The Narrator
A few days passed by, and no texts or calls from Michael were received by his family. It was as if he disappeared or had seemingly gone missing. It might've been a few days, yet his family had already begun panicking, each of them left in a state of paranoia. 'Where is he?' they all thought. 'Could he have gotten himself into a slight predicament that perhaps he needed help?' or 'Was he dead?'
This they all wondered, but their paranoia stemmed not from Michael just missing but from a trauma response from losing their beloved father and husband, Blade, years ago. This was a nightmare sprung to life for all of them, for they once lost Blade, and that took a lot from them. How much more will the pain greatly multiply if they lose Michael?
Nicolas's Letter
In all my life there have only been a few moments where I was so scared and terrified that anxiety took over. The first being when we lost our father, the worst moment in my life, and I have had many. The second being a memory of the first, when my idiotic brother went missing. All was well when he left for a business trip he had told us about the previous day; he promised us that he would return just after two days in Durban.
My mother had this rule for all of us: that we should always maintain connection with one another. This meant that should someone go out somewhere, they are to call just to confirm their safety and well-being. No one was immune to this rule; this included Michael, who was already an adult back then, and not to mention Ayer—even he had to obey, and he was 64 at that time.
The problem with Michael's trip was that he did not maintain connection with any of us for more than three days. This was all odd for all of us; back then, neither of us would've recalled a time where Michael would openly disobey our mother's rules. If he disobeyed, then it meant that something beyond his control overwhelmed him.
Each of us attempted multiple times to call him, yet neither of us were lucky. The first few hours his phone rang without response, and then afterwards it went straight to voicemail.
Confusion and paranoia flooded our house those days; a silence so unrecognizable surged heavily within our walls. You could feel depression rapidly polluting the air. All of a sudden we could read each other's thoughts, yet no one would speak of it; we all pretended as if all was well, but deep down we were trembling.
There was this one thought that came to all of us as an irresistible itch consistently bugging us annoyingly. This thought was, 'What if something happened to him and he's gone? What then?'
I could not think of any reality without my brother; anything without him was hell. A fictitious world that did not exist and would not exist, I did not allow myself to explore the thought of losing him, yet the itch remained ever more so insufferable.
Michael had left Cape Town for Durban on Friday morning; the last time he maintained connection was at his arrival in Durban, which was in the early morning hours. After that, it was just silent. We expected his call Friday night, yet nothing. We expected a call Saturday morning, yet nothing. Saturday evening, nothing. Even Sunday morning, nothing!
Sunday afternoon, having seen what this was doing to our mother, I went upstairs to her room to try and comfort her in any way I could, yet when I got there her door was slightly open; it seemed she thought she closed it shut.
I got there before I could knock. I heard her praying. Surprised that she was praying after a really long time, I peeped and saw her on her knees right next to her bed, her elbows touching her bed as both her hands covered each other. I remember her prayer so clearly I could speak it with my own lips, she said.
My God, my Lord, my Father, blessed be Your holy name upon the earth as upon the heavens. My God, I come to you troubled. If there's one thing I ask of you here and now, it is that no harm come to my child. I could not even bear even a mere thought of losing one of my children. My Lord, I know that I have not been pleasing in your sight, for I have not been faithful in many of my ways. It's disgraceful of me to come to you when I am in need, but my Lord, if I don't call to you, who else can I call? Who else has called me daughter and I father? You alone are my God and Father, my refuge and rock. Thank you that you've forgiven me of all sins through your glorious sacrificial lamb, my God and king. May you remain the God of me and my family all the days of our lives in your mighty name. Amen!
After hearing her prayer, oddly, I smiled and decided not to speak to her and left her door and went to Jordyn's room. I knocked upon arriving; she replied, Come in. I found her lying in her bed, all depressed; judging by her eyes, she had been crying. I said to her, "Hey, loser." She rudely replied, "What do you want?"
What I want is for you to stop sitting here crying. Michael is okay wherever he is. We can't sit here and act as if he's gone. He's alive! And I need you to believe that.
"I know that he's not gone, I just…what if this is like last time?" She replied, asking me, to which I replied No, it's not it won't be; we need to be hopeful. Jordyn, he's fine. I will see you during dinner, okay? It's going to be all okay. I closed the door and left her room.
Later that day our mother was all smiley and all glowing; it was a miracle! This woman had been depressed the last few days, but right then and there it was like she had been revived. That evening Ayer was nowhere to be seen, but it didn't concern us as much as our concerns were heavily weighted on Michael, yet still, just as we were, all three of us enjoyed our dinner. We laughed, told stories we had never told each other—at least the appropriate ones—and we laughed reminiscing about our past; it was beautiful.
And as for our beloved Michael, we waited.
