Chapter 196

The day Su Ming raided the lab, Brooklyn, New York.

There is an old building about five stories high. Every window and every red brick tells its history.

It's like an old man who has witnessed everything in New York.

At this time, in a window on the fourth floor, an old man was looking out of the window. He tried to lift himself from the hospital bed to see the location of the Brooklyn antique store.

But the building was not the Empire State Building, and the four stories were not high enough for him to see as far away as a few blocks away.

It's a sanatorium. The hallway is full of urine and decay. Many elderly people without support are arranged here.

Receive a little more professional treatment and care, or quietly wait for death.

"When I'm old... Let them bring me back." The old man leaned on the head of the bed and spoke to the doctor nearby. His hair and teeth were all gone, and his loose skin was covered with age spots, but his eyes were still bright: "not in Texas, not in Boston, cough and cough..."

the doctors and nurses all came together to support him, and the doctor with a moustache patted his back and comforted him: "relax Some, Mr. Hawke. It's OK. "

In fact, however, the situation of the old man is not optimistic at all. He is suffering from cancer and has been in a coma for several days.

This morning, he suddenly woke up and regained consciousness. If he wasn't really unable to move, he was going to take a look a few blocks away.

Dr. Holloway lived in Brooklyn when he was a child. He was familiar with the streets around him. He knew what the old man called the Brooklyn antique store, and he also knew that the owner was an old lady with extraordinary temperament and charm.

But the old gentleman, now this kind of situation as the doctor sees more, you should take the opportunity to say what you should say, eat more of what you want to eat, don't think about the younger sister.

Mr. Hawke calmed his breath and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "It's OK. Anyway, it all started in New York. I hope I can witness it myself."

"Witness what?" Dr. Holloway sat at the head of his bed, the first time he had spoken to him since he took over the patient.

"Witness... The beginning of the future."

So all afternoon Dr. Holloway sat quietly by his bed, listening to the old man tell him about the future.

In the old man's description, he tells of gods and monsters, masked heroes, and the man with a shield.

Doctors write these down in their own notebooks, because listening to the last voice of a patient is also a kind of hospice care.

It was supposed to be a clergyman's job, but now he's on the battlefield, shouting God's name, shooting each other or throwing grenades at each other.

But God tends to prefer trained killers to devout believers.

Dr. Holloway recorded these stories. At first, he just thought it was impractical, but the old man had clear eyes and clear logic. He told everything about the future.

Can connect all people's nets, can let people leave the earth's ship, can instantly destroy the world's stone.

Holloway could only admit that it was true. The old man was not confused at all. This was his extremely serious last words.

Doctor, he likes the stories of these heroes' chivalrous deeds. If he hadn't lived in this bad age, he would have done the same as Zorro.

But now, he's the last doctor in the sanatorium, and he can't leave.

The young nurse walked into the doctor's office that evening and told him that Mr. Matthew Hawke had died.

He came to the old man's ward again. In the yellow light, the old man's face was pale and he lay quietly on the bed.

"Can you sign the death certificate? Doctor. " The nurse asked him.

"Well, well, what a pity... He's a good man." Holloway nodded, which was the most important duty of the sanatorium doctor, signing the death certificate.

The nurse nodded with the same feeling: "he died in a dream, a kind old man... By the way, doctor, before he goes to bed, let me give this to you."

The black haired nurse said, turning around and holding up a large wooden box from the side of the medicine cart, which has beautiful lines, appears to have a lot of weight.

"Before bed?"

"Yes, he seems to know that... He will never wake up again..."

in the early morning, Holloway returned to his home on the upper east side. He has a warm study, luxurious carpet, and can enjoy the best drinks of Skywalker at any time.

Before he took over the sanatorium, he was the best surgeon in New York. If many senior officials and dignitaries did not need his service and forced him to stay, he would have gone to the battlefield.

But his medical skills have not cured cancer.

Eight cases of cancer were recorded in Egyptian papyrus in 3000 B.C., but until now, human beings still have nothing to do.Under the desk lamp, he opened the wooden box that the old man had left him.

Inside was a pair of revolvers, a Zorro style blindfold, and a small letterhead.

"To Dr. Thomas Holloway."

The doctor knew what it was without reading the letter. He beat his head and complained about his carelessness.

Matthew Hawke, a lawyer from Texas and Boston, is a pseudonym for the old man. And Matt Hawke, that's his real name. He's a double gun man.

He came from the West and was a masked knight errant active in the old West decades ago.

He had a fast black horse, a pair of black blinders and a pair of peace makers revolvers.

He shot accurately, bravely, one person can fight against hundreds of gangs, he has guarded the safety of those gold mining towns for nearly ten years.

His name was not known until his enemies were wiped out, and then he disappeared on horseback in the yellow sand and the gale, and his whereabouts are unknown to this day.

If what he said is true, he is going to the future.

Holloway grew up reading his story. The name of the swordsman exists in almost all western novels. Many Americans also know his deeds. The old man used to be the symbol of a hero.

The doctor kept complaining about himself. He should have told the dead hero what his story meant to him. It was the swordsman who inspired him and inspired almost all the chivalrous people.

When he opened the little note in the box, it clearly said, "to the next hero."

He knew that the old man was aware of his ideas that had not yet been put into practice. Maybe the eyes, the way he spoke or the way he walked revealed himself.

The doctor wanted to be a hero, like the hero in the Western story. However, due to various realistic factors, he did not take that step and could not make up his mind.

But today, an old hero passed his weapon to him.

Holloway suddenly felt a little sultry in his study. His heart beat fast. He finished his drink and went to the window behind him.

Even in the evening of early spring, he needs to open the window to breathe and think about the future.

Looking at the city outside the window, the neon lights reflected the tall black shadows. He felt that the world the old man described to him, the world full of heroes, seemed not so far away.

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