Jagger
I met Trick’s niece yesterday, she was a miniature version of him except for the talking nonstop thing. She truly refused to stop. While her mother drove to the private landing strip, the girl went on and on about soccer and her technique. My hands were balled into fists, it felt like I was sneering as I tried to smile and yet inwardly focus on Mikayla.
Her life.
Her life that I stripped away only to place her in danger. With me, it may have looked dangerous, but she was safe. I’d place my life over hers. Now, I’m not in the position to do so. At least, not until I catch up with her and murder that motherfucker who snatched what was mine.
Mikayla Bryant is property of none other than Jagger Johansson now. She is mine.
It’s almost dusk as I’m dropped off in front of my home. As the taxi travels up the winding passageway, I smile, with thoughts of the future. She will murder her uncle. And then we can start our life. It takes tragedy for one to know his or her true potential.
Take Trick for instance. The girl said he was some sort of scientist.
Take me.
Mikayla will know Qaaim had a hand in her parent’s death and pull the trigger.
I slide out of the backseat, tip the driver and watch as the car makes a U-turn, before zipping back down the hill. There are patches of grass where my beloved truck use to be as I walk toward the door.
Sixty seconds. That’s all I have.
I press open the front door, dodge over the streams of deadly fish and head to a glass enclosure. From the outside it resembles a china cabinet. When opened, more guns are at my disposal. I grab more .357 rounds. There are bombs and also explosive devices, but that might be too much, considering Mikayla was taken by her own people. I keep telling myself that the entire nation cannot be a threat to her.
Just one man.
Or his followers. I grab two hand grenades, since I’m not entirely sure what I’m walking into. I head through my home to the side entrance where my other trucks are kept and choose the Humvee that I purchased off the black market. Well, the engine is new and various portions of the body are. But, there weren’t too many upgrades necessary for such a beauty. The glass garage door is hardly up before I gun the engine and blaze through the exit. I take the hill, my cranium almost hitting the roof before I slap on the seatbelt.
I ease up on the gas while veering onto the main road. For the first time in forever, I’m not tossing a middle finger to the resort my grandparents once owned.
Once out of the city, the drive to Mikayla’s home is inland and takes another hour. I’m on a dirt road, coasting at a cool 120 since I know where the land dips or curves at or the occasional herd of Afrikaner cattle usually are.
***
Upon passing the colorful homes of the Ndebele group, I drive at a respectable pace.
Mikayla is okay… I have to tell myself this. Regardless of my worry as to why her uncle spared her life as a child, he wouldn’t send for her just to murder her as an adult. It would be too cruel…shit, and I thought I was trained in a despicable world…
I drove through Nivean. The shops are closed, and the lights of the various homes are off. Light trickles through the trees in the mountains above. Mthembu is having a party…
Damn, I cannot sneak in. If I go in guns blazing, it will be disrespectful to Mikayla. The true leader.
Just as I round the corner toward the street that ascends to the Nivean palace, two male police officers in light blue uniform hold up Berettas. Behind them are two old trucks, barricading the road.
Alright, these boys are hardly trained with guns. Nivean has the weakest defense in South Africa. That’s why it was so easy to believe that the Zihula’s would make a good alliance. The government hates me, but Qaaim Mthembu isn’t a friend of them either.
“Oh, we have us here a fucking Johansson.” The man on my side of the street has a root sticking from his mouth, it wiggles with each word. “We are having a celebration tonight, I guess if I were you, it would be the best time to get us all together. Talk about your God. Try to convert us?”
“Nah, he no wanna convert anyone, him devil,” the other man says, leaning against the passenger window. “Him parents was murdered by him God, now he gave him soul to the devil.”
“I want to see your King Regent.” I address the officer on my side. If I look at the other one again, he’s getting a bullet in his mouth for mentioning my family.
“We do not like your kind, Johansson. I have half a family who moved away because of your parents.”
It’s the second time my parents are mentioned for their converting the Navieans into Christians. Gritting my teeth, I glare him straight in the eye. “I murdered a great warrior of your clan.”
His laughter is abrupt. He doesn’t believe me.
“Who you murder?” The man at the passenger side chuckles. “You white devil, you murder everyone. But gone’ tell us, who of our people you’ve murdered so we can murder you now.”
Trick came in handy while I was like a caged animal traveling over oceans to get to Mikayla. He found out the name of the man sent to apprehend her for her uncle. “Abayomi Okeke.” I mention the name.
“Get out, get out!” The man on my side waves, his mouth is tensed. Abayomi’s death has hit home to him.
I can only oblige. They will take me to their king now. He throws a right hook. I catch his fist and press back with such force that the man stumbles. The four officers who were standing against the truck barricade a moment ago start to aim.
“I murdered Abayomi Okeke!” I shout. That statement pretty much added an imaginary Teflon around me. They put their guns down, and head over just as the first man lunges at me, issuing a scream of a battle cry.
He must’ve been really close to Abayomi.
The man from the passenger side tries to grab my shoulder to help him attack me. I toss back an elbow and kick the guy in front of me.
And then I’m punched in the mouth. I spit the blood and laugh. “Take me to your King, I've murdered your great warrior,” I sneer. Initially I assumed Abayomi was sent to take Mikayla from me. The bastard probably had a bullet in the chamber for her as well, when he targeted me through the sniper rifle.
And so I’m pissing them off. Fists fly toward me in every direction. I kick one man in the chest and in the next second I’ve twisted the arm of a man whose reached for my throat. His radius snaps. I’m gonna be a bloody pulp by the time I gather the attention of Qaaim Mthembu, but this shit is worth it.