The security team still wasn't answering their phones, and the gunfire erupted again, sometimes distant, sometimes close.
No one saw exactly what happened; they only heard Jordan's piercing scream as his body suddenly pitched forward.
"Karter!"
Karter was stunned, but Averi's shout snapped him back to his senses. He quickly helped her drag Jordan behind a small truck.
Jordan's body slumped, gasping in pain, her lower leg drenched in blood.
Averi quickly checked and confirmed that no arteries were hit before finally exhaling in relief. She ordered Karter to take off his shirt to make a makeshift bandage for Jordan.
The injury wasn't fatal, but delaying treatment could lead to permanent damage, and it would certainly make their movements more difficult.
Jordan choked back tears. "Averi, Karter, you guys should go, leave me here. I can't move anymore. Averi, my parents only have me. Look, since I'm basically dying in the line of duty here, could you make sure my family gets a bit extra? I'd be grateful, even from the other side."
Karter's eyes turned red, nearly crying with her, but the last sentence made his tears retreat abruptly.
Even the secretary of a capitalist is something else—thinking about money even on the brink of death.
Averi wiped away her tears. "I brought you out, and I'll take you back the same way. I'll add a zero to your bonus this year."
Jordan bit her lip, then collapsed onto Averi's shoulder, sobbing silently, finally letting go of her tension.
In truth, her words were just bravado. She was terrified, afraid they would really leave her behind.
Averi was scared too—who isn't afraid of death? But she knew she couldn't show any weakness or fear, or their morale would collapse.
The gunfire seemed to get closer again, and the person with the loudspeaker kept shouting.
Karter stared at Averi, seeking comfort from her calm expression. Little did he know, her heart had sunk completely—she was merely controlling her expression.
The only way to counter bullets is with bullets. Without a gun, they didn't even have the right to negotiate.
Suddenly, the gunfire became more intense.
Averi and Karter instinctively dropped to the ground. Jordan, unable to move easily, was dragged by Averi.
Time stretched endlessly with fear. No one knew how long it had been before the street fell silent. The three of them crouched behind the car, unable to see exactly what was happening and too afraid to make a move.
A pair of black boots suddenly appeared in front of them, startling Jordan into a gasp. "Ah!"
The newcomer had curly brown hair, a tall and imposing build, and was dressed in a camouflage uniform with a bulletproof vest strapped across his chest. Around his waist hung several items—a spare magazine, a walkie-talkie, and a stun gun. His gear was meticulous and well-prepared, giving him an air of someone ready for any situation. He held his gun ready, paused in front of them for a second, then circled around to check the surroundings. Once he confirmed there was no danger, he spoke into the air, "Clear."
As soon as he heard him speak English, Karter nearly burst into tears. He crawled over to Averi and said, "We're safe, we're safe. He speaks English—he must be with the peacekeeping forces."
Averi frowned, not as optimistic as Karter.
The man in camouflage had just been fighting the rebels—could peacekeepers really fire so recklessly?
She remembered Dallas saying they could only fire if directly threatened.
Averi froze for a moment, that buried name suddenly springing to mind.
The man in camouflage returned to the three of them and asked in English, "Are you American?"
Averi was still deliberating, but Karter quickly answered, "Yes, yes, we're American."
The man pressed a hand to his earpiece and said, "Found them."
Averi's heart clenched again: Who was this man, and why was he looking for them?
The man, Leon, raised his hands to show he meant no harm and slowly crouched down as he approached.
Averi still couldn't relax, watching him warily.
Leon assumed she didn't understand English and said to Karter, "Translate for me. I'm not a bad guy. I need to check this lady's wound."
Karter looked at Averi but said nothing. She speaks English; there's no need for a translator.
Leon thought Karter was too scared to respond and spoke into his earpiece again, "Two women, one man. One woman has a gunshot wound to her calf—it's best to move her horizontally. Bring the vehicle over." After a pause, his tone became more relaxed. "The other one doesn't understand the language, very pretty but has quite the attitude—she's still glaring at me."
Soon, an armored vehicle pulled up beside them. A tall figure jumped down, approaching as he spoke in the local language: "Don't be afraid, I'm one of you. You're safe now. We're from..."
That voice...?
Averi turned around in disbelief to look at the newcomer.
Seeing her face, Dallas froze in place.
After a two-second stare, he strode forward, squatted down, and was about to lift her pants.
Averi hurriedly said, "It's not me, it's Jordan."
Dallas's movements paused, he withdrew his hand and turned to look at Jordan.
Jordan, seeing him, was also shocked, but she was in too much pain to react much.
Dallas asked Leon, "How is it?"
"The bone is fine, just a minor surgery."
Leon was a military doctor who had dealt with countless severed limbs, and for him, a gunshot wound of Jordan's severity was no different than a fall. While skillfully re-bandaging Jordan, he joked, "Dallas, I think the feisty girl is the leader of the three, very uncooperative, you—"
"Leon!"
The term 'girl' was inexplicably grating.
Hearing the edge in his voice, Leon was puzzled. "What?"
Dallas kept staring at Jordan's wound, paused, and said, "She speaks the language."
