The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

As soon as Lin Zheng uttered the hoarse "okay," the fatigue in his body seemed to be instantly swept away by some invisible force, leaving only highly tense nerves and burning adrenaline. He immediately turned around and walked straight towards Jeremy and Lina.

Inside the repair shop, the dim light was punctuated by a few rickety emergency lights, casting eerie shadows in the dusty air. The air was thick with the acrid smells of diesel fuel, scrap rubber, and the fumes of paint evaporating, irritating their noses and throats. Everyone moved swiftly, like machines, but an inextinguishable flame burned in their eyes.

Lena was already kneeling beside the modified all-terrain vehicle, her fingers moving swiftly between the broken terminals of the wiring harness, her movements almost blurry. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, but her hands were incredibly steady. The charred wires, like burnt nerve endings, emitted faint sparks and gave off an unsettling burnt smell.

She deftly peeled back the damaged insulation, the fine copper wires dancing like snakes beneath her fingertips. She twisted and secured the wires at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, each connection a testament to her desperate will to survive. Her custom-made combat suit was covered in oil and dust, even bearing several tears from previous explosions, yet her movements remained convincingly efficient and precise. Sweat streamed down her face, blurring her vision, but she simply wiped it away impatiently with her sleeve and continued working, her lips pressed into a tight line—a testament to her utmost focus.

Jeremy squatted beside the wheel, large beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, his short hair soaked and sliding down his dark cheeks. He laboriously pumped air into the flat tire with a makeshift hand pump, each press causing his thick arm muscles to bulge and veins to stand out. The heavy, persistent pumping sound, like the panting of an old bellows, was particularly jarring in the silent, abandoned factory, as if relentlessly injecting hope into the tire. Each muffled pump was like a silent rebuttal to death's mockery.

They didn't communicate verbally, only the clanging of tools against metal and Lina's occasional low curses—her way of venting her anxiety. A tense, deadly atmosphere hung in the air. Time, like an invisible hand, gripped their throats; with every second they delayed, their chances of survival diminished, and the shadow of death grew ever stronger.

Lin Zheng took the paint spray gun from Lina's hand. It was a makeshift tool, crude but practical, made from a discarded paint bucket. Its nozzle was clogged, resulting in uneven paint application, but he couldn't care less. He aimed it at the futuristic black armor of the modified all-terrain vehicle—once their proud symbol, now to be erased. He began to spray roughly, his movements carrying a destructive frenzy, as if he wanted to unleash all his anger and despair onto the camouflage.

A cheap, earthy yellow paint job was quickly applied, carrying a pungent formaldehyde smell. It covered the car's original sharp edges and technological feel, like a dirty camouflage covering this steel behemoth. The once sharp lines became blurred, the smooth surface became mottled, and everything was brutally transformed in an instant, becoming an inconspicuous rust. Soon, the vehicle that represented the "Dreambreaker" began to imitate the old look of the freight trucks commonly seen in the rusted zone, and even deliberately sprayed some dark paint spots to simulate oil stains, making it look weathered.

Thick, tattered tarpaulins, covered in a layer of dust and exuding a musty smell, were piled up in a corner of the factory. Lin Zheng instructed Jeremy and Lena to work together to move them over. Several dirty tarpaulins were casually draped over the roof and sides of the modified all-terrain vehicle, deliberately creating a dilapidated and messy look. Rough ropes were haphazardly tied and secured, dangling precariously. This deliberate casualness became the best camouflage, perfectly blending the vehicle into the background of the abandoned factory, making it inconspicuous, as if it could be abandoned at any moment.

Not far away, Evelyn Reed was quietly and intently tending to Arthur Morgan's injuries. Her white coat was already stained crimson with blood, the mottled stains a stark contrast to her usual pristine appearance. Her hands were covered in Arthur's shocking dark red blood, and cold beads of sweat trickled down her temples. The cramped repair shop was dimly lit; she could barely see the instruments in her hands by the faint light of her flashlight. She used all the limited bandages and disinfectant in her medical kit, each step taken with extreme care, as if racing against death.

