Chapter 130
Chapter 130
As expected, Bill refused to take Quinton to the hospital. But Quinlyn saw this as an opportunity.
At a rural drugstore, after buying fever–reducers, Quinlyn secretly pocketed some while holding water and medicine,
She forced Quinton to drink water. Feeling the burning heat, she woke him up forcefully. “Drink more water and vomit it later,” she told him.
Due to the fever, Quinton’s consciousness was already a bit blurred. When he faintly recognized Quinlyn’s voice, he instinctively opened his mouth and began to drink water.
He felt as if his body was on fire, unbearably uncomfortable. Before long, the large amount of water sloshing around in his stomach became too much for him to handle.
Quinton spat out a mouthful of water onto Bill’s pants, and then, without a care, vomited everywhere.
“Damn it! What the hell is going on? Did you do this on purpose, you little brat?” Even the usually easygoing Bill lost his temper. But after he finished cursing and saw Quinton’s half–dead state, he thought it was because the medicine hadn’t taken effect.
“Why don’t we just find some desolate place and leave him there? This kid is making everything stink. It’ll be a problem if he dies in the car,” Tobias grumbled, clearly dissatisfied and not realizing that he was the one to blame.
Bill frowned, thought for a moment, and then took out his phone to call Yolanda.
“Is he that sick? Well, that’s perfect. You can just leave him anywhere and let him fend for himself. That kid’s whole family is cursed with short lives.
“Alright, I’m off to the set,” Yolanda’s soft, coquettish laughter came through the phone, showing a blatant disregard for human life. With a flippant tone, she finished her instructions and hung up.
After consulting Yolanda, Bill quickly found a remote hillside and casually pushed Quinton down.
They were fugitives on the border, so naturally, they didn’t bother to bury bodies. By the time the police discovered and investigated, Quinton’s body would probably have rotted away, and by then, they would have long fled the country to live in freedom.
That was why Quinlyn dared to take the risk of faking Quinton’s death and, just as the car was about to start, asked to go down and see him one last time.
“Quinton, I’m sorry,” she said as she squatted in front of him, pretending to wipe away tears with one hand while slipping a pill into his mouth with the other.
She always felt apologetic for putting him through this ordeal.
As the car drove off, she watched Quinton through the rear–view mirror, relieved knowing Larry was nearby and Quinton
was safe.
After leaving Quinton, the car got back on the highway, this time heading straight for the train station.
Their destination was Ashbourne, a city with unique geography and complex transportation, and also a major railway hub in the country. It was a place where many crimes thrived.
Human traffickers often conducted their deals here, and fugitives frequently exploited its loopholes to escape.
The last time the task force had investigated, their trail had been blocked right here and ultimately led nowhere.
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This time, with Quinlyn as a human guide, the task force had finally determined the escape routes of the human traffickers, the station staff they had bribed, and the order of the train cars.
When Quinlyn and Harriet were taken to their seats, all the berths in the three–tiered hard sleeper were already occupied.
“Damn it, that bastard Chandler is still bringing more people? It’s already packed in here,” a middle–aged man, who had been sharing half a berth, grumbled as he sat up.
Seeing Bill with two kids, his expression turned contemptuous, and he propped his feet up again.
“There’s no room here. Find somewhere else,” he said, lying back down with his gun conspicuously exposed on his lower
back.
Bill glanced at the gun for a moment, then chose to sit on the lower berth, letting Quinlyn and Harriet sit on the aisle seats.
Quinlyn could tell at a glance what these people did.
The middle–aged man and the three on the upper bunk were a drug–trafficking gang. The one on the lower left was a thief, and on the lower right was a drug addict.
Similar situations in nearby compartments suggested Chandler’s conductor rented space to these shady people.
Even among criminals, there was a hierarchy. Child–traffickers were the most despised, so Bill’s group kept a low profile.
Quinlyn went to the toilet midway to update Bennett. She learned Quinton had recovered and was with Janet, which relieved her.
[Things will get more dangerous. Be careful and run if needed,] Bennett messaged.
Quinlyn’s mission in Yocriton were guarded by them the whole time. But now she was being taken to the borderlands as a hostage. This made them constantly worried.
Quinlyn replied [I know,] but had no intention of backing down.
Back in the aisle, she saw the lower–bunk man offering Harriet something.
“Are you hungry, little girl? Have some candy,” he said, his sunken cheeks and decayed teeth making him look scary.
Harriet, though frightened, was tempted by the candy after going hungry. Bill, resting against a pillow, glanced over but didn’t intervene.
Just as Harriet was about to take the candy, Quinlyn snatched it
I away.
“I want to eat it,” said Quinlyn.
Harriet, turning around, saw Quinlyn and became furious. “That’s mine!” Harriet shouted.
“Come and get it then, Quinlyn said, tossing the candy and raising her eyebrows.
Harriet, filled with hatred, couldn’t bear it anymore. She jumped up to scratch Quinlyn, but Quinlyn was too agile for her to touch.
“Quinlyn, I’ll kill you!” Harriet screamed in anger. She pounced and pinned Quinlyn on the windowsill.
Wind rushed in from the moving train window. Quinlyn’s fingers loosened, and the candy flew out, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
“It’s just some candy. What’s your problem? Now neither of us gets any.” She shoved Harriet away and sat on the other side, looking displeased.
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“My candy…” Harriet felt utterly miserable. She sat on the floor and burst into tears, thinking of her bad luck.
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Her tears used to be useful; crying would get her some fast food from strangers. But now, everyone just watched carelessly, and no one helped her.
The tall, thin man on the lower bunk glanced worriedly at the window a few times, then glared at Quinlyn before retreating to sleep.
Harriet cried more hungrily and had to wipe her tears to drink water.
Dinner was a bucket of instant noodles. Harriet felt like vomiting but saw Quinlyn enjoying it and forced herself to eat too. Night fell, and the train window went dark. Snoring sounds began to rise.
Harriet tried to sleep like Quinlyn, curled under the seat, but the strong smell of sweat and feet made her stomach churn.
She held it in for a while but couldn’t stand it and got up to go to the toilet. But as soon as she moved, the sleeping Quinlyn on the floor grabbed her.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“It’s none of your business! Get lost!” Harriet, still upset about the candy, shook her hand off forcefully.
