Chapter 487: Rescue

Smoke and dust filled the air. A few customers who had just entered the store stumbled out, looking dazed and disoriented, as if they were walking dead. The shockwave from the explosion had thrown off their vestibular system, causing them to temporarily lose their ability to maintain balance.

Jack heightened his senses, trying to assess the situation inside the supermarket. Four bearded men had entered earlier, and there had been three explosions. That meant one was still inside!

The blast had destroyed the glass front doors, but a few panes near the side door remained intact. In that corner, stacked neatly, were large bags of cat litter. A small blonde girl, about five or six years old, was crouched in that corner, trembling with fear.

Her mother, who had luckily managed to avoid the blast by hiding behind a row of shelves, scrambled to her side. After quickly checking to see if her daughter was unharmed, she shielded the girl and prepared to run. However, her entire body froze in place.

The last bearded man was standing at the entrance near the side door, head bowed, murmuring prayers under his breath.

"Please don't do this. Oh God, I beg you!" the mother pleaded, clinging tightly to her daughter. She stood motionless, terrified that any movement might cause the man in front of her to detonate the bomb strapped to his body.

Her eyes darted between the man and the parking lot outside. Life and death were separated by only a thin pane of glass.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two crisp gunshots rang out. A burst of blood erupted from the bearded man's right hand as it gripped the detonator. The second .40-caliber bullet pierced the back of his head, obliterating his brainstem and other brain tissue, before exiting through his forehead.

The mother, her face splattered with blood, stood frozen, hugging her daughter, staring blankly at the bearded man's limp body as it collapsed in front of her. It took her a long moment to realize they had been saved in the nick of time.

Jack holstered his pistol and hurried forward, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants as he went. He silently thanked his luck that the detonators these guys were using were piezoelectric; otherwise, the outcome of his two shots could have been unpredictable.

"FBI, get out of here."

He rushed forward, scooped the little girl into his arms, and pulled her mother along as they ran out of the supermarket. Only when they reached the back of a car in the parking lot did he return the girl to her mother's embrace.

"Stay here! Call 911!"

Jack glanced back toward the supermarket. By now, the smoke had cleared slightly, revealing the chaos inside. Someone had lost a leg in the explosion, but seemed oblivious to the pain, dragging themselves across the floor, leaving a long trail of blood as they slowly crawled toward the exit.

"Hey, you! Come over here!" Jack shouted as he saw the thick smoke billowing up again, indicating that something flammable inside the store had ignited. He knew time was running out. He stood at the entrance, calling out to the chubby security guard cowering under an ATM machine.

The guard looked up, glancing around, finally realizing Jack was calling him.

Jack stepped over the body of the bearded man on the ground and yanked the guard to his feet. His immense strength left the man unable to resist. Jack dragged him over to the pile of cat litter and pointed at the bearded man's body near the side door.

"I'm FBI. Watch that spot. There's a bomb on that body. Don't let anyone go near it, understand?"

Seeing the bewildered expression on the guard's round face, Jack impatiently slapped his cheeks a few times, repeating himself loudly, "Did you hear me?"

The guard finally snapped out of his daze, blinking his small eyes and nodding rapidly.

Jack wasted no more time on him. He grabbed a roll of duct tape from the cat litter pile and rushed over to the man who had lost his leg. He pressed down hard on the man's carotid artery, causing him to lose consciousness.

He tightly bound the man's severed leg with the duct tape. The sudden, sharp pain roused the man from his unconscious state.

"Hey! Hey! Don't panic, you're going to be okay," Jack reassured him, holding the man's chest firmly to prevent him from struggling. He glanced around.

There were many wounded, but also many people who were simply in shock, staring at him blankly, still reeling from the terror of the explosion.

"FBI! I need a few people to help! We need to get the injured out of here!" Jack called out loudly, identifying himself again.

In situations like this, having someone step up as a leader was critical. The first person to take action is often called a hero because they set the right example.

Of course, the second and third people to respond are just as important. Without them, others wouldn't follow.

Fortunately, this was Texas, where the tough spirit meant there was no shortage of people willing to act in a crisis. Soon, people started stepping forward.

Men and women of different races and skin tones struggled to their feet. A well-dressed young Black man was the first to stagger forward. He knelt beside the injured man, helping Jack apply pressure to the wound.

"I used to be a medic. Tell me what to do now."

Jack was a little surprised, noticing that the man was biting his thick lower lip so hard that it had started bleeding, and his face had gone pale. "PTSD?" Jack asked instinctively.

The young man nodded, a hint of shame crossing his face.

Jack patted his shoulder and said no more. "Get someone to help you drag him outside and wait for rescue. And stay away from that body over there."

With that, Jack stood up, loudly directing the others, "Get everyone out to the parking lot. I need a few of you to help me with the injured."

He turned and continued deeper into the supermarket. The fire was growing stronger, and waves of heat rolled toward him. There was no time to waste.

Besides the bearded man at the door, the other three had detonated their bombs deeper inside the store. It was a sinister plan: the first three explosions caused chaos, and as people fled, the one blocking the door was supposed to finish the job, maximizing casualties.

As Jack stepped over the blood-slicked floor, he came upon a young couple. The woman lay on the ground, unresponsive, while the man held her tightly, calling her name in a faint voice.

Jack knelt beside the woman and checked her pulse. It was weak, but still there. He quickly cast a healing spell to stabilize her condition for the time being.

"Hey, hey, she's still alive. Can you get up? Get her out of here," Jack urged the man. The man struggled to stand, and what Jack saw next made his eyes widen in shock.

A thin metal rod, likely dislodged from one of the shelves during the explosion, was lodged straight through the man's back and protruded from his chest, pushing up his T-shirt. Blood trickled from the wound, staining the man's front and back. The rod vibrated slightly with each beat of his heart, yet the man seemed unaware of it, still trying to lift his lover.

"Don't move!" Jack quickly grabbed the man's shoulders and shouted, "Doctor, over here!"

The young Black medic stumbled over, his face going pale at the sight. "Don't touch that thing. Hold him steady, don't let him fall."

The man glanced down at his chest, following their gazes. His head then slumped forward as he lost consciousness.

Jack held him upright, one hand checking his pulse, before looking at the medic in horror. "He's still alive. Can we save him?"

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