Abyss Train

Chapter 792: Prologue: An accidental encounter million years ago

The Cambrian Period is a brand new chapter in the history of biological evolution in the Phanerozoic Eon. In just a few million years, a large number of multicellular organisms appeared, including the ancestors of almost all living animals.

This also includes [Kunming fish]——

——It is a jawless fish with no chin, no bones or scales on its skin, and a body like a spindle.

The trunk has twenty-five muscle segments, all in a [V] shape.

The tip of the [V] on the abdomen points backward, and the tip of the [V] on the back points forward.

——Gradually evolved from twenty-five myometrium to thirty-three vertebral segments, and transformed from aquatic to terrestrial.

It is our ancestor and the root of human beings.

More than 530 million years later, we crossed this long river of time and arrived in western North America in 1840.

Two railway tracks cross the Grand Canyon of Colorado. Watered by the blood and flesh of Chinese workers, steam and forged steel gave it shape, and sweat and gold coins gave it soul.

The scorching wind was like a horse driver wielding a whip, blowing thick clouds to the northeast, leaving a cloud-like and fog-like dust on the Gobi Desert. Gradually, in the dry season between summer and autumn, it turned into a deadly sandstorm.

——The story begins here.

It starts with a dying [fish].

  [Part ①: Warrant Officer Rodriquez’s picnic story]

"Okay! Don't move! Don't move! Jack Martin! My bride! Put on your veil!~"

The cold lead-gray luster of the paper bullet can be seen through the dark muzzle - the bullet is waiting for the needle to pierce the gunpowder.

Violence is the main theme of this wild land. Even the official law enforcement officers of the Arizona government rely on violence, believe in violence, and abuse violence.

At this moment, eighteen-year-old Jack Martin closed his eyes, dominated by fear, and stood under a large shade tree in the picnic camp, hugging the bird feather crest on his head - trying to survive.

It was obvious that this lord's son from Europe was not yet accustomed to the violence on the North American continent.

He howled loudly, steadying the trophy above his head, his legs shaking uncontrollably.

"My father will become the most powerful designer in the British Royal Small Arms Factory! I am the son of the Lord of Gunsmithing! - Let's wait and see! Warrant Officer Rodriquez! Even if you blow my head off! I will still tell you!"

"Snyder is better than Dresser! Snyder is better than Dresser!"

His colleagues in the cavalry were all watching the joke and torturing the newly appointed sheriff with mocking eyes.

Warrant Officer Rodriquez was a fat man with a pair of cunning and sly eyes squeezed out from his greasy face under his thick, messy eyebrows.

——He wanted to lower the muzzle of the gun and play a joke on this new guy.

However, the sixteen sheriffs present all used .303 paper shell bullets, and at worst they had revolvers as an emergency life-saving measure.

Only Jack Martin had just arrived at the picnic and was already boasting about his family heirloom, a strange, crudely modified breech-loading, single-shot, valve-operated rifle chambered for .577 ammunition--ammunition that was not available in Arizona.

This strange behavior of not being able to read the atmosphere of a party can be replaced by a more understandable example - like when a group of crazy butterfly saints sit at the same table with an anonymous person one day, and suddenly they hold up their iPhones and shout loudly that this is the best communication tool in the world.

"boom!--"

The lead bullet penetrated the Indian's headdress and almost set Jack the Kid's hair on fire.

"Fight back!" Warrant Officer Rodriquez grinned, "Pick up your gun! Sheriff of Sanyang Town! Pick up your gun! Fight back!"

This warrant officer, who had fairly good combat skills and exceptional marksmanship, held up the Dresser rifle in his hand.

——Reload quickly, just raise the gun and shoot.

"boom!--"

The second bullet hit the dirt in front of Jack Martin, and the bullet tip kicked up a ball of sand, which hit little Jack's trouser leg.

His whole body tensed up, and he screamed like a pig being slaughtered.

“Ah! Ahhh!!! Was I shot? Aaaaaaaaaa!!”

He didn't dare open his eyes. He had never suffered such injustice before.

A colleague who wanted to watch the fun shouted with a grin, "You're bleeding!"

A sergeant with a more evil mind came up to Jack and spat in his face: "Oh! It's all over my face!"

The strong stench of urine emanated from the cowboy's baggy pants, and Jack peed himself on the spot. He fell towards the tree trunk, breaking his weapon and his heirloom with his butt.

The impact on the barrel bent his 91-kilogram body, and the orange-brown waxed handguard broke into two pieces on the spot.

Now, Jack no longer has to worry about not being able to buy bullets -

——If he wants to integrate into the new group, he must accept this violence.

"Welcome to Arizona." Warrant Officer Rodriquez grinned and handed the weapon to the non-commissioned officer beside him.

