Abyss Train

Chapter 793 Language Barrier

  [Part①·Loss-Making Business]

Mr. Wen used all his strength to tilt his head slightly, trying to slowly open his jaw, which had evolved over millions of years.

Turn your head, move your spine, stick out your tongue, and lick the source of life.

"Mr. Wen? Vincent?" The cowboy saw the work badge on Mr. Wen's chest and also saw Mr. Wen's name.

In the West, Chinese workers had no human rights.

But the Chinese workers who had names, English translations and knew English were definitely rich.

After the gunshot, many wolves raised their heads.

Under the pressure of high temperature, they gradually became anxious and restless, swinging back and forth between hunger and survival anxiety.

They stared at the cowboy, at the prey under the cowboy's feet, and at the same time drooled over the little red horse behind the cowboy.

Little Dolly flicked her tail and breathed heavily through her nose.

Jack was about to untie his belt and release the water -

"——Oh! Sticking out your tongue? Vincent! You are such a greedy little cat!~"

This kid is gradually getting used to violence and using violence.

"But you have to pay first! How about trying another drink? Try some Jack's Fresh Brew?!"

The train was getting closer and closer.

  Before his pants were completely unbuttoned, Jack suddenly became dejected. He tied his belt again, gnashed his teeth, and stamped his feet in anger! He was almost driven mad by his own stupid behavior!

He can't do it!

  He can't do it

"Okay! Ok!"

Little Jack pretended to be relaxed, looking at the fields in the distance and the red rocks at the mouth of the valley.

Finally, he moved his gaze to his feet and stared at this undead man whose origin was unknown.

"I was going to save your life, yes."

"Alright!~ That's it! I'm a noble! I'm still a noble!"

Grabbing the zombie's collar and putting the kettle into Mr. Wen's mouth, Jack led Wen Bucai away from the railroad tracks and started nagging again.

"If you can't pay me, I'll just waste five cents on a bullet."

"First they'll cut a hole in your head, shave your face, and then sell you to the state as an Indian."

"Yeah, that's what the warrant officer said. We can't do this at a loss, bro."

Wen Bucai swallowed the water in big gulps, even if it went into his lungs. He felt a maddening itch in his chest.

His eyes gradually became brighter, and strength surged from his limbs. He snatched the cowboy's water bottle and returned to the world of the living.

At this moment, the two Homo sapiens have completely stood up, and they are almost close to each other.

——The wolves completely gave up the idea of ​​hunting and hid back in the shady canyon along the dense grass and trees.

Looking at Mr. Wen drinking happily, Jack felt like he wanted to say something but was hesitant.

The feeling is very subtle to describe, like seeing someone taking a shit and not wanting to disturb them.

After Mr. Wen finished drinking the water, he began to clear the remaining liquid in his lungs, coughing frantically while leaning on the scorching rails.

The cowboy finally had some self-awareness and wanted to calculate all the prices clearly.

"Vincent, do you have money? I know you translators."

"Especially the translator from Syracuse."

"He must have earned more than me. I came to this damn place from Edinburgh and I haven't seen a whole dollar bill in half a year. It's all cents, cents, cents - coins, coins, coins!"

Wen Bucai: "What's your name? What's your name?"

Only then did Jack begin to take this Oriental man seriously.

He had short black hair and bright eyes. He looked about 24 or 25 years old. His muscles had lost their luster, probably because he was dehydrated by the sun and wind. Under his bronze skin, his arms were strong and rugged. He was about 1.8 meters tall and had a little beard.

The cowboy acted as a reply reader.

"I just want one dollar, it's really not much."

Mr. Wen also acted as a reply reader: "What's your name? Sheriff?"

It was also at this moment that Jack Martin decided to kill.

He was calculating how much money he could make from this business, but this Chinese worker perfectly illustrated the true meaning of the difficulty of communication between different races.