Arthur's face was ashen, his lips purple, and painful groans escaped his throat, broken and intermittent, each breath hoarse with agony. The blood flowing from beneath him had begun to congeal, and the air was thick with the suffocating stench of blood. Evelyn quickly injected him with a cardiac stimulant, a life-saving drug she had stolen from the hospital before their retreat, as precious as life itself. The moment the needle pierced his skin, Arthur convulsed violently, his body trembling, but he quickly calmed down, falling into a semi-conscious state.

His breathing remained rapid, labored like a broken bellows, but the pain in his eyes eased slightly. His lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something, but it all turned into meaningless babbling, unintelligible words. Occasionally, he would regain his senses, his cloudy gaze laboriously fixed on Lin Zheng, his eyes filled with worry and a vague trust, as if using all his strength to remind Lin Zheng to be careful as well. Lin Zheng knew that Arthur's injuries were far beyond the reach of ordinary medical treatment; ruptured internal organs and excessive blood loss were fatal. But despite her feeble insistence, Evelyn did not give up.

Her persistence was a primal respect for life, and the most direct manifestation of humanity's brilliance in this corrupt world. In this cruel and twisted world, every attempt she made was like a candle flickering in the darkness, fragile yet resilient. Lin Zheng looked at her, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him—gratitude, helplessness, and even more so, indignation at his fate.

Lin Zheng glanced quickly out the window. The night was as thick as ink, and the night wind carried the faint neon lights of the distant city, but could not dispel the decaying smell of the nearby ruins. He felt the imperceptible vibrations and discordant energy fluctuations in the air, which were traces left by the drone's "mental retrospective scan." They were like countless fine needles, constantly probing this area.

It was a kind of mental noise, more disturbing than any sound, constantly scraping against his senses and giving him a splitting headache. His "Dream Anatomy" ability became even more acute when his sanity was nearing its limit, allowing him to vaguely trace the trajectory of those invisible data streams. They were like countless invisible threads, extending from all directions of Emerald Dream City, attempting to weave a vast, invisible detection network, each thread carrying the company's cold and precise instructions.

He could even sense Theodore Sterling's unique and chilling will within them, like an invisible maw devouring the entire city, attempting to completely consume them. This was precisely the highest level of pursuit that Ava had mentioned, the "American Dream" Corporation's plan to carry out against them—leaving no blind spots, leaving no trace, aiming to completely erase them from this world.

He recalled the descriptions of the deeper truth behind Project Lullaby found in the data fragments from Finch Labs. It wasn't just a cognitive weapon, but a tool to obliterate free will, capable of reshaping human memory and self, turning everyone into an empty puppet, obeying the company's commands. It was an end more terrifying than death, because it stripped away the core of being human—thought and soul. This threat far exceeded the annihilation of the body, striking at the very foundation of civilization, stirring an indescribable fear and resistance deep within Lin Zheng's heart.

Time slipped away, like sand slipping through fingers. Sweat beaded on everyone's foreheads, soaking their collars. After ensuring the modified all-terrain vehicle was operational again, Lina quickly checked the ammunition supply for the firearms. Her movements were calm and practiced, as if performing routine maintenance. She found a few old wrenches and a hammer in a tool cabinet in the abandoned factory, tossing them into the vehicle as makeshift weapons and repair tools, just in case.

Jeremy pumped the tires to their limit, and they let out a satisfied screech, pulling the modified ATV back from the brink of death once more. Each pump seemed to drain all his strength. He reinforced the hood and quickly attached an old license plate he'd found in the workshop, bearing the logo of a local freight company, to the back of the vehicle. The paint on the plate was faded and the lettering blurred, perfectly complementing the vehicle's rough camouflage. Everything happened in silence, but everyone knew they had exhausted all possibilities, pinning their hopes on this old vehicle that was about to set off.

