Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 362 - 225: The Fake_2

Chapter 362: Chapter 225: The Fake_2

He changed the subject and kicked the bag of marijuana at his feet, "Sometimes the drug enforcement folks come at just the right time to raid these illegal marijuana farms. These wild strains, they just grow on their own out in the abandoned fields, kind of a perk for the locals."

Brian nodded, no longer in the mood for conversation.

Simple folk in Gotham City, free and peaceful United States.

That sentence, applied to the Federation under the Blood Moon Radiation, wasn’t the slightest bit exaggerated or fabricated, all realism.

...

Upon arrival in the small town.

Chief Flory first stopped to buy some rolling papers, then handed them, along with the bag, over to an old lady basking in the sun in her yard.

The old woman, upon seeing the rolling papers and the bag of fresh marijuana, was happier than if her own son had visited.

She trembled with excitement as she invited Chief Flory in for a cup of coffee, but he declined.

After leaving the old woman’s yard,

Brian was taken by Chief Flory to a small bungalow with a yard and a warehouse.

From the outside, it looked like a typical farmyard.

But once inside, one could see some signs and a large office with a reinforced cell behind iron bars.

Dual-purpose: office work and guarded watch.

Chief Flory led Brian straight to the innermost warehouse.

The door here seemed much sturdier than the others and had several locks.

Once opened,

Chief Flory showed Brian his collection: six or seven handguns and revolvers, three standard-issue semi-automatic rifles, an old-fashioned small-caliber sniper rifle, and various shotguns, long and short.

The weapons were pretty plain.

Left with no other choice, Brian picked out a double-barreled shotgun of an unknown brand.

No way around it; it seemed to have the largest caliber.

Seeing him choose this, Chief Flory hesitated for a moment, "I modified that piece specially for alligator hunting when I was younger; it’s got a big kickback..."

"It’ll obey me."

Brian said casually, inspecting the shotgun.

...

The shotgun was well-maintained, emitting that unique smell of gun oil.

It was a simple affair: manually loading, firing two rounds at once, each bullet slightly thicker than a person’s thumb. It came with an ammo belt that could be slung over the shoulder.

Chief Flory had only two ammo belts for this model, 36 rounds each, which Brian promptly packed and took with him.

He also took a large-caliber revolver and some bullets.

Chief Flory didn’t seem bothered by this.

Previously missing people didn’t even get the chance to shoot.

He felt that carrying this thing only served to boost his courage and wasn’t much use otherwise.

Armed and ready,

The pair set off once again.

This time, the journey was shorter.

After driving along a mountain trail for about ten minutes, a campsite appeared ahead.

Seeing the campsite’s sign, Brian’s eyes narrowed slightly, "I think I saw an advertisement for this place on the way here."

Chief Flory nodded,

"Yes, this lake used to be known only to locals for a bit of fishing.

Later, a company bought the land from the government and built a summer camp for kids to train socializing, swimming, fishing, rowing, and so on.

They even drove away the local alligators and some wild animals.

The place started to attract more people over time.

However, there was a fire a couple of years back that killed quite a few children, the company went bankrupt, and the land fell into disuse again.

What you saw must’ve been an old advertisement."

"How long did that company operate here?"

"Nearly ten years, brought quite a bit of extra income for the surrounding residents. Everyone was quite sorry when the accident happened.

There was recently interest from people in the city to take over the place again, but then this disappearance happened."

Chief Flory drove into the campsite, his spirits not very high.

The campsite was primarily made of timber structures, with several large wooden houses built like treehouses, and many statue-decorated playhouses.

Through the open doors of these houses, rows of small beds connected together could be seen.

The ground was neatly paved with bricks and stones, with no weeds—a clear indication that special care had been taken for this area. In the distance, several tandem rowboats were neatly arranged.

Once the car was parked,

Chief Flory pointed towards a trail leading outside the campsite and farther away, "The lake is just down there, about a three or four-minute walk from the campsite. There’s a dock where they found the missing child’s shoes."

Brian nodded, carrying the case and the gun, "Do we go together, or do you wait here for me?"

"Let’s go together."

Chief Flory shakily pulled a long, thin cigarette from his shirt pocket, lit it up, and took a deep drag.

Closing his eyes, savoring the moment, he seemed to regain some courage, "Heh, haven’t touched this stuff in a while. I don’t have kids; if they go missing, they go missing. Since you’ve come all the way from Los Angeles, as the local chief of police, there’s no reason for me to let you take the risk alone."

Smelling the marijuana on the other man’s breath, Brian nodded and began to lead the way.

...

The path seemed long unattended, overgrown with vines.

Without careful attention, one could easily take a tumble.

With uncanny precision, Brian avoided the obstructive vines with speed and urgency, quickly putting distance between himself and Chief Flory.

The path was not long, short of even a kilometer.

At the end lay a grove of bamboo, with traces of an old path visible, though much of the area had reverted back to its wild state.

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