She squeezed his arm again. Her pipa. It had been so long since she last saw him. And how glad she was to be walking here with him by her side. Him, chatting about the flight and asking questions about the course of her life. She glanced up at him and saw the gray hairs that were actually penetrating his vain hairwash.
And then it happened. Fireguns. They shot and not at random, it seemed.
In a flash, she saw someone appear beside her and pull her away from her father. Her father was dragged toward a van that seemed to be parked in the middle of the road. Suddenly, though her intuition had already told her so in an unguarded moment.
In self-defense, she tried to kick and punch the man who was pulling her away from her father with all his might. Her stiletto boots had to make quite an impression. With a powerful kick to his arms and groin, he dropped the Uzi, and she concluded that he was otherwise weaponless. She fought for her life. And with a few karate moves, he finally lost and fell to the ground. The man dragging her father to the van had already pushed him into the van. Of course, her father protested, but it was of little use. So she jumped on top of the masked man and punched and kicked wherever she could. It didn’t spoil the fun; he was so big he easily shook her off. Moreover, there was another one trying to manhandle her from behind. She received a powerful kick in the ribcage, causing her to fall backward. For a moment, she even thought she was losing consciousness. Meanwhile, the images finally dawned on her, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the men all boarding the van and closing the doors. The engine started. She quickly looked around and saw the Uzi still lying there and the man, apparently completely unconscious. She grabbed the gun from him and jumped into the middle of the road, where she dropped and fired several shots into the van that had already gained speed.
“The tires,” she thought. “Shoot the tires!”
And so she manfully fired at the tires and into the exhaust valve. That worked. The tires went flat. A few seconds later, the van swerved in every direction and finally stopped. A door opened, and she saw three men running away at breakneck speed.
“Dad’s still in the van!” she thought. And she opened the trunk, then urged her father to get out. They ran together toward the restaurant they had planned to visit that evening. They pounded loudly on the door. The two guards had, of course, been startled by the disaster that had just occurred and tried to protect the diners by holding the door closed.
Behind them, more shots were fired. The man who had been lying there a moment ago was on his knees and fired several shots from a pistol, but they missed. The restaurant door flew open, and she shoved her father inside. She turned and kicked the man who had just fired the shot in the face and side, until he collapsed again, groaning in pain.
By now, she could feel the blood streaming down her face from the fight that had just taken place. Warm streams dripped down her forehead along with the sweat of fear. And she felt the energy slowly seeping from within.
Sighing and groaning, she sat down against the wall next to the restaurant. As though that was the only thing that could keep her up.
In an instant, she heard the sirens of police cars and undoubtedly an ambulance as well. A police officer approached her, armed, alerted by the Uzi she still held in her right hand. She threw it away and tried to explain, with chops and punches, that someone had just tried to kidnap her father.
The police officer knelt beside her and asked if she was okay.
Her head was spinning, but she said, “I could really use a cigarette, right now!”
An hour later, she was rushed into hospital, where she saw a clock telling her it was time to go knock-out. Finally…
