novelinnhs Chapter 3: Taking Advantage of Every Opportunity
Chapter 3: Taking Advantage of Every Opportunity
Zeke's mind raced, his palms sweating profusely. He glanced instinctively at the rearview mirror, praying that nothing else would happen. Thankfully, no other vehicles were following him; only a few passersby were gathered around the scattered records, bending down to carry them into their cars, some even scrambling for them, creating a chaotic scene.
Zik couldn't help but think to himself: Why are Americans doing this too? Buying anything cheap? Wait, why did I say "too"?
His memories of his past life began to blur again. He couldn't remember why he had said such a thing, so he could only suppress his doubts for the time being. His gaze fell on the passersby who were scrambling for the records, and a thought suddenly popped into his head.
He suddenly stuck his head out of the car window and shouted angrily and urgently at the people scrambling for the records: "You bunch of bastards! Give us back the 'Saturday Night Fever' soundtrack! It's our stuff!"
The crowd, who were casually picking up items and passing them around, went completely mad the moment they heard the words "Weekend Night Fever" and the soundtrack. Even passersby who were just watching the show joined in the frenzy.
This movie is so popular that tickets are almost impossible to get, and finding even one of the sold-out soundtracks is a matter of luck, not to mention all the scattered records.
The scene instantly turned crazy:
Someone was carrying several boxes of records, frantically stuffing them into their car, shouting until their voice was hoarse: "They're all 'Fever'! God, this is enough for a party!"
The other man, his face flushed, clung tightly to the corner of the box, pulling it back. "Let go! I got it first! John Travolta is looking at me on the cover!"
"Screw you, John Travolta!" the other man kicked the box. "This box of tapes could buy me a month's rent!"
A young man in bell-bottoms lay on the ground, frantically gathering the scattered vinyl records into his arms, yelling to his companion, "Quick, pick them up! 'Stayin' Alive'! The radio plays this song every day!"
"That's mine!" A woman in high heels stomped on the black vinyl record and reached out to snatch it. "I lined up three times and still couldn't get one, you bastard!"
"Damn it, there's blood! Who tore the packaging?!"
"Who cares! As long as it's the original soundtrack!"
The chaos quickly escalated. Someone in the crowd pulled out a gun and fired two shots into the air, the gunshots particularly jarring in the silent night.
The police car, which was slowly approaching, sped up immediately upon hearing the gunshot, its lights flashing and sirens blaring, completely ignoring the truck parked on the side of the road.
Those who were scrambling for the records scattered like birds at the sound of sirens and gunshots. Some grabbed the records, jumped into their cars, and fled at top speed; others simply threw the records on the ground and ran away. In the blink of an eye, only scattered records and messy boxes remained on the road.
"Shit, that was a good move, kid!" Henry watched the police car drive away, a surprised smile spreading across his face. He patted Zeke on the shoulder, his tone full of approval. "I didn't expect you to be so clever."
"Come on, the problem isn't solved yet." Zik rolled his eyes, no longer hesitated, and nimbly climbed out of the driver's seat, bracing himself against the window. He didn't dare open the door, so he could only get in and out through the window.
After landing, he quickly ran to the back door of the trailer, pulled the heavy door shut, and locked it tightly.
After doing all this, he quickly climbed back into the driver's seat, closed the window, and breathed a sigh of relief. By then, the police car had driven quite far away, and the siren was fading; the crisis was temporarily over.
"Ha, that idiot went after the black guy who fired the shot!" Henry pointed in the direction the police car had gone, laughing heartily. "We're lucky, we escaped unscathed."
Zik couldn't help but laugh, his nerves, which had been tense for so long, finally relaxed.
He restarted the truck, gripped the steering wheel firmly, and drove toward the truck depot on West 36th Street, secretly glad that he had acted quickly and cleverly; otherwise, he would probably have been taken away by the police by now.
A dozen minutes later, the truck finally arrived at its destination. It was a well-maintained freight warehouse, brightly lit, with dozens of trucks of different models parked inside. Many workers were busy unloading and loading goods, and the roar of machinery and the chatter of the workers created a lively atmosphere.
Tommy was already there with five loaders, and next to them was a conveyor belt that he had somehow gotten his hands on.
Zeke parked the truck and got out with Henry.
"Hurry up, try to finish unloading within half an hour," Henry instructed before going to talk to Tommy. The loaders immediately sprang into action, attaching the conveyor belt to the back door of the trailer, unloading the records box by box, and then loading them onto several other trucks that were already waiting on the side of the road.
There were other trucks unloading in the warehouse, and other workers were doing their jobs. Occasionally someone would glance over curiously, but it was just a quick look, and no one asked any questions.
In the chaotic warehouse, all sorts of goods come and go every day. No one bothers to inquire about other people's backgrounds, and no one would suspect that this seemingly ordinary truck is carrying records that have just been stolen.
Zik joined the unloading team, carrying the light record cases while mentally calculating how he would find a way to escape this gangster circle once he got the money.
Even going back to school?
Just as he was lost in thought, a tall and imposing figure blocked his way, completely enveloping him in shadow.
Zik looked up and saw a burly man in front of him, tall and broad-shouldered, with a stubble beard and fierce eyes. He was wearing a reflective vest with the porters' union logo, hands on his hips, and said in an icy tone:
"Hey kid, show me your union membership card. No membership card, no work here!"
Qi Ke had a bad feeling, and his heart jumped again. These people were robbing people; where would they get a union membership card? They probably had nothing on them except a pistol.
He subconsciously looked at Henry, who, upon hearing the sound, immediately came over, his face returning to its usual gentle smile, and said to the burly man with a fawning tone, "Brother, please be lenient, we just need to unload some goods, it'll be quick, won't take long."
The burly man remained unmoved, shaking his head with a cold tone: "Rules are rules. No one can work here without a union membership card. Either show your membership card, or stop working immediately and move your things back, or I'll call for help."
Henry tried everything to persuade him, but the burly man remained unmoved. Henry's expression gradually darkened. He quietly took a few bills from his pocket, slipped them into the man's hand, and whispered:
"Hey bro, I have an idea. Why don't you pick a weekend and take your wife and kids out for a nice meal?"
The burly man didn't even glance at the banknotes, shoving them back at him with an even more menacing look in his eyes: "Don't try that on me! Either show me your membership card, or get out of here right now. There's no third option!"
Seeing this, Qi Ke felt secretly anxious.
This burly man clearly neither knew Henry nor cared who he was; he was completely unresponsive and a real headache.
He suddenly remembered what Henry had said on the way: he had another truckload of cigarettes worth 200,000 dollars to unload at the same warehouse tomorrow.
If we offend this burly man today, our work tomorrow will probably be in trouble.
Henry's face had turned completely dark. His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles white, and his eyes were filled with anger, which he was forcibly suppressing.
Seeing Henry hesitate, the burly man impatiently urged, "What? Don't you understand? I'm saying it one last time: stop working immediately, or show me your membership card!"