He reached the fused caravans and felt pain from his injured leg. The General’s orders were clear: Let the Nigerians make a device with a switch. Let them deliver it to Norah and kill all of them. He followed the first two perfectly, but he did not like killing as a first resort, so he told them to go back to Nigeria.

Six shots, five dead bodies and a leg wound later, David felt the cold piercing his wound. He punched it foolishly and let out a soft grunt. He took out his Z88 and walked up to the front door. A piece of paper was hanging on it. It read:

Nice try, old man. Love Norah.

*****

The General opened his eyes. The sun peeped through the maroon curtains. His bedroom had artificial warmth. He turned his gaze to the woman lying next to him. Her name started with an “M” which is all he remembered. He carefully rose from the bed, trying not to wake Miss M.

He walked into the en suite, looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were still heavy; his hair was thick, mostly black, grey in some places. He touched his face and felt the years in the lines, the avenues. He pissed, brushed his teeth and headed back to Miss M.

“Wake up.”

She did. She stretched and rolled out of bed and stood with her back to him. The General admired Miss M’s body. He remembered the initial attraction, her ass in the red dress. She was naked now. The General smiled.

“I have stuff to do today. Use whatever you want, but I want you out by three,”

She turned around, picked up her red dress from the floor and walked past The General into the en suite. The door closed with a thud.

He looked around the room and sighed. It was a mess. He was too drunk last night. Several bottles of scotch lay at the foot of the bed. Various under garments were scattered around the room. Miss M was wild. He picked up one of the scotch bottles, examined it and finished the last few drops left in the bottle.

It was a big day today. He opened the curtains, opened the sliding door and walked onto the balcony. It was just after noon, the sun was high and there were grey clouds scattered across the sky. He gazed over his compound. It was a collection of small buildings, three houses and his home. He looked into the courtyard and saw a few people roaming around.

“Hello!”

Every person waved at him then returned to their business. He realised that he was just wearing boxers and a vest. He shrugged and took his cigarette from the packet lying on the balcony table. He lit it and smoked blissfully.

David walked up the steps of The General’s home. It was a Victorian mansion, twin towers and all. There was a garden with two tiny trees complementing the towers on each side of the front entrance. David looked at the ancient door and the brass knocker. David knocked and the maid opened the door.

“Is he in?”

She did not answer, but she swung the door wider and walked deeper into the house. David closed the door, hung his blood soaked coat on the coat hanger and headed up the stairs towards The General’s bedroom. David stepped into the room.

He heard the shower running. He looked around the room, saw women’s underwear and shook his head. “Again,” he sighed. The General walked into the room from the balcony and smiled warmly.

“David! Welcome back!”

“It’s good to be back, Sir.”

“Yes, yes. How was the drive?”

“Quiet. No ANC patrols. We have a problem.”

“Keep your voice down. We have a guest.” The General pointed at the en suite door.

“Norah got away. She knew somehow,” David said in a lowered voice.

“Same old Norah. We’ll deal with her another time. I think we should announce what happened at four.”

“That’s best, Sir. Do you mind if I take the rest of the day off?”

“Of course. Get some rest. You did well.”

David left the room, walked to the foyer and picked up his blood soaked coat. He exited the house and exhaled heavily. “Finally,” he breathed as he got into Jerome’s car. He drove off towards the vast expanses of South Africa, his leg throbbing rhythmically.

***

Let’s chat: If you had to flee for your life, where would you go? And why?