From Robinson Crusoe

Holding a stack of new newspapers, Chen Zhou left the store and walked into a dead-end alley while eating breakfast.

Crouching in the shadows of the corner, he tried to make himself inconspicuous, chewing his bread and observing the pedestrians on the street.

The shop owner's past opened a door to hope.

Although the boss's explanation did not provide clear clues or help him identify a suspect, it at least gave him a general direction, which was enough.

Even more coincidentally, Chen Zhou happened to have a "friend" he had met once before who was also troubled by the missing person's situation.

The missing little girl.

……

"I need to find the guy who took me to the hotel yesterday as soon as possible."

Chen Zhou silently thought as he ate a piece of bread in a few bites, downed a bottle of soda, and then gulped down a carton of milk.

As an outsider, he was significantly different from Americans in 1947 in both appearance and language and culture, which put him at a disadvantage in many ways.

Especially when he comes into contact with gangs or deals in guns, people might see him as an Asian man dressed poorly and think he could be double-crossed on the spot.

Even if he is confident that he will not suffer losses with his own strength, it will be troublesome if things get out of hand, especially if it attracts unnecessary attention, which is a big taboo.

Therefore, after some thought, Chen Zhou felt that helping the driver from last night find his daughter seemed like a good option.

Judging from the driver's clothes, manner of speaking, he was at least middle class.

In this day and age, anyone who can carry more than four hundred dollars in cash is considered a successful person.

These successful people usually have excellent interpersonal skills and access to all sorts of channels that ordinary people simply cannot reach. Whether it's obtaining a legal identity or acquiring a few guns, it shouldn't be difficult for them, after all, this is America.

Now, the driver happens to have something he can't do and needs help. He happened to have helped the driver once before. Although the two are not very familiar with each other, they have interacted before.

Upon closer reflection, it seems there is no more suitable helper than this driver.

……

Thinking this through, Chen Zhou got up, straightened his clothes, and then headed straight for the place where the little girl had disappeared yesterday.

He was certain that the driver would most likely arrive early to inquire, and now was the most likely time to run into the driver.

……

Chen Zhou's guess was correct, but he underestimated the anxiety of an elderly father who had lost his daughter, and he never expected what terrible scene Ronald saw after exploring the tool shed.

After shaking off the boy who was chasing him and leaving the woods, Ronald, all alone, instinctively wanted to find a helper.

After arriving in Prescott, he didn't meet many people.

Most of them left him with a very bad impression, whether it was the police who neglected their duties and went home early, the gangsters on the street, the drunkards, or the shop owners who watched him being bullied without saying a word...

These people all indicated that this was not a metropolis that upheld the rule of law and regulations, but a remote southern town where the law had little effect and where barbarity suppressed civilization.

In a place like this, Ronald's knowledge and gentlemanly manners are of no use, and even his financial advantage is wiped out by the guy who stole his wallet.

He never imagined that one day he would ask a homeless man for help, even though the homeless man's background didn't seem so simple.

……

Ronald glanced around at the entrance of the motel, afraid of seeing the drunken black man from the previous night.

The black man had met them before he was knocked down. He was worried that he would be retaliated against for coming alone. The homeless man could beat the black man, but he was no match for him.

Overnight, the number of vehicles parked in front of the hotel remained almost unchanged.

With his head down, Ronald pretended to be a passerby and walked across the street. He casually glanced at the spot where the black man had been knocked down the night before, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that no one was lying there.

After observing for a while and confirming that the black man had left, Ronald tidied his clothes and went into the hotel.

As Chen Zhou's guarantor and friend, Ronald was granted permission to enter Chen Zhou's room after communicating with the front desk staff in charge of registration.

However, to his surprise, there was no response from inside the house after knocking for a long time.

When he disregarded manners, turned the doorknob, and pushed the door open, he was even more surprised to find that the room was completely empty; his homeless friend was gone.

Through the slightly ajar window and his recollection of the receptionist, Ronald confirmed that his homeless friend had likely left the hotel long ago.

