socalfunplaces Chapter 11 Moving Forward in the Dark
Chapter 11 Moving Forward in the Dark
Li En walked in the shadows.
He remembered the road he took during the day.
From the garden apartment to the 12th Avenue harbor, five blocks.
Every corner, every broken streetlamp, every pile of trash in the corner is imprinted in my mind.
He bypassed the main road, walked through several alleys, and stepped on broken glass, which made a soft crunching sound.
He paused for a moment to make sure he hadn't alerted anyone, then continued walking.
The outline of the 12th Avenue port came into view ahead.
The iron gate was closed; the two iron gates were locked together with chains, and the locks, as big as fists, gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
A wire mesh fence was strung on top of the fence, and the barbed wire at the top swayed slightly in the night breeze.
Li En did not approach the main entrance.
He had already chosen it when he came during the day.
There is a small grove of trees on the west side of the port, which is two or three meters higher than the port. If you climb over the wall from that direction, you can avoid the sentry posts in front.
He walked into the woods on the soft soil, the branches rustling against the sleeves of his hoodie.
Slow down your pace, land on the balls of your feet first, and then gradually lower your center of gravity.
It was very dark in the grove; the canopy overhead blocked out the moonlight, and the ground was covered with decaying leaves and broken branches.
His right hand hung at his side, while his left hand reached forward, touching the tree trunk beside him.
My calf bumped into something.
He felt a slight resistance, like a thin thread brushing against his trouser leg.
He immediately squatted down, placed his right hand on his knee, and ran his left hand down his calf.
iron wire.
It is about 30 centimeters off the ground, with both ends tied to two tree trunks. It is painted dark brown and cannot be seen at night.
The gang's alarm system in the woods.
Li En ran his fingers along a section of the wire to confirm that there were no bells or other sound-producing devices attached to it.
The purpose of this wire is very simple.
The person who trips will lose their balance, fall, and make a sound.
He lifted his leg, stepped over it, and landed on the other side of the wire without making a sound.
After walking a dozen more steps, he found a second wire, at the same height and with the same paint color.
He stepped over it.
The third and fourth roots.
By the time the fifth wire appeared, the harbor lights could already be seen through the tree trunk.
The edge of the grove was a two-meter-high brick wall, with broken glass stuck in the top, glittering under the light.
Li En stepped on a stone at the base of the wall, dug his fingers into the cracks between the bricks, and climbed over the wall.
He avoided the broken glass, braced himself with his palms on the bare concrete surface, flipped over, and jumped down.
His feet landed on the muddy ground, his knees slightly bent, absorbing the impact without making a sound.
Ahead was a container yard.
Blue and gray metal boxes were stacked two or three layers high, and the passage in the middle was so narrow that only one person could pass sideways.
In the center of the port stands a tall pole with a high-powered searchlight on top. The white beam of light slowly rotates, sweeping out circles of light across the ground.
When the light swept over, Li En pressed herself against the shipping container next to her, her cheek against the cold metal.
A beam of light swept past his head, the bright line on the metal sheet moved away, and he reopened his eyes.
After the light swept across him, his vision returned to clear.
Six people.
There was one on the observation tower, standing on the iron platform below the tall pole, with a cigarette between his fingers, the red glow of the cigarette tip flickering in the darkness.
A man sat on the cement dock of the port, leaning against a mooring bollard, his head tilted to the side, as if he were asleep.
A short-barreled rifle was lying across his knee in front of him.
The remaining four people split into two teams, carrying automatic rifles and patrolling the aisles between the containers. Their pace was neither fast nor slow, and the muzzles of their guns moved with their gaze.
A group of people walked from east to west, about thirty meters away from where Li En was hiding.
The other group was walking from south to north, about fifty meters away.
Li En took the wool hat out of his pocket, put it on his head, and pulled it down to his eyebrows.
Three holes—eyes, nostrils—reveal three patches of skin color against the black fabric of the hat.
He pulled up the hood, covering it over the woolen hat, so that the two layers of fabric completely covered his head.
He reached down to his lower back with his right hand, and the grip of the M1911 peeked out from under the hem of his hoodie.
He gripped the gun handle, drew the gun, pressed the safety with his left thumb, and placed his right index finger on the outside of the trigger guard.
The gun barrel is pointing downwards.
He began moving between the containers.
Each movement is divided into two beats.
Move, stop, listen.
When moving, keep your body low, place your weight on the balls of your feet, and don't let your heels touch the ground.
When you stop, point your ear in the direction from which the sound is coming and try to determine the distance and direction of the footsteps.
The first patrol team walked past him through the passage on his left, their footsteps gradually fading in the distance, eventually being drowned out by the wind.
The second team was still some distance away; their footsteps had just come from the direction of the dock.
Li En felt her way forward through the gaps between the shipping containers.
During the day, he saw the direction in which Cortel disappeared, heading deeper into the harbor, towards the area filled with corrugated iron longhouses.
His gaze swept over a dozen rows of shipping containers and landed on a row of low buildings at the corner of the entrance. The buildings had corrugated iron walls and roofs, with rivets holding the panels together, making them look like several large shipping containers welded together.
The windows of the longhouse were dark; there was no light.
There were no guards at the entrance.
Those two bald guys said during the day that they would handle this.
Bright said: "That kid has to work there for a long time before he can come home."
If Cortel is still at the port tonight, the most likely place would be that row of longhouses.
Li En climbed to the top of the row of shipping containers closest to the longhouse.
The top of the metal sheet was dented from being stepped on and covered with a thin layer of dust.
He lay on top, only half of his head showing.
The first patrol team was about twenty meters away from him, walking towards the dock with their backs to him.
The second team was further away, on the other side of the port.
The man on the lookout tower was lighting a cigarette with his head down, the light from the lighter illuminating his chin.
The person sitting on the dock was still in the same spot, but his head was drooping even lower.
Li En pointed the gun at the longhouse, then lowered it.
Now is not the time to fire.
He is waiting.
Waiting for a window that will never appear.
The patrolmen shielded each other's view, the people on the lookout tower turned around, and the people on the dock dozed off.
The moment when these conditions are met simultaneously may only last two or three seconds.
He slowed his breathing, and his heart rate dropped from over ninety beats per minute to just over seventy.
The tension in the muscles shifted from the shoulders to the waist, from the waist to the knees, and finally pressed down entirely onto the metal sheet on top of the container.
Will Cortel be in that row of longhouses?
If we don't take him away tonight, will he still be there tomorrow?
The two bald men said they would resolve the issue, something Bright dared not say aloud.
Li En knew what that meant.
In gang territory, a black boy is used as a bargaining chip; his value has an expiration date.
After the deadline, the person was no longer there.
boom!
……