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shebeen and made sure MacGyver and his friends were still inside. Siphewe gave his friends their orders and told them exactly how the fight should go down.

  Siphewe’s friends were to hide in the shadows between the shacks and attack when Siphewe gave the word.

  They waited, keeping their eyes on the shebeen’s entrance. This fight would show everybody their gang was fearless, and it would force other gangs to show The Paperboys some respect. Maybe after tonight The Juvies would unite with The Paperboys and their gang would become bigger and more powerful. Maybe The Juvies and The Paperboys would be able to drive out The Seven-Ups and take control of Site Five.

  However, Siphewe didn’t care about the gangs uniting. He wanted to feed his thirst for revenge. Although he had broken MacGyver’s nose, he wanted more.

  MacGyver and his friends stepped out of the shebeen.

  They backed into the shadows as MacGyver and company walked down the dirt road.

  Siphewe followed the boys, keeping to the shadows.

  Siphewe was a few metres from the group now, moving briskly. When he got close enough, he rushed towards them. He wasn’t too worried about MacGyver’s four friends. He wanted MacGyver.

  Siphewe gave the signal to his friends, who emerged from the darkness and ran down the road.

  By the time MacGyver and the others realised there was someone behind them, it was too late. In a flash, Siphewe struck and MacGyver dropped to his knees and grabbed his neck, where he had been stabbed, though he couldn’t stop the blood.

  Siphewe’s friends were all over the four boys, who were still surprised by what had just happened. As MacGyver’s friends were taken down, Siphewe walked over to where he had collapsed face first in the dirt.

  “Stop!” Siphewe shouted.

  His friends backed away from the lifeless bodies.

  “Go home! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Siphewe’s friends faded into the darkness as they left.

  When Siphewe was sure all his friends were gone, he walked up to MacGyver’s body and turned him onto his back. He tore his shirt open and looked around one last time, then carved the name ‘Ampie’ into MacGyver’s chest.

  [][]

  The following morning, gunshots and running footsteps woke Siphewe.

  He jumped out of a rusty box between two shacks and tossed the blanket back inside, then dashed into the street, dodging teenagers – it was The Juvies, running deeper into Site Five towards The Seven-Ups’ territory.

  “Siphewe!” a voice called to him from somewhere in the crowd.

  Siphewe spun. “Snotkop! What’s going on?”

  Snotkop stared at Siphewe in shock.

  “What is it?” demanded Siphewe as the passing crowd jostled him.

  “Did you kill MacGyver?” Snotkop asked.

  Siphewe remained silent, a little surprised. His friends wouldn’t give him away. Snotkop made his way through the crowd and came closer. “One of MacGyver’s friends survived the attack last night!”

  “What?” Siphewe’s jaw clenched.

  “Lover knows it was you. MacGyver’s friend saw you cut his chest.” A pause. “Lover killed Wandile, Sphesethu and Zeebar this morning in their homes.”

  Siphewe was shocked. He was sorry, but unable to mourn or express his pain. He had left his pain with his father and felt none for himself or the friends around him.

  All this time, nobody knew. Nobody knew he was…

  “You are Ampie!” Snotkop exclaimed. “Your name puts fear in grown men, makes people lose sleep, forces them to keep their doors locked… All this time… It’s you everybody is afraid of.”

  “Who knows?” Siphewe asked, pulling the hood further over his head.

  “Everyone. The Juvies and The Paperboys have now united. They were surprised when they heard you are Ampie. They promised to stand by you. Together, we will take out The Seven-Ups! Everybody will fear us now that you are here.”

  Siphewe was angry. This couldn’t be happening.

  “No!” he shouted. “No! And I won’t hide! I never did!”

  Siphewe turned and ran down the road towards The Paperboys’ territory.

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  Siphewe stopped in front of his house. He almost forgot what it looked like, because it had been so long since he had been there. He understood that his mother had said farewell to him when he had left that night.

  If this was going to be the last day of his life, he wanted to tell his mother he was sorry, or even just see her for a few seconds. Siphewe could live with that. He had pained his mother by running away and not returning. He had left his mother to mourn the death of his father alone, and that wasn’t fair to her.

  Eventually, Siphewe found the courage to knock on the door.

  There was no answer.

  He blew out a slow breath and placed an open hand on the door. “Sorry, Ma.”

  “Ampie!” a familiar voice called behind him.

  Siphewe spun, knife in hand, to find Lover standing in the street with a handgun.

  Siphewe froze. How did he know I was here?

  Lover took a few steps towards the gate. “Snotkop was quick to tell me where you ran to after I shot him.”

  Siphewe’s face contorted in anger.

  Lover took another step forward. “I remember this house. I was here looking for you three years ago after you broke my brother’s fucking nose.”

  Siphewe got ready for the moment that could cost him his life.

  “I came here looking for you, but your father begged me to leave you alone. He couldn’t tell me where you were even after I smacked him around with your cricket bat.”

  Siphewe took a step forward, ready to charge. He had thought his father died from a heart attack. His mother had told him this. That was what he had believed for three years after he had returned home to see the paramedics loading his father into the ambulance. Everything for Siphewe changed immediately that night. He didn’t care. Nothing in the world mattered anymore. The world was dead. It died with his father. Siphewe had sworn not to go back home.

  But now the killer stood in front of him.

  “Your mother begged me to spare your father, so I hit her over the head. Then I hit your father until he was dead and I took R500 from him to fix my brother’s nose.”

  Siphewe could have broken down, but he wasn’t going to. He had mourned his father three years ago and now he faced his murderer like a lion.

  “You didn’t know, Ampie?” asked Lover.

  Siphewe had heard enough. His mother had lied to protect him.

  Lover pointed the gun at Siphewe and fired. Siphewe ducked, and the bullet passed overhead, shattering the window behind him.

  Siphewe charged to his right and disappeared between his mother’s shack and the neighbour’s.

  Lover chased, firing three shots down the narrow alley. “You are going to die like my brother! And then I am going to put your mother to sleep!”

  Lover hastened down the alley and fired another two shots at a moving shadow that turned out to be a pair of pants hanging on a wash line. Siphewe dashed around his mother’s shack, making his way to the front. Lover fired another three shots, then ran back the way he’d come, probably hoping to corner Siphewe and end it for good. Siphewe ran into the street as Lover got to the front of the house, dropping to the dirt as Lover emptied the gun.

  “Fuck!” Lover dropped the gun and pulled out his sable.

  Siphewe stood up, angry and deadly.

  The two gangsters charged. Neither man was afraid. This fight only had one ending.

  Lover swung his knife. Siphewe ducked under it and spun behind Lover, then stuck the blade in Lover’s neck, piercing his jugular.

  Lover dropped to his knees. Siphewe stepped in front of him, anger heating his face.

  Siphewe grabbed the back of Lover’s neck and stabbed him repeatedly in his chest. He cried, but continued stabbing until he could no longer hold up the limp body on his own. He watched as it fell face first in the dirt.
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  Siphewe dropped his knife and stood for a moment looking at Lover. He wanted to show his father that he had found his killer and dealt with him.

  A sharp pain in Siphewe’s stomach brought him back to the real world where pain, death, remorse and sadness existed.

  Siphewe looked down and saw blood. He had been shot.

  The full realisation hit him as pain washed over him.

  With every agonising step, Siphewe walked to his mother’s front door, lowered himself onto the step, got comfortable and surrendered himself to whatever was coming.

  After some time, the pain paralysed Siphewe. This wasn’t his plan. He wanted to see his mother. He wanted to change things and make the wrongs right. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for everything he had done to her and to his father in the past.

  But Siphewe’s life slipped away.

 
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