The Other Four

by Nsununguli Mbo

  “I got a good friend of mine to help us. Did you hear what he said? We could have blown up in that van!”

  “This deal is supposed to be a secret. It’s my deal. I asked you to join in because I trust you, or trusted you. And now…”

  “We have a good friend of mine that I trust. What difference does it make anyway? A deal is a deal. It doesn’t matter how many people are involved in it.”

  “You screwed up. Damon was very specific. He said it shouldn’t be done by more than two people.”

  “Use your common sense, man. He wanted two people because that way they are less likely to fight, split and spill the beans to the wrong people. But I trust Eric. He is…”

  “Who the hell is Eric now?”

  “My friend,” Thabang said, pointing. Eric was putting back the tyre into the back of his van, seemingly unaware of the ongoing conversation. Finished with the tyre, he hopped into his van, switched on the engine and played loud music.

  “He won’t tell anyone. We won’t have to give him much of what we will get paid.”

  “You see, Thabang, that’s where the problem is. We don’t know what way we are going to get paid in. We may not necessarily get paid in money or any form of commodities. It may be that once we deliver the goods, a spell shall be cast that will make us stinking rich, but only you and me, because the deal is for two people. So what will happen then? Your guy will get frustrated, not only because we used his car to complete a deal that made us suddenly rich, but also because we didn’t pay him for it. And you know what people do when they’re frustrated? They want revenge. Your guy will go and report to the Police. He’ll tell the Police we captured a guy and took him to an old man who lives in the middle of nowhere. And we will end up in prison, in which case we won’t get to enjoy our wealth. Think!”

  Thabang was thinking. He was thinking that Dumani shouldn’t be worrying about prison. He should be worrying about the area he was going to be buried in. In the bush, out there in the middle of nowhere, that’s where. Thabang would cut him up into little pieces before burying him like he did with that dead woman. That way, he wouldn’t even be able to change into a ghost, so he couldn’t haunt Thabang and his wealth. Thabang just didn’t like people who thought they were cleverer than others. Even back in school, he was like that. You get these kids that sit at the front of the class, and every time the teacher asks a question they raise their arms and snap their fingers. Attention-seekers, that’s what they are, trying to impress the teacher with the right answer while Thabang sat down there at the back, without a clue as to the right answer to the teacher’s question. That’s why he always walloped them after class. And here now Dumani was thinking that he was cleverer than him.

  “It’s simple. If we get paid that way, we get wealthy and pay this guy in cash. Simple as that. Besides, I don’t think he’d tell anyone anyway. Come on, let’s go.”

  With that Thabang turned and walked to Eric’s van. He had no time to waste. It was getting late. And they had only six days left.

  He wondered what Eric was thinking about this whole deal.

  Eric was thinking a lot of things. Thabang was full of shit, he just wanted to use him and his van, and had no intention of giving him his cut when the deal was over. Life was tough these days. Everyone had become selfish and greedy. They see cash, and they don’t want to share. So why would Thabang want to share his pay? Dumani definitely wouldn’t. But no way was Eric going to help and not get paid. But the way things were right now there was no way he would get paid. That left him with only two choices: he either changed his mind and drove back home, forgetting about the deal, or he could find a way of guaranteeing that he got paid. The latter option was the more appealing, and Eric could think of only one way of putting it in place: To cooperate and complete the deal. They deliver whoever the guy they were meant to deliver, but Eric would wait in the car during the delivery. One of the two dumb fucks — Eric had a feeling it would be Dumani — would come in carrying the cash. He would have to throw the cash into the van first before getting in. Eric would take off, leaving his two partners in crime standing there like the losers he was going to prove to them they were. Then Eric would disappear into thin air. He’d go to South Africa and live well. They would never find him. They would never go to the Police either because then everything would backfire on them.

  M

  odiri left me home to go to work. He had finally agreed that I shouldn’t venture outside the house until I had

  worked out a final plan of how to escape from this mess. He said he never had visitors, so if anyone came knocking on the door, I shouldn’t open it. He explained that, plus, he owed some people who had the habit of knocking on people’s doors, demanding to be paid back. He said he had no intention of paying back, all the more reason why I shouldn’t open the door if I heard a knock.

  Time was approaching 10 am and I was starting to feel bored. I should have been out there trying to find my wife and children. I felt like a selfish coward, lying here in bed while my wife and kids are in danger. I was still sleepy. I hadn’t slept last night. How could I when my wife and children were missing? My lovely wife. My lovely children.

  I woke up feeling disoriented, groping around in bed, expecting my hand to knock against my wife’s warm body. Then I remembered that she was missing and I might never see her again, that I might never see my children again, that I could be headed to prison for something I didn’t do. And this filled me with venom. I wanted revenge. But I knew I couldn’t do much. All I had to do was think and that’s what I spent all morning doing.

  Hunger kept nagging at me, bringing forth a searing pain to my stomach. But the thought of food made me nauseous. But then you can’t think properly if you’re hungry. The brain needs food. So I got up from bed and went to the kitchen. I rummaged around and found some cornflakes and milk. I scooped out a decent amount of cornflakes and put them in a little bowl and added milk.