The Narrator
Earlier those past few days, after Michael's meeting with Zweli,
Michael found himself crawling outside the beds of water that had left him soaking wet. His head was fuzzy from his reckless yet necessary fall evading Zweli and his men. He had swum, allowing the river's current to dictate his path to move quite far from his enemies. After swimming out of the water, Michael felt complications with his body; other than feeling drowsy, there was a sharp, irresistible pain barging from the lower parts of his left shoulder.
The pain was so irresistible that Michael took his right hand and placed it where the pain was, attempting to ease his pain, yet doing so aggravated his pain; feeling the effects, he groaned. Though there was darkness all around, the moon was the only source of light. After touching the region where he felt the sharp pain, he moved his hand towards his face, and he gazed extensively as he saw a red substance and realized that he was bleeding.
It seemed that from the abundance of bullets purposely aimed at Michael earlier, one was able to penetrate his skin. He had been so lucky, for as many as there were, one struck him, and it struck him in a not-so-critical place. What he needed so incredibly fast was to contain the bleeding. Realizing that he was bleeding, he acted really fast; he removed his jacket, exposing his t-shirt, and he removed it as well.
He was left with only his bulletproof vest; he also removed it and was left shirtless, and to the t-shirt he aggressively ripped a huge portion and covered it around where he bled and made a knot so that the t-shirt would hold and pressed the wound from bleeding out. This had been a painful thing to do, but he did all he had to do. His T-shirt had been ripped, so he felt it was unwearable; he tossed it to the river and wore his bulletproof vest and jacket.
He rose up and attempted walking; it was clear to him that what he needed to do was call Ayer to rescue him if he wanted to escape these lands. He touched his inside jacket pocket, and luckily his phone was still with him. He took it out of his pocket, and heavens, good, his phone had not been affected by the water due to the layers of his jacket and his phone being water resistant.
He attempted to dial Ayer's number just after taking a few steps from the position he crawled out of, but before he could call Ayer, his eyes became heavier and heavier and his head became more fuzzy; before he knew it, he descended to the ground. Falling into a deep slumber, it seemed after falling into the river he took a huge hit on his head, possibly by a hard rock or solid material beneath; this gave him a concussion.
Several hours passed, dawn came, yet Michael was still out unconscious.
It was after a few more hours that a stranger came, a village girl who came to the river with the intention of pouring water with her blue bucket that she came with. She came and did not see him lying to the side; she did not see him, possibly because Michael had descended into an area where there's tall grass enough to bury a five-month-old dog.
She walked straight to the river and poured water into her bucket. Just after filling her bucket, she placed it to the side, and she stood there for a few minutes. Someone who would've seen her at that moment would've concluded that she had a lot on her mind.
After standing there, she finally decided to go back home. She took her bucket and started walking. Just after a few steps, she stopped in terror as she saw a man lying down unconscious. This was strange, she told herself. Could he be dead? She wondered, and she shouted, "Sawubona!" (Hello!). The man did not respond, "Bhuti, kungabe ukahle?" (Sir, are you okay?) Still the man did not respond.
She left her bucket and built the courage to approach him, and she went straight in his direction. Upon approaching him, she shook him with her right hand while maintaining distance so that if he reacted dangerously, then she would run. After she shook him three times, his eyes slowly opened. She saw them opening, and she took a step back.
Michael awoke, but just after he woke up, he groaned as his pain intensified. He had descended on his stomach, which meant his wounded side was touching the ground. Now not only was his gun wound the source of his pain, but his head was also in pain. He cried out as he turned his body, lying on his back.
His sight was blurry for a few seconds; he squinted his eyes, attempting to clear his vision, and eventually it did. Behold, a woman stood before him; she appeared to be in her early 20s. Even in absolute pain, Michael could not unsee her beauty; he gazed at her, and she was a sight to behold. "Hey," Michael said to her. "Hi," she replied, "Kungabe konke kukahle bhuti (Sir, is everything okay)?"
"I am not okay; I need your help. Please help me," Michael says as he groans. What's wrong? The lady asked him with great concern, "Please, I've been shot near my left shoulder and my head…my head is in pain; I just need some relief. Please, if I could get something to relieve the pain." He said to her, desperately pleading.
It's okay, I'll help you. I'm a medical student. I just need to get my medical kit back at home; I will be back in just a few minutes.
The lady ran back home, and in just a few minutes she came back with her medical kit and a bottle of spring water. From her journey back home, she had carried a towel blanket that she used to kneel on top of while working with Michael.
