[BL, MTL] I'm Not Shouldering This Blame

Chapter 33: Capture

Fourteen-year-old Johnson cautiously poked his head out of the rubble.

The rain stopped.

There was a commotion in the distance, and the high-power homemade portable lamp was dazzling.

Hovercraft and kayaks are traversing the stagnant water, and people in raincoats are picking up obstacles with harpoon-like objects and rummaging through valuable things.

- They are not search and rescue personnel, but survivors of the hurricane.

They violently scramble for valuable items, rush into half-collapsed stores, and forcibly pry them in. Opening the cash register box, they found wet banknotes, and scattered coins slipped between their fingers and rolled into the water.

"Look! Old Hawley, poor old fellow! "

After the body lying in the rubble was found, the storm. The disciples kicked maliciously and laughed loudly.

"Where's the gold ring on this old guy's hand, you took it?"

"I didn't see it!" The man who was the first to lift the furniture to find the body raised his hands and loudly defended.

The bystanders were clearly unconvinced, and soon a brawl began.

Johnson took advantage of the chaos of the shouting and scuffling and ran away.

"Whew, whew." The panting boy was just about to slow down, when there was a scream and the dull sound of sharp weapons slashing into flesh and bone from the ruins behind him, Johnson shuddered, and did not care about resting, and hurried away through the cover of darkness.

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

Johnson lived in the ghetto for many years with his uncle Lake, and he had seen the murder of prostitutes. Female prostitute. Guest, I have seen gamblers who pick up knives and stab people to death with red eyes, and scum who cheated seriously ill old women out of their last money.

When he was seven years old, one of his friends died next to a garbage can in an alley.

The ghetto is not big, more than a hundred people huddle in this dirty and dilapidated place, there are no strangers here, and when the child sees the other party's face, the criminal who has just succeeded in the robbery, without saying a word, gives the boy a shot in the head.

When Johnson took the expired food from the bakery and rushed to share it with his friends, all he saw was the cold corpse in the alley, lying in a pool of blood.

The case was solved a month later.

The criminal robbed a basketball player who went on vacation to a seaside city, and he also had an extra blood hole in his chest, but he was lucky to survive. The robber originally only wanted money, but when he found that his prey was muscular, he feared that he would not be able to get it, so he fired first and then looted the money.

The case was a big mess, the criminal was imprisoned, the newspaper was very concerned about the innocent dead child, and the whole page mourned and condemned the prisoner, but even the child's name was misspelled.

The only benefit that the child received during his lifetime and after his death was to be moved to the cemetery behind the church.

Compared to his little friends, Johnson was already lucky, and the newspapers let many people know about the slums of Pedorion City, South Sarsa, and some children who did not read and could not fill their stomachs.

In the year of the U.S. election, one candidate seized the opportunity to pay for the children until they graduated in 12th grade, funded by a charitable foundation.