Janice approached John, recognizing immediately who he was.
Her father was right, she thought. I do recognize him. He's changed so much since I last saw him. He looks so much like me. Like our father. Like our mother. He's become tall and handsome.
"Hello, Janice," said John, as he reached out for her bag.
"Oh, John!" sighed Janice, removing the bag from her shoulder and embracing her brother. She was overcome with emotion. Never had she expected her brother. Nor could she have expected that when they did meet again, it would be like this. She held him tight as tears welled up inside.
For his part, John was surprised by the strength of the emotion he felt from her. They had never been close - she'd left when he was only ten, and the communication between them had been non-existent since then. Seeing her like this, feeling her this close and the emotions that carried her melted the corners of his ice-hard facade and he genuinely returned the embrace.
When they parted, they shared smiles of real warmth and affection. It was as if the intervening years had never happened. John began to snicker a bit, then Janice began to giggle. Soon their embrace was one of laughing and crying and just letting it all out, letting it go. It was the best they had felt in a while, and it was a very intimate and tender moment shared as only two people who share so much in common can.
At last they separated, looking in each other's eyes again. It was like looking into a mirror. Certainly there were differences in age, in complexion, and in gender-specific features. But they were as alike as a brother and sister can be. Each was proud of the other, each felt genuine love and respect for the other.
John spoke softly, in the foreign language that they both knew only each other could understand.
"You heard about mom." It was not a question.
"Yes," Janice responded, using the same language. "Dad called me in Texas and told me."
"So that's where you've been all these years? Texas?"
Janice could feel some resentment in his voice.
"No, I spent much of it in the San Francisco bay area. Texas has been a relatively recent move."
She could tell there was more he wanted to say, battling between the desire to know where she'd been, why she'd left in the first place, and other things of that nature, and the common decency and decorum that the occasion required. She put his hand up on his cheek, a gesture her mother had often done for both of them, she knew. It immediately caused the frustration and anger and hurt to melt away from his face.
"Don't worry, John. I will explain everything to you, I promise. We're not staying in Vegas, are we? We can talk as we travel wherever it is we're going..."
John looked placated as he shouldered her bag and they set off for the parking lot.
***********************
Frank saw them approach the Tahoe. He tensed a little, feeling the usual adrenaline rush that accompanied this part of the deal. One never knew what was going to happen. But he felt confident, knowing that this was the seventh time he'd been able to pull this off. Besides, with his five buddies, what could possibly go wrong? He stepped out from behind the column that was blocking his view of the couple. The rest of his group did the same from their respective locations. They each approached the couple in an ever tightening circle.
***********************
John and Janice saw the men as soon as they stepped out from the shadows, from behind cars and columns.
"How many?" Janice asked, in an undertone.
"Six," John responded. "I'll take the three on the right."
"OK," Janice responded in English.
They kept walking.
Frank addressed John.
"Hold it right there. We don't want any trouble. We just want your money and the keys to your car."
John reached in his pockets, ostensibly to obtain his keys. He did, in fact, pull out his keys. But as Frank reached for them, he dropped them to the floor. Frank's vision temporarily distracted, John stepped into a body blow to the solar plexus. Frank went down, the wind knocked out of him.
One down.
Janice, seeing John step into the punch, whirled to face the man behind her. Her heel caught the man at the side of his knee, knowing that for all its ability, the knee is the weakest joint in the human body. The man crumpled in excruciating agony, his ligaments torn, his knee destroyed. It would take a month to rebuild that knee, Janice decided, with a practiced eye. He won't be running marathons ever again.
Two down.
The next attacker wasted no time in launching himself at John. As soon as Frank went down, this assailant closed the space between him and John quickly. He swung for the fences at John's head, a big, powerful - but slow - haymaker of a punch that most men would not have been able to avoid, or survive. It was a killing blow, one that contained everything the assailant had. But John was not most men. Used to training with men who were bigger and stronger, John knew what to expect. He turned his body so that the blow caught off his shoulder and angled up and behind him, rather than allowing the blow to hit him directly. He then used the man's momentum to send him to the floor, directing the energy that should have gone to him into the ground. Once on the ground, John kicked the man's throat, crushing his windpipe and ending the life of the man who had so recently wanted to take his.
Three down.
The remaining three tightened the circle around John and Janice, now wary and anxious to take advantage of their remaining numerical advantage. Two of the assailants pulled out their knives - one was an impressive looking military knife, long and thick, while the other was a butterfly knife, thin and deadly looking. These two assailants gave Janice the greatest concern, because their eyes were dead. The eyes of killers.
Janice and John, through unspoken agreement and working at the same time, turned their backs to each other. John tightened his grip on Janice's bag. He was not worried in the slightest about himself, but he was concerned about his much older sister.
He needn't have been.
Janice moved first, kicking out with her left foot at the assailant's right hand. The move was so quick and powerful from a target the assailant thought would be an easy mark, he could not react in time. Her foot was perfectly placed, timing right on - she felt the wrist snap and the knife fly in a delicate arc behind several rows of cars. She brought her foot back down and immediately lifted her right foot into his groin. The results were immediate. His eyes rolled satisfactorily up into his head as the pain caused him to pass out.
Four down.
At the same time, the other two assailants were busy with John. The one with the knife moved in but John caught his fist between both of his hands and deflected it downward. Rolling his own wrists, and using Janice's bag as a shield for his own arms, John turned the inexperienced knife wielder's hand in an unnatural direction, causing excruciating pain. While holding his wrist down, John used the other man's body as a counter-balance to execute a high kick to the man's temple. The assailant crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Five down.
The sixth man, seeing that he was out classed and out numbered, wisely turned and fled. Neither Janice nor John offered pursuit. John collected Janice's bag and the two knives. The knives he dropped down the nearest storm sewer drain, while the bag he retained. They continued their walk to the Tahoe as if nothing happened, heedless of the groans coming from the five fallen men behind them. All of this had taken place in less time than it takes to read and, other than occasional grunts and groans, in the most complete silence. John and Janice had not even broken a sweat.
John tossed Janice's bag into the back of the Tahoe and got behind the wheel.
"Do you think they were waiting for us, or was this just a random mugging? I mean, six men seems a bit excessive, and they seemed to work in concert - at least to some degree..." John wondered aloud, still communicating in the foreign language.
"I don't think they were professionals. That doesn't mean anything, though. They could have been hired because they AREN'T professionals, just to throw us off. But my gut feeling is that they were only after our money and this vehicle. It's nice, by the way," Janice commented.
Seemingly satisfied, John drove off, leaving a wake of broken and battered bodies lying on the cool concrete of the parking garage. He headed out past the Strip and merged onto I-15, headed north.
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