Chapter 52

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Hearing a knock at the door, Muhammad's heart tightened instantly.

Osama gently picked up the AK-74 rifle, opened a small hole in the window, and extended the gun outside. Muhammad stopped the surgery, skillfully blew out the light, and held the bayonet in his hand.

"Bang, bang, bang." The knocking grew louder.

"Go open the door," Muhammad said to Dana.

It was so late, and everything around was quiet except for the knocking, which was very strange. At the same time, the knocking couldn't go on for too long, or it would attract the attention of the Soviets, which would be troublesome.

"Who is it, knocking so late at night?" Dana shouted as she walked towards the door.

"Stupid woman, open the door quickly!" a voice came from outside.

Hearing this voice, Dana immediately opened the door with a creak.

Outside, a man dressed in the uniform of an Afghan government soldier stood before her.

"How did you come back?" Dana asked, "Didn't you say you were transferred out?"

"Of course I wanted to leave, but I didn't manage to. Just in time for a city-wide search," the man said. It was Dana's husband, Saha.

Hearing the conversation outside, Muhammad's head ached. Didn't he kill Saha? How could he be alive again?

For a moment, he wondered if this was Dana's plot, luring him in, and then her husband would come in.

But Muhammad quickly dismissed this thought. If Dana had a plot, she wouldn't have sent intelligence to the guerrillas.

"Have you eaten?" Dana asked, "I'll cook for you."

"No, I have this," Saha said, raising the cans in his hand. "Soviet goods, quite tasty. I'll give you two cans."

Taking the cans, Dana felt a strange sensation.

"Tonight, we are searching for two criminals. They are very dangerous. Watch the house and don't let anyone in," Saha said, putting down the cans and walking outside.

Just as he reached the door, he saw several Soviet soldiers with guns approaching.

"Saha, what are you doing here?" the lead Soviet soldier asked, clearly recognizing him.

"I'm searching here," Saha said. "I know this place best. I'll lead the search."

Saha gestured to Dana, who quietly closed the door behind him. Soon, sounds came from the next room.

Dana wiped the sweat from her forehead; she had been extremely nervous.

Back in the room, the light was relit. She saw Muhammad concentrating on removing the bullet, not suspecting her at all.

"Clunk." Finally, Muhammad extracted a bullet. Because the tools were inadequate, he had to widen the wound to get it out.

Blood flowed continuously, and Muhammad frowned, extending his hand to Osama.

Osama handed Muhammad a bullet with the tip removed. Muhammad gritted his teeth and poured the gunpowder onto the wound on his arm.

Then, Muhammad clenched his teeth, more seriously than when he was removing the bullet. He watched as the gunpowder was poured, then picked up a match, lit it from the lamp, and placed it on the gunpowder.

"Whoosh." The gunpowder ignited, bursting into bright flames. With the fire, Muhammad felt the wound being seared, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. At that moment, he felt as if he were in a state of extreme pain and pleasure.

This scene was from the movie "First Blood." In reality, using gunpowder to disinfect a wound is not scientific, as it leaves residue. However, the burning gunpowder can cauterize the wound and stop the bleeding effectively.

If they continued to use bandages, the blood would keep seeping out. Thinking of the two military dogs, Muhammad knew he had to recover quickly, so he had to use this brutal and violent method.

This feeling made Muhammad never want to experience it again. He almost fainted when he lit the match, and now he felt very weak.

He glanced at Dana, who looked at him with concern.

"Dana, you did well just now," Muhammad said.

"Sir, I wanted to report to Hadim, but I haven't found him these past few days," Dana said. "Five days ago, Saha came back, claiming he had narrowly escaped and was given a new position as a company commander."

Muhammad nodded. "Dana, you did the right thing. Continue to stay with Saha. We need your intelligence, and Afghanistan needs a heroine like you who puts the greater good before personal interests!"

"Sir, Dana is not a hero. You are the true hero. I only regret marrying a traitor," Dana said.

"Ms. Dana," Osama said, "Life here is tough for you. It's hard to gather more intelligence. Often, money can solve everything. From now on, I will provide you with funds to help you work for Sir Muhammad."

"No, Dana doesn't need money," Dana said. The dilapidated yard was rented by Saha. After Saha's death, the landlord had come to collect rent several times. Only when Saha reappeared did Dana feel stable again.

She knew the importance of money, but accepting it directly made her uncomfortable.

"This money is not for you, but for our cause, to drive the Soviets out," Osama said confidently and generously.

"Osama, thank you. Our guerrillas have never had extra money. I've long wanted to establish a stable intelligence network in Jalalabad," Muhammad said.

Muhammad's words showed his attitude, and Dana could only nod in agreement.

Muhammad had no reason to refuse. He knew Osama very well. For the cause, he was willing to pay everything. As a Saudi millionaire, he had plenty of funds, and the guerrillas indeed needed money to improve their situation.

The search outside continued. Muhammad knew the danger had only temporarily passed. Staying here was not safe. Saha could return at any time, and if he found Muhammad and Osama, it would be an opportunity for him to earn merit.

Therefore, before dawn, Muhammad and Osama left Dana's residence.

After treating the wound, Muhammad felt his vitality returning. Although he had lost a lot of blood, as long as he had a breath left, he would continue to fight bravely!

Now, the Soviets had been searching for several hours, and their vigilance was starting to wane. It was almost dawn, and people were more likely to be drowsy at this time.

Looking at the low houses around him, Muhammad suddenly had an idea. He leaped up, grabbed the eaves with both hands, and climbed onto the roof.

The houses here were connected, and once on the roof, they could move around freely. The searchers were focused on the courtyards and paid little attention to the roofs. Thus, Muhammad and Osama easily reached the edge of Jalalabad. Although the roads were guarded, they could escape through the underground tunnels.

The east gradually turned white.

Muhammad lay on the roof, watching a group of Soviet soldiers walking down the street, patrolling.

If they had left two minutes earlier, they could have crossed the street and entered an abandoned house where the tunnel entrance led outside the city.

Now, they dared not move on the roof, waiting for the soldiers to pass. Muhammad held his breath, feeling his heart rate accelerate. The Soviet soldiers were not ordinary; they had a Caucasian military dog in front of them!

If it was the same dog from last night, it would be trouble. Although he had left only a faint scent and his wound had stopped bleeding, his body still had a lingering odor. An excellent military dog could easily detect it. Last time, he had deceived the dog with a cat, but this time, it wouldn't be so easy.

Sure enough, the dog, which had been walking normally, suddenly stopped and barked twice at the roof where Muhammad and Osama were hiding: "Woof, woof."

The Soviet soldier leading the dog immediately sensed something was wrong. He released the dog's leash, and the dog immediately ran towards the house on the side of the street.

"Attention, surround them!" the Soviet sergeant shouted, his heart racing at the thought of encountering the enemy. After searching all night, they were finally about to find him!

An adult Caucasian military dog is almost as tall as an adult. The dog's powerful hind legs propelled it, and it leaped towards the roof.

The criminals are on the roof! The Soviet soldiers immediately understood. They couldn't jump up like the dog, so they aimed their AK-74s at the opposite roof and quickly found cover.

The Caucasian military dog opened its massive mouth and pounced on Muhammad and Osama, its sharp teeth ready to bite Muhammad's throat.

Muhammad felt the wind. Despite his efforts to hide his scent, the dog had detected him. He didn't have time to shoot, so he pulled out the bayonet and thrust it into the dog's mouth.

The dog's mouth clamped down on Muhammad's hand. If it exerted force, it could tear off his hand.