Jack Martin did not respond. He seemed to sense something and just kept crying. He was too cowardly and timid to look at the weapon under his butt. He still kept his eyes tightly closed, holding the warrant officer's trophy and holding up the bird feather ornament on his head that exuded a strong smell of tobacco.

"He has a good father, but unfortunately his father doesn't have a good son." The warrant officer took a plate of fish from the small table, pierced the fish's eyes and gills with a fork, and put the food into his mouth. He said to his colleagues incoherently: "Sanyang Town is a good place. He should go there to eat and wait for death."

The sergeant who was dining with him had a worried look in his eyes: "The perfume bottle is very close to Sanyang Town."

"That's even better." Rodriquez shrugged indifferently: "It doesn't matter who goes. If we get into trouble with the perfume bottle, we'll die anyway. It's better to choose a soft persimmon. At least he's timid enough - he won't meddle in other people's business."

It was not until the brothers had finished eating and Jack could no longer hear the conversation that he slowly climbed up from the tree trunk.

He didn't pick up the heirlooms, and the urine stains on his pants were dried by the scorching sun.

Rodriquez yelled, "Jack! Bring me some wine!"

Although he was humiliated, Jack did not intend to disobey and immediately responded, "Yes, sir."

He dropped his headdress and found his bullet-riddled hat among the shards of clay pots from the three-gun competition. Before accepting this humiliation, he had already lost one shooting event after another at the picnic fraternity.

——Adjusting the brim of his hat, he walked silently to the wine cellar.

"Look at this! We have to get back to work!" At the picnic, the excited herald picked up the newspaper and came to the warrant officer: "Look! Look!"

In addition to the headlines from Washington, there was also a photo of the successful signing of the Pacific Railway construction agreement and the tycoon Stanford hammering down the golden spike.

——Warrant Officer Rodericks was in high spirits, which meant that the westward movement had entered the next stage.

Wealth and power will slowly come to this wilderness, and these pioneers will become the new noble families.

"Hey, Your Excellency." The sharp-eyed sergeant suddenly pointed at the photo: "Is this guy Jack Martin?"

On the side of the joint statement column, in the group photo of the railway’s founding team, not only can we find George Joshua, but we can also see a familiar big boy who looks a little too young.

The man was wearing a scissor-tailed suit with a white flower-patterned collar covering his neck and a tall hat covering his eyes. Looking closely at the outline of his jaw, mouth and nose, he seemed to look very similar to Jack Martin.

"Shut up your rotten mouth," Rodriquez cursed. "Didn't you see the wax seal on the perfume bottle? It's right here! On this gentleman's pocket! And on his cuffs, too!"

"This is the bandit leader hired by Major General Joshua! He's the boss of the perfume bottle! He's used to watch over the disobedient slaves and hired workers in the railway section!"

NCO: “He’s on top”

"Yes! It's a great contribution! You are a rare talent!" Rodriguez took the beer, waved his hand to push Jack away like he was shooing away a fly, and told the boy to get out of the way.

"damn it"

Before Jack could get far.

Rodriquez spat out a mouthful of foul-smelling wine. The rangers who were drinking from their cups around the picnic blanket did the same, spitting out the wine in their mouths.

"Fuck! That's fucking disgusting!"

Jack walked faster and faster, feeling guilty at first, but then he heard a roar behind him.

Rodriquez: "You bastard! You peed in your wine? How dare you!—"

"Dolly! - Save me! Save me!" The loud whistle was drowned out by the curses, and Jack called his beloved horse.

He jumped over the haystack, climbed onto the horse's back, heard the whistling of bullets tearing through the air, and saw the spurs hitting little Dolly's red belly, and then he ran away in a flash!

"Fuck! Fuck you! Jack Martin!" Warrant Officer Rodriquez fired several shots in a row, but Jack Martin was not hit and fell off his horse: "Fuck you!"

The Ranger officers drew their guns and started shooting, aiming all the way up along the rock platform in the Gobi Desert. The bullets followed Jack all the way but failed to hurt him at all.

Only one bullet cut open the back of his hand, causing him to cry in pain and almost let go of the reins.

  ——He rushed into the large green area, entered the woods, and rode towards Sanyang Town.

[Part②·A dead fish]

At the end of the railroad tracks, next to scattered cacti and weeds, two crystal scorpions hid in unclaimed big leather boots, performing a courtship dance while avoiding the sandstorm.

Not far from them, a young Chinese worker was lying on a wooden sleeper on the railway.

His eyes were lifeless, the skin on his back was burned, his arms were covered with marks from bruises, his lips were dry and cracked, and his eyes were bloodshot - he took off the shoes given to him by his fellow villagers, and threw away his watch and glasses.

