Continuing to linger here is meaningless and will only waste time.
Every second that passes means getting closer to the bombardment.
Eventually, Lemont just shot a fierce glare at Song Heping, and if looks could kill, Song Heping would have died a hundred times by now.
Then he turned around and strode out of the tent, the canvas flap heavily falling behind him.
On the way back, the cabin was deathly silent.
Jackson drove the Hummer at high speed, the tires kicking up a long trail of dust on the gravel road.
Lemont sat in the back seat, his hands clenched into fists, with nails deeply embedded into his palms, leaving crescent-shaped blood marks.
When they returned to the base, Ryan was already waiting at the entrance of the command center.
Seeing Lemont's expression as he got out of the car, he understood everything.
"Gather all the officers."
Lemont took off his dust-covered coat and harshly threw it onto a nearby chair.
"We need to formulate an emergency plan. Then..."
