Getting closer, and he was caught in a corner formed by the outer wall. Close to the river. Scrambled over another wall and another hedge that he more squashed than cleared. Now he could see around a house corner.
Not far away, perhaps only three yards over, several people were standing and chatting. A guard was with them. Moses could sense their excitement. Most of them were white, only the guard was black. He really didn’t want to know what they were talking about. He wanted out of here. He wanted to get away. But how? Look around!
And Moses couldn’t believe what he saw. Shut his eyes and opened them again. It was true. The neighboring terrace door, only a few meters from him, was open a crack. People could be so careless, despite the fact they were so afraid of burglars, of black burglars… But when it came to precautionary measures, the normal ones, they failed miserably. Through the door and into the house. And then catch his breath. Like before. That was the new plan.
Nobody was looking his way. He very slowly pushed apart the hedge and crawled through. Slowly, don’t do anything frantically. Only a few more meters. The stretch between the well-manicured yard and the tiled terrace. The open door was almost within reach. Only one more meter.
He had to pull the door open a little, then he was through. Flipped over onto his stomach before sticking his head back out the door to check the situation. No one had noticed him.
Moses stood up and stretched out his back. All this crawling around was demeaning. The running, too.
As well as the hiding. He closed the door quietly and listened inside the house. Nothing. No noise anywhere. Nonetheless, he decided to be very careful. But first he needed something to drink.
33
Thembinkosi watched yet another security vehicle drive up. Now there were two Polos and a brand new Toyota bakkie from which emerged four more people. Five men and two women were now standing in front of the house, all in Central Alert uniforms. The driver of the second Polo looked like he was in charge or, at least, the highest ranking among them. He was talking and gesturing, and then he shrugged quickly. Just wait. He wagged his pointer finger, too. We’ll catch him. Someone in the group nodded. Of course, boss. What else could he say?
“Well?” He heard Nozipho behind him.
He turned around. She was actually wearing the white dress with the yellow pinstripes. It fit after all. She looked great.
“It’s a little snug!” she said.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, looking her up and down. “The sneakers look a little funny, don’t you think?”
“Hmm… Yeah, but I’m keeping my own shoes on. But if I end up having to run, this dress won’t just be snug. It’ll rip. We’re not at that point yet, though. Not yet.” She joined him at the window: “What’s going on out there?”
“Lots of people. Too many. Security.”
“Because of the… Who did you see a few minutes ago?”
“I don’t know. A young guy, uh… He was… yeah, young. I only saw him for a few seconds. And then someone was chasing him. A white guy.”
Nozipho shook her head. “We’ll just wait.”
“Until there are fewer of them out there.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“No,” Thembinkosi said. “No!” He sniffed loudly. “Did you put on her perfume?”
“Only a little! Really, it was just a dab.”
34
Lots of greenery in the fridge. Lettuce, cucumbers, apples, herbs. Other fruits as well. No meat. Several kinds of juice. A white woman, Moses thought. Typical. He reached for a carton of papaya juice and drank out of it. He knelt down beside the cabinets and turned the spigot on the water canister. Let it run and gulped down water. So incredibly thirsty.
In the bathroom, he pulled a towel off a bar and wiped the sweat from his face and arms. The towel smelled of expensive soap. Moses pressed it against his face and inhaled. He wondered what parts of herself the occupant of this house had dried with this towel. He hung it back up. Would she catch his scent later, too?
Though small, the lounge had been decorated with at least a little good taste. Colorful, no excessive frills. A few photos were sitting in a small cupboard next to the TV. A brunette woman with medium-length hair. A photo with her mama, one with a friend, one with another friend, and yet another with a different friend, who looked Asian. No man in any of them. Maybe she was lesbian. Would make sense. Many lesbians were vegetarian. He’d read that somewhere. Or someone had told him that. Way at the back, there was another photo showing her sitting on the beach wearing a bikini. Next to her, another woman in t-shirt and shorts, perhaps ten years older than her. Moses studied the woman in the bikini who had to be the one living here. Tried to mentally undress her, to imagine her naked. He shook his head. He had other worries. Real worries.
Back in the bathroom, he lifted the toilet lid and peed. As he was about to flush the commode, some impulse made him hesitate. It was best to not be too loud. Someone might be standing at the door, someone who knew that the woman wasn’t at home right now. In that case, the sound of flushing would raise red flags.
What should he do now? In here, he was at least safe for the time being. But that safety was only relative to what was going on outside. Who might be searching for him close by? And who might come in the house? And the million-dollar question still hadn’t changed: How could he get out of here?
Moses quietly cursed the fact that he was now farther from the exit than he had been a few minutes ago. If he’d been lucky, he might already be looking at the gate. What now? He was about the same distance away as he had been the moment he started running from the two whites. How much time had passed since then? He looked at his watch. It was already two o’clock.
Only two. It had been less than an hour since he’d started trying to escape. And yet, it felt like an eternity to him. And it was still so damned hot. He was dripping in sweat again.
Somewhere, he heard the rising sound of a siren. They were coming with sirens blaring. Moses listened more closely. And then even more closely. There was something about this tone that bothered him.
It slowly dawned on him that what he was hearing wasn’t a siren.
35
The highest ranking of the security personnel sent the two colleagues who had come with him off on foot. As he talked, he gestured vaguely in various directions. Do this, do that. The young man and woman, the rookies, disappeared.
He then turned to the bakkie crew. More pointing and talking. The four guards got back in the bakkie and drove off.
“Should we go now?” Nozipho asked, just as another bakkie pulled up. Central Alert, again. Four people, again. Three of them young: two women, one man. In uniform.
As well as an older white man. At least fifty. A little heavier. It was hard for him to climb down from the driver’s seat to the street. Once he emerged, the power structure changed in front of the house. The man who had previously been in charge respectfully approached the white man. Nodded before even a word was spoken.
The chief looked around. Well? He asked the question without speaking.
The other man spoke for him. Pointed, gestured, bootlicked. The white man nodded. Reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a phone.
“That doesn’t look good,” Nozipho said.
“Uh-uh!”
“All because of the boy?”
“Don’t know.”
“He’s calling the cops.”
“So what.”
“But…”
“What?”
“Nothing!”