Whoa! Not ready!
Wara’s eyes widened as she racked her mind for what she was supposed to do in this situation. She had been going to classes every stinking day, after all. Even if Alejo had told her to do karate to make her feel better, it had worked. Whacking and kicking things had ended up to be a very entertaining way to spend the last there months.
The correct kick flashed into her mind as she was already beginning to execute it out of instinct. She managed to twist away from Alejo just in time, feeling the thickness of his arms brush by her cheek.
Ha ha! Apparently all the hours of practice were paying off! But now Alejo was coming at her again, ready to take a swing at her head. Moving easily, Wara ducked to the left just in time, then rolled to the ground and shot a strong kick upward, barely missing Alejo’s belly. It appeared her muscles really were stronger from all those hours spent at Okinawa Karate Studio.
“Man!” He eyed her with something she could almost call appreciation. “You’re fast. You could hold me off for a while with those lightning kicks. Unfortunately, because I’m bigger, I can do this.” Before she even knew how it happened, he had hauled her to her feet and had her against a near-by tree. There was no way she could escape his weight, and his steely grip on her elbows tightened painfully if she even attempted to move.
“No, no!” she shrieked, feeling the rage of losing and the powerlessness of not being able to do a thing about it. Blame it on being an only child, but Wara hated losing. “Get off of me!” she grunted, and flung her head backwards just where she imagined Alejo’s eye socket should be. She actually saw a few white stars as her skull connected with his face, but the satisfaction of hearing him swear under his breath was more than worth it.
But that was her last move. The hold on her elbows tightened even more, and Alejo pressed her farther into the tree, his cheek plastered against hers. “Ok, you win,” she pronounced, speaking carefully since her lips were only centimeters from the tree bark.
“You did really well, though.” The hiss of Alejo’s breath in her ear was quite annoying. “I’ll show you how to do this hold I’ve got your arms in. Someday, I hope you’ll be able to kick my rear in a fight…well, at least if I have the flu.”
Wara glared, hoping he could see her scowl from the side as he pulled away from her and released the death hold on her arms.
A sharp crack sounded in the clearing.
Wara’s gaze jerked upward as a flurry of dust and bark rained down on her head with the dull whap of an object slamming into the tree above her.
“Down!” Alejo growled into her ear. Her knees buckled as his weight slammed into her and they crashed to the ground. Her first thought was: It’s a bullet. Someone is shooting at us!
Alejo remained on top of her, and she flipped her head towards the source of the sound, more than a little frantic. Surreally, Alejo had whipped out a gun and was in position to shoot anything that came into sight from behind the trees. But instead of another bullet, a low voice cut through the clearing.
“Get away from her, or you’re a dead man. Next time I won’t miss.”
Wara’s mind fuzzed over, unbelieving.
This could not be happening.
Alejo’s forearm tensed around the gun as a lanky man in a denim jacket appeared, half-sheltered behind a golden oak tree. His eyes narrowed and he trained an unwavering shotgun exactly at Alejo’s head.
“Don’t shoot!” Wara screamed at the man holding the gun. “It’s ok!! Don’t shoot!” She elbowed Alejo roughly, face sizzling with chagrin.
“Get off!” she gasped. “I can’t breathe! He won’t shoot us…It’s just my dad.”
Rachel Moschell met and married her husband, Eduardo, in Cochabamba, Bolivia. They have three adorable children and currently live in beautiful Cochabamba.
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