Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 130 Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation
Washington, D.C.

9:45 a.m.

The convoy entered the closed traffic zone on the north side of Capitol Hill.

The building cast a shadow across the street corner, and the temperature was two degrees higher than predicted.

Haines sat in the back of the armored car, looking a little nervous.

He was wearing sunglasses, and his fingers were unconsciously tapping lightly on his knees.

I tried to open the handbag several times, but it closed again.

"It's alright, we'll be there soon," Morgan said softly, glancing at the rearview mirror.

Morgan is 32 years old and a retired Marin.

Four deployments, the final one in Helmand.

After retiring from the Navy, he was assigned by his former teammates to a group that contracted federal security projects, specializing in PSD (Power-Only Detection) tasks.

Haines was the fourth client he had met this week.

But unlike the previous clients, this person—it's hard to say what kind of role he is.

His official title is "Special Audit Advisor," and he belongs to a joint investigation committee that spans the DoD and OMB.

The document was issued by DTRA, while the route was temporarily arranged by the FESS system.

Morgan disliked this kind of high-level assignment.

Because it often implies unplanned variables.

You don't know who's secretly watching you, or when they'll jump out and mess everything up.

The convoy consisted of three modified Cadillacs.

It features six-sided bulletproof protection, NIJ Level III-A armored glass, and an blast-absorbing chassis.

There were two people in the lead car and three people in the follow car.

Each vehicle is equipped with an anti-detection module and a frequency jamming device, which is sufficient to shield against close-range cellular positioning.

The route was only finalized at 3 a.m.

Fortunately, the last paragraph is fixed.

Turn onto East Capitol Street from 7th Street NE, then proceed to the north entrance of Senator Hart's House.

Morgan checked the time again; there were still fifteen minutes until the hearing.

No errors, everything is normal.

"Could you speed things up a bit?"

Haines suddenly spoke, his voice tense, "I'd like to arrive a few minutes early."

“Safety first,” Morgan replied succinctly. “There’s definitely enough time.”

Haines didn't say anything more.

The convoy began to slow down less than 200 meters from the entrance, preparing to enter the underground security checkpoint.

A temporary pedestrian cordon was set up around the North Gate, controlled by Capitol Police.

QRF tactical observation positions were deployed at high points.

Optical alignment has been completed on the windows of the surrounding buildings.

All nearby stops and vehicles with unusual license plates were cleared in advance.

This is a familiar situation for Morgan.

All variables were reduced to a minimum.

He even asked the technical team to simulate IED attack paths before setting off.

This includes roadside devices, vehicle blast impact angles, and optimal bunker relocation strategies.

Now, all that needs to be done is to gather up, hand over the reins, and then leave.

A brief announcement came through the headset from the lead car: "Entering the designated track, maintaining lane seven."

Morgan nodded, his gaze still wandering elsewhere.

The marble wall directly in front of Hart Building gleamed white in the sunlight, its reflection shimmering on the bulletproof glass.

The headset came through a warning from the car behind: "Rear side is safe, no abnormalities detected."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Another perfect deal.

Morgan turned his head and said, "Please prepare to get off the bus."

Upon hearing this, Haines gave a slightly stiff smile and was about to say something.

Then--

Snapped.

It wasn't an explosion.

It wasn't the sound of gunfire.

It is a vibration at an extremely low frequency.

The next second, Haines' head shattered.

It's not penetration.

It burst.

The skull collapsed, with only the area below the neck still twitching slightly.

Bone fragments mixed with brain matter and blood were plastered on the roof, side windows, backrests, and partition screens of the car.

Morgan paused for two seconds before realizing he was soaked.

My cheeks, neck, and shoulders felt as hot as if they had just been poured out of a furnace.

Feeling the sticky, slippery, still-flowing substance, Morgan heard himself squeeze out a sentence:
".Hold."

Meanwhile, the headphones were already in an uproar.

"Primary target hit - repeat, target hit."

"Right rear window shot through! Confirm damage, report target status!" "Morgan, are you still there? Respond immediately!"

Morgan did not answer.

He just stared blankly at the back seat.

It's like observing something that doesn't belong to reality.

That wasn't what he meant by "being shot".

It was not a conventional penetrating wound, not intracranial decompression, and not even a "headshot" in the traditional sense.

It was his entire head, from back to front, that was directly lifted off by a terrifying force.

Fragments of bone and brain tissue that were not completely carbonized were still hanging on the glass, the roof, and between the seat backs.

Thick blood was slowly seeping down the leather seams, dripping onto the shock-absorbing pads on the floor.

"Who opened the window?!" someone shouted in the channel. "Did someone open the window?!"

"The vehicle-mounted pressure control system is normal! No abnormalities detected!" another quickly responded.

"What is that—a firepower attack? Not a targeted explosion?"

"IED ruled out! No shockwave, no structural breakage, no signs of multiple points of damage. Preliminary judgment: single-shot long-range kinetic energy attack."

"What penetrated it? AR? DMR? Or...?"

"The window cracks spread in a cone shape, the inner glass fragments were carbonized, and the impact cone angle exceeded the limit, so it could not have been a small weapon."

At this point, the person on the channel lowered their voice even further, and after a long pause, finally managed to say:
"This is not a rifle, it's anti-materiel level firepower."

"You mean .338? .408?"

".more than."

At this moment, Morgan finally spoke, his voice hoarse:

"All of you shut the fuck up! Shut up! Shut up!"

The channel went silent for a moment.

Morgan, panting heavily and trembling, pulled a spare first-aid kit from under the dashboard and opened it.

My instinct was to grab some gauze, a bandage, and a breathing mask to do something.

He turned around and knelt between the seats—

Then, it froze.

The first aid procedure is very simple.

He had served in the war zone five times and remembered it vividly.

Check airway → Breathing → Circulation → Stop bleeding → Cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

Morgan slowly lowered his head and saw only a pile of rotten flesh.

It all disappeared from the brow bone upwards.

The gums were exposed, the masseter muscle was torn apart by the impact, and the carotid artery collapsed after the initial eruption.

The contents of the cranial cavity, or what should have been inside, were now completely obscured in the car.

In this situation, how do you perform CPR?

Morgan sat there, half-kneeling, as if he had lost his soul.

He tried hard to recall.

Have you written a report on a similar situation?

Is there any program designed to counter this type of attack?

Is there any emergency medical standard that states "the XYZ protocol can be used to deal with fragmented cranial imbalance"?
No.

Because this person—can no longer be called a "person".

Morgan struggled to her feet, blood still streaming from her hair.

He tried to wipe it, but it wasn't clean at all.

Perhaps it was because his hands were also covered in blood.

His mind was still racing.

Like a broken hard drive, it's overloaded on one hand and forcibly reading on the other.

They called it anti-materiel firepower.

It's not 5.56, it's not 7.62.

It's not an AR, and it's not an M110.

Anti-materiel firepower.

It's quite reasonable for them to appear on the battlefield.

But this is Washington, D.C.!

The main entrance to the Senate building!
They checked the area within one kilometer several times.

But the bullet still managed to get in.

In other words, someone in a tall building some distance away was carrying a heavy sniper rifle and hit the target with a single shot.

It pierced through several layers of glass.

They smashed Haines' head into a puddle of mush from back to front.

That's absolutely impossible.

In the city streets, the field of light is intermittent, the wind field is chaotic, light is refracted, and the target is still moving.

How can it be!

Morgan felt his stomach cramping.

The next second, I couldn't help but vomit.

　The real-life inspiration for James is in the Easter egg, which has undergone many dramatic adaptations.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)