Entwined

by Cheryl S. Ntumy

  I need to go back to the road.

  “She’s slowing down,” Rakwena says from a good distance ahead.

  I’ve come far enough and I need to go back. There’s no time to waste.

  “She’s stopping! She’s turning around.”

  I’m vaguely aware of him coming back to stand beside me. I can’t let my focus slip for a moment, or I’ll lose my grip on Amantle. It feels like I’ve been at it for hours already.

  “You’re doing well, Connie. Just a little bit longer.”

  My shirt is damp with sweat and my breathing comes in short gasps. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.

  “She’s coming back now. She’s starting to run.”

  Thank goodness; I’m exhausted. Her image begins to flicker inside my head. If I could just rest for a second…

  “Connie! You’re losing her!”

  Damn! I attack her barrier again, using my last bit of strength, but I know it’s too late. The gap is closed. “I can’t get back in, Rakwena. You’ll have to –” I open my eyes to see that he’s already bolted after her.

  He has the element of surprise. He follows her in long, powerful strides, and the distance between them starts to close. I bite my lip, annoyed with myself for slipping and worried about Rakwena. Amantle is the strongest of the girls. I’m not nearly as fast as either of them, but I push myself forward, willing my legs to move faster. I can see them up ahead. Rakwena has caught up with her and the two of them are struggling. Rakwena is holding back, afraid of hurting her, but he’s so worked up his entire body is giving off faint blue light.

  Faster, Connie, faster! Amantle pounces on Rakwena, sending him sprawling across the ground. She’s making the most bizarre noises; deep, guttural grunts like a warthog nosing around in a garden.

  I stop, close my eyes and focus. I’m close enough now; I don’t think she can fight me. Stop. This isn’t part of the plan. I don’t want to hurt him; he’s not important.

  The noises stop, but Rakwena’s energy is coming off his body in waves. He’s barely restraining himself. Amantle’s barrier is even stronger this time. Her master learns fast, but so do I. I keep up my assault until I feel the barrier begin to break again. One crack, two, and then a wide gap opens up and I’m in. I open my eyes and keep my gaze on her. She’s kneeling on the ground near Rakwena with a dazed expression on her face.

  Sit down.

  She obeys without hesitation. I can’t resist a smile. Rakwena gets up, his eyes fixed on her, too. We both move towards her, taking slow, careful steps. Her face is blank and her grey eyes are dull and lifeless. Rakwena takes her hand. Under his gaze her curled fingers open, revealing what’s inside. My focus snaps and I release her mind instantly.

  I don’t know what I was expecting. Muti, maybe, or money, or even a severed body part, but definitely not a sleek flip-top cell phone. “We went through all this for a cell phone?”

  “Connie, do you mind?”

  She’s starting to twitch, fighting his hold on her. I lean forward and take her necklace off, and she slumps back into his arms, unconscious. He lays her gently on the ground, checks her body for injuries and, finding nothing serious, turns back to me. I try not to look at the necklace or allow its pulsing energy to affect me as I drop it into Rakwena’s outstretched hand. I have a funny feeling in my stomach, the feeling I get when I write what seems like a really easy test and then find out I answered all the questions wrong. This just seems… odd, somehow. What is Amantle doing on the hill? Where are her friends? And why was it so easy to get her necklace when I know she has the strongest connection to the Puppetmaster?

  “There must be something important here,” says Rakwena, opening the phone and looking through it. “A name, a number, a photo. Ah. She’s been very busy.”

  “What is it?” I kneel beside him and peer at the screen. “Hold on. I know that guy – isn’t that her so-called boyfriend? The MP’s son?”

  Rakwena nods. “And some school kids, buying… what is that? Muti? Drugs?”

  “And there’s one of some old guy and Amantle together.” I frown. “What is she up to?”

  “Maybe this is how the Puppetmaster got the stories he gave to the GC Chronicle. Wasn’t there some article about a drug ring at a school?”

  I nod. “You’re right – that must be what the girls have been doing. But that can’t be all of it. What about the mystery project the Puppetmaster claimed to be working on?”

