“Do you have any idea why the virus screening equipment and reagents were in place in the country in the first place, because they were mass produced in emergency by Temple in Heaven and put into medical use without compensation.”
Carrie said looking at her, her tone cold.
Rafael looked down and rubbed his nose as he moved closer to her, “Be gentle.”
Carrie backhanded him and pushed him away from her, continuing to look at the reporter indifferently, “Do you know why Temple in Heaven’s new building is not proceeding with renovations as it looks to be completed, it’s not because you guys marched there in protest, it’s because Paige donated all of the money to healthcare.”
“…”
Rafael stood toward Enrico’s side and raised his hand to signal Carrie.
Here, you talk, you go on.
“There’s nothing left of Temple in Heaven now, minus an empty mansion and a factory for emergency production of medical supplies!”
Carrie looked at the reporter, her eyes reddening, “How do you expect me to answer you when you’re justifiably questioning the fact that Paige has given everything she has to fight the virus and save our country, and you’re asking us how we can be sure that Paige isn’t behind this man-made disaster? Take truckloads of supplies destined for sensitive areas?”
“…”
The reporter was cursed in the face and couldn’t get a word out of the pressed questioning that immediately followed, so he sat back silently.
The room fell into silence.
Paige sits in the crowd, her eyes sour as she watches Carrie get so pissed off that she doesn’t even care, but the corners of her lips slowly curl up.
Fool.
What an image of the First Lady she’s spoiling.
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the crowd –
“Is today Paige’s whitewashing convention? You guys have picked Paige so clean and made her out to be so innocent, but you haven’t been able to say who is actually responsible for this man-made disaster, and is that all that the Presidency and the First Consortium are capable of doing, just that?”
Paige turned her eyes to look over and saw a man standing tall with a megaphone Loudspeaker shouting, “Also, Alfredo is from the slums, right, so what’s to stop Paige from stepping up and taking responsibility? After all, she’s still not weak-minded.”
At that, Paige took a deep breath.
She couldn’t afford to be disillusioned any longer, and she grabbed Gabriel’s hand and was about to stand up when a slightly raspy middle-aged male voice came from far away.
“We’ll take care of it then.”
The middle-aged man’s voice came from the back of the square along with a somewhat shrill high-pitched Loudspeaker.
Everyone looked to the back.
Paige looks over to see a group of people standing up since the back, all looking at something in shock.
Rafael stood still and turned his head to Enrico, who was sitting peacefully on the sidelines, and asked suspiciously, “Did you arrange this?”
“No.” Enrico looked ahead with extremely heavy eyes and stood up from his position as well.
Today, it was an interesting day.
The crowd gradually moved back, unsure of what they were looking at.
Paige held Gabriel’s hand and stood up, Jaden with his bodyguards secretly opened the way, leading them to squeeze out from the dense crowd and stand in the first row.
Paige looked up and froze.
Under the blue sky and white clouds, on the very wide highway, behind three rows of barricades, a large group of people are slowly walking this way, the line is too long to see the end.
Walking at the front were a bearded middle-aged man and a thin teenager.
“It’s Brother Bastion!” Gabriel recognized.
At the head of the group were none other than Uncle Artie and Bastion.
Artie was holding Bastion in one hand and a treble Loudspeaker in the other as he took a step towards them.
Everyone’s faces were heavy and unsmiling in the sunlight.
Cynthia walked alongside the bodyguards who were guarding the launch’s security along the road, her brow furrowed slightly.
“…”
Realizing something, Paige hurriedly pulls out her own phone and turns it on, a few messages from Cynthia popping up inside.
[Cynthia: Sister Paige, I just got off the phone with Brother Nick, Uncle Artie and the others heard that you had a high fever last night, and now they’re all talking about going to the launch site, what should we do?]
[Cynthia: Sister Paige, more than 3, 000 people, I can’t control it, what should I do?
Paige looked at the message on her cell phone as the crowd stirred.
“It’s the ghetto gang! How dare they come out!”
“It’s them, they’re the ones who brought the Ferris wheel virus!”
“Lowly people! Inferior race of people! Garbage!”
“Death to garbage!”
“Go back to the slums! Go back to the slums!”
The crowd was suddenly in disarray, and with nothing else in their hands, they slammed a banner and a poster over the barricades, knocking them to the ground in droves.
Paige looked over, and over three thousand Wind Islanders were still moving forward, seemingly unable to see the anger of the populace at all.
Paige didn’t dare delay any longer, and as soon as she took Gabriel’s hand, she handed it over to Jaden, who didn’t take it, still crossing her hand in front of her, “Don’t go out there, young lady.”
“You keep an eye on Gabriel,” Paige couldn’t stand like that any longer.
“Mr. Gustin explained, you just watch.” Jaden said.
“Enrico? “Paige was stunned.
“Mr. Gustin asked Miss to just be a spectator today and tell him the answer when he gets back.” Jaden stopped in front of her, looking serious and earnest.
“What answer?” Paige looked at him.
“Are you really wrong?”
“…”
Paige stood there, silent for two seconds, one of her steps out retracted as she took Gabriel’s small hand in hers.
Gabriel looked at the Wind Islanders who were still approaching this way, a little confused, “Mommy, what are they doing here?”
Without waiting for Paige to answer, the Wind Islanders stopped.
Stopped right in front of a barricade and a field of trash.
The crowd was still agitated and breaking into a frenzy.
Uncle Artie glanced down at Bastion and handed him the trombone in his hand.
The lean teenager took it and held it in his hand as he continued a few steps forward, raising the horn and revealing his thin, childlike wrists.
Those close enough could even make out the hideous scars on it.
“Hello everyone.”
The teenager said politely, bowing deeply at the crowd, “My name is Bastion, I’m fourteen years old, I was born on Wind Island, and I haven’t eaten vegetable oil, or steak, or seen an electric light until I left the island … ”
“Are you here to sell your misery? It’s none of our business if you’re miserable!”
Someone in the crowd blurted out.
“…”
Bastion’s shoulders shook at the yelling and he subconsciously looked back at Uncle Artie for help.
Uncle Artie nodded at him encouragingly, signaling him to continue.
Bastion bit his lip and continued to look at the people in front of him, letting out a somewhat shy and bitter smile, “I didn’t come here to sell my misery, I’m just afraid that when I go back, no one will remember that I’ve also lived in such a nice city, and that I’ve studied here as well, that’s why I’ve added this paragraph.”
At those words, the crowd suddenly quieted.
The photojournalist who had squeezed into the front row to shoot raised his head and looked at him with some consternation, “Go back?”