He didn't know if the homeless man was worried about being harassed by black people or being targeted by the police or the FBI. He only knew that after his daughter went missing, he had lost another reliable helper.

Now, he is the only one left on his already difficult journey to find his daughter.

They couldn't get any information about the homeless man, nor could they find any clues about the daughter from the family that made the wax figure. In fact, the family even saw her and angered them. It's unlikely they'll get any answers this time.

Stepping out of the hotel, Ronald leaned against the wall and plopped down on the floor, filled with frustration.

"Sigh, should I go to the police station to report this, or go to the bank to check?"

It feels like nothing I do goes smoothly...

Just as Ronald was thinking this, he suddenly heard a familiar roar coming from the highway in the distance.

Not long after, a wrecked Chevrolet drove in from outside the town, driven by the same street thugs who had robbed him the night before.

They cleaned up the shattered side windows of the Chevrolet, repaired the windshield damaged in the accident somewhere, and arrived at the motel with a lot of shouting. With a neat drift, they parked among a group of old cars, and then walked arm in arm into the pub next door.

Seeing that the group had completely disappeared into the tavern, Ronald excitedly patted his pocket—

Actually, he had a spare car key.

Now that those bastards are gone, it's the perfect opportunity for him to take back his car.

With a car, he could travel from Prescott to Little Rock, where he could withdraw money, contact his ex-wife, ask friends for help, and even hire retired soldiers to do his work…

Seeing the car was like seeing hope. Ronald clenched his fists and gripped the car keys in his pocket tightly; they were his lifeline.

He stood up from the hotel entrance, walked around several pickup trucks, and cautiously approached his car.

The journey was very smooth.

No one noticed him, and the bastards who went into the bar never came out again.

Ten meters, five meters, three meters...

Ronald's heart pounded. When he finally reached the car and took out his keys to open the door, he was surprised to find someone lying in the back seat.

She was a red-haired girl of about eighteen or nineteen years old, completely naked except for a bra and shorts, her hair disheveled. Perhaps Ronald's footsteps startled her, or perhaps she was just waking up from a hangover.

As Ronald peered into the car, the girl happened to sit up. Their eyes met, and when Ronald saw the girl open her mouth as if she wanted to shout, he immediately sensed that something terrible was about to happen.

All hopes are pinned on this train; success or failure hinges on it.

Having experienced far too many failures in just two or three days, Ronald did not back down this time.

He opened the back door of the car as quickly as possible, then covered the girl's mouth with a fierce look on his face.

"Don't make a sound, or I'll kill you!"

It's unclear where Ronald got the courage, but he threatened the girl in a tone that didn't suit his usual fierce manner.

Perhaps she was being held hostage, perhaps she was naturally timid, or perhaps she was still drunk, but after her mouth was covered, the girl really didn't make a sound or struggle. She just stared wide-eyed at Ronald's back.

Slightly puzzled, Ronald covered the girl's mouth and turned his head away.

Then he saw the scene he least wanted to see—

In such a short time, those gang members had already bought their drinks and left the tavern.

They parked the car right in front of the pub, with no cover around them. Ronald opened the car door and was immediately seen leaning most of his body inside.

Now, this group of bastards, capable of anything, are walking toward Ronald. One of them even casually pulls a thick wooden stick from the trash can at the tavern entrance, his eyes gleaming menacingly.

"We're doomed this time."

Ronald thought to himself.

Even though this car belongs to him, it becomes someone else's after it's stolen.

He took his car back, but that's not returning it to its rightful owner; it's robbery. If he gets caught now, he'll be beaten half to death.

"We have no choice but to run."

Ronald decisively let go, then left his car and sped away to the side.

To his surprise, the gang members didn't chase after him and just let him run onto the highway.

Thinking he had escaped another close call, Ronald was secretly pleased when he heard the roar of a car engine behind him. Then, his Chevrolet sped onto the highway and caught up with him in the blink of an eye.

The car windows were all open, and the engine roared behind them, mixed with the devilish laughter of gang members.

