Too Young to Die Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Copyright and credits

  About the publisher

  Find out about FunDza

  Chapter 1

  The police van swung around a corner. Mzi was thrown against Zakes, his partner in crime.

  “This is shit,” Mzi spat.

  “No worries.” Zakes tried to steady himself as the van took another corner way too fast. It was difficult as he was handcuffed and shackled. A true prisoner and he hadn’t even had his bail hearing yet. “I’ve got people inside prison who can help us. But right now I need your help. You’ll find a cigarette and matches in my pocket.”

  When Mzi looked amazed, Zakes laughed. “I have ways and means … now just light up one. I’ve been craving a smoke.”

  Mzi hesitated. “Like they’re going to add smoking to my record.” Zakes was getting edgy. Mzi took the cigarette, lit it and held it up to Zakes’ lips so he could take a puff. “That’s better.” Zakes exhaled the smoke. Mzi could see the tension in his body relax. “Hey, I’m lucky you’re here with me. They don’t normally let hardened criminals in the van with minors …” he imitated the policeman’s voice. Mzi had to laugh. Zakes sounded just like Sergeant Ndebele. But then what was about to happen to him hit him and wiped the smile off his face.

  “Don’t stress.” Zakes could sense his fear. “Lighting a skyf is not the last thing you’ll be doing for me. And you’ll be rewarded for your work. I never forget a favour. I promised when you joined me in my business you’d be rich and drive a fast car. I don’t break promises.”

  Mzi looked out at the darkening sky. The smoke from Zakes’ cigarette choked up the air and the windows didn’t open. “Even from behind bars I can operate,” Zakes went on. “I have runners who eat out of my hand like dogs.”

  But Zakes’ words seemed to be coming from far away. Mzi felt dizzy and sick. How had he ended up here, in the back of this police van going to court?

  * * *

  He had been one of Zakes’ gang. He had hijacked smart cars, and he had loved it – driving that flash BMW with the leather seats, the respect, the fear he could sense in the boys at Harmony High when he so much as looked at them. They all knew he was connected.

  But then he had got involved with Ntombi and that’s when the shit really started. She had fallen for him, like all the girls did. But then, like all the girls, she had started asking too many questions. Yes, he had got a bit rough with her – but she deserved it – going behind his back like that. And then that friend of hers, that impimpi Olwethu, had gone running to the police. And now he was here in the back of this police van.

  Just thinking about it made his blood boil. He could still feel the agonising burning of the mace Ntombi had sprayed straight into his eyes. And now everyone was saying he had raped her. That’s how it went, rumours spread like wildfire and the lies got bigger and bigger.

  * * *

  As the van rounded the corner and approached the court Mzi could hear the shouts.

  “Mayife loo nja!” Let the dog die.

  “Yes,” laughed Zakes. “They can shout now. But when I’m back on the streets they won’t be laughing. Believe me, I’ll remember their faces.”

  He let the cigarette drop from his lips and stubbed it out with his foot as the van screeched to a halt. “What they don’t realise is that prison is a breeze for me. Nobody messes with me inside. They know what will happen to their families if they do. Anyway, I could do with a break from women’s nagging and bitching. I’m not expecting any love letters behind bars.”

  In front of the court the crowd had swelled. There were rows of taxis; it looked like the whole of Mzi’s neighbourhood was there. The news vendors were joining in.

  “UZakes noMzi basemjiva!” they shouted to roars from the crowd.

  Was Ntombi out there amongst them with Olwethu – and those girlfriends of hers – watching, cheering along, hoping he would be sent to jail?

  Didn’t they know he was too young to be sentenced? He was a first-time offender and he had told the probation officer that he had been forced to work for Zakes who had threatened his family, and that he was sorry – so sorry for all he had done. But in his heart he felt no remorse for the people whose cars he had stolen, or for Ntombi.

  And as for Olwethu, Ntombi’s new boyfriend, he only felt one thing for him and that was revenge. Ntombi and Olwethu had put him here in this van. Wait until he was released. They would be sorry.

  * * *

  Zakes and Mzi were pulled out of the van, their heads covered with thick grey blankets that hid their faces, but not before Mzi glimpsed the placards: ‘Jail the dogs’ and ‘Enough is Enough – No Bail’. Mzi suddenly felt weak and dizzy, like he was going to faint.

  “Say goodbye to your friend,” Sergeant Ndebele hissed as Zakes was pulled away to another courtroom. He was in a different league from Mzi. He would get time, everybody knew that. There was no way he was going to be granted bail. He had a list of crimes as long as the Constitution. Mzi was alone.

  He sat looking down at his shoes as the magistrate told him that this was a preliminary enquiry. He remembered Sergeant Ndebele’s face when he had told Mzi and Zakes that they were going to court.

  “You’re lucky there wasn’t more evidence.” That’s what the sergeant had told him as he had shoved him and Zakes into the van. Sergeant Ndebele had sounded disappointed, like he would have loved to have seen Mzi locked up with Zakes. “You’re lucky that you weren’t caught red-handed.” He had stared at Mzi like he knew it had happened and he had got off. “But I know you were right there. I’m going to find the evidence. And anyway, I know your type, Mzi Mlongeni. You’ll be back. And next time I’ll make sure we put you away.” And then the sergeant had given him a hard shove that had sent him sprawling across the back of the van.