You say yours, I say mine - the beasts can't understand human language, so they have to be put on the wall as exhibits.

A yellow man who can't understand human language can't even earn back the five cents needed to buy bullets.

A dead red-skinned Indian could be exchanged for eight U.S. dollars.

He could ask Uncle Bayan for some red mud paint, dye the yellow man's skin red, and then use him to replace the Indian. This would be a good business.

These evil thoughts were running rampant in his mind, and he was filled with rage. Finally, he turned back into a polite gentleman - because his ancestor was a gun-making lord, and he had to remain elegant.

In the West, people die every day from a variety of causes. The little cowboy prepared himself mentally for this.

Before killing someone, you must tell your name. Whether you are an Easterner or a Westerner, you must abide by this rule. It is a sacred ritual that cannot be skipped.

So the little cowboy said it so innocently.

"Remember the cause of your death, Vincent."

"The one who killed you is me, Jack Ma..."

"Okay, Jack Ma," Mr. Wen interrupted.

Without even pulling out his gun, Jack was almost going crazy——

"——We can't communicate in English? Then let's switch to Chinese?! Can you really understand me? You can only speak? Not listen? Hello?"

Wen Bucai: “Thank you.”

Jack uttered the next sentence in Chinese awkwardly. He only knew these three sentences in Chinese.

"I love you?"

Wen Bucai nodded: "Really, really, thank you very much."

The other party's careless attitude made little Jack feel very bad. He was half crazy and was about to shoot Mr. Wen.

But when he reached for his gun bag, the young sheriff lost his service pistol.

Mr. Wen put the revolver into his belt, threw the canteen back, and said to Little Jack, "Jack Ma, you saved my life, and I will remember this kindness."

Little Jack was once again in the awkward situation of wanting to say something but not being able to. He felt something was wrong but couldn't put it into words.

The feeling was very subtle. If I were to use a wonderful metaphor to describe it, it was like when little Jack was milking a cow. He had clearly squeezed out a large bucket of milk, but when he took it to Uncle Bayan to exchange for money, he found out that he had milked a bull.

Mr. Wen glanced at the foal behind little Jack from time to time.

Little Jack didn't know what to do for a moment. It can be seen that he is still very young, a romantic and simple person.

Vincent: “I think…”

Jack: "No! Give me back my gun! It's mine!"

Vincent: "I need a horse."

Jack: "It won't work. Dolly is my baby too."

Vincent: "Yes, it can. It can run really fast. I remember Sanyang Town is 20 miles away from here, and it didn't even sweat much."

Jack: "Vincent. You accepted my favor, stole my gun, and now you want to borrow my horse?"

Vincent: "You're dead."

Jack rushed forward ferociously, but was blocked by the gun barrel halfway.

The Colt that originally belonged to him was burned hot by the sun. Now in Vincent's hand, the silver gun body looked so dazzling.

Jack yelled and screamed, but he refused to lose his gentlemanly manners and did not even use any swear words.

"You are a shameless and despicable thief! A deformed and crazy robber! You will not escape the punishment of the law!"

"Vincent! I remember your name! And your work number!"

"I'll report you to the Pacific Railroad!"

"You are going to be wanted! A bunch of bounty hunters will come to catch you soon! Are you scared? Ha!"

Little Jack spoke more and more slowly—

——Because he saw that Vincent remained silent and his eyes became colder and colder.

There was a "click" sound.

The scarred thumb grips the hammer, and the cylinder holds the hook tightly, ready to fire at any time.

Little Jack raised his hands and glanced at the horse.

"It can! Yes, it can!"

"Actually, we are not that familiar with each other. We don't have that good a relationship. Dolly has always wanted a new owner."

Jack and Wen Bucai exchanged glances and spoke ill of Ai Ma like guilty thieves.

"It makes me feel sick. I saw it barking at the Malfoys' sink! I know it is a shameless bitch. Its heart no longer belongs to me. Sooner or later, I will be killed by it."

