The Devil Comes to America

Chapter 134: Five more chapters (another twelve thousand)

The streets were destined to be unsafe. After learning about Patch's "identity", Jim's face instantly became serious.

At Jim's strong request, Patch was taken back to LAPD, and because of the special nature of the matter, Jim allowed the reporter to follow Patch back to LAPD to continue the interview after obtaining Patch's consent.

The black people in front of the TV were so moved at this moment.

This is the model of a white director! This is the real white person who does not discriminate against us black people.

At this point, the TV station that had already made the decision also understood how to report this news.

It will take some time to get back to LAPD. How can we retain the audience during this blank time?
What's there to think about? There's a police chase going on over there.

The helicopters are here, so how about an exciting full-scale coverage? Is that worth the fuel burned by our planes?

Who doesn’t like watching a battle between police and criminals?
LAPD police cars chased the two SUVs, and more and more police officers joined in under the guidance of the police helicopter and dispatch center.

The killers were shocked to find that there were so many LAPD personnel.
Aren’t all the police officers in Los Angeles on leave because they took illegal drugs?
Apparently, they were a little behind on the news.

Just two days before they arrived, the police officers who were on administrative leave had returned to work one after another.

It's just that the LAPD did not announce the political news that it needs to tell Los Angeles residents that there is no problem with our police officers and that law and order in Los Angeles will soon be restored.

Three days ago, the former director was hung on a street lamp, two days ago, the human experiment incident became popular again, and today is Jim's public press conference.

There is a lot of work to do every day, so who cares about such trivial things as there are two more policemen on the street or one more police car on the road than usual?

In particular, the police officers who had been transferred from various districts to maintain urban security had not yet completed the handover procedures and returned.

Therefore, there are far more police officers in downtown Los Angeles today than before.

The police cars on the road were so numerous that it looked like a blockbuster movie.

They rushed out from every street corner. No matter how professional these killers were, they couldn't handle the large number of people.

Even after hearing the police radio informing the gang that the criminals had fully automatic weapons, the chasing police began shooting at them directly from the car.

Especially those police officers who were transferred here, there was no ambiguity when they opened fire.

Administrative leave, this time the targets are real lunatics who attacked civilians with fully automatic weapons in downtown Los Angeles, and they are a gang!
Even if we beat them into a hornet's nest, no one would dare to jump out and say that they are actually good people.

Even when fighting this kind of guy, the psychological pressure of shooting is different from usual.

At this time, how could the police officers, who have been working intensively and overtime for almost two months for no apparent reason, miss such an opportunity for paid vacation?

The killer in the car was lying down alone, listening to the clanging sounds on the car body and looking at the police cars that seemed to rush out from any intersection. He was desperate.

"Boss, there's no way you can escape this."

"Shut up! You idiot!" The boss stretched out his hand and fired two shots, cursing: "Where the hell did these damn police come from! Why are there new ones at every intersection! We are obviously just going to kill a black man, do these policemen think we are assassinating the president?!"

"Don't worry about what they think, but they won't let us go," the killer stuck his head out and looked at the police car following behind him: "Surrender, boss, there are police everywhere!"

"What nonsense are you talking about!"

"Seriously, boss, although California has the death penalty, it hasn't carried out one in four years. If this continues, we will definitely be sent to see God by these policemen! They are like crazy now! They are using us as targets!"

At this moment, listening to the crackling sound, the boss suddenly fell silent.

"At least if we go to prison, we still have a chance to escape. If we keep running, we brothers will only be able to meet in the morgue." Finally, the killer boss spoke.

"It seems that we have no other choice."

Inside the LAPD, Patch sat in a chair with reporters and cameras in front of him.

His eyes were filled with the fear of surviving a disaster, and his whole body couldn't help shaking.

Everyone who watched the live broadcast had pity and sympathy on their faces when they saw Patch in this state.

Jim squatted beside Patch and asked something. After getting Patch's reply, he stood up and looked at the reporters: "I have obtained Mr. Patch's consent. You can ask questions, but come one by one. He is scared, isn't he? Please don't provoke him anymore. Otherwise, I will ask you to leave."

At this moment, Jim is like a patron saint of black people, even though he is white.

Jim raised his finger and pointed at a reporter who had not given him a difficult question just now: "Excuse me, sir."

The reporter quickly raised the microphone: "Mr. Patch, right? You escaped from that laboratory. Can you tell us what was in there? And how did you escape? What happened at that time?"

"There are a lot of things in the lab, and my mind is a little confused and I need to think about it. As for how I got out..." Patch pursed his lips, as if he was mentally preparing himself, and was silent for a while before he mustered up the courage to speak.

"Someone helped me to escape. Many people helped me. It might be because I was the only lucky one who didn't have any obvious strange symptoms. Godwin, she was across from me. She told me that there was a three-minute gap between the guards' shift changes. When she told me the news, there was still a long knife wound on her stomach."

"Victor, the bastard who called me a nigger when I came here, came back one time covered in wounds. He was almost beaten to death but he still showed off to me that he knew the password to an office and told me."

"Joel, my black brother, told me that he found a blind spot in the surveillance video, and the camera over there couldn't capture that place."

"Roll, he showed me how to break the door lock, and because of this, he was almost beaten to death by the guards."

"Rocky, he told me that if white gas appears in the glass chamber, you must hold your breath. It is poisonous gas. He saw several people being treated in this way, and he also knows how to get to the upper road."

When Patch said these names, the trembling in his body disappeared, and there was even a faint smile on his face, as if these people gave him great confidence.

But at this moment, not to mention the audience watching the live broadcast, even the reporters, from Patch's perhaps tender recollections, learned what each name represented.

"And." Patch emphasized the words, bringing everyone back to their senses: "Albert Gold, he's a 15-year-old kid with freckles on his face that represent youth. He's the smartest and kindest kid I've ever met. He told me how to avoid being violently treated by the guards. He told me to face it with a smile. Maybe they'll let us go after the experiment, and even give us a large sum of money as hush money. But later he told me that he found a place to hide people."

At this point, Patch had tears in his eyes. "I don't know what the hell those bastards did to him to destroy this kid's fantasy, but I remember it."

"He also told me," Patch suddenly choked up when he said this. He tried to open his mouth several times but couldn't utter a single letter. In the end, he even covered his face and sobbed.

No one disturbed him, not even the reporters, everyone was waiting quietly.

Finally, as if he had adjusted himself, Patch looked at the camera again. At this time, Patch seemed like a different person, so determined.

"He also told me, he said, 'Sir, if you can get out alive, please tell my mother that there is an iron box in the third cabinet of my room. There are 500 US dollars in it. That is the money I secretly saved to buy her a birthday present. Please tell her that I can't celebrate her birthday with her this year.'"

The reporters who heard these words covered their mouths, and even Jim next to him tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

In front of the TV, countless viewers were watching the live broadcast. Some of them opened their mouths wide, some were sobbing softly, and some were clenching their fists tightly.

Patch's voice continued, and at this moment Patch looked at the camera like a warrior!
"You know, Mr. Reporter, I almost couldn't run anymore several times when I was escaping. I even thought about letting them catch me and continue the experiment. But I never stopped once!"

"Because I know, I have to run out, I have to escape alive! This is not for my own survival, but for Godwin, for Victor, for Joel, Rawl, Rocky! For those who have helped me!"

"Also for Albert Gold! I have to find Mrs. Gold, and then I have to tell her, I have to tell her that Albert is a good boy, I have to tell her that Albert may not be able to spend your birthday with you, but..." Patch grinned: "The child prepared a birthday present for you."

(End of this chapter)