Chapter 057 Prison Break Simulator
As time passed, the riots outside were gradually suppressed by force, and the sporadic gunshots and scolding disappeared.
It was so quiet, so quiet that the world was divided into two reels of videotapes. As soon as one scene ended, the director replaced it with another silent film.
Jiang Yi came out of the morgue, pushing a cart. She leaned against the wall. The lights in the corridor were shattered by unknown thugs. Not far away, the unlucky jailer lay unconscious. In order to hide her uneasy mood, she took out the communicator.
Before contacting the accomplice who had a similar body shape to the corpse, Jiang Yi first saw the plan provided by Ji Xu.
It was sent seven minutes ago.
Stunned and surprised flashed across her face. They all knew that the communicator could not vibrate to remind them, which made Ji Xu develop the habit of making calls at the right time. After all, no one would notice if he contacted in advance...
But now things have changed. He seems to have no time to take care of it and is unable to do anything about it.
This thought made Jiang Yi feel very complicated. Even at this critical moment, she still felt a subtle emotion of insignificance, as if the season sequence described by Wei Nian suddenly came alive. He was still a human being and would feel tricky. He could not be distracted when encountering an enemy that he needed to concentrate on dealing with.
But this did not make Jiang Yi feel disappointed. Only when she realized that Ji Xu was no different from humans could she feel a certain sense of down-to-earth reality and understand how neat, concise and efficient his actions were in just four days. It was as if she was standing in front of the operating table again, but this time Jiang Yi was a bystander, seeing with her own eyes an exquisite operation led by someone else being performed in front of her.
She smiled unconsciously, briefly abandoned the cart, walked to the unconscious jailer, first smeared the black ash from the explosion in the corner on her face, then held the gun tightly, pointed it at the wall to empty the magazine, then took off his coat, turned around and went back to the morgue.
…
…
Ten minutes later, the operating cart rolled on the floor, and the smooth floor reflected the image of an open door. The doctor stood up alertly when he heard the sound. It was too chaotic outside, and they had blocked the door early and refused to go out. Naturally, no one came in to disturb them.
The jailer who opened the door put away the key and pushed the body bag in.
Cold air poured in from the jailer, and the smell of gunpowder hit her face. She spoke hoarsely, looking embarrassed as if she had just suppressed a riot: "This body needs a bomb disposal operation. Who can do it? Someone wants to see him later."
At this time... ?
The fact that a non-urgent patient was brought in at a time period that was too coincidental made people think more.
The doctors looked at each other, and a middle-aged man stepped out. He picked up a hand towel on the way, turned on the faucet, and put the towel under the water. He signaled the jailer to open the body bag, and saw the jailer's wrists were red and swollen due to excessive shooting, and his heart was relieved a little.
The face of the corpse could not be seen clearly, as the facial features were covered with solidified blood clots. The zipper stopped at the chest, revealing a body that was contaminated by the cold air of the morgue.
The doctor walked over and simply wiped the dirt off the body with a wet towel, while glancing vaguely at the jailer who was resting against the wall.
She lowered her head and rubbed her wrist. Her technique was quite experienced. Unless she had known this before, she must be a professional who fired guns frequently.
The blood scabs on the corpse's face were cleaned, revealing a familiar face. The doctor couldn't remember who it was, but it was indeed a prisoner in prison. He simply used his hands to prop open the eyelids to observe. The two pupils were dilated and there was no reaction under the ceiling light. The skull was severely broken. The doctor scratched the head and asked casually without raising his head: "Who wants to see it tomorrow morning?"
The jailer seemed to have been busy all night, and spoke with a nasal and hoarse voice: "A guest has just applied to the warden for a visit. He must take a look at it before it goes into the incinerator."
The doctor's heart skipped a beat, and the stone that had just fallen rose again.
Contrary to what most people imagine, they actually rarely perform bomb disposal operations, because the place where family members visit the bodies is inside the prison, so they naturally don't worry about signal problems causing damage to the remains - especially the large gaping hole in the heart.
Once the bodies enter the crematorium, the high temperature inside will directly ignite it. Anyway, the power is not great and there is no way to destroy the outer shell made of molten iron. Finally, the bones and ammunition fragments that have not been burned cleanly will be picked out and the ashes will be returned to the family. Everything is so smooth and no one involved expressed any objection.
The dangerous speculation was like a guillotine, hanging in his heart. The jailer did not notice the doctors' sudden rise in tension, and was still talking weakly over and over again: "You have to take out the bomb and let that person see it with his own eyes."
The doctor was so scared that he didn't even dare to continue to handle the corpse. He suddenly said, "You said the warden agreed, but where is the surgery certificate?"
"It's right inside," the jailer pointed to the body bag that wasn't fully opened, complaining without knowing anything. "The road was full of rubble and debris, and pushing the cart was too bumpy. My hands were sore from exhaustion, so I just folded it up and put it inside."