He was like a stranded fish. After being separated from the school of fish in the sandstorm, he was finally reaching the end of his life. No longer able to fight against the horror of nature, he was about to wither and die.

At this point, nothing you do will help.

  Want to struggle? Want to turn over?

It's as difficult as climbing to the sky to move a finger.

He was about to go into dehydration and hemorrhagic shock and die.

Just a little bit of water, just a little bit of water, he can come back to life and return to normal life.

Yes, just like these two railroad tracks, they connect the East and the West, becoming the blood vessels that provide a continuous supply of energy for the rebirth of the United States.

Just a little water. He, Mr. Wen.

His Chinese name is Wen Bucai, and his Spanish name is Vincent.

Just a little water would keep him alive.

The vultures in the sky came and went, and the gray wolves on the ground watched closely.

They didn't dare approach Mr. Wen, even though this Homo sapiens looked like he was dying.

Before tearing into their prey, these scavengers must make sure of one thing: the top predator lying on the track above this horrific and bizarre human creation is completely dead.

Only after they were sure of this, they dared to come up and feast on the food, risking their lives.

Crows are very intelligent creatures. They are good at deceiving their own kind and using lies and illusions to mislead other creatures.

There was a little genius crow that used the hot air currents to keep hovering at a low altitude, its blood-red eyes fixed on Mr. Wen's equally blood-red lips and gums.

It could not chew through the Chinese workers' strong skin and bones, nor could it neutralize the mild poison in their internal organs. The fragile mucous membranes and soft flesh on their facial features were what it wanted most.

So it started to act, and decided to use a feint attack to test Mr. Wen's ability.

This Homo sapiens seemed to be dying, but why he died was not the beast's concern.

——Even if he can't take away a piece of meat, as long as there is a little wound on his body, the hunters waiting for an opportunity will rush over and leave a little corpse.

The crows can also get some scraps and continue to survive tenaciously in this hot red sandy dry land.

When it folded its wings and dived down - its eyes revealed awe and desire for life.

Like everything else, I want to leave my own image in this brilliant and magnificent world.

"boom!--"

——It was shot.

He collapsed to the ground and died.

Die earlier and more cleanly than the prey.

The gunshots scared away a flock of birds, and all the mountain lions hiding in the bushes far away ran away. The wolves crawled lower and hid deeper, but they did not give up the idea of ​​hunting.

"He's mine! First come first served, little crow!~"

The spurs on the leather boots stepped on the rails, making a clear metallic sound.

The leather of the hip bag was covered in dust and stained with pony feces, attracting horseflies and mosquitoes.

He used his thick knuckles to turn the wheel, and his thumb pressed against the cylinder to remove a shell and replace it with a new bullet.

Jack Martin carried his water bottle and gun, leaned on his knees, and looked down at Mr. Wen carefully.

The shirt was stained with blood and seemed to have not been washed for a long time. There was a police badge with a positive five-pointed star on the chest.

This was his second month as sheriff on horseback patrol in Sanyang Town.

The cowboy said, "I saved your life, you have to pay me."

The wide brim of the hat blocked the sunlight, and in the shadow, Mr. Wen saw a pair of blue eyes, some golden hair showing from under the leather rope, and big teeth yellowed by tobacco.

Mr. Wen was speechless. He was on the verge of collapse. He didn't have a penny, let alone the money to buy his life.

I couldn't hear the answer and I couldn't see the money.

Jack turned on the kettle and tried to persuade with earnest words.

“In the West, people die every day.”

The turbid water brushed past Mr. Wen's ears and fell into the ballast of the railway foundation.

"Some people were killed by snake bites, and some died in gun fights."

The gurgling water blasted a cloud of mist over the sharp and hot stones, and Mr. Wen could almost smell its fragrance - even though the clear water itself had no taste, at this moment, it was the source of life and a universal panacea.

"Died on the gallows, died in a whore's bed. Died in a cowardly way, died in a noble way. There are many ways to die, and you are always one of them. Chinese."

"Say something! Speak! You can do it! Tell me! Why did you fall on this track? Did you come here to die? Or were you robbed?"

"If you have anything that makes you unhappy, tell me and make me happy! You made me laugh! This bottle of water is yours!"

The roar of a steam engine came from afar, and the iron wheel of history was about to roll over Wen Bucai's head.

Warrant Officer Rodriquez uses violence to pass on shame and pain to Jack.

Now Jack is also going to use violence to spread this shame and pain to more people.

Jack Martin could not move.

His expression seemed to be as firm as iron, but the cold sweat on his head was getting more and more——

——He is undergoing a test of his conscience.