Vincent was very calm: "I have to go to Sloth Town to do some business, Jack, I don't want you to follow me. The road is very dangerous, you are my benefactor." After saying that, he put away his gun. Jack immediately pounced on him, but was forced to retreat by Vincent's divinely assisted shooting speed.

Wen Bucai: "I'll say it again, I don't want you to follow me."

"Oh! Wow!" Jack's face turned pale. He raised his hands again and stretched, pretending to yawn: "Chinese Kung Fu! Oh! Haha"

Vincent went on to say, "This is considered borrowing. If you pay it back, it's not robbery."

Little Jack's eyes widened. "Is this how you treat your benefactor? Pointing my gun at me?"

Vincent said firmly: "I was going to die, thank you."

Little Jack: "What the hell do you want?"

Vincent: "Now I have to go collect the debt."

Little Jack's eyes lit up: "Yes! Debt collection! Finally you uttered a few words that I can understand! I like money!"

Vincent: So?

Little Jack: "Who are you going to ask for the money? Is there any share for me?"

Vincent: "The Perfume Bottle Gang."

Little Jack: "Crazy!? Alone?"

Vincent: “No?”

"Looking for death!" Little Jack shouted in shock. "The entire Arizona Rangers formed a bandit suppression group, called the best surgeons in the world, and attached alligator dicks to them to give them courage - they dare not mess with these ogres! Vincent! What nonsense are you talking about? You? Alone?"

Vincent: "Seven days later."

Little Jack: "Your stomach will be cut open by the butcher, and your intestines will be used to fill the brains. You will become a roast sausage! Your thighs will be cut into six pieces and sent to the plate. Sprinkle some black pepper and salt with wine, and send them to the ogre's mouth together!"

Vincent: "Right here, on this railroad track, I will pay you back everything I owe you."

Little Jack was shocked and frightened.

"I don't want the horse or the gun anymore, and don't tell anyone you've seen me! I beg you!"

"If the Perfume Bottle Gang knew that I had a relationship with you, and if they recognized Dolly and the gun, they would never let me go! I don't want to get into trouble!"

"I will die, not only me, but also my uncle and aunt, my whole family will die!"

  [Part②·Deja Vu]

For a long time, neither Vincent nor Little Jack spoke.

They stood there in a stalemate. Perhaps Mr. Wen was also hesitating and wavering.

  Because what Jack Martin said was true. If Wen Bucai failed, the perfume bottle would follow the gun and the saddle brand of Dolly the Little Horse to Sheriff Jack's home. He would not only kill his benefactor, but also his whole family, again and again.

Vincent used the muzzle of his gun to flick the police badge on little Jack's chest.

"Have we met somewhere?"

Little Jack: "I've never seen that before! Don't try to get close to me! I have a bottle of hair dye in my pocket! Can I put it on Dolly?"

Vincent: "I'm sure we met once."

The cold sweat on Little Jack's face flowed down to his chin, "Save some energy for me, Vincent..."

Vincent: "Five hundred million years ago, when we were still two fish."

Little Jack raised his hands and continued in a sarcastic tone: "Then you must be an ungrateful great white shark. I rescued you from the seaweed, and you turned around and ate me up cleanly, leaving no bones behind."

Vincent didn't care: "Give me the whip on your waist."

Little Jack did as he was told.

"Jack!" Vincent screamed, "I'm leaving!"

Little Jack perked up and dropped his French salute.

There was confusion and uneasiness in his eyes, and he was expecting and hoping in his heart.

Also afraid and afraid to face the devil.

"Perfume bottle! Perfume bottle! Vincent! Perfume bottle! You can't do anything! Don't!"

This is a notorious bandit group that roams the Grand Canyon of Colorado. They also provide protection for many human trading companies by colluding with officials and bandits.

People of color from all over the world were brought to this barren yet fertile land through this gang, becoming a dry bone under the wooden pillow and new fertilizer in the plantation.