  I went to sit on the sofa, switched on the TV and stared at it while I ate. This was more as a distraction than because I really wanted to watch it. I wanted to distract myself from the nausea so I could keep down as much of the cornflakes as I could. I couldn’t concentrate. Luckily I ate all the cornflakes. And suddenly my mind became alive, even if only a little, enough for me to use it. I switched off the TV and mused. I weighed all my options — not that I had many. I played different scenarios in my head. I thought of various ways I could try and find my family.

  I was just about to give up and go back to bed to wait for the beard to grow when an idea hit me, one I was sure would at least put all the attention away from me.

  Mothusi was trying hard not to despair. If he did, fate might sense his despair and lead him down a path that would result in more despair. Simple as that. He had to stay positive. The annoying thing was, he didn't know where to look. But Tsebeyatonki wasn't what you'd call a big village. Everyone knew everyone else. It would've been easy for him to walk up to one of the locals, describe the witness and voila! But the repercussions were repulsive.

  If he did it that way, things may boomerang back onto him. A man goes missing, a local remembers one of the locals asking around for the missing man, two and two will be added together and the answer will be four. And when the answer was four, prison would start calling. He had no desire to go to prison. He knew one guy who went in there and when he came out, he wanted to go back in, so he raped his neighbour’s wife and his wish came true.

  First he went to check for the witness at Tshiamo & Sons Bar, just in case he was that dumb. The bar was empty except for a few broke locals who were just lazing around.

  He left and headed down the gravel path that ran across the village, dividing it into south and north. He knew this was a dumb move. The chief had told him he’d spoken to the witness and told him he was going to report him to the Police. So there was nowhere Mothusi could bump into him strolling down the path. He would be out there somewhere, hiding. But where? Surely by now everybody i
n the village knew he was a wanted man? So he wouldn't risk taking the bus, in which case his only option was hitch-hiking. But he wouldn't try to grab a lift from the village. He'd have to walk, as far away from the village as he could, until he reached somewhere where the person behind the wheel was unlikely to be a familiar face. But that would mean a long walk through the bush, which was where Mothusi wanted him.

  He took a detour, passed by his home to collect a knobkerrie and an axe and headed off into the bush. Dumani hated the fact that they made him sit in the middle just because he wasn't as fat as Thabang. Eric should have been the one sitting in the middle, but he claimed no one would be able to drive his van except him because he'd done something to it to guard against theft, and that something made it impossible for anyone else to drive it. Dumani thought the guy was full of bullshit. He didn't trust the guy. He trusted Thabang even less. Not many people would brand Dumani as smart, but there was something that was not right about this whole arrangement.

  Their van had been about to explode, fine, thanks Eric for warning us, but Dumani didn't like the way Thabang had insisted on allowing Eric to tag along. The easier thing would have been for Eric to drive them to Lentsweng, locate a car that was easy to steal and Thabang could get to work on it. But no, Eric wanted to tag along, and Thabang was okay with that. That could mean only one thing: that the two were planning to swindle him. But he wasn't going to let that happen.

  I knew it was a big risk to contact anyone yet, but I had to talk to my parents. By now they would have heard the false news. I had to reassure them; let them know I was okay. It took a lot of courage to actually dial my mother's number. It rang and rang. I was patient with her. She had an old, large Nokia phone that she usually kept in places that were not readily accessible, so it always took longer than necessary for her to first locate it and find the right button to press. Despite my knowledge of this, a twinge of worry attacked me as the phone kept on ringing. I worried that those abductors may have decided to go for the rest of my family. The phone had rung ten times and still no answer. I stood up and paced around. They had my family. Those bastards had my family. I wanted to scream. I wanted to go to the Police and tell them the truth. But then they'd ask me questions to which I didn't have an answer yet.

  I tried my father's number. His was off. But then he could be at the farm, where there was no coverage.

  But still. I tried my mother's number again. Thankfully she answered this time. She sounded like she was out of breath. She usually got asthma attacks during times of stress. Was she stressed? Had she heard the false news?

  "Hello!" she said.

  "Mother. I..."

  "Why did you do what you did my child? Why did you kill your wife? Where are the children? What did..."

  "Mother, please listen."

  "Don't tell me to listen. You're a killer. Do you know what's happening down here? We're being stigmatized. We're the parents of a killer. A serial killer is what you've been labelled as down here. You killed your wife, and you tried to kill Mothusi." Oh, so that was his name! "Where did you bury your wife's body Ngano? Where are the children?"

  The tears. They started off small, and immediately built into an uncontrollable torrent. I'd hoped my mother of all people would at least be supportive. I'd hoped she would stand by my side like she had always done.

  "Mother, what you heard is not true. Please, believe me."

  "Why should I believe you? If what we've heard is wrong, why don't you come down here and face the people who are accusing you and tell them they're wrong? To me, your disappearance is proof enough of your guilt."