  Now he was sitting in court, listening to the long legal words being thrown about that he didn’t understand. But he knew enough. He was lucky he was only turning 18 in a few weeks. He was a minor. A schoolkid he knew, Simon, had been caught stealing cigarettes and razor blades from a supermarket, and he didn’t go to jail. He went back to school and just had to go to counselling and do some other stuff.

  As he hoped, Mzi was released into the custody of his sister. “Good behaviour,” he heard. He had heard those words enough. Now he needed to show good behaviour to make sure that he stayed at home, and not at a foster home, and that after his court appearance he would not go to jail.

  So it would be a different sort of life for him now. When his friends were out on the street he would have to behave, to stay in at night, so that his sister didn’t report him to the probation officer. She would be watching him. And he would be waiting for his next court appearance where they decided his fate. It would be hanging over his head. And he knew that Sergeant Ndebele was just waiting for him to make one wrong move.

  The sun dazzled Mzi as he stepped out of the court. The crowd erupted, for a second thinking it was Zakes. He searched the faces and found his sister, tears running down her cheeks. He heard his name called a
nd saw some girls from school jeering at him. Everyone was shouting and waving their fists, except for one girl. She was standing quite still at the side of the crowd and if he hadn’t turned his head he wouldn’t have seen her. It was like everything stopped and froze as their eyes met. She stared at him like she could see right into his mind. As his sister led him away he turned, but she was gone. Who was she? Why did she look so familiar?

  Chapter 2

  “Speak to me, Mzi,” his sister pleaded in the taxi on the way home.

  “Why? What’s there to speak about?” He refused to look at her. Instead he stared out of the window.

  “It could have been far worse. This way you get to go back to school.”

  Why did his sister have to be so damn optimistic all the time? What was good about going back to school? Mzi hated Harmony High. And right now he hated his life.

  When they got home he pushed past his sister and slammed his bedroom door in her face. What he wanted was to be alone. His life was none of her business. “Mzi!” she knocked on the bedroom door, but he ignored her. He had had enough of answering to people for one day. What he needed was to share a beer with his friends – and to forget.

  “Soon I’ll be sending Olwethu to his great-great-grandfathers. Olwethu and that bitch, Ntombi, are the reason I’m here,” he cursed. Life was out there on the street, not in this prison his sister called home.

  He could hear laughter as the guys strolled down to Jake’s Tavern, smoking and chatting in the early evening. Not so long ago he would have been with them, talking and joking. He would have been the first to buy a round of drinks from his friend Mandla, the bartender. He had money to flash around, a stash of crisp notes in his pocket, from Zakes’ last job. Now he was stuck with tea and some stupid TV show his sister was watching. Things had to change. What kind of man would he be if he cowered like a dog and let Olwethu parade around with Ntombi? He had to get people to fear him again. He was Mzi Mlongeni and nobody messed with him.

  * * *

  But how? He had four people watching him. And any one of them could report any bad behaviour that would decide his fate at the court case. The social worker had already arranged a counselling session for him. The probation officer lived in the neighbourhood, as well as Sergeant Ndebele, who was known as a rough cop. And his sister, he couldn’t trust her. She was probably reporting every move he made … Every time he left the house, had a drink, went to the bathroom … She had always been the ‘good girl’ in the family.

  * * *

  Mzi stared at the ceiling hoping to get an answer – a plan of how to bring Olwethu down. It seemed impossible. The only thing he saw made his skin crawl. A big female cockroach looking for a hidden place to drop and hide her massive eggs was crossing the ceiling. He jumped up, grabbed his old flip-flop sandals from the floor, and smashed the cockroach with so much vigour and hatred: “Phelandini! Ndiyalicisha eliphela linguOlwethu!”

  His sister was in his room like a flash.

  “What is it, Mzi?” she exclaimed.

  “Cockroach,” he answered. “I’m surrounded by cockroaches, and Olwethu’s the biggest one.”

  “Mzi, you can’t keep blaming Olwethu for what has happened to you. You got yourself into this mess. You’ve got to live with it. Keep out of trouble until the court case. I’ve already lost one brother to crime, I can’t lose another.”

  “Ag, thula!” he shouted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t feel my pain.” He jumped up off the bed and pushed past her into the lounge where he paced up and down like a caged animal.

  “How dare you speak to me like that! Can’t you remember what happened to Themba? Is your memory so short? Where is he now, Mzi? Rotting in some jail – his children running the streets barefoot.” Then her voice softened. “Mntakamama, you can still mend your ways. There is still time.” And when he didn’t answer. “Why are you so angry with life?”

  But they both knew the answer. It was Themba, Mzi’s brother, who had tried to protect Mzi from their father. It was Themba who had carried Mzi back to his bed and comforted him after his father had beaten him to a pulp for no good reason – for a spilled glass of milk, for not greeting him because he was drunk, and sometimes just because …

  And now Themba was gone and Mzi had buried the hurt deep, deep in his heart and covered it with so much anger that no one could reach it.

