"Good luck, Calvin. ”

Isaac whispered as he looked at the darkness that had returned to peace. Under the bright moon in California, he knew that the doom that hovered over the heads of the Holden family had whistled and fallen.

Isaac didn't know how well he could survive this dark wave, and he didn't know where his fate and Calvin's fate would go.

He only wanted God to be on his side and Calvin's.

May God bless them, Amen.

******

Calvin stopped his car in front of a fishing club on the edge of the city. In front of the front of the car was a wire door entwined in weeds, and a rusted sign hung on the door, the paint on the surface of the sign had been rusted, leaving one round spot after another like a rotten wound, on which the words "No trespass on the private territory of the Coron House Fishing Club" were faintly recognizable.

Calvin glanced quickly in the rearview mirror, and behind him there was only a barren field, and the silent highway was a little farther away. In its heyday, the fishing club's private lake should have been a beautiful sight, but as its owner fell, it quickly withered away - the vegetation that had been transplanted at a high price died quickly in the heat and lack of water, and their black, twisted branches drooped down to block most of the road. Calvin took a deep breath, then he stepped on the gas pedal hard, and the half-old Ford roared towards the reddish-brown barbed wire door, then broke into the former Cologne House Fishing Club with a loud bang.

Calvin drove slowly for a short distance, where the once lake had almost dried up into a swamp - man-made lakes were always fragile to nature.

For Calvin, though, that's exactly where he needs to be.

He didn't turn off the ignition, and after picking up the handbrake, he jumped out of the car, his rucksack hanging behind him.

Calvin glanced at his car in silence, then bent down to pick up a heavy rock from the ground and put it on the accelerator.

He let go of the handbrake and jumped out of the car.

The second-hand Ford, which had been with him for a while, drove smoothly forward, humming and vibrating, slowly sinking into the quagmire that exuded a strong watery smell. It didn't take long for the sticky, black marsh to engulf the car completely.

Calvin stood at the edge of the swamp, patiently watching the car's red taillights fade away in the muddy water.

Calvin knew that he had to hide the car first, but inexplicably, Calvin had the illusion that some of the joy in his life seemed to disappear as the car sank in the muddy water.

A bitter taste gradually oozed from his mouth, and the pain in his back became worse. Then he straightened the strap of his canvas bag and walked towards the door of the club.

"Hey ......"

It seemed that someone laughed softly behind him.

Calvin stopped abruptly and looked behind him, but all he could see was the lush aquatic plants in the dark night and the dawn sky, which was turning a little white.

He didn't see anything, and the smirk, a malicious chuckle, seemed to be just a delusion on his part.

But that chill in the back kept with Calvin back in town.

He followed the sporadic yawning blue-collar workers down the stairs of the Perrod Street subway station. The subway station in the early morning was much quieter than Calvin had thought, and there were not a few people. There were a lot of people who had just come off the night shift, their faces haggard, like vampires who hadn't drunk blood for hundreds of years, and there were still some people who were rushing to the morning shift, and each of them looked blank because of the lack of sleep. The subway station was more dilapidated than Calvin remembered, and there was a strange stench in the air, presumably from the homeless people who slept in the corners, the rats, and the urine that they excreted with the creatures. Tubes buzzed at the top of the station, flickering to the sound of electricity.

Calvin wore a baseball uniform that was much wider than his own, with zippers all the way to the top, a collar that blocked his face, and a baseball cap that he wore that blocked his eyes.

He deliberately distanced himself from the group of passengers on the morning train, and as the subway roared into the station, he quickly turned and walked towards the lockers.

a101…… a10…… c201……

Calvin's gaze turned, looking for the numbered locker that Isaac had spoken. However, when he finally found the locker, he suddenly realized that there was a homeless man curled up not far from the locker.

Calvin glanced at the man quickly through the shadow cast on his face by the brim of his hat.

