Chapter 818

Accompanied by a "Boom—" sound, the children in the truck bed were all startled. Someone covered their ears and said, "Did it thunder? But why is the ground shaking too?"

"What ground? Aren't you standing on a truck?" someone mentioned. A larger child stomped their feet on the floor and said, "It seems like the truck started..."

"Started? But isn't this truck already broken? How could it start?" someone asked. Beside them, the six-fingered big sister-in-charge, who was tidying up the quilts, said, "Everyone be quiet. If there's nothing to do, go to sleep. Those over there, squeeze in and leave some space; don't fill the truck up completely..."

Seeing her look displeased, everyone dared not make a sound. After a while, Bruce walked onto the truck and said, "I just fixed the truck. Perhaps in a while, we can drive to other places to look around."

The children all stared at him with wide eyes. Some of them seemed to understand something, but they did not discuss this issue; instead, they asked Bruce, "How is Boss Jason? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. He doesn't have a fever, and his wounds aren't infected. He's recovering quite well." Bruce walked off the truck again, looked back, and said, "I have to go check on him. If the truck starts moving in a while, don't be surprised. Hold on tight."

After he left, the atmosphere in the truck bed fell silent. Several older children gathered together. The six-fingered big sister-in-charge spoke up, "I knew it. Jason would definitely do this. He must want to drive to save people..."

One of the black boys spoke up, "If I run into that guy Weiss, I definitely won't save him. I'll kick him right into a mud pit!"

Another girl also snorted and said, "It's always us being kind-hearted. Why are those losers so useless? I've never seen them come to save us even once!"

The six-fingered big sister-in-charge brushed back her long reddish-brown hair and said, "Who told Boss Jason to be so capable? Besides, we are indeed a bit luckier than them. Don't forget, during the last snow disaster, if several gangs hadn't pooled their firewood together, quite a few people would have definitely frozen to death."

"That's only because of last time!" a boy pouted quite dissatisfiedly and said, "It's truly rare that they were willing to contribute their firewood. Forget it, if the boss wants to save them, let him save them. If we have too few people, the gangs at the top will demand money even more ruthlessly."

"In a while, those few children who just arrived this year might have conflicts. Don't forget to comfort them," the big sister-in-charge instructed. "In case someone cries, you must stop them. There are children in other gangs too; if they all start crying, we're finished."

"Don't worry," said a girl who looked relatively thin and weak. "When I came back today, I took some candy; it's best for coaxing them. Tina and I will take three each, and leave the rest to you. If you really can't manage them, just plug their mouths with candy."

"Be careful, don't let the children from other gangs see. If they know we have good things in our hands, they will definitely find a way to steal them..."

Several children chattered and discussed for a while, then went to their respective places. They hadn't communicated with Jason, but they all understood his meaning.

In fact, they thought differently from Jason. They didn't think about any supply and demand relationship, but they all knew that if the number of children decreased, it wouldn't be a good thing for anyone.

Faced with natural and man-made disasters that could lead to the loss of a large number of people, people of the same class are more inclined to unite to protect their own interests. This causes them to put aside past grievances and ensure the strength of their group; otherwise, if this class weakens, everyone will have to suffer together.

This is a very simple truth. Bruce could certainly figure it out, but what he didn't expect was that this group of children, barely over ten years old, could also figure it out and execute it very resolutely.

As the rain fell harder and harder, the sound of it hitting the building no longer felt like a lullaby, but more like the war drums of an invasion. On a stormy night, it is difficult for anyone to sleep; such sounds always make it impossible for one to calm their mind.

Listening to such sounds, Bruce in the study put down his pen. He stood up and reached out to close the window tighter to prevent moisture from seeping in. Just at the moment of shifting his thinking, some inspiration burst forth, allowing him to figure out how to describe the scene that followed.

"When the thunder that tore through the sky fell, I was driving a truck on a pitch-black street. The tires rushed through puddles, and the splashed water droplets were blown into the car window by the gale. I covered Jason's face with my coat; he couldn't take any more rain..."

"Suddenly, I saw lights appear ahead, a group of short figures standing by the roadside, waving at me. I stepped on the brake without thinking, hearing a burst of screams from the truck bed behind me. I knew that some children might have fallen..."

"But the noise coming from in front was even louder. Group after group of children rushed toward me, like a school of fish avoiding a natural predator, passing through the gale and the waves..."

"The rain-filled ground was like a mirror. I saw the light of their flashlights flickering. If I had come any later, they might have been swallowed by the darkness, but fortunately, Noah's Ark arrived just in time..."

Putting down the pen, accompanied by the sound of the rain, Bruce felt noisy sounds rising in his ears.

"Quick! Quick! Mark! Pull him up quickly! And him, go check on that girl, her shoes are all wet. Pour out the water before coming in..."

