The World of American Drama: From the Los Angeles Patrol

Chapter 309 Run!
The dark clouds in the sky cracked a gap, revealing a small half of the first-quarter moon. The cold moonlight cast a piece of white snow, and in this snow that seemed to be smeared with a faint silver light, stood a strange painting. Indian man with facial tattoos.

He held a hatchet in his right hand and a bloody human head in his left hand. He raised his head to the sky and howled loudly, sending out a unique and unique battle cry of Indians.

"Wow, huh, huh."

As the sound spread farther and farther away, the same battle roar sounded one after another around the drilling camp.

"Dong dong dong dong dong dong. Wu Lu Lu Lu"

Jack felt as if he had an auditory hallucination. From the vast mountains in the distance, there seemed to be the low sound of war drums, echoing the roar of Martin Hansen and the tribal policemen in the reservation.

He shrunk his neck subconsciously. This scene made people feel a kind of sadness from the bottom of their hearts, as if seeing a civilization that had perished, making its final wail from the nailed coffin.

But he felt relieved immediately. Even if there were really undead spirits and karmic retribution, they would not cause trouble for him, the person who came to help.

As the saying goes, if there is a grievance and a debtor, it has nothing to do with him being a white-skinned yellow-hearted "egg man" who came through the soul.

Not long after, the old sheriff and his police officers who were scattered around gathered in the middle on snowmobiles. Their work today had just begun.

First drag all the scattered corpses into the room, and then use the weapons of the security guards to open fire at will, creating the illusion of cannibalism.

Then it was drenched inside and out with gasoline. These beasts had already prepared enough fuel for themselves. The tribal police only needed to bring the gasoline not far behind the house and pour it in bucket by bucket.

At dawn, a column of smoke rose into the sky, and everyone stood far away, watching the raging fire devour everything.

Jane, who had just arrived, looked around, only to find that Jack, Corey Lambert, and Martin Hansen had disappeared at some point.

"He told you to go back to the hotel as soon as possible and wait for the call. You still have a lot to do." Aaliyah, with reddish eyes, leaned in Braxton's arms and said to Jane.
-
"what!"

Pete woke up in the howling cold wind, breathing in the thin air with big gulps, the biting cold air was sucked into his lungs, and turned into clouds of white mist when he exhaled.

"Do you know where you are?" Jack squatted beside him, asking with a smile.

"You, don't come here, you devil!" Pete propped himself up in horror, trying to stay away from him.

"Tsk." Jack smacked his lips helplessly. He was really just asking a question. The guide was Corey Lambert, a local hunter who looked like "Hawkeye". place.

"This is Gannett Peak, the highest mountain in Wyoming." Corey put down the telescope in his hand and handed it to Martin Hansen who was sitting beside him.

"In the hottest part of August, there is a foot of snow here, and today it's a nice day, cold and deep."

Peter's panicked eyes glanced back and forth at the three people in front of him, and his face gradually showed despair. There was no need to talk nonsense, no matter how stupid he was, he understood the current situation.

"Run." Martin Hansen only said one word, the paint on his face was still there, and his body was stained with blood, making him look extremely terrifying.

Pete shivered, and subconsciously looked at his feet, only to find that the shoes on his feet were gone, and the skin on them had turned blue-purple, and he had already lost consciousness from the cold wind.

"Fuck, what did you do to me?"

"Did he not speak clearly enough? You only have one chance, run or die." Jack kindly helped to explain.

"Where can I go?" Pete looked around blankly, surrounded by ice and snow.

"There, there's a highway about 6 miles away." Corey casually pointed to the distance.

Peter struggled to stand up, "I, I don't understand. What do you want from me?"

"boom!"

"I told you to run!" Corey suddenly raised the shotgun in his hand and fired a shot in his ear. The loud roar scared Pete so that he turned his head and ran away, crying and howling.

"Ding"

Jack found an exposed rock and sat on it, took out a cigar and lit himself.

"The altitude here is over thirteen thousand feet." Martin Hansen kindly reminded him.

Jack glanced at the pile of cigarette butts under his feet, and rolled his eyes, "How far do you think he can run?"

Corey raised his gun and took aim, "2000 feet."

Jack and Martin both turned to look at him in surprise, not understanding why he could be so sure.

"My best achievement was killing a wolf at 2000 feet."

The two couldn't help smiling.

It's a pity that Pete fell headlong into the snow before he ran 500 feet. He turned over with difficulty, gasping for breath, but blood gushed out of his mouth and nose.

Jack asked Corey, "Can you still find this place tomorrow? He's got some use."

"Of course no problem, I'm a hunter, so it's reasonable to appear anywhere, isn't it?" Corey said and shrugged.
-
How to cover up a vicious event, the usual way is to hold a funeral. For example, what if an exaggerated wildfire is accidentally set off for land acquisition and too many poor people are burned to death.

That, of course, allowed the media to focus on reporting how heroic rescuers worked so hard to rescue a kitten from the rubble.

The photos published must be of a fierce girl with a kitten, so that they are both topical and visually impactful.

Unfortunately, in this wild reservation, there are no cute little kittens, and there is no way for beautiful girls to show their career in the temperature of more than ten degrees below zero, so Jack can only find another way.

Fortunately, sometimes, the wild land also has the benefits of the wild land. Although the drilling camp belongs to the federal leased land drawn from the reserve, once something goes wrong.

For example, as it is now, if the security guards in the camp were infighting due to alcoholism and DU, and died accidentally, the nearest tribal policemen were still obliged to help.

Especially when there is an FBI nearby who is dealing with the murder of indigenous people, it is natural that she should lead the team and bring the tribal police to investigate the scene to see if it is necessary for the FBI to dispatch a large team of people.

So Jane hurried back to the hotel. She only had time to freshen up briefly before she received a call from her boss, telling her not to drive back again.

When she returned to the drilling camp, it was already 9:[-] in the morning, and the fire truck that arrived in the same hurry as her had just extinguished the remaining fire at the scene, and then an aboriginal firefighter accidentally burned the frozen Something was wrong in the soil.

So under the eyes of everyone, the bones of the victimized women were excavated one after another.

(End of this chapter)