This is consistent with the current situation. Under normal circumstances, it is impossible for a jailer to have a sore hand just because of pushing a surgical cart over. But the riot just now was too sudden, and the jailers used a large number of firearms in a short period of time. The recoil would affect the wrist bones. It would be strange if the people who came here acted as if nothing had happened.
But the same thing.
It's so normal, so normal that even the unintentional verbal loopholes are terrifying.
The doctor's hand hesitated in mid-air. This scene really looked like a terrorist hiding something inside, inviting others to open it and see the surprise. He was about to ask the jailer to do it, but the jailer frowned and interrupted him with a little surprise: "What are you delaying for?"
As the jailer spoke, he looked around suspiciously. Everything was peaceful, at least on the surface.
The doctor was nervous because of her question, fearing that this man would abandon his disguise after being exposed. "No, no," he swallowed. Anyway, if it was a high-risk explosive, no one in the room would be able to escape. He simply made up his mind and said, "Can you come over? I have something to ask you."
The jailer came over and asked, "What's going on?"
The doctor didn't respond, just closed his eyes and unzipped his pants.
…
Nothing happened. The body lying in the body bag was motionless. The coldness from the morgue was almost dissipated. A slight stench of decay came from the direction of the festering wounds. The dead man's hands were folded, and a creased surgical certificate was pressed on his abdomen.
It turned out to be real, with an official seal and a familiar signature.
Jailer: "Doctor? What do you want to ask?"
It turned out that he guessed wrong.
The doctor breathed a sigh of relief. Hearing the ignorant questioning from the people around him, he was very embarrassed and at a loss. The jailer seemed to laugh a few times, leaned over and helped him get the surgery certificate, and then asked: "Can the surgery be performed tonight? The visitor is special, and the warden hopes to have a private conversation with him."
So the subtext is that the guest has a special identity, and there is a chance that the body will not be burned and will be taken out of the prison directly?
No wonder surgery is needed.
The doctor finally cleared up the previous doubts. His heart was still beating violently in anxiety, but he felt that he was overthinking things. He simply asked other people to prepare for the operation. There was no need for disinfection. Anyway, he was just a guest forensic doctor, and there was no need to find out the cause of death.
It is now late at night and close to twelve o'clock. It will take at least fifteen minutes to defuse the bomb and sew up the wound. However, the walls of the medical room can block the signal. If you want to perform the operation, you must reverse the detonation conditions. Otherwise, at twelve o'clock, the bomb will suddenly explode without receiving the signal, and the doctor performing the operation will be easily injured.
Thinking of this, the doctor frowned in confusion: "Do we have to do it now? The reversal equipment is not here. When the warden asked us to evacuate this morning, he also asked someone to move it away."
The jailer repeated: "It has to be now."
Doctor: "Okay, I'll go look for the key. It's in the blood bank next door."
The jailer didn't reply and seemed to be lost in thought.
The doctor rummaged through the drawer and found five or six black pens before he found the key that had caught the rope. When he was about to leave, the jailer suddenly called him.
"Wait, I'll go with you."
The smell of gunpowder became more pronounced as she approached, but there was no smell of blood on her body. One could tell at a glance that she was the one responsible for firing the shots, not the one being shot. Her body was covered in dirt and black carbonized matter, and her facial features were unclear, but she looked vaguely familiar.
The jailer seemed to be laughing.
It’s so strange, when did these guys become so expressive?
The doctor tried hard to suppress the offended thoughts, and after thinking about it, he still felt that it was the rare riot that made them move their bodies, and the emotions that were provoked had not completely dissipated. After all, these guys often complained about being bored.
"It's almost twelve o'clock. Just in case, I have to push the body to a place with a signal to avoid any accidents. Doctor, you have to be alert. Although the riot has subsided, the escaped criminal is still missing."
While explaining, the jailer pushed out the operating cart again and the two men left one after the other.
The blood bank was built next to the medical room. Fortunately, both rooms had separate power generators, which could maintain light even if the main switch was cut off. The doctor went in alone and came out soon after with equipment in her arms. She found that the body bag had been deformed due to being pushed and transported. The jailer was not nearby. She stood in front of the hole that had been blasted open, frowning unconsciously.
——Who was so tactless that he didn't know how to move the battle to another place? He actually went to the building where the warden worked and started a street fight.
The doctor trotted over complaining, followed her line of sight, and found that it was the cafeteria. After a moment of thought, he understood the reason, "Don't worry, the warden can go there in person. The situation is under control now, and everything will be fine soon."
"Of course I understand, doctor, but you are wrong about one thing. The warden can't take care of us. He is waiting for a visitor." The jailer whispered. The cold wind blew in through the holes. She pressed the brim of her hat. Her voice was erratic in the wind. She turned around and took away the heavy equipment in his arms. "The guest is on the way. We have to make a quick decision."
"Yes, yes, quick and decisive." The doctor didn't listen carefully at all. He subconsciously let go of his hand and turned to push the operating cart which was more relaxed.
In less than three minutes, they were back in the medical room, where the wind was blowing and the body bags were rustling, as if the person inside was alive and breathing.
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