With a final, muffled slam of Lena closing the car door, the modified all-terrain vehicle started up in the night, the engine emitting a low, grinding sound before settling into a steady state. The darkness before the vehicle seemed capable of swallowing everything... (Read thousands of good books, such as "The Rotten Dream of America: I Assembled Corpses to Face Madness.") But it was their only way out.

The modified all-terrain vehicle drove out of the repair shop and blended into the sparse convoy of logistics vehicles at night. These trucks, carrying daily necessities, garbage, and unknown chemicals, formed the backbone of Emerald Dream City's nighttime economy. Most of these truck drivers were low-level laborers, exhausted and numb, completely oblivious to the poorly disguised "new vehicle" that had suddenly infiltrated their ranks. Lin Zheng felt an eerie calm, as if by merging into this numb torrent, they could gain a moment's respite.

Ava Sterling was meticulously planning the route through their communicators. Her voice sounded anxious and weary over the encrypted channel. The internal resources she was utilizing were creating brief system "blind spots" for the logistics convoy they had infiltrated—surveillance in some areas failed within minutes, and the electronic barriers crumbled instantly. This was the last chance she had secured with the power and influence of her family, a fragile cover so brief it could be broken at any moment.

Ava's voice sounded somewhat anxious over the communicator. She guided them to skillfully avoid several known or suspected pursuit checkpoints. Each of her instructions was like a lighthouse piercing through the fog, clear and decisive. Every instruction made Lin Zheng's heart leap into his throat. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his palms soaked with sweat, as if one wrong move would shatter all their hopes.

They had once narrowly escaped Theodore Sterling's top-level pursuit force. On one occasion, a convoy of black special operations vehicles, their streamlined armor gleaming menacingly in the night, roared past on a side road. Lin Zheng could even feel the chilling energy emanating from their searchlights; like the eyes of death, they swept over the modified all-terrain vehicles, carrying an icy chill. Those cold, emotionless beams, like the gaze of death itself, scrutinized every detail, trying to find any flaw.

He could even smell the energy emanating from the searchlights, the scent of "mental regression scanning," silently seeping into the carriage and scratching at his sensitive nerves. Those few seconds felt like an eternity; he felt his heart being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, stopping its beating, until the convoy of vehicles drove away, at which point it was suddenly released, accompanied by a tearing pain. His adrenaline surged, and every muscle in his body tensed up. Only when he was sure he was safe did he finally relax, but his back was already soaked with cold sweat.

Inside the carriage, the tense atmosphere eased slightly, but everyone's face still bore the marks of exhaustion and lingering fear. Lena softly informed Evelyn that Arthur's condition was temporarily stable; although his breathing was weak, he still showed signs of life. However, she emphasized that he needed professional treatment, and there was nothing here but desolation and despair. Evelyn simply nodded silently, her worry undiminished. She knew this was only a temporary respite, not true safety.

Lin Zheng slumped in his seat, staring at the fragmented data from "Lullaby" sent by Ava. The obscure parameters and scattered experimental records seemed to whisper invisible secrets to him. The data stream twisted and contorted, forming blurry illusions in his mind, making him feel uneasy. It was the language of the abyss, trying to find an entrance in the most vulnerable part of his heart, foreshadowing greater madness and danger. He could almost hear countless desperate whispers swirling in his ears, the lamentations of souls corrupted by "Lullaby."

Just then, a faint buzzing sound broke the silence in the car as Lin Zheng's communicator crackled to life. Isabella Rossi's voice came through the encrypted channel, her tone a complex mix of concern and warning—a double-edged sword, both a warning and a guide.

"The situation in Ochre Maze is complicated, and it's not advisable to stay here for long, but this is your only chance right now." Isabella's voice was slightly hoarse, carrying an undeniable authority, yet also mixed with undisguised worry.