  "Please, I need your support. And you're the only person that I can count on. Please. Believe me. I need help in finding my wife and children."

  She was silent for a long time. I could imagine her sitting on the sofa, head bowed in the characteristic way she usually held it when she was musing. Then I heard the sniffle. The guilt hit me hard.

  "My son, what really happened?"

  "Mother, I’ve already told you."

  "They say you mentioned something about a woman having been killed when you were on the phone with the chief. Who was that woman?"

  I sighed and said, "I don't know who she is. That's the reason why I couldn't tell anyone yet."

  "Your wife is the only woman that's missing, and that could mean only one thing: That you..."

  Then I heard the familiar shortness of breath, the difficulty speaking because of shortness of breath, the thump, her falling to the floor. An asthma attack. Her asthma attacks oftentimes resulted in hospitalisation. And I feared she might be home alone. And I was a hundred kilometres away. Which meant nobody was going to find her. And she could die, all because of me. The guilt hit me hard. I wasn’t feeling guilty because I had done anything wrong. I was feeling so because I wished I could have done more to convince at least my mother that I was innocent. If she’d believed me, then at least she wouldn’t have had the asthma attack.

  Mothusi liked walking, especially out in the bush. He always liked the feeling of being at one with nature. It was an invigorating feeling, but not so much this time. How could it be when he was looking for an evasive man like that one? The guy had evaded him twice.

  And now Mothusi had an injured foot. That was another reason why he wasn't feeling so invigorated today. He was in pain, though not as much as last night. He'd bandaged the foot nicely with a piece of clothing that he got off an old pair of pants and the Panadol was doing its job.

  He would have preferred to take it easy, stay at home and let his foot heal. But he had a week, which wasn't much time. And God knew what would happen to him if he didn't find that man within the week. Hopefully those fools wouldn't mistake him for the guy Damon had sent them off to get again. They were probably somewhere out here in the bush too. He had to find them first and hack them to death. It would be interesting to find out who it was they were supposed to bring in. It had to be a local, otherwise they wouldn't be looking around this area.

  Being an avid hunter, Mothusi was very good at tracing footprints. He saw a set and followed them.

  The trail disappeared into a thicket. No point following them any further, they probably belonged to a hunter. Mothusi wondered if the owner eventually caught what he'd been chasing. There were a lot of rabbits and stuff around this area.

  He turned and walked towards the TsebeyatonkiLentsweng road in the hope that the witness could be stuck somewhere around that area. You never know.

  He was just about to reach the road when something caught his attention: a vehicle parked in the bushes, yet close enough to the road. If he had walked the other way he'd have missed it. And it wasn't just any vehicle. It was the vehicle, the van belonging to his dumb captors.

  Curiosity got the better of him. He wondered what had happened, because the van looked abandoned. Or the dumb fools could be out there looking for their victim. Or taking a nap inside the van. One of the tyres he had slashed was still the way it was the last time he saw it, but the fact that the van was not where he left it meant it was driveable.

  Mothusi walked towards the van and when he reached it, peered inside. There was no one. He peered again. The keys still dangled from the ignition. Mothusi had never been a thief, but the temptation was too much today. Plus, if he stole this van, that would be some sort of revenge.

  He looked around like a thief, made sure the coast was clear, and climbed into the driver seat and turned the key. The van started, but with a lot of noise. He nearly jumped out, but he told himself that if those fools appeared, fate would lead him as to what to do. Fate had led him here. Fate got him a van that would make it easier for him to find his new victim.

  He put the van in gear one and the van lurched forward and limped. Worse than it had been the last time he was in it.

  There must have been further damage to the tyres. That’s probably the reason why the two fools abandoned it. He got out and looked around in the back of the van for a spare tyre. He found one bu
t it, too, was as bad as the one that was on the van. He recognized the knife holes in it. He had to call someone. He regretted damaging the tyres. But then if he hadn’t, things might have turned out a different way. Fate. You just don’t mess with it. It had a plan for him.

  There was a person who had always saved him in such situations and would bring him a spare tyre. He took out his phone. Two bars for network. He dialled the number that he, by now, knew by heart.

  My father's phone was still off. I didn't want to ring my parents-in-law because I knew they would still be fuming. The chief would have been one of the best people to ring, but right now I knew he couldn't trust me. I needed a second brain, unmarred by worries.

  Without putting much thought into it, I rang Modiri. His phone was either off or engaged. I waited a bit, pacing around as I did. My fingertips were bleeding from excessive nail biting. I always bit my nails when I was nervous. I tried Modiri's phone again. It was still off or engaged.

  Time was of the essence. Every second counted. I'd seen how quickly my mother tended to deteriorate during an asthma attack unless she got immediate help. One time she’d lost consciousness. The doctor at the clinic said she would have died within the next ten minutes had she not got help.

  Oh, which reminded me... But first I had to try Modiri again. His phone was still off or engaged. I had only one option. I had the number to Tsebeyatonki health centre saved on my phone. I dialled it. It rang before the rude nurse that manned the clinic answered.