Chapter 265:

…He stood on the platform and carefully checked the fellow travelers. He intends to follow one or two corpses, but there are a lot of scum: few are worth chasing. Weakness, obesity, sickness, tiredness. The body is destroyed by excess and indifference. As a professional, this makes him feel sick, even though he understands the weaknesses that undermine the best character of men.
He wandered at the station for more than an hour, wandering between platforms when the train came in, walked, walked, and people accompanied him. The surrounding quality is really frustrating. It seems that he has to wait longer and longer every day to find meat worth using.
It was almost ten thirty now, and he had not seen a creature that was really suitable for slaughter. It didn't matter, he told himself, there was still time. Soon the crowd in the theater will emerge. They are always good for one or two strong bodies. Intellectuals with rich dietary knowledge grabbed the ticket stubs and offered opinions on the transfer of art-oh yes, there is something there.
If this is not the case, and it seems that at night he will never find something suitable, then he will have to bike to the city, take a few lovers outside, or find one or two athletes from one of the stadiums. They always make sure to provide quality materials, unless there is always a risk of drug resistance in the use of such healthy specimens. He remembers being arrested for two dollars in black money a year ago or earlier, maybe forty years between them, maybe father and son. They resisted with knives, and he has been hospitalized for six weeks. It was a close confrontation that made him doubt his skills. Worse, it made him wonder what his master would do to him if he suffered fatal injuries. Will he be sent to his family in New Jersey? And got a decent Christian funeral? Or throw his body into the dark for his own use?
The headline of the "New York Post" was dropped on the seat opposite him, attracting Mahogany's attention: "The police went all out to kill the killer." He couldn't help smiling. The thoughts of failure, weakness and death disappeared. After all, his man, that killer, the idea of ​​being arrested tonight is really ridiculous. After all, hasn't his profession been sanctioned by the highest authorities? No police can detain him, and no court can sentence him. The order that made him pursue so much was no less than his master; he almost hoped that the two police officers would catch him and let him win a big victory in front of the judge, just to know the expressions on their faces when the word appeared Learn that Mahogany is a protected person, above every statutory law.
It's ten thirty now. The trickle of theater audiences has begun, but so far there is no possibility. He still wanted to let the haste to pass: just follow one or two options to the end of the line. He is like any clever hunter, doing his best.
Li Huai promised that one hour after his release, it was not yet eleven. But anger and confusion made the work more difficult, and the digital watch began to blur in front of him. At ten ten, he dropped the pen and admitted that he failed. He warmed his eyes with the cushion of his palm until his head was full of color.
"Fuck," he said.
He never swears in the company. But from time to time to say to myself is a great comfort. He walked out of the office with a wet coat on his arm, and then went to the elevator. His limbs felt addicted, and his eyes could hardly be opened.
It was colder outside than he expected, and the air took him a bit from his drowsiness. He walked towards the subway station on 34th Street. Hurry up to Far Rockaway. Go home within an hour.
Neither Li Bai nor Mahogany knew, but at 96th and Broadway, the police arrested them as subway killers and trapped him in an uptown train. Holding a hammer and a saw, a young European man turned a young woman in the second car and threatened to chop her in half in the name of Jehovah.
His ability to fulfill his threats is questionable. As it is, he has no chance. While the rest of the passengers (including the two Marines) watched, the intended victim kicked the man's body. He put down the hammer. She picked it up, broke his jaw and right cheek, and the Marines stepped in. When the train stopped at No. 96, the police were waiting to arrest the subway butcher. They rushed in in droves, yelling like banshees, frightened mad. The butcher was lying in a corner of the car, his face covered. They pushed him away triumphantly. The woman went home with the Marines after being questioned.
Although Mahogany didn't know it was a useful transfer at the time. The police spent most of the night determining the identity of the prisoner, mainly because he could do nothing but drool through his broken jaw. It was not until 3:30 in the morning when a Captain Davis was on duty that he admitted that this man was Hank Vasariri, a retired flower salesman from the Bronx. Hank seems to be arrested frequently for threats to Jehovah and indecent exposure, all in the name of Jehovah. Deceived in appearance: He is as dangerous as the Easter Bunny. This is not a massacre of the subway. But when the police solved the problem, Mahogany had been in his business for a long time.
It was 11:15 when Li Huai took the express train to Mott Street. He shared the car with two other travelers. One is a middle-aged black woman in a purple coat, and the other is a pale adolescent girl with acne. She stares at the "Kiss my white ass" graffiti on the ceiling with wide eyes.
Li Bad was in the first car. He is 35 minutes behind him. He closed his eyes tightly, and the rhythm of the train swayed relieved him. It was a tedious journey and he was very tired. He also didn't see Mahogany's face, staring at the door between the cars, looking for more flesh. On 14th Street, the black woman got out of the car. No one is involved. Li Badi opened his eyes briefly, entered the empty platform on the 14th, and then closed his eyes again. The hissing door closed. He drifted in the warm place between consciousness and sleep, and his head flashed with new dreams. feels good. The train got off again and headed for the tunnel.
Perhaps when he was dozing off, Li Huai remembered that the door between the second and the first car had slid open. Maybe he smelled the sudden rush of air in the tunnel and found that the sound of wheels was instantly loud. But he chose to ignore it.
Maybe he even heard Mahogany's dispute, because Mahogany subdued the young man with a distant look. But the voice was too far away, and the promise of sleep was too tempting. He is drowsy.
For some reason, his dream is his mother's kitchen. She was cutting the radish, smiling sweetly as she chopped it. Very young, she looked up at her radiant face while she was working. hack. hack. hack.
His eyes opened. His mother disappeared. The car is empty, and the youth is gone.
How long has he been playing? He did not remember that the train stopped at West Fourth Street. He stood up, his head fell deep asleep, and almost fell when the train was shaking violently. It seems to gather considerable speed. Maybe the driver wants to go home and lie on the bed with his wife. They were talking about it. In fact, this is really creepy.
He remembered that there was a blind in the window between cars that had never fallen before. Li Bai's sober mind was a little worried. Suppose he has been asleep for a long time and the guard ignored him in the car. Maybe they passed Far Rockaway, and the train is now heading towards their overnight train.
"Fuck," he said loudly.
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