Under the gaze of the saint, a 'child' wearing clothes but with severely deformed limbs walked out of the shadows.
The reason why he regards the other party as a 'child' is because the other party is less than 1.3 meters tall, his legs are severely deformed, and the soles of his feet look like some kind of webbed structure.
""The gunman seemed to have said something, but his voice was drowned in the storm and no one could hear it clearly.
The gunman seemed to realize the problem. He pointed at the water on the ground and then at the saint. He lay down on the ground and slid his hands along the ground with the force of the wind.
The saint had to follow him and let the other party lead him into the warehouse. Then he watched the other party skillfully open a container, signaled to him at the door, and got in. It seemed to be his home.
.
As the gunman closed the container door, blocking out most of the wind noise, he turned on a small solar lamp, illuminating the small world.
But the saint still didn't see the opponent's face. The gunman was wearing a large helmet that he didn't know where he got. The model should be a matching equipment for the exoskeleton of a prosthetic soldier. He was wearing something similar to a poncho, except for his limbs.
The rest of the body is covered.
"Clean water, for you." The saint who was used to seeing big scenes did not have any psychological fluctuations because of the other party's weird appearance. Ever since he saw Gluttony, he felt that human beings are essentially ever-changing creatures.
"You, people from the shelter?" The gunman didn't rush to get the bottle of water, he just asked again.
"Are you alone?" The saint did not answer his question and asked, "How old are you?"
"Are you people from the shelter?" The gunman was so excited that he could speak smoothly: "Are you people from the shelter?"
"We are people in the shelter." The saint hesitated and admitted his origin. He only needed to look at the human remains in the warehouse and the gunman himself. He could imagine what the people who came here would think of them.
.
The gunman waved his pistol and seemed to have completely lost the ability to speak, but he looked at the bottle of water and did not shoot at the saint. He just sat down against the container wall in a dejected manner, and bursts of crying came from his helmet.
Only then did the saint realize that the person in the helmet was a girl.
"What's your name?" The saint felt his voice was a little bitter: "Is there anyone else?"
"It's gone, it's all gone! I'm the only one left!" The gunman cried loudly and asked: "Dad said, when you show up, let me avenge him and kill you all! But I want to be with you so much.
People have spoken! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
The saint took the girl into his arms and patted her back gently: "Okay, it's okay. There will be people to talk to you in the future. Come back with me."
"I look different from you." The girl hugged her helmet with both hands and broke away from the saint's arms: "And after I finish talking to you, I will kill you!"
"Then let's talk first, and then we can talk about whether to kill me or not." The saint also sat on the floor. The environment here was quite clean. It was obvious that the little girl was trying to make her living environment more comfortable.
There is a small table transformed from a Coke box, plastic bottles that have changed color after I don’t know how long they have been used, a few knives, and several boxes of bullets of different types. Apart from this, the most eye-catching thing is that one of them is slightly yellowed.
human skeleton.
Perhaps noticing the saint's eyes, the girl explained with a cry: "That's my father. Before he died, he told me to put his body in a cage and take it to the surface to dry in the wind and sun for a week.
If you take it back, you can continue to accompany me.”
"He said that this way I wouldn't be alone, and he also said that if I do this I won't get sick like those people!" When the girl told this story, she cried even harder, as if she was going to suffer all these years.
Tell all your grievances.
"How long has your father been dead?" the saint asked softly, with a very gentle tone.
"I don't know, I can't remember, and my watch is broken, but I grew from this height to this height alone." The girl pointed to a long row of graduation marks on the wall. She could see that when her father was alive,
I measure her height once a year and the straight lines drawn are all straight.
When she was about 1.1 meter tall, the straight lines that recorded her height began to twist and turn. The saint seemed to see this little girl alone in a warehouse full of skeletons, dragging the materials she had finally collected back to the container.
Then he stood on tiptoes and measured the height of his head with the chalk his father had used to record his height.
Recording her height is meaningless to her. She just does it to remember the warmth of the past.
"Has your father ever given you a name?" the saint asked somewhat uncomfortably.
"He called me Eclair," the girl said, her voice gradually became quieter, and she fell into a drowsy sleep.
"Are you okay with me taking her away? To pass on the hatred to the next generation? You really belong to me." The saint shook his head: "The next time we come here to search for supplies, I will take you back.
Just wait and see."
After the saint finished speaking, he looked around the room and put everything that seemed to be of some value into his bag. Then he picked up Eclair and strode towards the light. Even a big storm could not shake him in the slightest.
.
Martin stood in the ruins like a sculpture, watching the saint walk out of the warehouse with a small body in his arms, a big look of confusion on his big face.
The saint just carried the girl and walked into the abatement room of the bus, letting the cleaning foam splash all over his body. After entering the bus, he made a silent gesture to the others, and just put the girl in his arms.
Claire was placed in an isolation room in the car.
"This used to be a survivor camp, but all the people in it were dead. This is the last one. She was born after Tianqi. Her body is mutated. Don't touch her helmet. Let the psychiatrist intervene first when she is brought back.
Let's see if there is any medical way to help her return to normal." The saint sighed and made up his mind: "If it can't be cured, I will take her to Vault Zero!"
"Now?" Sol asked in surprise.
"Now!" Saint looked at Eclair again and whispered: "We owe her."
"We don't owe anyone." Brian muttered, but when he saw the soles of the other party's feet that could hardly be called human limbs, he could only keep silent.