Ronald was already in poor physical condition, so he couldn't outrun the car. He ran ahead of the car like a donkey being whipped, panting heavily.

The Chevrolet followed him at a leisurely pace, and whenever Ronald couldn't move, a stick would stick out from the back seat and hit him hard on the back.

The pain would spur Ronald to speed up and run a few more steps, but soon he would slow down again and continue to suffer.

After running for an unknown distance, Ronald, exhausted and in pain, finally collapsed to the ground, unable to run any further.

The car following closely behind him finally stopped, and four vicious gang members got out.

They didn't seem satisfied with the injuries caused by the wooden sticks, and pulled out several crowbars from the trunk of the car.

During this process, the red-haired girl did not try to stop him, nor did she recount the fright she had suffered. She didn't even get out of the car; she just sat in the back seat, looking at Ronald, who was curled up with his head in his hands, from a few meters away. Her eyes showed a mixture of pity and helplessness.

……

Ronald, who was extremely unlucky, clearly felt the light around him dim instantly. He knew that he had been surrounded by four people, so he curled up even tighter.

Passersby who saw this scene from afar all walked away as if avoiding a snake or scorpion.

In those days, gangs were rampant in the United States. There were big shots in the gangs who could get involved with politicians, as well as young people who were fierce and violent. If you messed with them, even Hollywood stars would be in trouble.

Moreover, they might be carrying guns. Even the police are wary of such people, let alone ordinary people who hope for a peaceful life.

If Ronald were a familiar face, perhaps someone would have called the police or asked someone they knew to help them out and offer some advice.

Unfortunately, he was a complete stranger who had just arrived, and no one wanted to help him out, so they preferred to avoid trouble.

Just as Ronald was about to be brutally beaten, possibly even losing his life, a homeless man with a tattered rag wrapped around his head, tucked into a coat, and walking with his head down and body hunched over, came from the other side of the street.

This person was exceptionally tall; even with his head down and back hunched, he was still half a head taller than the average person.

He seemed oblivious to everything, or perhaps he was drunk, and continued walking blindly until a gang member wielding a crowbar bumped into him on the back before he could even make a move.

To the average person, the homeless man wasn't walking fast, and the bumping into things seemed casual; it was hard to tell he was using much force.

The gang member who was hit felt differently—

In that instant, he didn't feel like a person had bumped into his back; instead, he felt like a car or a bison.

A sudden, terrifying force propelled him forward. He tried desperately to maintain his balance, but to no avail. In the blink of an eye, he collapsed to the ground like a vicious dog scrambling for excrement.

He fell down and couldn't even dissipate the force coming from behind. He used his hands to brace himself, and with a crisp crack, the bones in his palm broke.

It wasn't until the gang member screamed in agony that his companions reacted and swung a crowbar at the homeless man.

The heavy, black iron rod slammed down, but the homeless man neither dodged nor avoided it.

Just as the attacker thought the homeless man was mentally unstable, the crowbar in his hand was suddenly tightened and then pulled outwards.

It was a terrifying force that suddenly erupted, leaving him powerless to resist. He only felt a numbness and a burning pain in his hand, and the crowbar inexplicably ended up in the other person's hand.

Immediately afterward, the man's vision blurred, and the two companions who had just been standing next to him fell to the ground, clutching their knees. Their legs were bent at a shocking angle, and just one glance was enough to tell that they were seriously injured.

"I……"

The situation took a sharp turn for the worse; in less than five seconds, only one of the four rampant gang members remained standing.

Looking at his hands, raw and chafed, and at his companion groaning in pain, he felt his legs go weak. He could barely move, let alone attack.

"Give it back to you."

Chen Zhou casually tossed the crowbar to the last person, grabbed Ronald by the back of his collar, and pulled him up from the ground.

Meanwhile, the last gang member, who instinctively raised his hand to try and catch the crowbar, felt as if he were trying to catch a shell that had just left the barrel.

With a force he had never seen before, his hands went limp, and he was thrown several meters by the flying crowbar until his back hit the wall, barely stopping him. He sat there, stunned, on the ground. (End of Chapter)