Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1557: 723: Does One or Two More Even Matter? (3)

Capítulo 1557: Chapter 723: Does One or Two More Even Matter? (3)

In the face of firepower, both fleeing and bravery yield the sa result.

In just a few minutes, the valley entrance quieted down, leaving only smoke and the heavy stench of blood lingering in the air.

The dozens of living people from before had now beco a ground full of incomplete, barely recognizable corpse fragnts.

The Major Battalion Commander confird the situation at the valley entrance once more through binoculars and issued new instructions through the communicator: “Cleanup team enter, move quickly, and tidy up the ss.”

The cleanup convoy, which had been on standby at the rear, received the order.

These were not troop carriers, but a special unit composed of several military trucks covered with heavy tarps and two tracked excavators. Their engines roared as they drove onto the land that had just witnessed slaughter, with tires and tracks crunching over the blood-soaked ground, making a teeth-on-edge creaking sound.

Soldiers, wearing gas masks and thick rubber gloves, began working silently.

Working in groups of three, they were highly efficient, their movents chanical and numb, seemingly not handling human corpses but clearing up a pile of broken debris.

A relatively intact body was grabbed by the ankle and armpit by two soldiers and tossed into the truck bed with a “thud,” like throwing a bag of grain.

Another soldier used a long tal hook, skillfully yanking down a limb hanging in the bushes and casually throwing it into the truck. Organs and at fragnts were shoveled up with earth and stones, all tossed into the vehicle. Blood continuously dripped from the gaps in the truck’s bed, forming dark red streams in the dust.

“This job is so damn inhumane,” a young soldier muttered in complaint, his gloves already soaked in blood and becoming slippery.

“Shut up, get it done quickly so we can finish,” an older soldier admonished him, using a hook to drag a man’s upper body out from a pile of wreckage, the man’s eyes still staring blankly.

“Just imagine we’re cleaning out a slaughterhouse.”

The excavator roared, not digging but scraping, as it violently pushed the piles of corpses and viscous substances together, making it easier for the soldiers to load into trucks.

In less than half an hour, the valley entrance was cleared.

Except for large, dark brown stains that could not be removed from the ground and the persistent foul odor in the air, one would hardly know that dozens of bodies had just piled here. The truck beds were covered and tightly bound with tarps, but the intense sll of blood could not be completely contained.

The convoy did not return to the camp but, guided by an armored vehicle, drove further along a rugged mountain path into a deeper desolate valley.

The destination was a pre-selected natural giant pit, over ten ters deep, surrounded by barren rocks and sparse withered grass.

Engineering units that arrived earlier were already busy at this site.

Two excavators were expanding the pit’s bottom, and the engine noise echoed through the open valley, sounding particularly harsh.

When the truck convoy arrived, so soldiers had already gathered at the edge of the pit, watching with blank expressions.

“Dump them!” The commanding engineering officer gestured with his hand.

The first truck slowly reversed, its rear aid at the pit. Soldiers untied the tarp ropes, and the tailgate suddenly swung open.

Corpses poured down like a landslide, hitting the pit bottom with dull, muffled thuds.

Whole, fragnted, n’s, won’s, and elderly bodies accumulated, collided, and piled up at the pit bottom, followed by a second truck, a third truck…

In fact, there were already quite a few down there, clearly indicating that other places had also been sending deliveries here.

A single pit buried at least hundreds of people, appearing truly horrific!

“Pour the fuel,” ordered the officer.

Several soldiers carried oil drums, evenly splashing the pungent diesel over the freshly covered soil layer at the pit’s edge, and a soldier ignited a fuel-soaked cloth ball and tossed it down.

“Boom!”

Flas rapidly surged up, hugging the ground as they burned, black smoke billowing upward, carrying the distinctive stench of burning skin, flesh, and hair.

“Ah n.” A soldier subconsciously tapped his chest a few tis, only to be slapped on the back of the head by a nearby veteran, “You want to die, huh? Ah sothing, don’t ss around.”

In xico, ntioning Jesus isn’t forbidden, but it’s not sothing favorable either.

The flas burned for a long ti until the diesel was exhausted before gradually dying down. The excavators continued working, covering more new soil over the charred, faintly steaming surface, layer by layer, until the enormous grave pit was filled and compacted.

Finally, the soldiers scattered so brought-in withered grass and stones over the leveled ground, trying to make it blend seamlessly with the surrounding environnt.

After completing this, the convoy and personnel quickly withdrew. The valley returned to silence as if nothing had ever happened.

Only the forcibly disturbed and intentionally disguised land, along with the air’s lingering unsettling mix of blood, fuel, and burnt flesh, told the silent tale of everything buried here.

A few kiloters away, at a temporarily established field sanitation station, soldiers who participated in the cleanup lined up, repeatedly washing their hands, boots, and tools with strong disinfectant.

The young soldier who had complained earlier finally couldn’t hold back, took off his gas mask, and ran to the side to vomit violently.

He retched as if trying to purge everything in his stomach, along with all he had seen and slled today.

The veteran walked over, handing him a canteen, his face still expressionless.