Max Annas - The Wall

“And your mother-in-law herself?”

“She’s dead. She couldn’t have taken the money.” High Voice was growing more self-assured. Receding fear. Deep Voice wouldn’t take him out. At least, not immediately.

“But she might have told someone. My son-in-law says he’s in trouble, but I don’t believe him.”

“And someone followed her?”

“Why not?”

“And waits until she’s dead to take the money.”

“What did you actually tell her?”

“You know already.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“They’ve left again,” High Voice said. He began to pace up and down.

“What?” Silence.

“Oh! The dog and the people. They’re gone.” High Voice. “I told her that I didn’t know what to do. And I told her about the Czech.”

“So, the truth.”

“Yes, just not the amount. I exaggerated that. A little.”

“That was the plan. What did you tell her about the Czech?”

“The truth, that he’s going to kidnap Gwen, and then rape her and cut her into little pieces.”

“If he didn’t get his money back.”

“Yes. If he didn’t get his money back.”

Leaden legs. Moses turned back toward the street with the thought that he would never again run as long as he lived. There was no point to any of this here. What had he run away from in the first place? A poor white man who hadn’t accepted the political transition. A caretaker whose responsibility it was to repair faucets. A couple of security guards who didn’t understand the difference between democracy and dictatorship. They were stuck in jobs that had no real productive value as it was.

Pull yourself together , he admonished himself. Everyone was just doing their job, just trying to survive. Except for the white guy with the club. And then there were the cops. They were after him, too.

He didn’t want to run anymore.

Looked down the street to the right. Empty. Left. Empty.

How in the world was he supposed to get out of here?

One more glance to the right. Shit. The white man with the club. And he had already caught sight of him.

So to the left. A security car was now driving toward him. The same bakkie again.

Moses turned around and ran. Past Flower’s house to the wall, and then left down the hill. Toward the exit. However, a guard was standing in the yard a few houses down. With his back to him, yelling something or other. Had to have seen him.

Moses whipped back around, running back the way he’d come. Once again the wrong way. Away from the exit. Away from rescue. Away from Sandi. Was she on her way yet?

Ludelwa Tontsi was still standing next to the Central Alert car when the dog sniffed the threshold. She was thinking about her mother and what she had advised her. Better to have a badly paid job than none at all. And it was indeed badly paid. She received 2,200 rand for an entire month of work. Six days a week, twelve hours a day. After deducting the 300 rand for the shack in Duncan Village and the cost of the taxi trips to the headquarters, she barely had enough to pay for food. Bread, milk, and instant oatmeal for breakfast… And she could forget about a monthly visit to her family in Mnyameni. Those 150 kilometers also came at a price. That was why she had to sometimes ask her mother to send her money, so that she could pay for the trip out of her pension.

Now the dog was coming out of the house, the black cop right behind him. Then the white cop. The old man who owned the house stayed at the door.

Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. The junior boss. She took the call.

“Ludelwa?”

“Mmhm.” Of course, it was her. He had called her after all.

“You’re still at the house of that old… Mr.—what’s his name?—Foster?”

“Yes.”

“The dog’s there?”

“They’re coming out now.”

“Good. I’d like you to stay with them. Whenever something happens, I want us to be there.” Stevie van Lange hesitated. “Okay? I don’t want the cops to later say we weren’t there to help.”

“Okay,” Ludelwa said.

“All right, so stick with them.” Van Lange hung up.

Her mother had given her one more piece of advice when she’d gotten started. When a job is so poorly paid, always wait until someone tells you what to do. Forget about showing initiative. That’s why you have superiors. Ludelwa had always followed that advice.

The dog led the way, the two cops behind him. They didn’t say a word. Ludelwa wondered fleetingly if she should follow them on foot. She decided to get into the car and follow them at walking speed.

The white cop looked over his shoulder when he realized that she was behind them. The other one just watched the dog. The animal had its nose to the ground and rounded a corner onto a street leading to the right. It then hesitated and retraced its steps as if it had made a mistake. The dog stopped, turned around again, and went down the street after all.

Now the dog seemed to be more confident. A hundred meters in front of her, she could see another company car. The dog walked up to it and stopped. The two cops exchanged glances, then greeted whoever was in the Central Alert vehicle. Ludelwa couldn’t tell who was at the wheel.

For a few seconds, time seemed to stand still. Just like the dog, which was standing like a statue. Like the two cops, who were waiting for the dog to do something. The animal then turned and took a few steps toward one of the houses. Stopped again.

The dog now started to bark loudly. It was probably too hot for him.

Moses vaulted over the waist-high hedge. Too much effort, too much strength , he thought. He didn’t need to jump so high. However, he also didn’t want to fall again. Lawn, small walls, a bed, lawn, another hedge. Falling down meant losing time. And getting hurt.

Everything was pointless. He hadn’t done anything. Another low wall, grass with flowers, children’s toys, a wide bed, a long jump, over the next hedge, as well. Something with thorns. Just don’t get tangled up. Just don’t fall. Okay… the two houses. The security guy with the leg. And the other with the… he didn’t want to think about it. The kick between his legs must have hurt horribly.

At the thought of what he could have done with that kick, Moses felt sick. Up ahead, a sharp bend in the wall because he had reached the Nahoon again. As far away from the exit as he could possibly be. He stopped for a second. Turning around, he saw the guard was on his trail but moving slowly. From somewhere, a police siren was coming closer. He heard a second one further off. A dog was barking its head off. Far away. He wiped the sweat off his face and glanced down at himself. His pants were torn and filthy. Luckily, he had put on his Adidas this morning. It was still too hot for them, but they had kept him from slipping when hauling around the boxes. Now he was glad to have on shoes that he could run in. His t-shirt had weathered everything amazingly well. A few spots, dirt, sweat, a tear. His lower arms were dirty. He tried to wipe them on his jeans. Again. The siren grew closer.

Only two more yards until the 90-degree angle, then along the river. Somewhere, he thought, there had to be a way out of this repeating loop. Run, get away, get found, run, get away. At some point. Soon , he added. Otherwise, they’ll catch me . There were already so many of them, and their numbers kept increasing.

Another hedge, a lawn, slow down a little to round the corner, speed back up. Ugh, this wall was really tall. A good launch, cleared it, landed, briefly off-balance, caught himself, keep going.

He didn’t see a thing. It came out of nowhere. An attack like in a war. He was just tensing up to take the next leap as his lower body was ripped apart. There was nothing he could do about it. There was the one movement, which was his, and there was the other, which came from somewhere else. And it was much stronger.