He was just a small police officer and had no power to fight against such a behemoth.

He hoped that this skillful Chinese man could really do something - maybe seven days later, his little Dolly and his beloved gun would return to him along with the money.

Jack Martin was also terrified.

When he returns to this railway track again, he will take the reward sent by fate -

  ——Will there be another bullet waiting for him?

Faced with the might of nature, Vincent was lying on the ground dying a few minutes ago, with no choice but to face death.

Little Jack thought, maybe this man was asking for his wages? Even if he changed his name and continued to work as a translator in Syracuse, he could still live a good life. Why would he choose a dead end?

Little Jack thought about it for a long time, but still felt uneasy, so he embarked on the road of no return and walked towards Sloth Town.

To be on the safe side, he picked up a pair of boots next to the cactus as spare shoes in case his boots and spurs were worn out and he had no shoes to wear.

I had just run a short distance when I saw Vincent holding the reins at the fork in the road, as if he was waiting for someone.

Little Jack held up his shoes, his worry turning into joy, as if courage was flowing out of his body.

"I knew it! You don't have the guts! ~Hey!"

Jack gave a nasty smile.

"Or are you waiting for me?"

He twisted his hips, swayed his waist, and danced.

The hot wind is blowing in my face!

"boom!--"

Two crystal scorpions in the boots had just climbed up the uppers, ready to use their crystal clear tails to inflict fatal wounds on little Jack's fingers. The venom in their bodies was enough to kill a buffalo.

The two little beasts were stuck together, and were killed by one shot, turning into pieces.

When he saw the dead scorpion fragments on the ground, little Jack turned pale with fright.

But he quickly recovered his spirits, grinning again, and was nervous and excited about Vincent's excellent marksmanship.

"How about we go back to Sanyang Town together, and you be my assistant and groom? Let's catch criminals together to exchange for rewards? How about that? Vincent! Vincent! Forget about Sloth Town! Forget about the perfume bottle!"

Vincent rode his horse over to little Jack, his waist and back muscles blocking out almost all the sunlight.

The unknown passerby reached out and pulled a handful of bullets from Little Jack's coat pocket.

Little Jack's smile froze on his face, and he slowly said four English letters: "F.U.C.K."

Vincent: "I forgot to ask you for bullets. Do you have any more?"

Little Jack: “That’s it?”

Vincent: “That’s it.”

Little Jack reluctantly took out two leather bags from his hip pocket, one bag of water and one bag of copper ammunition.

Vincent accepted it and this time he didn't even say goodbye.

"Just keep a record of it, I'll pay you back."

When the horses ran away, Vincent could no longer be seen.

Little Jack was so angry that he scratched his head and stamped his feet. He couldn't figure out why.

He is so hard-working, so honest, and so diligent.

He did a good thing! He saved an innocent life! And in the end, he lost everything!

He thought about it and felt more and more itchy in his heart——

——The itch was so severe that it made him uneasy.

He imagined himself breaking into a bandit's lair alone and walking into a small town, where a large group of enemies emerged from the houses with archways on both sides.

He imagined himself drawing his gun to meet the enemy, looking heroic and elegant.

Fantasy is always fantasy.

——It’s hard to come true, it’s hard to come true.

Little Jack frowned, pursed his lips, and lowered his head in grievance.

They were a pair of fine leather boots made of Indian leather and sewn with coarse hemp rope.

Who is its owner? Little Jack doesn't know.

——But he hated the propaganda slogan that President Washington used human skin to make shoes.

He took off his shoes made of human skin and put on Wen Bucai's shoes.

He looked into the distance, lost his gun and horse, and was going home to be scolded.

He walked fifteen feet, just the deciding distance in an Arizona gun fight, and turned back.

He took the first step he had never thought of taking, in the direction where Mr. Vincent was galloping.

"Vincent! Here I come!"