She urged Michael to reveal the wound so that she could operate. Michael slowly rose his upper body and attempted to take off his jacket. After seeing him struggling, the lady helped him. After they took off his jacket, his bulletproof vest remained, and it also was taken off. The lady then took off the piece of cloth, the remains of his t-shirt, which stopped the bleeding, and as he bled, she used sterile water to clean and disinfect the wound.
She then used gauze pads where the wound was and used a long gauze bandage to wrap around his shoulder. It seems the bullet was able to penetrate through your skin and was able to fracture your scapula, your shoulder blade. What I've done is simply stop the bleeding and have attempted to clean the wound using sterile water. It's a temporary fix; you honestly need to go to a medical facility for proper treatment, the lady said, speaking to Michael.
"Thank you," he said as he held his head. "Oh, for your headache, I got you some painkiller tablets. They should ease your pain and will eventually make you drowsy and sleep," she replied. She gave him the tablets and the bottle of spring water to drink with them.
"I need to call you an ambulance to take you to a hospital," she said, but before she attempted to call, Michael interjected, saying, "Please don't! If you do that, then you'll be putting my life at risk. The people who did this to me are still out looking for me; calling the ambulance would only alarm them."
What? Then what would you have me do?
"You? No, you have done enough, thank you. You've shown kindness to me, an absolute stranger, and for that I am eternally grateful, but now I have to walk on my own," Michael says as he attempts to stand but struggles to maintain balance.
How far do you think you're going to get? The lady asks, "I don't know," he said, "but I must keep going." She sees him stumbling and attempting to stand; she then had pity on him.
Listen, sir, you won't get far if you attempt to walk all alone, and even if you do, you will eventually faint again, and if someone like me who was walking by was able to spot you. Do you really think that it will be hard for the people looking for you to find you? When you fall, God knows where.
"That is a valid point, but you see, I have no choice."
You do have a choice, and that's me. Now I just have to find you a place to hide you in. I can't take you home because everyone would see us from a mile away.
Michael looks at her surprised and says, "Why are you so persistent in helping me? You don't even know me. Look, the why doesn't really matter right now; what's important is where are we going to hide you? Just know that I want to do this.
I think I've found a place to hide you, she said. Are you afraid of caves? She proceeded to ask, "No, I'm not." Michael answered boldly.
Good, because I'm taking you to one; it's not far from here. We can walk and make it hopefully without being seen.
She helped Michael dress in his bulletproof vest and jacket, then she helped him stand and allowed him to swing his arm around her neck and shoulders for balance. She also held his arm to maintain balance so he wouldn't fall. They began walking, slowly they walked, avoiding broad paths taken by locals. They walked at least 15 to 18 minutes and then finally arrived. It had been a miracle that not even one person saw them.
The lady carefully laid Michael on his behind, next to a wall. She quickly moved away from him, finding her own space, sitting next to a wall. She panted heavily, overwhelmed by Michael's weight. As she panted, she gazed at Michael and smiled at him, saying, Wow, you're really heavy.
Michael saw her smiling, and like a contagious flu, he smiled back, saying, "I'm so sorry to do that to you; I'm sure I took all your strength away from you.
All of it! I mean, you literally took all of it, but, um, no, it's fine; it was expected. You're a tall figure, after all; that comes with large bone density. I'm assuming you're above 6 feet?
"6'5, actually," Michael replied. Yo, so I was literally carrying a giant, she said, making Michael laugh out loud, "I'm really not that big." What? No, you definitely are; if you're not big, then I honestly don't know what big is.
Michael continued laughing. "You're mean, body-shaming me like this," he said. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't do that, she said whilst laughing.
"You have a gorgeous smile, even with my fuzzy head and my blurry eyes I see it; it's gentle and so comforting," Michael said as he was deeply struck by drowsiness.
The girl smiles just about when she was about to say thank you. She saw him almost dozing off. She took her towel blanket and folds it neatly, good enough for Michael to lay his head. She placed it down and directed him to lie on it. She laid him on his back with his face facing up. Michael slept for more than three hours, enough time for the girl to go back home, take a bath, and make food for him.
She came back to him with food and two blankets, hearing her footsteps as she wore squeaky sandals. Michael arose from his slumber. His head troubled him no more, nor were his eyes blurry or drowsy. He raised his upper body, and lo and behold, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen stood before him.
Her complexion was as light as the yellow sun, her skin without blemish; gazing upon her was like gazing upon sun rays, her skin glowed. Her eyes were brown in color yet purely white in their innocence, and her lips were pink in their appearance and oval in shape. She had blondish braids slinging off her head, long and plentiful; they reached and surpassed even her elbows. As she stood, Michael estimated that she was at least 5'6" or 5'7" in height. She had worn a black vest cropped top, blue skinny jeans, and black sandals.
