hotmtlnovel Chapter 10 Walking into the Darkness
Chapter 10 Walking into the Darkness
Li En walked home, her eyes scanning the crowds on both sides of the street.
Evening in Hell's Kitchen is different from daytime.
The poisonous insects that used to bask in the sun against the wall during the day are gone, and there are fewer workers squatting in front of the grocery store drinking coffee.
There were another kind of people on the sidewalk.
They walked briskly, their collars turned up, hoods covering half their heads, heads down as they hurried past the lampposts.
Someone tightened the drawstring of their hoodie, leaving only a section of their nose exposed.
Some people covered the lower half of their face with a scarf, leaving only a slit for their eyes.
Everyone is hiding themselves.
Li En watched them walk past him, and no one looked at him.
The light of dusk cuts through the gaps between the buildings, dividing the street into a grid of light and shadow.
Those figures, wrapped tightly in their clothes, walked from the light into the darkness, and then emerged from the darkness again, never looking at each other along the way.
Is this also a rule of Hell's Kitchen?
Maybe.
The words Brock had said kept replaying in his mind.
Nighttime belongs to adults.
Hell's Kitchen has its own rules, and even we have to follow them.
Yesterday afternoon, while he was rescuing people at the scene of a car accident, Brock yelled at him to mind his own business.
Now he understood that the police in Hell's Kitchen weren't maintaining justice, but rather a bare minimum of order.
To prevent the streets from spiraling out of control during the day, to prevent gang fights from affecting too many ordinary people, to ensure that emergency calls are answered, and to ensure that bodies are collected.
A child is missing? We can take on the case.
But if you find areas where you shouldn't be involved, then give up.
Li En stood at the street corner in front of the Garden Apartments, looking up at the drab gray building.
The peeling old plaster on the exterior wall gleamed with a dull yellow light under the streetlights, patchy like it had developed a skin condition.
He stared at it for a long time.
Then he turned and walked into the small clothing store on the street.
The shop was small, with a plastic sign hanging above the entrance. Two of the light bulbs were off, leaving only half lit.
The shop owner was a Middle Eastern man who sat behind a glass counter smoking hookah and didn't get up when he saw someone come in.
Li En took out her wallet.
A few dozen yuan; those were the last few bills left this week.
He bought a dark gray sweatshirt, black cargo pants, and a black beanie.
The shop owner put the money in a drawer, tore a plastic bag off the shelf, stuffed the clothes inside, and pushed it over.
Lee Eun carried the bag back to her apartment.
One of the lights in the hallway was broken, and the remaining one was buzzing overhead, its light flickering.
He took out his key, opened the door to 301, went inside, closed the door, and locked it.
There was no sofa in the living room, so he sat on the floor against the wall, his hoodie and work pants spread out on his knees, and his beanie beside him.
The curtains were drawn, so the streetlights couldn't get in; only the luminous hands of the wall clock glowed faintly inside.
He closed his eyes, but didn't fall asleep.
My mind was racing.
The port's topography, the number of patrolmen, the location of the iron fence, and Cortel's ashen eyes.
The images flipped through one by one, like going through a roll of film.
He opened his eyes at midnight.
The room was completely dark.
He changed into his new clothes in the dark. The hoodie fit perfectly, but the waistband of his cargo pants was a finger's width too loose, so he tightened the belt.
He held the beanie in his hand, turned it over to look at the label on the lining, then took out a pair of scissors from the drawer and cut three holes in the hat.
Two eyes, one breathing opening.
He pushed open the bathroom door and went into the dark room.
The beam of the flashlight swept across the wall covered with photos, lingered for a moment on the faces of the victims' families, and then moved to the innermost drawer.
The drawer was pulled open, revealing an M1911A1 pistol. The gun was jet black, and the grip was wrapped with anti-slip tape.
The magazine was inserted into the gun, and next to it was a cardboard box containing more than twenty bullets.
This gun is not for police use.
The Glock 17 needs to be returned to the armory for maintenance every week, and this M1911 is its predecessor, which is kept here.
The bullets in the cardboard box, plus the few in the magazine, totaled twenty-four rounds.
Li En ejected the magazine and checked each round one by one.
The brass cartridge case spun around my fingertip; there were no dents or rust.
He pushed the magazine back, pulled back the slide to make sure there were no bullets in the chamber, then engaged the safety and tucked the gun into his waistband.
The hem of the hoodie was pulled down to cover the gun handle.
He turned around in front of the mirror, and no trace of it was visible.
He stepped out of the dark room, pushed open the bathroom door, walked through the living room, and placed his finger on the door lock.
The metal feels cold to the touch.
He gently turned the lock, opened the door a crack, and listened for a few seconds; there was no sound in the hallway.
The door opened, he stepped out to the side, and closed the door behind him.
The sound of the latch returning to its original position is very soft.
pat.
"Li En, are you going out to play?"
The sound came from the end of the corridor, and Li En's back tensed up. She turned around.
The landlady's door was half open, and Mrs. Hudson's face peeked out from the crack, her blond hair appearing white in the hallway light.
Her body was mostly hidden by the door panel; one hand was on the door frame, and the other hand was behind the door panel, so it was impossible to see what she was holding.
Li En's breathing paused for half a second, then returned to normal.
"I'm going out for a drink." His voice was low and slightly hoarse from just waking up. "Goodnight, Mrs. Hudson."
The old woman stared straight at him.
Those eyes looked very bright under the dim light, with the pupils shrinking to a tiny dot.
My gaze swept from Lee Eun's face to the black boots on his feet, and then back again.
"Oh, then you'd better not get drunk. If you throw up in the hallway, you'll have to clean it up yourself."
Her lips twitched slightly, it was hard to tell if it was a smile or some other expression.
Then she pulled her hand back and the door closed.
pat.
Li En stood still, his right hand hanging at his waist, about half a palm's width away from the gun handle.
After a few seconds, the only sound in the corridor was my own breathing.
He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt, covering his head, and walked towards the stairwell.
The wooden steps creaked slightly underfoot.
Each step was taken close to the wall, where the ground was most firmly planted and the noise was minimized.
Hell's Kitchen at night has an eerie sense of dissonance.
Neon lights were flashing in the distance, and pink, purple, and blue beams of light shone from the entrances of bars and nightclubs.
The music was broken by the wind, leaving only a low-pitched vibration that traveled along the ground, like something huge snoring in the distance.
As you walk toward the port, the lights go out.
Most of the streetlights on both sides of the street were broken, and the few that were still working were covered with a layer of dust, their halos shrinking to the size of a fist and not illuminating very far.
The only light comes from the windows of the houses along the road.
Most of the windows had curtains drawn, and light squeezed through the gaps in the fabric, drawing thin, bright lines on the road.
The clouds overhead were tinged with a dark red by the city lights.
Occasionally, the moon would peek out from behind the clouds, casting a pale, white light before retreating back inside.
……