Max Annas - The Wall

It wasn’t really quiet. At least, not for long. Not even a little.

People were yelling. The dog was barking again. More than one police siren was going off in the distance. Thembinkosi listened to the nearby breathing of the two whites, which sounded as loud as a power plant. Behind him, Nozipho was sobbing. A weeping full of fear and desolation.

That was good. As long as she was crying, she was alive.

Thembinkosi’s vision was blocked by the half-shredded wardrobe door. He couldn’t see out the window. He was lying half in, half out of the wardrobe, his arms crooked over his head. High Voice was stretched out on his stomach between the bed and the window. He didn’t see any blood. He could see Deep Voice’s head, also on the floor, turned away from him. Neither of them was moving.

“We’re going in,” a male voice outside declared.

“Absolutely not!” Another male voice.

The dog barked.

“Carl?” High Voice said quietly. “Carl?”

“Hm?”

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Thembinkosi didn’t know if that was good news or bad. Neither of them had moved a millimeter, but they were alive. What did that mean?

If they were dead, the people outside wouldn’t need to keep shooting , he thought.

Except at him and Nozipho. Would they first ask who they were and what they were doing in the house? Not likely.

He slowly reached a hand to the wall that separated the wardrobe partitions. He scratched a fingernail down it. An answering scratch quickly came from the other side.

“Carl?”

“Hm?”

“What should we do?”

“Survive.”

“Exactly! That’s what I was thinking.”

High Voice’s body tensed. He was stretched out like a swastika on the floor. One hand holding his pistol, the other not. The hand not holding the pistol pushed off a little from the floor. A silent wave gradually moved through his entire body. One knee reacted with similar pressure, and High Voice was already halfway to the shot-out window.

“What are you doing?” Deep Voice asked. He began to crawl after the other man.

“Surviving!” With this word, he lifted his pistol over the edge of the windowsill and began to shoot.

“No!” Deep Voice shouted.

The first reaction from those outside was a man yelling, “Get down!”

The two guards and the referee reached a cross street, and hastily disappeared around the corner. Whatever had just happened over there, the three of them weren’t all that far away from it. Moses imagined how the street under his feet curved slightly as it moved forward. The shooting had to be happening along there. In any case, it had just stopped. Maybe everything was already over.

He had to be careful. Two more properties on both sides, and then he would also reach the cross street. He glanced around. The coast was clear. Nobody at the intersection. Another look over the houses he wanted to pass. Nothing.

Stop. He looked back one more time and saw a woman standing at the edge of a window. She had straight, blonde hair and was wearing large glasses. Older than him, though not by much. Standing stock still. Staring at him. He greeted her with a nod and then ran to the next wall.

One more yard, and he’d be able to see down the next intersection.

Now. Moses sprinted as fast as he could. As fast as he still could after all the previous running. The shooting started up again as he made a beeline for the next wall, dove across, and crouched down on the other side. He had no idea how far away the bullets were flying, but he was close enough to feel panicked.

Calmly inhale. Exhale. In. Out. Stay down for just a few more seconds, then take the next step. The gunfire broke off again. This didn’t make him feel any better, though.

“Hey!” a voice called, one he knew all too well.

Shit , he thought and automatically rolled himself up tighter, one eye peeking over the top of the wall.

A figure came running up to the intersection, looked around and took off again, almost stumbling. Moses couldn’t believe it. The man looked like him. Okay, somewhat older. He was almost the same height, but the jeans he was wearing were the same shade as his. His yellow t-shirt was a few degrees darker, but was also tight-fitting. His hair wasn’t quite as bushy as his, but was still a typical afro. Moses saw the man running his way and had the feeling that he was looking into a mirror.

Behind him was the jackass from earlier. His nemesis. Club in the one hand, something else in the other. He was drawing closer.

“Hey!” he hollered again. And: “Stop, you bastard!”

Then, he himself stopped. And Moses could now see exactly what he had in his other hand. He threw his club aside and steadied the object in both hands. Aimed.

One second ticked by before he fired a shot.

The other man was almost up to his location. Moses saw him lurch, then fall. Less than two meters separated the man and himself. The white man’s steps came closer.

Moses flattened himself as much as possible against the wall. Be invisible. Don’t even breathe.

And then somewhere else, the great shootout began again.

Keep breathing.

The second reaction was a shot that penetrated the wardrobe door. Splinters rained down on Thembinkosi, and he tried to make himself even smaller.

The third reaction was massive gunfire. Everything blazing all at once. It was as if what had happened a moment before had just been a foretaste of what was coming. Hundreds of shooters were firing into the room. Make that thousands. The entire army and the police and all the security guards in the world, all together. Thembinkosi shut his eyes and thought about praying. But it didn’t work. He’d never learned how. Instead he scratched the wood behind him. Tears sprang to his eyes when he felt the response from the other side.

The maelstrom was heavy, but it didn’t last long. It broke off at some point, and he risked opening his eyes to look to the side. High Voice was lying on his back, bleeding. He’d been hit everywhere—head, torso, legs. Deep Voice was still concealed by the bed. Only his feet were visible. However, a pool of blood was gradually collecting on the floor beside him.

A shout from outside. “Slowly!” And: “Be careful!”

Thembinkosi was also being careful. Just don’t move.

“All clear?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Closer.”

“Yes, sir.” Two voices.

“Careful!”

“Yes, sir.” The same two voices.

The conversation was coming closer. Thembinkosi thought he could hear footsteps on the lawn. He had to swallow. Had a very bad feeling.

“Everything’s fine,” a voice spoke into the room. Couldn’t have meant the room itself.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Secure it.”

“Okay.”

Thembinkosi imagined himself growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared.

Metallic noises from outside. Click and clack. One safety, then another. Then it started. Thembinkosi didn’t close his eyes this time. The shots destroyed what still remained of the two men. The bed as well, the mattress. The shots buried themselves into the wardrobe, the walls, surely the hallway also. Something outside the room shattered. Devastation , Thembinkosi thought. Don’t just break, completely annihilate . A bullet landed right next to him, then another above him. He thought about Nozipho and how much he loved her.

Then it stopped.

“Everything’s secure?” From a distance outside the house.

“Completely secure.” From closer.

Moses waited. And thought about the blonde woman. She’d seen everything, too. The white man had… Moses was shaking.