Chapter 11 Save Me
Sloane's POV
The shouting made the atmosphere in the room tense up again.
"Fuck it, let's fight them!" an angry voice rang out.
Immediately after, intense gunfire and explosions erupted outside. The sound of bullets hitting the walls was constant, and the entire building was shaking.
I instinctively hugged my head and curled up in the corner.
In the chaos, the door was violently kicked open.
"Take her and the wounded, we're leaving through the back door!"
Before I could react, someone yanked me up from the floor. Along with several other injured terrorists, I was shoved and pushed deeper into the building.
In the dark corridor, only a few flashlight beams were swaying, and our shadows were stretched and distorted on the walls.
I was roughly stuffed into the trunk of a van. The door slammed shut with a "bang," and the world instantly plunged into darkness.
Right after, the engine roared loudly, and the car shot forward.
Almost simultaneously, a deafening explosion came from behind me. The massive shockwave made the entire vehicle shake violently.
I guessed they had blown up that building to divert the police's attention and buy time for the others to escape.
The car bounced wildly on the road, with constant gunfire outside.
I curled myself into a ball. In the darkness and jolting, my stomach churned, and fear gripped my heart like an invisible hand.
I don't know how long it was before the car finally slowed down and the surroundings gradually quieted.
The car door was pulled open, and the blinding light made me squint instinctively.
A black hood came down over my face. Two people grabbed me and helped me out of the car. Under my feet was an uneven gravel road.
After winding around, I was brought into a place that smelled of rust and mold. From the echo, it seemed like an abandoned factory.
The hood was suddenly yanked off, and it took me a few seconds to adjust to the dim light.
This was a huge abandoned workshop. Besides me, there were seven or eight injured thugs lying on the ground moaning.
The leader I had bandaged was also here, his face still looking terrible.
"There's another guy here, took a bullet. Take a look at him." The armed man pointed to an unconscious person in the corner.
I walked over and crouched down to check.
The man was wounded in the chest. The bullet had penetrated his lung, his breathing was weak, and the situation was critical.
"He needs surgery immediately to remove the bullet, or he won't make it through the night," I said in a low voice.
"Surgery?" The man frowned. "Here?"
"What else?" I looked at him coldly. "Unless you want to send him to the hospital right now."
Obviously, he couldn't do that.
"What do you need?" he asked through gritted teeth.
I stood up and looked at him calmly, my mind racing.
I was their only hope now. This was my best chance to buy time.
"Scalpel, hemostatic forceps, sutures, drainage tubes... these are the basics." I paused, then added, "I also need a lot of antibiotics and anesthetics, like cefoxitin, vancomycin, plus etomidate and fentanyl. Also, I need at least two bags of compatible plasma."
I deliberately named some strictly controlled drugs and professional medical equipment that couldn't be bought at regular pharmacies.
Sure enough, he looked completely confused, and his subordinates looked at each other in bewilderment.
"Where are we supposed to get all this stuff?"
"That's your problem." I shrugged, my tone cold. "Without these, forget surgery—he won't even survive as is. Oh, and the others with infections also need antibiotics, or they'll soon develop high fevers and sepsis."
The desperate criminals obviously hadn't expected the situation to be this complicated. They gathered together and discussed in low voices for a moment. Finally, the armed man came over and pointed at me viciously, "You better not play any tricks! We're going to get the medicine now. If anything happens to them before we get back, I'll make you join them in death!"
With that, he left the factory with most of his men, leaving only two people to guard us.
The huge workshop instantly became quiet, with only the suppressed moans and heavy breathing of the wounded.
I was ordered to stay in a corner and not move.
Looking at the two guards holding guns with vigilant faces, I lowered my eyes, and my mind drifted far away.
Jared... what was he doing now?
Did he know something had happened to me? Or was he standing by Keira's bedside, feeling sorry and guilty about her "accidentally" sprained ankle?
At the thought of him, my heart felt like it was being pricked by needles, a dense, stabbing pain.
Maybe my death would be a relief for him.
That way he could be with his Keira without any burden, never having to worry about me, the eyesore of a substitute.
Time passed second by second. The two guards leaned against the doorway, bored, and lit cigarettes. One of them pulled out his phone, and the screen lit up with a game. The intense sound effects seemed particularly jarring in the empty workshop.
My heart was racing, but I didn't dare shift my gaze even slightly, staring fixedly at them.
My eyes slowly swept over the wounded lying on the ground. One person not far from me was curled up in pain. His hand resting on his abdomen loosened slightly, and a black phone slipped out of his tattered pocket and fell onto the dusty floor. The screen briefly lit up from the impact.
My breathing stopped instantly.
The two guards were completely immersed in their game world, completely unaware of what was happening here.
I took a deep breath, forced myself to calm down, then pretended to check on the wounded and inched toward the phone bit by bit. Each step felt like walking on knife points. I could clearly hear my drumming heartbeat.
I crouched down, using my body to block the guards' view, and my trembling fingers picked up the phone.
The phone had no password. I quickly entered Lila's phone number, my fingertips typing rapidly on the screen.
[Lila, save me, kidnapped, sending you location, call police immediately, don't reply.]
I didn't dare write another word. I quickly opened the location function, shared my position, then immediately deleted the message and sending records, making sure not to leave any trace.
After doing all this, I quietly slipped the phone back into the wounded man's pocket. The whole process took only a dozen seconds, but it felt like a century.
I retreated to my original corner and curled up again, my back already soaked with cold sweat.
Now, all I could do was wait.
My hand unconsciously touched my lower abdomen, where there was a little life I would fight to protect.
I couldn't die. I absolutely couldn't die here.
I don't know how long it was before the factory's main door was pushed open from outside, and blinding headlights swept in.
The leader and his men had returned. They threw down several large bags filled with various medicines and some very crude surgical instruments.