It was a homeless man who looked perfectly normal - he was normal because he had the messy hair that a homeless person should have, the dirty face that a homeless person should have, and the oversized, shabby coat that a homeless person should have.

He covered his face with his coat, perhaps because Calvin's presence had disturbed his sleep, and he glanced down at Calvin.

Suddenly, Calvin felt the cold hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He quickly turned his head, pretending to continue searching for the number, but in reality he only felt dizzy—his heart was beating wildly, and the muscles of his body were trembling.

Calvin stared at a locker in front of him, the number on it was C247, it wasn't the locker he was looking for, he needed to find C231, the number that Azac had written on his profile.

For a moment, however, Calvin was not sure if he had memorized the number correctly.

Maybe he was mistaken, the real number should be 237...... No, it should be 247......

It occurred to Calvin that he hadn't eaten in a long time, and that low blood sugar was eating away at his sobriety.

The handwriting on the metal number plate writhed slowly before his eyes like a living thing. The fan screamed above his head, and the sound was amplified to make it sound like a woman wailing. Another subway has come in, the floor is shaking, the number of passengers is gradually increasing, and Calvin can hear their chaotic footsteps.

The gaze from another person fell on him, pricking his skin like needles.

That's not a real tramp, that's a watchman, a voyeur.

Calvin thought.

Even if he acts like a homeless man, he has a smell that a homeless person doesn't have. He looked neither humble nor insensitive, and his gaze appeared wary and restrained, a look that only a trained person could have.

Maybe it's the Adventists, Calvin heard the voice repeat in his mind, since the Mercenaries of the Adventists knew about Redbeard's camouflage house, there was no reason why they didn't know the locker that Isaac used to store his things.

No, no, no, he could be that disgusting pervert - he might have slipped under Isaac in some other way. While Calvin was still cautiously dealing with the haggard morning trainees, he paced leisurely to the side of the locker, took out his disguise and laid it on the ground, and waited quietly, waiting for his own web, like a web-entrenched spider waiting for its prey—

Soon, however, another voice whispered in Calvin's head.

[It's just that you're nervous, you're suspicious, it's just a homeless man, and the homeless man is part of the American subway. 】

But that doesn't explain the suspiciousness of the homeless man......

Cold sweat from Calvin's back soaked through his clothes.

His hands were in his pockets, and his fingers rubbed back and forth against the modified M9 military dagger hidden in the compartment of his pocket, fantasizing about using this knife to directly cut the damn Adventist lackey or perverted artery, and there would be a lot of blood spurting out, but it was still early, and not too many people had come here. If he's fast enough......

Calvin struck a spirit.

As if waking up from a nightmare, the distorted vision and cacophony faded away, Calvin took a deep breath and found that he had been subconsciously holding his breath for so long.

He glanced back at the homeless man, who had already turned around and fell asleep again with his back to Calvin. At his feet lay a bare-bare fedora hat with no penny in it.

Calvin pressed the brim of his hat down again, and when he looked down, he saw that the C231 cabinet was right under his nose, as if it had suddenly emerged from a magic mirror, and Calvin had not seen it several times before.

He quickly inserted the small, light key into the keyhole and turned to the right. Calvin was worried that he had forgotten the real cabinet number, and that the key would not be able to open the cabinet at all. However, with a slight "click", the thin door popped open.

An eighty percent new black briefcase huddled in the cabinet.

Calvin reached out and took it out, casually tucking it into his canvas bag. And just as he wanted to close the cabinet door and leave quickly, a crisp metallic sound came from inside the cabinet.

Calvin paused, and he frowned and pulled back the door to look inside.

At the bottom of the iron-gray cabinet lies a cross that has not appeared before. Calvin took it out and found a label hanging from one end of the cross.

It said—

The nearest exit is 300 meters on your right, then turn left.

Calvin's face turned pale, his fingertips trembling, and he flipped the sheet over.

There is only one word on this side of the paper

【Run】 166 Reading Network