"Hey," she said to him, "sorry to wake you up; believe me, I tried my best not to," she said as she smiled at him. 'Wow,' he said to himself. Mm, are you the lady that's been taking care of me? Michael asks her. She laughed and said, "Yes, don't you recognize me?"
I'm sorry I just…everything was so fuzzy. I remember glimpses. I must've hit my head really hard when…. He pauses, remembering how he descended, jumping off a cliff.
"When?" She asks, I'm sorry? Michael says, confused. "You said you must've hit your head really hard when you did what?"
Oh, yeah, sorry, my mind drifted for a second. It was when I was evading people that wanted to kill me, so I jumped off a cliff, descending to the river, Michael said. The lady's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth, saying, "Oh my God! You could've suffered from a serious brain injury." She came closer to him and tested him using her fingers; she would raise a finger and would ask Michael how many she had raised. This was to see if his mind and vision were working as they should. As she stood closer to him, Michael could smell her sweet floral scent of roses.
Finally she concluded that he was okay. "Everything seems okay from what I can see, but how are you feeling?" she asked.
Well, I've had better days, but I'm better than yesterday or a few hours ago, and it's all thanks to you. Thank you! Michael said.
"You're welcome, but my work is not yet done till you are able to walk out of here, which is why I made you lunch to revive your strength." Michael is again shocked that she made food for him. 'How deep is your kindness? he asked himself'. Thank you; I just don't know what to say.
She handed him a lunch container where she stored his food, and she handed him a bottle of spring water. Michael ate, and in the midst of his eating, he looked at her. She saw him, and she shyly looked away. Who are you? He asks her, "Who am I? Let's see a village girl who lives…" she said, replying as Michael interrupts her. No, I meant, what is your name? You do have one, right? That if you're human and not an angel.
She laughs and says, "Why wouldn't I be human?" Michael laughs back and says, I'm sorry, I just had to be sure. Something about this situation feels surreal. I mean, I find myself in the worst situation I've ever been in, and there you are, willingly helping me and being so kind. I just… I'm shocked.
"What's so strange about that? Are not people like this where you're from?"
Where I'm from, it's every man for his own, Michael replied. "I see, such is the nature of this world, but mm, my name is Zanelisiwe Shange, but you can call me Zoey; that's what my friends from school call me. Nice to meet you, Zanelisiwe, ah, Zoey. My name is Michael Mqobi Wolves.
Zoey is surprised upon hearing the name 'Mqobi.' She replies, "Mqobi? Are you Zulu?" Michael smiles. "Well, yes, on the basis that my father was Zulu." "Okay, wait, I'm a bit confused. Your accent sounds English, like you're English. Why then don't you speak any Zulu?" Okay, let me explain. My father might've been Zulu, I guess biologically, but he wasn't Zulu in terms of his upbringing. You could say he was adopted, and well, I never knew my biological mother; she passed on when I was a baby, and so after having me, my father married a white woman, a British immigrant actually, hence the accent.
"Oh, I see. I'm sorry about losing your parents." Zoey says she is empathetic towards him. Oh, it's okay. I still have one parent remaining, and she has been amazing to me; she loves me as her own. Ever since I was a child, she has always loved me; honestly, to my eyes, she's my actual mother irrespective of biological differences.
Zoey smiles and says, "That's so sweet; she sounds like the sweetest person ever." She is, and she is probably worried… He says as he looks for his phone in his pockets but finds nothing. Oh no, I think I lost my phone. No, no, I have to go and search for it, he said, panicking.
"No, you can't; you're still not at 100% yet, and it's needless to say that there are still people looking for you, remember? I'll go and search for it." No, Zoey, you don't understand; I need to find that phone, and you've done enough already.
"Michael It's fine; it's not a problem. I'll just retrace our steps, and if I find it, I'll bring it back to you. You just need to rest."
Michael heard her words and oddly remained calm. She then decided to leave in search of his phone. Upon leaving, she told him that she'll go back home and stay there for a while since she didn't want to raise suspicion.
Zoey left and retraced their steps till she finally arrived where she found Michael. She gazed where she had found him lying and decided to search for his phone there. She searched, and just after moments of searching, she found it and held it in her hand, and just as she was about to leave, two men carrying AK-47s appeared, walking towards the river. This shocked her; she stood intimidated. They approached her and greeted her; she replied fearfully. They then asked her if she had seen a man who seemed foreign around here, and they continued describing him.
Zoey knew that it was Michael they spoke of, and so she dismissed the idea of seeing anyone and told them that she had just arrived just to clear her head. The two men did not suspect a thing; they believed her and let her go, and so she went home.
After seeing those men, Zoey decided not to leave her house, fearing that if she did, they would see her and that would lead them straight to Michael, and so she decided to see Michael the next morning.