"Yeah, I'm so sorry," John said. "It was my fault that you got hurt. So really, I'm sorry."
"It's no issue. You simply couldn't have predicted something like this happening," Janet replied.
John then said, "Let's head back and call the cops. The ones still alive need to be taken in and questioned for their actions—what they've done and who the mastermind is behind making us go through this much pain in the first place."
They slowly started walking back toward the car. While on their way and getting closer to the road, some car noises could be heard, and they started getting excited and hopeful. John fell to the ground. It seemed that his adrenaline high was starting to wear off. Janet quickly supported him.
He was now sluggish and visibly pale. The bullet wound and the clotted blood on his body had made him lose a lot of blood. He now needed a hospital—urgently. When they got to the car, John took out a small backup phone he had hidden earlier. He had kept it as a precaution and had hidden it before the chaos began. He took it out and immediately called the police, asking for help. They also requested an ambulance.
Suddenly, they heard a voice from behind them.
"You are not going anywhere."
John tried to jump, but there was only one option—either jump to his left or towards the incoming danger.
There was only one way he knew he could survive this ordeal—by jumping straight toward the gunfire. He jumped, rolling on the ground reflexively. But before that, he shoved Janet out of the line of fire and into safety. The attacker was wounded and only running on fumes, so his aim would only be accurate if the target was close. When John pushed, he did exactly as he had planned.
He rolled on the ground and then sprung up, running toward the man while shifting positions to avoid getting hit. Bullets flew past him. The shots got louder and closer—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Just three or four more shots missed him, but the tenth hit his leg. They always said bullets hurt, but no one truly explains how much. This was more than just pain—this was fear creeping into his veins. Not just any fear—fear of dying.
That was the only thing he needed at that moment. In the next second, he forgot all the pain he was feeling. The exhaustion disappeared. His joints felt stronger. He jumped again, right before the next shot. He didn't let fear control him. He kept moving, jumping closer toward the man.
When the shooter tried to fire again—he was out of bullets.
This was John's chance.
He took it.
He sprinted toward the man, aimed, and fired three times. The sounds echoed—and then it was over. John pounced on the man with everything he had left. He hit him—it was like he had an iron will fueling him. He didn't fall.
John followed with a flurry of jabs, hooks, elbow strikes, knee hits, and kicks to the ribs, stomach, and especially the knees—where one bullet had already gone through. The man tried evading, but he couldn't avoid them all. A serious blow landed on his gut, but he absorbed it and kept going with more kicks and punches. The man was running on fumes and nearly gave out while trying to block John's relentless strikes.
Suddenly, the battle took a turn. Janet had quietly crept behind the man and struck him with a branch. The sudden blow made him lose focus. Immediately, John saw the opening and hit the man hard in the gut—right where one of the bullets had already penetrated. The man collapsed instantly.
"Bring me that rope," John told Janet, pointing at the car where they had stashed supplies.
Luckily, the thugs weren't tied up. Otherwise, the situation might have turned deadly.
"I think they wish they had tied us up," John muttered bitterly while taking the rope and walking toward the unconscious man.
After tying him up, John woke the man and began to interrogate him.
"If you don't want me to hurt your brothers, friends, or whoever else you're working with, I suggest you tell me—who sent you?"
He paused.
"Look at me. I said—who sent you? This is your last chance."
The grunt, trembling and bruised, finally caved.
"It's... it's Rick Vans," he confessed.
"Thank you. That's all I needed," John said, grinning.
He had a recorder hidden the entire time. He had paused it earlier, but now he turned it back on and captured the confession.
He collapsed shortly after, completely exhausted. Janet, who had been standing behind him the whole time, heard him murmur, "Let's go home."
"I think our journey home will be delayed... considering the mess we're in."
"Yeah," Janet replied softly, "I think so too."
---
AUTHOR'S POV
After the police arrived, John and Janet were both taken to the hospital. The investigation into Rick Vans concluded, and John was finally allowed to go back home. Though his wounds were not fully healed, after two weeks of rest, he asked Janet:
"Would you like to take an escape from here... and come with me back home?"
---
This time, John asked her while he was still being discharged.
John: Janet?
Janet: Yes?
John: (In a serious tone) Let me ask you a question.
Janet: (In an anxious look) Sure.
John: What do you really think about me?
Janet: (Acting confused) What do you mean by that?
John: (Let me rephrase then, now more sure and serious than before.) What do you really feel about me?
Janet: (Shyly responding after a pause) Well… I realized I really like you. But I didn't know how to tell you since we had stopped talking.
John: Okay. Well, this has been the longest month of my life. So I'll just be blunt. Would you like to go visit my hometown? Just for a week or so. Then we can come back.
Janet: I don't know…
John: I'm asking so we might bond over this time. If things don't go right, I won't hold you down. I'll just say—it's life. And life is what it is.
Janet: Sure. I'd like that. Escape for a while. From this hellhole of a place. And… I do need some time off work.
John: Then let's take a journey.
To my home.