As night falls, the sky is darker and the damaged lighthouse is getting bigger and bigger. Although the lighthouse has been damaged by the storm, it is still a signal light for them, which makes it difficult for her to ignore the cold air and dark Woods, which makes this place almost noble. She feels sad and proud-unexpectedly, will biologists feel the same way if they come here? Ghost bird thinks she won’t. Biologists will look around first.
There is a shallow shadow in the ocean of the island contour, and gradually a dock wreck appears. It extends slightly into the sea, and the right side is submerged. The coasts on both sides are full of messy rocks and concrete fragments. There is no sign of beach until a dim gray-white curve appears on the west coast, just like a grin.
There is no light in the lighthouse, but the noisy birds are returning to the Woods to prepare for the night. The noise is coming down with the wind, but the waves are like the trajectory of bats flying in the sky, like being navigated by drunkards. Their figures block the flight path of stars, and it is difficult to predict.
"Do you feel that someone is watching us?" She whispered
"No, I didn’t." His voice was hoarse as if he had been talking to her. It was probably caused by the wind and salty air.
"I think someone is watching us."
"Birds, bats and trees", but what he said was so unexpected that he didn’t believe it was just birds, bats and trees.
They washed the waves of the rowing dock back and forth against the square rocks. When they walked along the aisle, the planks creaked and the trees creaked. The unknown birds were quiet, but the vegetation around the lighthouse kept humming one after another. A little farther away, they were cautious. Some medium-sized mammal walked in the bushes, pale and almost floodlit. The tower stood behind their broken shadow, with black sky and stars as if it were the center of the universe
"Let’s spend the night in the lighthouse and search for food early." It’s warmer than the sea, but it’s still cold here.
She knew that it could not escape his attention-there was a trampled path in the tall grass with stars, and people often walked or tended it to stop the weeds from growing.
The manager nodded and couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but he picked up a branch from the ground and waved it a few times. They didn’t have guns-they had already discarded a few modern equipment to adapt to the peculiar effects of the area and left a hand barrel. At this moment, the beater was obviously stupid and unwise, but she took out a spatula.
The lighthouse door faces the land, and the path leads to the door. The original door has disappeared. There is a huge wooden board blocking her. She gradually realizes that it seems to have been removed from a stable or other place. They try their best to move it aside and then step into the threshold. The room smells of decay and driftwood, but it is fresher than she expected.
She lit a match and surged with the shadow wall. She looked at the bottom of the building. A spiral staircase in the middle of the floor stood alone in the big hole above her head, as if the stone were a giant corkscrew. It was not safe to say it was light, but it would collapse at any time if it was serious.
The manager seemed to guess what she was thinking and said, "It may still support our weight. When they built the tower, most of the weight was borne by the walls, but it was quite rough here."
She nodded, and now she has seen that the stairs are inlaid with iron railings, and her confidence has increased slightly.
The match went out and she lit another one.
The ground floor is covered with dead leaves and a few branches, and there are several smaller houses behind the house. Some marks on the exposed concrete floor have been stripped off the wooden floor.
The match went out and she seemed to hear a ring.
"What’s that?"
"wind?" But he doesn’t seem sure.
She lit another match.
No, there’s no one.
"It’s just the wind," he seemed relieved. "Shall we sleep here or search the back room first?"
"Search first-I don’t want any surprises."
The match was blown out by a gust of wind from the stairwell.
"We have to keep the matches burning longer," complained the manager.
She lit another match and let out a scream, which surprised her.
There was a shadow sitting halfway up the stairs, and a rifle was aiming at them. She saw that the shadow was a black woman wearing military camouflage-strong and curly hair clinging to her scalp.
"Hello manager," the woman said, but ignored her.
Ghost bird knows her. I met her at the first briefing of Nanjing Bureau.
Deputy Director Grace Stevenson
9 director
Lori’s secret facility is located on the eastern coast, desolate and gloomy. It used to be an old military base with gravel beaches and barren yellow grass. Here Lori constantly improved his nerve regulation technology-some people might call it brainwashing. A moss-covered hill was dug into his command and control center. He ruled a strange world. Retired mines were idle, and the hills and grass were shining with silver light, while the rusty battery was left over from the war 70 years ago. Lori ordered people to copy and build a regional lighthouse and an exploration team camp. A hole was dug in the ground to imitate it. You know little about "abnormal terrain". You knew this before you were called. It seems that the fake lighthouse and camp are an ominous sign with almost supernatural effect. However, when you look at his territory in front of a long strip of colored glass with Lori, you feel like watching a movie set. A group of static objects will look sad and lifeless without Lori’s suspicious fear drive and without him weaving stories. Even the movie set is not even counted. Do you realize that this is more like a winter seaside carnival, and even the beach is like a lonely poem in the off-season? How lonely is Lori surrounded by all this?
"Sit down and I’ll pour you wine."
It’s a typical Lori wind, but you didn’t sit down and politely refused the wine. You were staring at the coast and the sea. It was gloomy and depressing. The weather forecast said that it was very likely that the snow was polluted by the drilling platform, and the sea water had a greasy feeling. The dark light was calm and the water reflected a layer of color film.
"Don’t? No, I’ll pour you a drink. "It’s still a typical Lori style, and you’re more nervous than before.
The room is very narrow. Behind your window is a lemon green couch with a low iron frame. The sofa is also piled with psychedelic orange cushions. The roof tilts along the curvature of the mountain. The ceiling is like hanging breasts. Every twenty-one rows overlap and merge with each other. The circular aperture gently covers the sofa, table and wooden floor. Behind the room is a whole glass mirror that reflects your figure and protects you from the truth. Because this is not a real lounge, it is not an invitation, but an order. It is like an interrogation room.