  “Themba is Themba. Mna ndindim! Get a life,” he shouted.

  Mzi heard his sister’s sobs as she went to her room and closed the door on him. He should go and comfort her but he couldn’t do it. Themba had been his hero. How dare she talk of him like that?

  He found an old stash of cigarettes under his bed, lit up and started flicking through the pages of the glossy magazines he had bought. There it was. All the shit he dreamed of, and was so close to getting – the flash cars, the stylish cellphones, men’s designer suits and bling. Yesses, nab’ubomi. No cash, no wheels. What life is that? No – there was only one way to get it back, the dream, and it was Zakes’ way – a life of crime.

  He picked up his cellphone and sent an SMS to Vuyo – his friend, his partner. He understood. He had also worked for Zakes – probably still did.

  M out. Wat’s up? We nid 2 tlk.

  Mzi pressed Send.

  Vuyo could help him. A plan was forming in Mzi’s mind. His screen lit up.

  No wrk - Priscilla wnts 2 knw wat’s up with u. Jy weet mos. She lyks da bad boyz.

  * * *

  Mzi thought of Priscilla. She was a sexy, smart woman – not a girl like Ntombi. “Vuyo and Priscilla are my guys,” he thought. As if Priscilla read his mind, his screen lit up for a second time.

  Mis ur killer smyl. C u 2morw.

  xxx P

  He lay back on his bed and laughed. Vuyo and Priscilla – they were the plan. They would help him to get to Olwethu. And when he did, Ntombi would be pleading with him to spare Olwethu’s life. Everyone would know he was back on top. Nobody messed with Mzi Mlongeni. Nobody!

  Chapter 3

  On the taxi to Harmony High, Mzi sat at the back wearing his shades. This is how he liked it. He could see out, but nobody could see his eyes or guess what he was thinking or feeling.

  When the taxi stopped he stuffed his shirt in his pants as he walked through the school gates. That was as far as he would go to conform to school dress code. They weren’t going to get him to wear a tie, not Mzi.

  “Mzi, what are you doing back at school?” He heard a familiar voice from the street and he spun around. It was Thabo, with Simphiwe, two of his old gang. They strutted up to the fence and leaned against it, staring in at Mzi and the other school kids in their uniforms. They were wearing jackets and jeans and were smoking.

  “Never thought I’d see you in that uniform again,” grinned Simphiwe. He and Thabo had dropped out of school the term before. Now they had come to watch as he did the walk of shame back through the gates of Harmony High. Their eyes met but Mzi had nothing to say to them and he turned and walked away, up the stairs into the school corridor.

  In class he sat at the back and only when the teacher told him to take off his shades for the third time, did he push them above his head.

  “What do you think this is? A party?” It was Meneer, their Life Sciences teacher, a skinny man with a high squeaky voice that annoyed the hell out of Mzi. What was he thinking when he chose this subject for matric. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered because he wasn’t going to write matric. For what? There were better ways to make money – much faster ways than struggling through some college or university. But for now he had to pretend he was a regular student, intent on getting good marks in his exams. He knew the social worker on his case was talking to the principal. He had seen her go into the office and he was sure the probation officer would be close on her heels. And then there was Sergeant Ndebele. He had taken
it on as his personal mission to hound Mzi. He had driven past his house that morning. It wasn’t on his usual route but he had taken a detour, just in case he caught Mzi. Mzi had waved at him, but the sergeant had just roared off with a screech of tyres. Yes, they were watching him. Closely.

  “We’re only a few months away before we write our matric exams. You need to take responsibility for your lives. Start revising your work. Look at old question papers. Duidelik, klas?”

  “Duidelik, Meneer,” replied the class. How could they be frightened of this loser who was here because he couldn’t get a better job?

  Mzi watched through the broken window of their class as an aeroplane flew by. It was gliding through the blue. Free! he thought. Flying to the land of riches. MXO’s tune ‘Ndizondiza’ was playing in his mind.

  “Mzi Mlongeni.”

  “Meneer.” He was standing right behind him now.

  “Come see me in my office at break. I’m worried about you.”

  “Yes, Meneer,” replied Mzi, knowing there was no way he was going to report to Meneer, who would just give him another pep talk about responsibility and positive thinking.The guy was a liar. Nobody was really worried about him. They didn’t care.

  A minute later, the siren went off. It was break time. But as Mzi stepped into the quad something was missing – that feeling of power that he could get any kid to do what he ordered because they were all terrified of him. It was gone. Everyone was staring. Even the young boys refused to move out of the way and he had to walk around them. They knew he couldn’t touch them without the social worker finding out.

  He could hear the gossip of the girls as he walked back to the school shed to get a skyf. They followed him, talking behind his back with their mean tongues.

  “He didn’t deserve Ntombi.”

  “He’s going to suffer now.”

  “I can’t wait until he sees her with Olwethu.”

  He heard another voice, a voice he didn’t recognise. “Myeke! Leave him alone.” When he turned around he felt the hairs rise on his arms. There was the girl who had been outside the court. He had never seen her at Harmony High. But now she was here standing up for him. Although the sun was baking down, he shivered. There was something about her he couldn’t make out.