Roses for Violet (4/5)

By Drum Digital
14 May 2015

The Rosettenville Kid does a special delivery.

He clutched the whole bucket to his chest and hurried across the road and past the cops into the flats before they had time to make a move. That didn’t last very long. The doors of the Golf flew open and the two cops popped out, all arms and legs in their hurry, and ran into the flats.

They were already digging their guns out of their holsters. The first shot sounded before Moloi could’ve made it to the second floor. I heard it because I was expecting something. It made a sudden loud clap, like a cough bursting from a bad exhaust. Two more shots followed in rapid succession.

Then all hell broke loose – a series of explosions punctured the world like the beating of giant hailstones on a tin roof and seemed to go on and on. The noise was loud enough for motorists waiting at the lights to start looking around anxiously. When it came, the silence seemed unreal. The uncaring traffic that started rolling through the intersection seemed unreal too. I was straining to hear more. Nothing came.

The first thing I saw was one of the cops running out of the building and grabbing the microphone through the open window of the Golf. It wasn’t two minutes and a blue-and-lime green patrol car came screeching to a stop and cops piled out and disappeared through the foyer entrance. Still more police cars arrived and blocked half the road and dominated that corner of Rosettenville with their loud sirens and flashing lights.

Pretty soon the cops barricaded the entrance with a broad yellow-and-black tape: DO NOT ENTER CRIME SCENE.

The beggar boy who shared my corner spot on the pavement took to his heels at the first sight of uniformed cops.

To be continued...

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