I awoke the next day before sunrise, feeling remarkably refreshed and invigorated. A truly comfortable night's sleep had done wonders. I rose, opened the window in my room, letting the cool morning air sweep in, and began my morning exercise routine.
By the time I finished, it was already 7 a.m. I took another quick bath, changed into fresh clothes, and made my way down to the hotel lobby for breakfast. While I ate, I spotted a hotel staff member and asked him to purchase two travel suitcases for me, slipping him a hefty tip. To my surprise, the bags were delivered to my table before I had even finished my last bite.
"That was fast," I mused, impressed by the efficiency.
Just as I was taking possession of the bags, Aunt Heather appeared, gracefully descending the stairs. She approached my table and slid into the seat beside me, joining me for breakfast. Her eyes landed on the newly arrived suitcases, and she quirked an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity in her gaze. "What are those suitcases for?" she inquired after settling in.
I gave her a long, pointed stare, my exasperation bubbling just beneath the surface. My response was a single word, delivered with all the irritation I could muster: "Clothes."
It took her a moment to process my terse reply. A faint blush crept across her face as she stammered, "Ugh... Right. Sorry about that, Ryan. I was just trying to relieve myself from all the stress of the last few days."
Seeing the genuine apology in her eyes, my irritation softened. I sighed, a long, weary sound. "Sigh... it's fine," I conceded.
"So, what's the plan now?" Aunt Heather asked, her tone shifting to one of renewed focus.
"We'll take a cab from the local cab station to Pokhara airport and from there, we'll fly to Chennai," I laid out the plan confidently.
"We can't," Aunt Heather stated, effectively deflating my carefully constructed itinerary.
"Why?" I questioned, my brow furrowing in confusion.
"I don't have any documents," she explained.
How had I not thought of that? Who could possibly retrieve their identification during a plane crash? I couldn't fault her for this unforeseen complication. "Right, looks like I'll have to make a call," I conceded, reaching for my phone.
Though I had managed to keep my mobile phone safe, it unfortunately had no service in this country. My laptop, deemed an unnecessary burden, had been left behind in the helicopter. I approached the hotel reception to inquire about making an international call, but regrettably, they couldn't provide such a service. This meant we'd have to locate a local phone booth.
After stowing the new suitcases back in our rooms, we ventured out, asking passersby for directions to a phone booth. Once we finally reached one, I dialed my grandfather's number.
While I waited for the call to connect, four young men suddenly appeared, encircling Aunt Heather and me. One of them, speaking in heavily accented, broken English, began, "You, give every money, we or I stab holes to you and you, you, you..." He trailed off, and another of the group leaned in, whispering something in his ear. The first man nodded, then finished his threat with a flourish: "...become ghost."
Damn, man. I don't know about the knife in your hand, but you almost killed me with that sentence alone. I was still trying to count the grammatical errors in his bizarre threat, my mind racing to devise a strategy, when Aunt Heather sprang into action.
She moved with astonishing speed, executing a graceful spinning kick that connected precisely with the hand holding the knife. The weapon flew from his grasp, glinting in the sunlight as it spun away. While the four goons watched the knife's trajectory, mesmerized, she continued her assault. A powerful jump-kick connected squarely with the first man's head, knocking him out cold. Before the others could even react, she delivered a swift kick to one's groin, kneed another sharply in the stomach, and elbowed the neck of the last. In mere seconds, all four "goon brothers" lay sprawled on the ground, leaving me utterly frozen in disbelief at the sudden, brutal efficiency of what had just transpired.
I rubbed my eyes, convinced I must be hallucinating, but sometimes reality delivers far more unexpected surprises and shocks than any dream. Before I could even begin to question her about her hidden combat skills, the call connected. I had to push the astounding revelation aside for the moment, though I still kept a wary eye on the four unconscious figures on the pavement, just in case they tried anything.
"Hello, David Angelo speaking, who is this?" my grandfather's voice boomed through the phone.
"It's me, Grandfather. Ryan."
"Ryan! Finally some news! Where the hell have you been!?" he demanded, his tone severe, yet laced with palpable relief.
"Ugh... it's a long story, Grandfather, but right now I'm in Nepal, and I'm having some trouble getting back to the country," I explained, briefly outlining our predicament.
"Then I'll just book you a flight ticket," David Angelo replied, his voice surprisingly calm.
I couldn't help but voice my confusion at his composure. "You don't seem to be worried much."
"Well, when your parents called me saying you disappeared after leaving a letter, I was worried," he explained, "but when I told Shanti about it, she said there was no need to inform the police or worry too much, that you would be fine." Grandpa dropped this suspicious statement with an almost casual air.
"What? What does that mean?" I pressed, a new wave of questions arising.
"I don't know," he admitted. "When I asked your Grandmother how she knew, all she said was that she knows a friend who knows what you're doing. And since you used your bank card yesterday, I had a hunch I'd receive news from you soon." He chuckled softly as he finished his explanation.
Don't tell me her friend happens to be a bald woman who likes to wear yellow robes. A mental image flashed through my mind, and I immediately suppressed it. You know what, I don't even want to know any more!
"Let's forget about that," I interjected, steering the conversation back to the pressing issue. "I can't book a flight because I have someone else with me, and they don't have proper documentation, so we need another way."
"I see," he said after a moment of quiet contemplation. "I'll talk to your Grandmother and see what we can do."
"Thanks, Grandpa. How is Grandmother, by the way?" I asked, a sense of warmth spreading through me despite our current predicament.
"I don't know, she's in New York right now with your parents because you have a little sister now," Grandpa announced, dropping yet another unexpected surprise that nearly caused me to have a full-blown panic attack.
Huh? How long was I away in the mountains?! Mom already had another child? That means it was a long time. Don't tell me... that Tiger did something to me?! My mind reeled, trying to reconcile the timeline.