Malcolm stepped in front of her.
"No."
The soldier's rifle stayed on his chest.
All sixteen of them were breathing hard now. No one looked ready to fight. The injured sagged against the people holding them up. The others stood with shaking arms, sweat running through the dust and blood on their faces. Even Arnulf looked spent.
Iyisha looked at the helicopter. Then at the soldiers. Then at the road behind them where the horde would come.
"If I go with you," she said, "they get transported out?"
"Yes," the soldier said at once.
"How?"
That made them pause.
Only for a second.
But she saw it.
There was one helicopter.
One.
No room for all of them. No second team waiting nearby. No rescue in motion. Even if she surrendered, they were not getting saved. Not that anyone believed them the first time.
The soldier recovered fast. "Another helicopter will be sent. Your group only needs to hold position on a rooftop."
Arnulf let out a dry, ugly laugh.
