The store's door opened and closed again.
Footsteps receded into the distance.
A few minutes later, Yazidi lifted the door curtain and entered.
"They've left, but there are still many outside. The market is locked down, and every exit is guarded."
Omar crawled out from his hiding place, drenched in sweat.
"Thank you, Uncle Yazidi."
The old man waved his hand. "Your father saved my life; this is the debt I owe him. But now the question is, how will you get out?"
Omar pondered.
The market is locked down; there's no way out.
But he couldn't stay here indefinitely; the security bureau would eventually conduct a more thorough search.
"I need a vehicle. Or a motorbike."
"There may be a motorbike." Yazidi thought for a moment, "My grandson has an old Honda in the backyard. But the brakes aren't good."
"It's fine. How about the keys?"
