The four members of Amagqudu were now sure that Siyanda had a sixth sense. Silently, each of the young men wondered how he could have known about the situation. But a glance they gave to each other dismissed any further hint of amazement. All that mattered most was that he sounded menacingly ready for their trip.

Immediately, upon arriving at the Joe Gqabi train station, they all sighed. The station was packed to the rafters.

“Like a billion cockroaches in a cornflakes box,” murmured Sihle, one of the young men, almost biting his tongue off with regret, fearing that he could have been heard.

“I hear that!” exclaimed Sizwe teasingly. “My man, I told you to speak Xhosa. The white man’s tongue should be on emergency time only.”

Though Sizwe did not hear it, soft laughter followed instantly. “Yho! the blind leading the blind,” noted one of the commuters. “The only thing this crook should be worrying about is judgment day,” added one of the more senior ladies nearby. No doubt showing that tsotsi-taal was the team’s specialty, not English.

“Relax bra! I’m going to the same place you’re going to, but you don’t see me panicking, do you?” commanded Sizwe, clearly noting Siyanda’s restlessness.

The train finally appeared in the distance. One would swear, as it charged in, that it was in a race against the wind to see who would reach the platform first. Easily making one think it had a DJ on board, its gigantic wheels came with a loud and rapid “DOOMF-DOOMF, DOOMF-DOOMF, DOOMF-DOOMF” sound as each wheel spun. And like moths to light, hearing the sound made the thought of what track they could groove to, next, irresistible for the Amagqudu.

“Eksệ!” exclaimed one of the boys suddenly. “Do you guys hear how the train sounds like; it’s making one of those old house tracks?”

“Unyansile!” nodded every one of them in agreement, clearly getting excited about the challenge that lied ahead.

It became apparent, as they jumped into the coach, that it was no secret that their kind hunted in packs. Being suited up in uniform, as they were, was generally understood to mean that they were on the hunt. “Put the damn phone away boy,” commanded one of the carriage’s older commuters to his son, clearly aware of Amagqudu’s usual code.

But Siyanda was not feeling the pack mentality. He had his own concerns to deal with. It was clear to him that their fellow passengers were in a race to get the hell out of that train. But all his teammates saw was a look on the passengers’ faces that clearly spelt out: “WE’RE ARMED, DON’T MESS WITH US!”

“Hopefully those days are in the past,” muttered Siyanda to himself.

“Why are you talking to yourself bra?” inquired Sizwe. Before Siyanda could even gather an evasive response, Sizwe interrupted. “You’d better not be practising my speech, I’m the emcee here bra!”

Sizwe’s preoccupation with being emcee made Siyanda feel a bit relieved. At least they don’t sound like they’re in attack mode…

Tell us: What do you think the gang is planning to do?