"Is there a doctor? Is there a doctor?"
The convoy had only been on the road for ten minutes when it suddenly stopped again. The same thugs who collected the protection fees were now running through the convoy, whips in hand, shouting for a doctor. Seeing the blood on one of their arms, Evelyn Ford thought of the girl from before.
She watched out the window in silence as the men went from car to car, interrogating the occupants. After a moment, they dragged a middle-aged man to the front of the convoy. Everyone else waited where they were, confused and anxious.
Meanwhile, inside the RV, the girl, now cleaned up, cowered in a corner. She clutched a dagger dripping with blood as the man on the bed glared at her with a chilling, murderous gaze.
"Mr. Holloway, the doctor's here." The thugs dragged the doctor into the RV. The panting doctor saw the knife wound on the man's arm and immediately composed himself.
