Another excerpt -- and a request for help

This is an excerpt of Prodigies (Prodigy?) -- probably Prodigies. Our protagonist and her partners are on the run from pursuers who may or may not be from Second World Renewal. They have traveled from Grace's residential high school (Interlochen) in Michigan to an isolated cottage in northern Michigan. They're about to leave because Greg has texted an alarm to Ayana that assailants are closing in. (Note that only Grace has met Greg at this time).

Polish-speaking visitors -- this is Google Translate's best effort. I do not speak Polish, but I can see these two characters using Polish to talk over Grace's head. PLEASE give me more accurate translations, and I will include your names in the acknowledgements if I get published!

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“Gracie! Behind you!” I heard Ichirou’s voice in the distance, and I idly noted that his voice had deepened since our ordeal in Poland. I turned to look behind me, and –

I saw the man in camouflage up the grassy hill, his rifle to the ready. I turned around and ran, cursing myself as I felt the sharp sting of the bullet as it pierced my back.

Consciousness exploded in an undifferentiated blur of noise, light, blurred images. I shot upright, only to be arrested by a strong grip pulling my shoulders to the ground. I caught a glimpse of camouflage, and I fought –

“Krakow Misalliance?” a low voice swam out of the cacophony of nature. It pronounced Krakow correctly.

“Grze – Greg?” I murmured, wondering why my voice sounded so weak.

At that moment, I heard other voices but struggled to identify them. “Let go of her.”

My vision cleared, and I saw Ayana and Ichirou pointing tasers. “No,” I muttered. “This is Greg.”

“Oh,” Ayana breathed. “Oh.”

I noticed she stared at him.

They wouldn’t let me walk, and I decided that was a good idea. Ichirou and Greg did a two-man carry on me, which didn’t hurt my chest as badly. I tried to wiggle out, only to receive a stern look from Greg and a concerned look from Ichirou.

We plodded up the hill, which looked unusually verdant, toward the log-clad cabin. My chest hurt, but not nearly as much as expected. Still, I felt heavy in body and in soul.

“Be still; we will not let you walk,” Ichirou grumbled when I started to wriggle out of their hold again.

With effort, the three settled me on my bunk, and I heard its metal springs grate as my weight settled into it. Ayana took off the jacket or blanket or something that Greg had draped over me (it smelled clean for all it was scratchy on my arms). She gasped and turned to Greg, her eyes flashing. “To szkoda śmiertelna, Grzegorz! To przeszło przez serce!” I wondered idly how Ayana had learned Polish.

“Pytałeś mnie o moim talencie,” murmured Greg, bowing his head down.

“Oh, żołnierz,” Ayana took a deep breath.”Jakie brzemię ponosisz.”

“Jestem w porządku,” Greg glared, his lip trembling slightly.

I wanted to learn Polish at that moment to know what they spoke of so passionately.

My chest still ached as if I had been punched in the sternum, and after more unintelligible back-and-forth between Greg and Ayana, they gave me a good dose of aspirin and a glass of water, and Greg supported my back so I could drink without choking.

“Food?” I asked, and my voice sounded strained and weak.

“No,” Greg growled, then softened. “You’re on chicken broth and rice for the next couple days. “

I shrugged, even though I felt twinges in my chest. It didn’t matter to me.

Eventually, after everyone had left and I was left staring at the bunk directly over me, I dozed. I dreamed in fragments, starting with the impact and stabbing pain. I pitched forward, but did not hit the ground. Then I sat up and felt the grass under me. I expected the grass to slide through my fingers, but it grasped my hand, which glowed like fireflies in the gathering dark.  A rabbit nestled against my leg, something I felt blessed to witness. I idly petted the rabbit.

Suddenly, my heart ached. My grandparents, my parents all dead. Nobody to sit here with me – but then a group of people crested the hill, surrounded by the same firefly glow that I was. They walked at a stately pace, feeling like wisdom, and I hoped they would sit with me. When the huge moon rose, I recognized the long, straightened hair of my mother and the sedate walk of my father, and I cried out to them --

A force slammed me back to light, distorted sound, pain. Life.

I shot upright, sobbing. I had died. I had died when the bullet hit me. I saw my dead parents and grandparents walking toward me --

I had been dead, and now I was alive, aching and confused. Life had taken me from my parents, just as death had taken them from me before.

I huddled in my bunk, letting my hot tears soak my pillow.

Ichirou crept in quietly; I would not have noticed except for his hand touching the arm that hugged my pillow.  “Gracie, I’m here,” accented words in a low uninflected voice.

“I was dead,” I sniffled, removing the pillow from my face and treating him to my doubtless tear-swollen eyes. I didn’t care at that moment if I looked ugly – I had been dead. I now was alive.

“Yes, I know. I convinced Ayana and Greg that it was impolite talking in Polish in front of me. Greg – he was the waiter in the all-night pierogi place? – said he had used his talent to heal you. You’d been shot in the heart. You died instantly. He moved your body back to its state just before you were shot. Only the blood on your shirt told what happened.”

I sat up in bed and pulled the blanket away from me. I glanced down. I still wore the shirt – I assume that everyone was too polite to take it off me. A huge, dark red stain bloomed between my breasts. Ichirou looked at it, then looked away quickly. “Chikushō,” Ichirou muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“It means ‘shit’, ‘damn,’ etc., and I should never say it in polite company or around women.” Ichirou put his hand on the back of his neck and hissed through his teeth. “Resurrection seems like a good time to swear, though.”

Ichirou stayed with me while I dozed – I think the whole resurrection thing freaked him out, and he may have feared I would die again. I knew I wouldn’t, but wished I would, because the vision of my family called me back to that comforting night.  I thought I would not tell anyone until Ichirou asked in the middle of the silence, “What is it like to die?”

I closed my eyes and answered thoughtfully. “It’s strange. When the bullet hit me, I felt pain, then no pain. I thought I just blacked out and didn’t remember. But when you brought me in and I fell asleep, I had a dream that I think came from being dead. I sat on that hill in the moonlight, and I glowed like fireflies. I had a rabbit sit beside me. Some people came up over the hill, and they glowed like I did. I saw their faces, and recognized them as my family, and they walked toward me. And I got pulled back here before they could meet me.”

“Your family is dead, aren’t they?” Ichirou inquired.

“Yes. I guess some people see the Light calling them; I see Heaven as a vast green place.” I remembered my parents and how they hadn’t yet seen me.

“That’s a very Japanese way to see things. The moon and the rabbit both symbolize fertility –“

“I’m not having any babies!”

I heard a chortle in Ichirou’s voice. “I’m not asking you to. It’s the concept. The creative force doesn’t have to be …”

I understood where Ichirou was going, and followed his thought to a conclusion: “The vision means it wasn’t my time to die because I still had to create. With my music and my talent. But my parents – do I have to do this alone?” I heard the edge in my voice which betrayed my desire to reunite with my parents, the same parents who kept me locked in music schools. I had always had to do this alone.

“You have us,” Ichirou said. “And you have your rabbit.”