"I'm still not sure," Jeff said. "It's my personal experience." Then Colonel Willis took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and handed it to the young man. Thank you Jeff said, lighting one. "It doesn't have to be intolerable," the colonel said. "We all have our tasks in this case: I have mine, you have yours." Jeff nodded. He leaned back in his chair and let out a long puff of white smoke. The chair under his buttocks made him feel uncomfortable, and the color of the surrounding walls looked too monotonous. He also thought that his brother might be somewhere in the world, and that the colonel and his companions would not allow themselves to find him. But now, he doesn't care about all this. "I'm not a cruel man," the colonel said, as if he knew how Jeff felt at the moment. "It's just that my mission is not popular." He stood up. "I must go now. There's a truckload of people like you coming tonight." " Www/xiaoshuot xt. Co mt, xt, Xiao, Shuo, Tian, Tang Chapter 15 When Harold woke up, the sun was brighter and more dazzling than ever. Everything is far away and uncertain, like the collapse of a large dose of medicine. He was surrounded by a circle of people who looked taller than usual and had exaggerated hands and feet. Harold closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened his eyes again, he looked up and saw Martin Bellamy standing tall beside him, dressed in black, looking like a government official. He's still wearing that damn suit on such a hot day, Harold couldn't help thinking. Harold sat up with a headache. Fortunately, he collapsed on a patch of grass,316l stainless steel pipe, not the pavement. He felt as if there was something in his lungs, heavy and wet, and he couldn't help coughing. There was a cough, then another, and the lungs seemed empty, leaving only a dry cough. Harold curled up and trembled. Countless little stars appeared in front of his eyes, flying away and coming out again. When he finally finished coughing, Harold lay flat on the grass with a blanket under his head. The sun was shining in his eyes and he was covered with sweat. What's wrong Harold asked. He felt something sharp and wet in his throat. "You fainted," Martin Bellamy said. "How do you feel now?" "It's hot." "It sure is hot today," said Agent Bellamy with a smile. Harold wanted to sit up, but he felt the world spinning around him. He closed his eyes and lay down on the grass again. The smell of the hot grass reminded him of his childhood-a child lying on the grass on a hot June afternoon, and it was not caused by fainting. Where is Jacob? Harold asked, uns s32750 sheet ,x60 line pipe, still with his eyes closed. I'm here. Jacob said, emerging from the crowd of onlookers. He and his friend Max ran to Harold in silence, then knelt beside his father and grabbed the old man's hand. I didn't scare you, did I, boy? "No, sir." Harold sighed. That's good. Jacob's friend Max seems to be a very gentle and careful little boy. He knelt on Harold's head, bent down, took off his shirt, and wiped the sweat from Harold's forehead. Are you better, Mr. Harold? Max asked him. Max is a resurrected man from England, with a strong British accent and polite manners. They found him in the town of Brighton, not very far from where the Japanese were found a few weeks ago. The town of Brighton seems to have become a pivotal place where people who have passed away are always found. Yes, Max. "Mr. Harold, you look really ill. If you are ill, you must go to the hospital." Although Max has the calm and firm look of a resurrected man and an elegant British accent, the little boy talks like a machine gun. My uncle got sick a long, long time ago, "Max continued." He had to go to the hospital, and not only was he sicker, but he had the same cough you just had, only worse, and he died. ” Harold kept nodding to show that he understood the boy's story, although he didn't hear what he said after that except the first sentence, "My uncle is ill." "Very well, Max," Harold said, his eyes still closed. "Very well." Harold lay on the grass for a long time with his eyes closed, the heat of the sun enveloping his body. The sound of conversation came to his ears, even to the sound of the soldiers marching around the guardrail outside the camp. He had been coughing and hadn't realized how close he was to the fence, but now he understood. A series of imaginations began to unfold in his mind. He imagined the land outside the guardrail and even saw the sidewalk of the school parking lot. His mind drifted up the main street of town, past the gas station and the old shops along the street that had opened long ago. He saw friends and familiar faces, all busy with their respective businesses as before. Sometimes they smile and wave at themselves, and maybe one or two greet themselves loudly. Then Harold imagined he was driving the old pickup he bought in 1966. He hadn't thought of the car for years, but now he remembered it very clearly. Wide and soft seats, and a super-powerful engine. Harold wondered if people would appreciate a luxury power steering system today, perhaps because the technology is now as common as a computer in every home. In this little imagination, Harold had walked all over the town,x70 line pipe, and slowly found that there was not a single resurrection in all the streets. By imagination he was at the edge of town again, making his way home along the expressway, rumbling past in his truck. lksteelpipe.com