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couldn’t bridge the language barrier. They had won another battle. Another one of our team had taken a bullet, and they were still six strong. Morgan stayed put, unable to apply pressure on his wound. Later, when I looked at the pictures of our battle, the pool of blood was the biggest where Morgan held the door.
    I couldn’t imagine surrendering to those guys, or losing the war, but that’s where we were headed.
    Blood escaped out of my flesh, and I cringed with every life-saving squeeze that Brad forced upon me. Bruce had retreated to the back bedroom. Cole and Monte remained in their bedroom bunker. CB had never left the door, and Morgan held his position. The ladies, as far as I knew, were still in the bedrooms praying. We were losing blood, hope, and time.
    ~•••~
    A rthur finally woke up, opened the door and found Jason out of breath, frantic. Jason explained what was happening and then collapsed on the floor, while Arthur put on his clothes and grabbed two handguns. When Arthur returned with the weapons, he and Jason ran outside and hopped into Arthur’s truck.
    Arthur handed Jason a gun. As he steered back toward our complex, Jason grabbed the wheel and forced Arthur to turn toward Jeanpy’s house. Jason knew that after what he’d been through, Jeanpy would be a great help.
    Jeanpy (zhon-pea) is clean cut, tall and has a winsome smile. He was Arthur’s assistant, a Haitian, although I don’t think he ever imagined working in such a dangerous capacity. Violence isn’t anything new to the Haitian people, but our emergency was out of context in relation to the traditional crime and political uprisings that took place in the city.
    When they arrived at Jeanpy’s house, located on the compound, they informed him about the shooting and he hurried into the truck. Jason gave his gun to Jeanpy and they headed for the clinic. While driving, Jason repeatedly said, “This is for real. They will shoot you! They will shoot you!”
    Jeanpy was friends with a police officer so he called him on his cell phone. The officer was close, but Jeanpy didn’t know how soon he’d get there. Minutes? Hours? Jeanpy had hoped that he’d alert other officers nearby. But the hour was late. The night was dark. And time was running short.
    Arthur slammed on the brakes when they came within a safe distance from the clinic. He and Jeanpy ran for the stairway and Arthur shot a few rounds into the air. Jason crawled out of the truck and into the field to assess the situation. He crouched down in the grassy terrain, aching, breathless.
    Although Arthur had no idea who the attackers were, he and Jeanpy continued shooting. Pop! Pop! Pop!
    ~•••~
    I could hear gunshots exploding faster somewhere in the distance. Something had changed. The Haitians were no longer shooting into our building. There seemed to be a shift in resonation, an increase in intensity. I could hear gunfire from the veranda and it sounded like the shots were firing in two directions.
    Pop! Pop! Pop!
    Boom! Boom! Boom!
    And then again... Pop! Pop! Pop!
    I could tell the gunmen had the larger caliber weapons. But they no longer had the advantage. They seemed to have switched into a defensive mode, and turned their attention to someone more threatening than our ragtag band of missionaries.
    I remember taking a breath, feeling a temporary sense of relief, but that didn’t last. The guns were still blasting, and I was still bleeding. Forgetting my condition wasn’t much of an option. I lay beside Brad, listened, and took everything in. There wasn’t anything else to do besides pray, and I had done plenty of that.
    I couldn’t hate these guys. I can’t speak for everyone on our team because we’ve all had to deal with the trauma in our own way. I felt compassion for these people, and still do. Their country, which was already in economic and political turmoil, had been brought to their knees overnight. They were destitute. Prisoners had escaped. Food and shelter