  Rakwena shrugs. “There are some recordings, too.” He selects the first one.

  I can make out two voices; a young girl and an older man. The man is speaking in a strange, sing-song voice, like someone in a trance. He’s talking about someone stealing money. “He’s bewitched,” I realise. “That’s how they got some of those exclusives – they bewitched the sources!”

  “Maybe,” says Rakwena. He hands me the phone, then bends to pick up Amantle. “Come on. Let’s get her to your grandfather.”

  I put the phone in my left pocket. I get that funny feeling again just before my other pocket vibrates. “Hey, Lebz.”

  “Where the hell are you?” she shrieks. “It’s been forty minutes since the last call. You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

  “Sorry… I got distracted. Amantle’s passed out, but everybody’s good.”

  She heaves a sigh of relief. “OK. What now?”

  “We’ll take her to Ntatemogolo. I’m pretty sure Amantle is the key to finding the Puppetmaster, and the sooner she can talk to us, the better. Maybe we can even hunt him down tonight.”

  “Are you crazy?” she screams.

  “Relax. Rakwena’s here.”

  “He’d better make himself useful. If something happens to you, he’ll pay for it.”

  I smile. “I’ll pass on the message.” I pocket the phone and we begin the journey back down the hill.

  I decide to take the opportunity to go through what’s left of Amantle’s mind. Unconscious, her mind is like a magazine. Everything is laid out, important bits highlighted and set apart in bright colours. The barrier is gone, along with everything else about her master. Nevertheless I pick my way through her thoughts as we trudge down the path, looking for anything that might be useful. An image jumps out at me like a snapshot. There’s a lot of conflicting emotion around it.

  “Change of plans,” I tell Rakwena. “We need to go to St Joseph’s. There are some faint images in her head and the road sign for St Joseph’s is one of them. Can you carry her all the way to the car?”

  “She’s not heavy. Are you sure, Connie?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what was she doing here? Trying to confuse us?”

  “I’m not sure. Give me a minute.” I rifle through her thoughts again, but I can’t find anything. “If it was some kind of trick or trap, she wouldn’t know. It was her master’s mind that came up with it, so I won’t find it in her head, not until she’s conscious and he has access to her again.”

  “But he was using her mind to think of it, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.” I reach down to scratch a mosquito bite. “But her mind is just a tool. Like a computer. Think of her master as someone with a disk. He comes to Amantle’s computer, inserts his disk, uses her software to create something, then saves it on the disk. When the computer suddenly shuts down, he removes his disk. Someone else comes and turns the computer back on and finds the document under recent items or something. But they can’t gain access to it. No disk, no document.”

  “I see.” He shifts Amantle slightly in his arms. “But how did you see the sign for St Joseph’s, then, and how do you know it has something to do with the Puppetmaster?”

  “The image is surrounded by fear. It has to be related to him – maybe his house is there.” I let out a long breath and rub my shoulder. My body is aching and fatigue is finally catching up to me. “How much further?”

  “We’re almost there.” He must be tired, too.

  So far all we’ve done is run on adrenalin, j
ust jumping from one thing to the next. Follow Amantle, find her master… and then what? It occurs to me now that we haven’t really thought this through. We don’t have a solid plan of action.

  “Um, Rakwena? I know this isn’t the best time to bring this up, but what exactly are we going to do once we get to this Puppetmaster’s house? Maybe we should have told Ntatemogolo what we were planning.”

  He stops suddenly, staring straight ahead.

  “What?” I hope it’s not a snake. I’m tired and itchy and the last thing I need is a snake.

  “We’re in trouble.”

  I follow his gaze. Now we know what Amantle was doing here. Standing on the path a short distance ahead of us are the last two stars of the puppet show. Their eyes are glowing in the dark. To anyone else they would look tiny and insignificant, two little twigs Rakwena could snap in half with one hand, but we know better.

  “Connie,” Rakwena whispers through gritted teeth.