"The secrets there may be deeper than you imagine. Good luck," she concluded, before the signal cut off, severing all contact with the outside world. Her words, though brief, stirred a thousand waves in Lin Zheng's heart. He knew Isabella, the ruthless and efficient top agent of the Reality Stability Department, was mysterious and contradictory at times. Her warning made him realize that the "opportunity" ahead might also conceal unprecedented danger, a labyrinth full of unknowns and traps.

Isabella's last message echoed in Lin Zheng's ears like a whispered incantation, carrying an inexplicable sense of destiny. He knew this woman; she never spoke empty words. Her warning made him realize that the "Ochre Labyrinth State" ahead was not a simple refuge, but a much larger game, possibly concealing secrets older and deeper than the "American Dream," a truth that could overturn the entire world. This premonition, like a cold snake, coiled in his heart, filling him with vigilance and unease about his impending destination.

Meanwhile, minutes after they left, in the ruins of Finch's laboratory, the once vibrant and fervent research site was now nothing but scorched earth and broken walls.

Theodore Sterling's private elite force commander, Carl Fenton, led his special forces to the scene. Carl Fenton was tall and imposing, with short, spiky hair and piercing, hawk-like eyes. He wore a flawless black special operations uniform, his movements precise, swift, and highly efficient, without a single wasted moment. His men were the same, like a pack of well-trained hounds, exuding a bloodthirsty aura. The troops efficiently established a cordon, red warning tape surrounding the ruins, and began a thorough search of the wreckage. Broken metal beams, charred experimental equipment, the lingering smell of sulfur and burnt flesh mingled together, creating a hellish scene. Their indifference to human life was identical to Theodore's.

Theodore Sterling, impeccably tailored in a grey suit, stood out starkly against the surrounding chaos. He strode into the heart of the ruins, each step exuding an air of supreme authority, as if everything beneath his feet was under his control. He wore no gas mask, letting the toxic fumes and smoke permeate the surroundings, seemingly unaffected by such worldly pollution; his expression was cold and serene. On his wrist, the watch, crafted from an unknown black metal, gleamed eerily in the night, each tick seeming to measure the pulse of the world.

Several agents carefully carried the recovered fragments of Finch's research data to Theodore. Burnt papers and damaged storage media were displayed on a makeshift table, the air thick with the smell of burning. Theodore's long, slender fingers gently fiddled with a broken data chip, his gaze deep and sharp, as if he could see the future through the debris. A meaningful smile played on his lips, a warm yet utterly devoid of warmth, like a cold mask revealing an all-powerful confidence. A ruthless light gleamed in his eyes, as if he saw a new opportunity in Finch's failure, a deeper plan for Project Lullaby, or even new inspiration for the earlier "Contract of Nationhood." What he sought to eliminate was not merely the physical, but also thoughts and possibilities that could shake the very foundations of the world—any free will that escaped his control was heresy to be eradicated.

Theodore withdrew his gaze, nodded slightly to Karl Fenton without speaking, but his eyes conveyed endless instructions. Karl understood immediately, turning to deploy the next steps of the pursuit, his eyes filled with absolute loyalty and execution. For Theodore, this "accident" was not a setback, but a selection process, a recalibration. Finch's failure proved that his thinking was still not pure enough, and the final form of "Lullaby" would be born in a more brutal experiment.

The modified all-terrain vehicle continued its rapid journey across the boundless wilderness, gradually entering an eerie area shrouded in twilight. The air here became dry and heavy, and everything in sight was tinged with a dark, ochre-red hue. The distant mountains appeared unnaturally distorted, like the remains of giants. Lin Zheng felt the vehicle's vibrations increasing; this land seemed to be stirred by some ancient force, filled with the unknown and danger.

Ochre Labyrinth, a place shrouded in mystery and unknowns, its very name carries an air of enigma. Here, an ancient lullaby has begun to play, its low, eerie melody slowly drawing back an unprecedented grand curtain, foreshadowing an ultimate war about memory, thought, and destiny. And they, unaware of this, are sailing toward the eye of the storm.