Rise of the Wasteland

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"Matches, soap, salted fish, dried shrimp, spikes, hammers, saws, iron bowls, iron spoons, forks, old clothes, kerosene lamps, light boilers, ... I ca n’t believe we have produced so many things, A full match is loaded with 5,000 tons, "a port worker sighed in Port Havana.

"You don't see how many trees we cut, the forests around Havana have been destroyed," said another docker.

"If you cut it, you can cut it, as long as you can get the supplies we need." The former docker finished his job and sat at the dock watching the "Paradise Bird" freighter slowly leaving the port. The 50,000-ton freighter has been full for nearly two months.

There were more than one or two workers at the dock, in fact, the residents of Havana who had spare time ran to the dock. Even a lot of smugglers who heard the news hurriedly stocked their goods and went to the sea to prepare for a fortune.

'Bird of Paradise' entrusts all hopes of the entire legion. In order to fill its oil depot, all the inventory at the Havana refinery has been emptied. Whether or not we can get the support for subsequent development from Mexico depends on it.

Two days later, the Bird of Paradise bypassed the surveillance range of the Cancun Blockade Fleet and reached Progreso. The "Incred" officials at the port who were informed early on were extremely excited. One was counted in the entire city of Merida, and the entire bureaucracy was pulled down by the Governor. Who dares not come at this time is the public enemy of others.

Led by Colonel Harding, all officials stared at the first container unloaded from the port crane. Inside the cupboard was a lot of matches.

Hissing a few times to unpack it, Colonel Harding frowned and polished a match, and finally threw it on the ground and extinguished it. He asked in confusion: "Are we short of matches? Can this thing be sold? How much money can it make even if it is sold?"

The officials who followed were silent, either expressionless or disappointed. Then more containers were unloaded, and more supplies were exposed. Looking at these ordinary and even outdated goods, Colonel Harding's face became even more ugly.

"Do n’t you say there is whiskey? I want high-end luxury goods, luxury goods that can open up a lot of sales. What do these things do to me?" Colonel Harding kicked him on a container, and made him almost fall inverted.

"Where is Alfonso, where is that bastard? We take such a big risk and allow hostile cargo ships to come to our docks, and he just brought me such a mess?" Colonel Harding looked left and right. Find Zhou Qingfeng's shadow, and immediately began to yell.

The "Inkley" officials who followed all entered the spectator mode, looking at the nose, nose, mouth, and heart. They didn't say anything, at most they were forced by Harding to express their opinions and only a few words were echoed.

Harding is a soldier who judges the value of the goods only according to his preferences. In his opinion, whiskey is the best cargo, cigarettes are good, and the value of instant noodles is low, and these daily necessities are just **** in garbage, meaning nothing.

After Harding called and scolded for a while, he drove away from the pier and went to the Governor's House to find Zhou Qingfeng's accounts. But as soon as he returned from the dock to the town of Progreso, he saw several trucks approaching his headquarters.

"Lieutenant Colonel Harding, I'm Rubin. I brought you 10,000 bottles of whiskey, all of which are in good condition, please check and accept." As a errand brother, today Rubin is also the number one in Merida City. As a trustee of the Governor, there are not a few who want to stab him.

It sounded that his whisky had arrived, and Harding's face looked slightly better. He opened the back of the car by himself, and grinned excitedly when he found a bottle of 'Extreme' whisky.

"How do you feel?" Rubin asked in a timely manner.

Harding didn't answer. He bitterly opened the bottle cap and grunted a few mouthfuls. The hot feeling immediately burst out of his stomach, and a heat spread all over his body. He breathed a long breath and sighed with a smile: "This is the real good thing. All the garbage you ship from the freighter."

Rubin is still waiting to be praised. Who knows that he actually got a ‘garbage’ evaluation. Although it ’s not wine, but what is shipped on the freighter is not garbage? The expression on his face converged immediately, and he asked carefully, "Hord Harding, don't you like this shipment?"

"Yes, that's all worthless stuff. I think you should all ship wine. We can sell whiskey to every place ruled by the" Inkley ", and we can definitely make a lot of money." Harding affirmed Said.

"Oh ... if you need a lot of alcoholic goods, according to the agreement our governor has reached with you, one ton of spirits is exchanged for one ton of diesel. As long as you have diesel, we can provide enough spirits. Rubin has no intention. What Harding said was just repeating the previous agreement.

"I see, I know, one ton of spirits for one ton of diesel, this is a very suitable condition, and I have agreed." Harding waved and let Rubin get out of the way, and then continued pouring his whiskey.

Rubin left after unloading the goods. Harding became more and more excited, thinking that he could make a lot of money by selling whiskey, obtain a higher official position, and achieve a greater career. He was extremely proud of it.

After just drinking for a long time, Lieutenant Colonel Harding suddenly thought of something—how did those idiot officials on the dock not return? Do they have any illusions about the junk cargo that comes in?

There was nothing left and right, and Lieutenant Colonel Harding was in a good mood to drive him back to the dock where the cargo was being unloaded. Just before he got out of the car, he saw that the bureaucrats, who were still ordinary, were fighting at the moment.

"No one of you is allowed to fight anymore ~ ​​www.wuxiaspot.com ~ The 20,000 light boilers are mine."

"Paramount, don't even think about it! You can't eat so much. I'll give you at most five thousand. Others will give us a share."

"However you divide the boiler, but 5,000 tons of matches belong to me. I have already contacted the seller in Texas and I guarantee that I will be able to sell the goods."

"I can bring coal. I have a relationship in northern Mexico, where coal mines are stocked with more than 100,000 tons of high-quality coal. Give up, you can't compete with me."

"Why don't we form a business alliance, ..."

"The ghost wants to form an alliance with you. You are the weakest of us. You are not qualified to discuss the issue of supply distribution."

Dozens of people yelled at the scene, and Parada, the production manager of Merida, even beat people with blood. No one at the scene was willing to give up so little interest.

This left Colonel Harding, who had left early, stunned. He got out of the car with a bottle of wine and asked, "What are you doing?"

The dozens of bureaucrats who were still arguing immediately died down and whistled one by one to watch the sky step on the ground. Some clothes were messy, and Paramount, who was embarrassed, said, "Mr. Harding, since you have taken the initiative to quit this batch of supply distribution, please don't join again."

Everyone else who had been so noisy heard it and nodded in agreement. Only poor Harding stood aside, with the illusion of picking up sesame seeds and throwing watermelon. (To be continued.)

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