  “I’m working on it.” I focus on the one on the left, Refilwe. She’s a tough one, but after Amantle I think I can handle anything. Her barrier is the same as the others, so I can already pick out the weakest points. I target them, sending my thoughts right at them.

  These people aren’t my problem. I’m not interested in them. I need to turn around.

  Rakwena’s voice is steady. “We’re not here to fight.”

  “Put her down,” says Laone. “You can’t take her.”

  “Where is the phone?” That’s Refilwe’s voice. I intensify my attack. Forget the phone. The phone doesn’t matter.

  Her head swivels in my direction. “You’re wasting your time,” she tells me, and before I have a chance to prove her wrong she leaps into the air, swings her leg and lands a kick right in the centre of my chest. I fall backwards, the air knocked out of my lungs.

  At the same time Laone has attacked Rakwena. They’re not messing around tonight. Rakwena ducks, shielding Amantle with his body, then he swings her around and uses her legs to strike Laone’s face. Amantle’s shoes connect with Laone’s nose and chin. I don’t protest this time; as far as I’m concerned these zombies deserve to go down.

  I pick up a fistful of rocks and hurl them at Refilwe. She jumps out of the way and grabs my hand, crushing my fingers. I scream at the pain, then kick her shin and shove her to the ground. I almost want to kill the little monster, but I’m getting hurt and she’s just getting stronger.

  “Damn it!” Then I remember page 35 in the file. I back off and try to get into her head again. I have a plan, but I’m not sure it’s going to work. The cracks are still there. The Puppetmaster is too busy to close them up, and I slip back inside Refilwe’s head.

  Black spots. Where are they coming from? Refilwe blinks and stops. What’s that sharp pain in my temple? I’m feeling a little dizzy all of a sudden. Ouch! What is this? What’s going on? Why is everything getting so… She trips over her own feet and topples over.

  “What’s wrong with you?” asks Laone, in that flat, unconcerned voice. “Get up and fight.”

  “My eyes,” Refilwe whimpers. “My eyes!”

  Laone ignores her, but she hesitates for too long. Rakwena lands a bone-jarring punch on her jaw. Laone stumbles. I hurry towards Refilwe and punch her in the stomach. She cries out in confusion.

  To the right. I need to move to the right and hold onto something. She crawls towards Laone and grabs her legs.

  “Let me go, you fool!” snaps Laone, but Refilwe won’t release her.

  “Please help me, Laone! It’s dark, it’s all dark!”

  “Run!” yells Rakwena, and the two of us bolt from the scene towards Kgale Mews and the car.

  Laone is half walking, half running towards us, dragging Refilwe along behind her. In a few more seconds Refilwe will realise that she’s not blind after all, and then they’ll be back in warrior mode. As we run into the parking lot, a panicked Lebz comes rushing to meet us.

  “Oh, thank God!” she gushes. “I thought you were… you know…”

  “Get in the car!”

  There’s no time to argue. We pile into the car, laying Amantle across the backseat while Wiki and I hop into the back.

  “Is she OK?” he asks, peering through the back window.

  “I don’t know.”

  Rakwena speeds into the Game City parking lot and parks haphazardly beside a taxi, then comes out to get Amantle. We all jump out to help.

  Lebz emerges from the passenger side. “Why are we taking her out?”

  “Because she’s getting into this taxi,” Rakwena explains, after a brief conversation with the driver, who’s sitting on the bonnet.

  I turn to Lebz and Wiki. “The taxi’s going to take you to Ntatemogolo, and then it’s going to take you home.”

  “Why?” Lebz’s eyes narrow. “Where are you going?”

  “To find the Puppetmaster,” says Rakwena wearily, moving Amantle’s feet out of the way before closing the taxi’s back door.

  “No way!” cries Lebz, grabbing my arm. “Connie, are you mad?”

  “Can you please just look after Amantle?” I snarl impatiently.

  Lebz purses her lips and turns away, but I don’t have the time to placate her. Rakwena gives the necklace to Wiki, who drops it hurriedly into his pocket.

