Hanchuan watched the broad man reach the woman before he took his hand away from Zhiyi’s seat.
Outside, the man caught her beneath one arm and tried to pull her upright. She resisted without removing her hands from the wounded delivery man’s shoulder.
Even through the windshield, Hanchuan could see the effort it took to maintain pressure while someone dragged at her.
"Leave him," the broad man ordered. "He had water the whole time and yet he still stood there, watching us ration ours."
The woman said something Hanchuan couldn’t make out and the broad man pulled harder, forcing one of her hands away from the wound.
Beside the cart, the gunman tucked the pistol into his waistband.
He was no longer watching the mobile base. Neither were the two people who had tried to block their retreat.
Instead, their attention had shifted toward the stolen bottle, and an argument began when the man in slippers refused to surrender it.
Hanchuan had seen this happen over less. A mouthful of water could turn companions against one another, especially when someone discovered that another person had kept a little back.
"The junction behind us is clear," Shichen said. He leaned toward the rear display, keeping his voice low. "Zeyu, you can use the entrance on the left to turn."
Zeyu nodded his head, letting him know that he had heard him without looking away from the cameras.
The mobile base continued backward, carrying them far enough from the underpass that the woman’s voice began breaking beneath the engine noise.
Hanchuan looked at Qinghe.
His friend remained upright in his seat, watching a scene he could no longer influence. He hadn’t asked to go outside, and Hanchuan wouldn’t insult the effort that restraint cost him by explaining why they couldn’t.
The broad man finally pulled the woman to her feet.
She struck his chest with her bloodied hand and twisted toward the wounded man again, but he turned her by the shoulders and pointed toward the pillar where she had left the older man.
For several seconds, she looked between them.
Then the mobile base began turning, and the underpass moved out of sight.
Hanchuan waited until Zeyu had completed the maneuver before looking down at Zhiyi.
Her fingers were closed around the edge of the cushion supporting her leg. She released it when she noticed his attention, then glanced at the arm he had braced across her during the gunfire.
"You didn’t touch my ribs," Zhiyi told him. "You can stop trying to work out whether you hurt me."
Hanchuan lowered his hand to hers. He had been careful, but the speed with which he had moved still troubled him. "Did the braking?" he asked.
"A little," Zhiyi admitted. She shifted her shoulder against the seat and considered the position of her leg. "The pillow moved. I need it closer to my knee."
He adjusted the cushion while she lifted her leg enough to let him.
Her mouth tightened briefly, and he stopped until she nodded for him to continue. When her ankle was supported again, she rested her hand on the back of his neck and drew him close enough to speak without the others needing to hear.
"You’re holding your breath," Zhiyi said.
Hanchuan exhaled against her temple.
He had brought her outside knowing that the vehicle could protect her, but he could still see the man raising the gun and pointing it at her.
For a moment, Hanchuan had felt as though there were nothing between the gun and Zhiyi.
She slid her fingers into his hair without trying to tell him they were safe.
While Zeyu drove them away from the underpass, she let Hanchuan stay close. He kissed her forehead before finally sitting back, keeping her hand in his.
Across the aisle, Qinghe reached beneath his seat to adjust his medical bag, then pushed it farther under with his shoe.
"We can stop somewhere else if you need to check her," Hanchuan told him.
Qinghe looked up at Zhiyi. It took him a moment to speak, as though he was still thinking about the people they had left behind.
"Any sharp pain?" Qinghe asked. "Anything that wasn’t there before we left?"
"My ribs hurt when we braked," Zhiyi replied. "But it’s better now."
Qinghe nodded, watching her face a little longer before sitting back.
Hanchuan kept hold of her hand as they passed the last of the shuttered shops and reached a street lined with garages and car lots.
There were still people outside.
They walked beneath awnings or kept close to the buildings where there was shade. Some carried umbrellas with foil patched over the fabric.
Others had covered their heads and arms with cloth, leaving only their eyes showing.
A man pushed a wheelchair loaded with containers. A woman walked behind him with one hand on a handle, helping him over the uneven pavement.
They moved into a doorway as the mobile base approached, and the woman pulled the chair farther back when she noticed the mark on the windshield.
Farther ahead, two men held a bedsheet over the open hood of a car while a third worked on the engine beneath it.
They stopped arguing to watch the mobile base pass. One lowered his corner of the sheet for a better look, leaving the man beneath it in the evening sun.
Zeyu slowed as they approached the next intersection.
"There should be a road beside the dealership," Zeyu said, his voice rough after the long silence. "It goes behind the buildings and comes out past the underpass."
Hanchuan looked toward the lot. A damaged metal fence surrounded it, and several letters were missing from the sign above the showroom. Flattened cardboard boxes covered the windows from inside.
Cars filled the space in front of the building.
Some were missing their wheels and rested on blocks. Others had clothing draped over their open doors. In the shade of a raised hood, a woman used kitchen scissors to cut a sunshade into smaller pieces.
"People are living here," Jingwei said. He checked the narrow road beside the lot as Zeyu slowed further. "The lane’s clear. Stay on it."
A man stepped out from beneath a piece of roofing propped between two cars. He raised a hand, then let it fall when no one responded. Hanchuan expected him to move out of the way.
Instead, he came closer.
His shirt had once been pale blue, though most of it was dark with sweat and dust.
A small rectangle on his chest was cleaner than the rest, where a name badge had covered it. Skin peeled along his neck above the collar, and a red sore had left one side of his face swollen.
Zeyu turned to look at him as they drew level.
The man stopped.
At first, Hanchuan thought he had noticed the bullet damage. Then he raised a hand to shade his eyes and came closer to the cab, trying to see through the reflections on the glass.
"Director Song?" the man called.
Zeyu tightened his grip on the wheel. Hanchuan saw that he recognized the man before he spoke.
"That’s Manager Chen," Zeyu told them. "He ran this branch."
Jingwei kept his hand near the speaker controls. Manager Chen came alongside the cab but stayed back from the door. He looked over the mobile base, then turned to Zeyu again.
"Director Song, are the company shelters still taking people?" Manager Chen asked. He swallowed and glanced toward the covered showroom. "They said you weren’t answering because the roads were closed."
Hanchuan looked at his friend.
"What company shelters?" Zeyu asked through the speaker.
The relief faded from Manager Chen’s face. Behind him, the woman put down her scissors and stood, leaving the pieces of sunshade on the ground.
"The relocation program," Manager Chen said. "They took our names. They told us our families would go first."
Zeyu brought the mobile base to a stop.