Chapter 388 Kind-hearted People
If they couldn't track down the rescue team, Debra was a goner from blood loss. Shirley, all alone and without a weapon, was pretty much useless.
Shirley glanced at her trapped arm, biting down hard. "Mom, I'm sorry, but I gotta find help. Hang in there for me!"
She spun around and bolted, kicking off her shoes to pick up speed. The ground was a mess of gravel and branches, tearing up her soft feet, but she didn't give a damn.
To keep from getting lost, Shirley ripped pieces of her skirt and tied them to trees. The forest was a maze, every direction looking the same.
She had no clue how long she'd been running. Gasping for breath, she clutched her phone, desperately hunting for a signal, but the call wouldn't go through, and the battery was on its last legs.
"Is anyone there? Anybody?" she yelled, her voice cracking with desperation. But only her echo and some startled birds answered back.
Shirley had to head back. Debra's condition was getting worse. She tried to move the car, but it wouldn't budge. Out of the four of them, she was the only one not hurt.
'If this keeps up, we're screwed,' she thought, feeling dizzy and barely able to stand. Clutching her aching stomach, she climbed back into the car and found a lighter.
She gathered some branches and, after a lot of effort, got a fire going. The smoke was bigger and higher than the car wreckage. If anyone was nearby, they'd see it.
"Mom, drink some water; hang in there," Shirley said, moistening Debra's lips and feeding her bit by bit. She tried to make Debra more comfortable, hoping she'd lie better. They waited with hope until dark, but no one came.
Shirley shook Debra's unresponsive body, crying in despair. "Mom, don't sleep, wake up, please, don't leave me."
Tears fell like raindrops, and Shirley's heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand.
Just that morning, the four of them were laughing and chatting. The driver was sharing fun places and stories from his youth. Kenneth was lovingly stroking her hair, talking about how rare it was for them to go out together and that they should enjoy life more often. But now, none of that seemed possible.
Just when Shirley had lost all hope, she heard chaotic footsteps and dialects she couldn't understand.
A group of simply dressed people, about eight or nine, both men and women, approached with tools like hoes and baskets, looking at her in surprise.
Shirley ran over. "Please save my mom, please!"
The group looked serious, muttering among themselves.
Shirley, only knowing standard English, couldn't make heads or tails of their dialect.
Realizing this, they stopped trying to talk to her and moved to the car.
They teamed up, trying to flip the car at first, but it was a no-go.
One of them checked the breath of the three people inside, frantically communicating and pointing at Debra.
It seemed like they were saying Debra was the only one still alive and needed help ASAP. Then, someone pulled out some tools.
"What are you doing?" Shirley didn't dare stop them, knowing saving a life was the top priority.
She watched as they skillfully minimized injuries and carried Debra out.
Bright red blood spilled on the ground.
Shirley felt her stomach churn and struggled to breathe. "Mom!"
Whether from shock or exhaustion, Shirley collapsed after a few steps.
When she woke up, she found herself on a bed with Debra still unconscious beside her.
The room was filled with silent people.
Seeing her wake up, they joyfully gathered around, talking excitedly.
Shirley was stunned. "What are you saying?"
A man in his fifties, the village chief, stood up. He could barely speak a few words of standard English.
As everyone quieted down, Shirley realized he was asking for silence.
The village chief pointed at her, then at Debra, and made a sleeping gesture, indicating they should rest.
Shirley understood and said, "Thank you for saving us."
Everyone quickly waved their hands.
Unable to communicate further, Shirley gave up.
Fortunately, the villagers were warm and kind, preparing meals and regularly changing Debra's bandages.
Whenever Shirley tried to help, they excitedly pressed her down, telling her not to move.
Shirley knew it was impolite to be too forward in someone else's home, so she stayed inside for a month.
Debra's condition improved quickly. After waking up, she could eat on her own and gained some strength.
"Mom, your hand." Shirley was stunned.
Debra smiled. "As long as I'm alive, losing a hand is nothing. Besides, I don't use my left hand much. If it weren't for the villagers, we would have died."
Shirley nodded. "Yes, when we get back, we must repay their kindness! But it's hard to communicate, and there's no signal here, so we can't call.
We'll have to wait for Mike to find us! It's been so long, he must suspect something happened. Once he reports it, we'll be rescued!"