  “Be careful,” Wiki whispers. He wants to say something else, but he knows we’re not going to listen, so he pushes Lebz into the back of the taxi next to Amantle and gets into the passenger seat.

  “Thank you,” I call out, then Rakwena and I are gone, heading to St Joseph’s to follow our only clue.

  Rakwena drives along the Lobatse road towards the school as if the devil is on his tail. He turns right, passes the railway crossing and stops at the sign. “Right to St Joseph’s, left to Kgale Siding.”

  “Left, I think. He can’t be at the school. He must live in Kgale Siding.”

  Rakwena drives over the railway crossing, dodges some cows and passes the Opera House. There aren’t many houses on the road, and none of them are speaking to me. We reach the end of the line and stop.

  “Damn it!” I look around us, but I’m sure it’s none of the houses on the street. Then I see something up ahead, partially hidden by bushes and trees. “Rakwena, look! Another house!”

  We park at the side of the road and walk through the bushes. The house is nothing like I expected. It sits perched on the edge of an overgrown path, the gate hidden by bushes. The wall is high, but the gate is made up of black iron bars and we can see the house through them. The veranda looks almost as wide as half the house, and there’s a huge empty yard.

  Now that we’re here, we have no idea what to do next. Ring the intercom? Try to scale the wall and hope there isn’t an alarm system, or a dog? I turn to Rakwena for guidance.

  “Give me a minute,” he says.

  We stand there, looking like complete idiots, and then the gate begins to slide open with a low creak. We look at each other in shock and step back, preparing for trouble. But no one comes out.

  “I think he wants us to come in,” I whisper. “‘Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly…’”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” mutters Rakwena, eyeing the house. “Getting in is all very well, but how do we get out? This smells like a trap. No wonder we got Amantle so easily – he wanted us to come here.”

  “What choice do we have? This might be our only chance to catch him.” I reach for his hand. “At least we’re together. We have a chance.”

  “I’m not so sure, Connie.”

  “There’s no time to be sure.” I glance towards the house. All is quiet. There’s no sign of Laone or Refilwe.

  “Don’t let go of my hand,” says Rakwena firmly, and takes the first step.

  We walk into the yard and the gate swings shut. Someone’s watching us. We take the three steps up to the veranda and then we’re at the front door. Rakwena raises his free hand and knocks. The door handle turns and the door opens, but when we step into the di
m foyer there’s no one there.

  Inside, it looks like a normal house. A carpet with a floral design stretches from the door across the foyer. There’s a side table made of polished wood with a vase of flowers on it. Against the wall is a piano, and there’s a huge calendar above it with a photo of a leopard in a tree. Two large columns lead into the next room. The soft orange light gives the house a warm, welcoming feel, but I’m getting goose bumps and my hand tightens around Rakwena’s.

  The front door closes itself behind us as we walk through the foyer, past the huge columns and towards the living room. Again, nothing extraordinary. Red leather chairs, a wooden coffee table, a thick brown rug. And in one corner, sitting in a wicker chair that seems totally out of place, is a distinguished man in a grey suit. His legs are crossed at the knees, revealing plain black socks and thin ankles. He has a narrow face, pointy chin covered by a small, triangular beard, high cheekbones and a full head of greying hair. He’s wearing spectacles, but I get the impression they’re for show.

  Rakwena and I freeze. I don’t know how to react. I had imagined someone more… you know… magical-looking. Ridiculous, of course – the Puppetmaster is not some illusionist in a circus. I just never expected him to look so normal, so respectable.

  He smiles at us. “Miss Bennett, Mr Langa; I’m so glad you could make it.” His voice is soft and high-pitched, and he waves us towards the sofa with an effeminate gesture. “Sit down, please. We have a lot to discuss.”

  Chapter Twenty

  We remain standing. The Puppetmaster watches us with idle curiosity.

  “I assure you, my chairs are not booby-trapped. As long as you are guests in this house you will be perfectly safe. You have my word.”

  “I’m afraid your word doesn’t hold much weight with us,” says Rakwena.

  “Pity,” the Puppetmaster replies. “But either way, you’ll soon tire of standing.”