Chapter 477:

The door to the wine cellar was near the invalid staircase, and Cameron could hear the sound below. He thought, there is no time like now, he opened the door enough to squeeze into the darkness outside. Icy. Not only is it cold and not humid, but it must also be refrigerated. For a moment he thought he had walked into a cold storage room. His breath turned into a mist on his lips: his teeth wanted to tremble.
He thought, he couldn't look back now, and started a frost-like step. Not impossible darkness. At the end of the flight, there was a long way to go, a faint light flickered, and its plain light has always attracted people. Cameron looked eagerly at the open door behind him. It looks very attractive, but he is very curious, very curious. There is no other way but to decline.
In his nostrils, the smell of the place was mocked. Because his wife likes to remind him, he has a poor sense of smell and taste worse. She would say that he could not distinguish between garlic and rose, which may be true. But what this deep smell meant to him was that it turned the acid in his belly into life. The goat smelled, haha, he thought about it and told her, where he remembered, it smelled of a goat. He was almost at the bottom of the stairs, twenty feet, maybe thirty feet underground. The sound is still some distance apart, behind the second door.
He stood in a small room whose walls were severely painted white and covered with dirty graffiti, most of which were photos of sex. On the floor, a candlestick with seven ends. Only two dim candles were lit, and they were burned by an almost blue flame. Nowadays, the smell of goatskin is stronger: mixed with such a foul smell, it belongs to the Turkish brothel.
Two doors rushed out of the meeting room, and the conversation continued to be heard from behind a Cameron. Carefully, he crossed the slippery floor to the door, doing his best to make his voice muffled. They have a sense of urgency.
"-Faster-"
"-The right skills-"Children, children-" laughed.
"I believe in us-tomorrow-all of us -"
Laugh again.
Suddenly, the sound seemed to change direction, as if the speakers were retreating towards the door. Cameron took three steps back on the cold floor, almost colliding with the candlestick. When he passed, the flame fluttered in the room and whispered.
He must choose the stairs or another door. The stairs retracted completely. If he climbs on them, he will be safe, but he will never know. I never know why I caught a cold, why I would have a blue flame, why I would smell goat. The door is an opportunity. Returning to it, his eyes fixed on the opposite door, and he fought with the cold brass handle. Turning around, fighting, and hiding out of sight when the opposite door opened. These two movements are perfectly combined: God is with him.
Even if he closed the door, he knew he had made a mistake. God is not with him at all.
The cold needle pricked his head, teeth, eyes, and fingers. He felt as if he had been thrown into the heart of the iceberg naked. His blood seemed to stand still in his veins: the saliva on his tongue had crystallized: the mucus in his nose pierced when it turned into ice. The cold seemed to paralyze him: he couldn't even turn around.
Barely able to move his joints, he fumbled for the lighter with his fingers, and became numb, even if he didn't feel it, he might be cut off.
The lighter is already stuck to his hand, and the sweat on his fingers has turned into frost. He tried to light it in the dark and cold. Reluctantly triggered a half-life.
The room is huge: an ice cave. Its walls, mosaic roofs, sparkle. Stalactite-like ice stalactites hang over his head. The floor on which he was standing tilted uncertainly towards a hole in the middle of the room. Spanning five or six feet, the edges and walls are lined with ice in a row, as if a river was stopped when it was poured into the darkness.
He thought of his poem "Xanadu".
Another vision of Albion-"Where does the sacred river cross the sacred river, through the numerous caves for humans, and straight down into the sunless sea."
If there is a sea there, it is a frozen sea. This is eternal death.
He tried his best to stay upright to prevent himself from sliding down and leaning in unknown directions. When the cold air blows out the lighter, the lighter flashes.
"Damn it," Cameron said as he fell into the darkness. Whether this word shocked the three people outside, or if God completely abandoned him and invited them to open the door at that time, he would never know. But when the door turned open, it pushed Cameron away. As the smell of goat drifted into the room, he was too numb and too frozen to prevent a fall, and he fell on the ice floor.
Cameron half turned around. Voight’s double room, the car driver and Mercedes’ third person are all at the door. He was wearing a coat apparently made of several kinds of goatskin. The hooves and horns are still hanging on it. The blood on the fur is brown and gelatinous.
"What are you doing here, Mr. Cameron?" the goatskin man asked.
Cameron could hardly speak. The only sensation in his head was a little pain in the middle of his forehead.
"What the is going on?" he said, his lips almost immobile with cold.
"That's it, Mr. Cameron," the man replied. "Hell is still going on."
When they passed St. Michaels Strand, they glanced at him and stumbled. Joel was only three meters away from the leader, and he knew that the man was giving up. Too fast; something is wrong. He relaxed his steps, letting and surpassing him. Don't worry too much. Kendman is far behind, unable to compete with these fast men. Of course, he is the turtle in this game. Being, then, and finally and beyond. His breathing suddenly made him drowsy, and his legs were like lead. To make matters worse, he saw the tarmac under the running shoes creaking and cracking, and his fingers tried to touch him from the ground like a ruthless child. No one seems to see them. These illusory hands reached out from the grave on the tarmac and grabbed the crowd. He was exhausted and stuck in a dead end, broke when he was young, and was exhausted. Long after the doctor removed him from the track, examined him and calmed him down, the fingers of the deceased who was questioning continued to pounce on him.
Of course he knew why he was lying there on the Tottenham tarmac. He looked back. That's why they came. He looked at-"After the crash, the game started. Now he is picking up his pace and he is indeed moving away from the new boy. Joel Jones is even further behind and he seems to be unable to keep up with the leader at all. Jim, what do you think?" "Well, he has already pooped, or he is really taking the opportunity to exhaust them. Remember he is a newbie at this distance-"
"Yes, Jim-"
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