"Sal?? Why are you here? You damn bastard! Tell your people to move to the right and leave some space! Who else?! Who else?! Get up here quickly! The rain will be even heavier in a while!"

And after returning to their respective homes, they would not be angry that the people at the bottom didn't win the fight, but would only feel that they were impolite and broke the rules, losing face for themselves.

In the driver's cab, accompanied by Bruce stepping on the gas, Jason pulled off the coat covering his face. He had just taken a nap, and after being woken up by the noise, he said: "How is it? Did you pick up a few children?"

The information provided by this mysterious person detailed Schiller's resume, pointing out that he was a detective and psychologist who had participated in the detection of serial murder cases several times. Moreover, this information put forward a guess. The author of the information believed that Schiller might have an astonishing criminal history, and coming to Gotham was precisely to escape punishment.

"Consider them smart." Jason felt he had regained some strength. He sat up slowly and then said: "The children on these streets aren't stupid. Unlike that bunch of idiots, they know they can count on me..."

"Alright, turn around now. We'll go back to that wasteland. That way, we won't be noticed by too many people. As long as we get through tonight, it will be much better..."

However, in Gotham's rules, child gangs cannot have gang fights. If anyone dares to fire a gun, they are finished.

The sound of gunfire will alarm the adult mafia that the street belongs to. If they participate, all the children won't be able to run away. So in most cases, they hold guns and scare each other, and no one dares to pull the trigger.

The rain outside the window was very heavy. Accompanied by the gale, when the raindrops hit a person's face, it was like fine shrapnel piercing straight into the skin.

Such heavy rain would cause people to lose body heat rapidly. And the few children at the intersection looked like they had been forced out of the basement by the accumulated water, staying by the roadside at a loss. If this continued, they would definitely die.

Bruce's hand on the steering wheel stopped, and then he turned in the opposite direction. Jason, lying on the seat, felt that the direction of the vehicle was wrong. He asked: "What are you doing? Where are you going?!"

"There are a few children on the street next to us. I'm going to pick them up, and then we'll go back," Bruce replied.

"No, you can't!" Jason immediately tried to sit up. He said: "That street next to us isn't our territory. We don't know the gangs there. They won't allow us to enter!"

"But I can't just watch them freeze to death," Bruce replied. When he said the word "freeze to death," his tone trembled slightly, clearly having remembered something.

"You greenhorn! You don't know what the consequences will be!" Jason clenched his fists. He said: "You think you can save these few children, but the result will be that we all die."

He sighed and said: "You don't understand. Gotham gangs have rules. You can't trespass on someone else's territory. If it were sneaking in, that would be fine, but charging through a checkpoint in a truck, we're going to have big trouble!"

Bruce paused for a moment, but he still turned the corner without hesitation, then reached his hand out the window and shouted to the group of children: "Get on!"

All the children were stunned, but when that group of children saw something that could shield them from the rain, they squeezed on directly.

Bruce ignored the arguing coming from behind. He knew that the truck had now arrived outside the territory of the Tail-End Gang. His brain was running fast; he had to find a way out for this group of children before trouble arrived.

But trouble came faster than he imagined. With a "Squeak," a harsh braking sound came. Jason let out a scream; the shock of the braking hit his wound, and Bruce also slumped over the steering wheel.

The small car in front was much smaller than the truck, but many gang members holding guns rushed out from it. They shouted at the truck: "Which gang are you from?! Why are you trespassing here?!"

Looking at their pitch-black gun barrels, Bruce gripped the steering wheel tightly. Jason said in a weak voice: "Raise your hands and open the car door, let them inspect this place..."

"You will be discovered..." Bruce slowly leaned his body back. He said: "They will throw you out!"

"That's still better than being shot into a sieve immediately!" Jason raised his voice and said: "Open the car door quickly, they are going to shoot!"

Bruce hammered the steering wheel hard, took a deep breath, and then opened the car door.

Two gang members walked up and discovered that the person in the passenger seat was already a child. They snorted coldly, grabbed Jason's shoulders, and wanted to drag him down.

And from behind came the shouts of other gang members: "Boss, this truck is full of children! They might be the child gang from the street next door!"

"Children? How could they have a truck?! Get them down!"

Jason, who was being dragged, let out a cry of pain but did not resist. Bruce saw fresh blood flowing down the edge of his coat.

The smell of blood permeated the small driver's cabin. Bruce's fingertips began to tremble, just like the hand holding the fountain pen when he wrote this passage.

"That scent stimulated me. I felt a dark emotion cover my heart. I felt a kind of anger from it, different from the kind of anger I had felt before..."

"I wanted to find an outlet for this emotion. I knew I had to find an outlet for it..."

"So, I stepped on the gas."