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

The monotonous dripping sound from the distant pipes was amplified infinitely, each drop like a countdown to death, striking Lin Zheng's eardrums.

At the camp entrance, red optical goggles gleamed with a cold light, and more shadows began to emerge in the darkness.

These figures, wearing tactical helmets and wielding silenced rifles, moved with the agility and silence of cheetahs.

They wore sophisticated, fully enclosed masks, beneath which the optical visors gleamed with a cold, eerie light.

He was wearing lightweight but highly resistant tactical armor, with various accessories hanging on his chest and arms: flashbangs, smoke grenades, high-precision sensors, and spare magazines.

Each team member's movements have been honed through countless trials, and their seamless teamwork forms an impenetrable wall of death.

Their breathing, filtered through the device, was so faint as to be almost inaudible, seeping into this underground world like ghosts.

They are not ordinary law enforcement officers, but elite troops who have undergone brutal training and are dedicated to "elimination" missions. They have only one goal: to execute orders from their superiors efficiently and thoroughly, leaving no survivors or traces.

Lin Zheng knew he had been cornered.

He didn't want to implicate the "mouse people" who had just accepted him and given him a cup of warm water.

The flickering light of the campfire shone on their faces, and sweat dripped silently down their skin.

He couldn't let them suffer this undeserved disaster because of him.

He tightened his grip on the scalpel at his waist, his palms sweating with tension.

Charging out alone to draw fire might buy them a chance to survive.

This was the only solution he could think of at the moment.

Just as Lin Zheng was about to make a move, a cane made from a discarded steel pipe was placed in front of him.

Mayor Oakes rested his hand on his cane, his cloudy eyes shining unusually bright in the firelight, staring straight at Lin Zheng.

He gently shook his head, everything understood without words.

The mayor offered no further explanation; he simply turned and looked into the depths of the camp at the citizens gathered in front of the shacks, their faces filled with fear yet remaining silent.

His voice, without the slightest tremor, resonated with unparalleled clarity in the cramped underground space.

"If you eat, you have to return the bowl."

These few words are simple, yet they resonate in everyone's heart.

They were used to the darkness, used to being forgotten, used to living a lowly existence.

"I've never been a hero in my life."

Mayor Oakes' words continued to echo underground, each word resounding with a poignant, defiant spirit in his twilight years.

He slowly surveyed the citizens under his rule, people whose faces were disheveled, whose bodies were thin, and whose clothes were tattered.

They are the lowest strata of society in the city, a group forgotten and abandoned by the earth, struggling on the edge of death for survival.

All they had were dilapidated shacks that barely provided shelter from the wind and rain, and scraps of food scavenged from the garbage heap.

"But I swore I would protect my family!"

After he finished speaking, he straightened his hunched back, although the movement made him look even thinner, with his spine protruding from his thin body and the outline of his ribs clearly visible.

He is a rough, uneven, and weathered rock.

"My name is Oakes Roland."

They looked at each other without speaking, but the fear in their eyes was gradually fading, replaced by a resolute determination.

"James Smith."

A tall but thin man emerged from the narrow passage with his head down, holding a screwdriver in his hand.

"Emily Jensen".

The disheveled woman cut off her long hair with a kitchen knife and threw it at the feet of the cleanup team.

Michael Williams.

With his short stature and youthful face, he looked more like a child than an adult, or perhaps he really was a child.

More people shouted their names and came out carrying all sorts of simple weapons.

Yes, they have names. Even if they are abandoned, forgotten, or banished, even if they have nothing and may never have owned anything, they still have names as part of being human.

They called out their names, hoping to be needed, remembered, and included.

This is a deal they're willing to pay for.

Their greatest bargaining chip is a sober, tragic, and almost self-destructive sacrifice.

They didn't shout, they weren't afraid, they just silently and resolutely walked step by step toward the camp entrance, toward the clearance squads wearing tactical helmets and carrying silenced rifles.

Armed with rudimentary weapons, they appeared vulnerable and comical in the face of advanced silenced rifles.

The final act of resistance against fate is not choosing how to live, but deciding how to die.

The mayor stood at the very front of the procession, his cane held high, and he raised a flag that seemed about to fall but refused to bow its head.

No one spoke; only the heavy footsteps and the scraping of weapons against the ground could be heard.

This defensive line, composed of flesh and blood, faced weapons that efficiently slaughtered humanity's fellow human beings, and not a single person retreated a step.

They risked their lives to fight for a chance of survival for the "good people" they admired.

This was a confrontation with overwhelming odds, a resistance as futile as a mantis trying to stop a chariot, a tragedy destined to be slaughtered.

Lin Zheng wanted to shout, to stop them, he wanted to rush in front of them and give himself away.

He didn't have time to think; he just instinctively wanted to act and save everything.

However, a tremendous force grabbed his arm.

Mayor Oakes appeared beside Lin Zheng at some point, his rough, thin hand gripping Lin Zheng tightly, his gaze piercing.

The team member slowly raised the silenced rifle in his hand; the dark muzzle foreshadowed the impending death.

Mayor Oakes still held onto Lin Zheng, his gaze piercing into Lin Zheng's trembling heart, pouring all his beliefs and last hopes into him.

His voice was hoarse and rapid, every word carrying a bloody undertone.

"Run! Don't let us die in vain!"

Gunfire erupted, low and dense, echoing through the narrow underground space.

The first drop of blood bloomed in the dim light.

Lin Zheng started running, and with each step he took, someone blocked his path from behind.

Lin Zheng's eyes were filled with tears and anger, and a heart-wrenching pain suddenly gripped his heart.

He looked back and saw the thin, struggling figures behind him falling one after another.

He charged forward, while countless others ahead of him shouted his name, charging against the tide.

"Liam Davis, Charlie Taylor, River Jackson, Keiros Knight, William Mike..."