, you should say it’s a drenched female ghost!”

“It’s true! She suddenly disappeared!” The driver’s face turned red.

Amidst the laughter, no one noticed that a truck in the fog had its cabin door slowly open and then close again after half a minute.

A hundred meters away by the riverbank, a girl appeared in the tall grass, looking exactly like the missing girl. She opened a small black bag she had just stolen from the cabin, pleased to see a stack of pink bills inside. She tucked the items into her pocket and flipped through the newspaper.

The driver was unlucky to have left it against the window glass, especially when she needed money to leave Huai City urgently.

“The Hurricane Jennifer hits South Texas, USA, with incredible force. Not far from the landing site, an explosion occurred at a school’s power station…” As the girl read this news, she was startled to see figures appearing in the fog around her. She activated her powers, and her figure vanished instantly.

A group of people rushed out of the fog, throwing a large net!

The net tightened around an invisible rectangle.

“Pop! Pop!”

Two durians suddenly fell out of the rectangle,
but it was caught by riot police with shields, who easily stopped it.

“Report to Major Zhang, the target has been captured. Please give the next instructions.”

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The author has something to say: 

Sorry, finally finished, tomorrow will not be so late QAQ

PS: Johnson plays a supporting role in this story. It’s necessary to introduce him, but →_→ there won’t be much about him in the early stages.

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Last Edit: December 20, 2023 at 10:35 AM

This is machine translated and all copyrights belong to the author. Please note that the translator might take creative liberties for better readability. Thank you for reading.