stick

The city pulsed with life; its rhythm relentless. Skyscrapers towered over the crumbling slums, their shadows covering the alleyways full of people with desperation. Here, survival wasn’t a given; it was a skill. Tonight, that skill was being tested once again.

“Stick to the plan,” Ali murmured, crouched low behind a vendor’s stall.

Musa nodded; his gaze locked on the man in the crisp white suit strolling through the Central Business District. His every step radiated arrogance, an easy target.

“Quiet. Here he comes,” Musa whispered. He whistled—a sharp, calculated signal. Game on.

Shiko moved like a shadow, trailing the man for two blocks before slipping in front of him. The man, distracted by his phone, didn’t notice her until it was too late. With a swift, practiced motion, she looped her arm around his neck, cutting off his air.

The man struggled, gasping for breath, but Shiko’s grip was unyielding. As he went down, Ali emerged from the alley, rifling through his pockets with precision. Musa grabbed the man’s phone, their prize for the night.

“Run!” Musa barked. They scattered like leaves in the wind, each disappearing into the chaos of the city.

Behind them, the man gasped for air, his voice hoarse as he cried, “Thief! Mwizi!” His shouts fell on deaf ears. By the time anyone cared, the trio was long gone.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Meanwhile in the towers of Lavington, Anita sipped imported wine from a crystal glass, her leather chair creaking softly as she leaned back. The skyline stretched before her, revealing a group of people down below on their walkabout. Her assistant entered, tablet in hand. “Ms. Anita, the funds from the housing project have been diverted. Shall I finalize the transfer?”

"Do it,” Anita replied, a cold smile playing on her lips.
To her, the city was a chessboard, its players mere pawns in her game of power.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The abandoned textile factory on the city’s outskirts was dimly lit and reeked of urine, but it was safe. For now. Musa counted the night's haul—a phone and 2,000 shillings. That was equivalent to 20 dollars.

“Not enough,” he muttered, frustration tightening his jaw.

Ali leaned against a crumbling wall. “Shiko’s late.”

“Relax,” Musa said, but his eyes flicked toward the door.

Moments later, Shiko strolled in, hands in her pockets, a smirk on her face. “Miss me?”

“Cutting it close, aren’t you?” Musa said.
“Had to make sure we weren’t followed,” Shiko replied.
“Let’s go. Zuri should be back by now.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Across the city, Zuri’s group moved with purpose, unloading contraband electronics from a truck at the harbour.

“Quickly,” she urged, her voice steady despite the danger.

Suddenly, headlights cut through the darkness.

“Sanse!” a boy shouted.

“Retreat!” Zuri snapped, signalling the group to scatter. She handed two bags to Amani and Kendi. They ran towards the wooden bridge across the murky water. It swayed dangerously beneath their weight, but it was a path they knew well. The distant wail of police sirens grew louder, followed by the thudding boots of private guards who were closing in.

"Split up," Zuri commanded, dividing her group into smaller units. "Stick to the shadows. Take these to Frances. thank her for loaning me her cubs." She said as she gave four boys one bag. Their path was treacherous, weaving through narrow alleys formed by towering stacks of containers. Every step was calculated, every breath held until the flashlights moved on.

The sound of a guard's radio crackled nearby. "They’re heading toward the south gate. Cut them off!"
Zuri gritted her teeth. The guards were coordinated, too coordinated for a simple warehouse security team.

"Change direction," Zuri whispered, leading her group toward the waterfront. The docks were their best chance. If they could reach the small fishing boats tied up there, they might escape into the darkness of the bay.
But the guards were already there, blocking their path. Zuri’s group froze as flashlights and guns turned toward them.

"There!" a guard shouted.
"Run!" Zuri yelled, pushing Kendi ahead of her as the they scattered.

Zuri ducked behind a forklift, her heart pounding. She could hear Amani sobbing nearby, trying to stifle her cries. Kendi was nowhere to be seen.

"Come out, little girl," one of the guards taunted, his footsteps echoing as he approached. "You can’t hide forever."

Zuri’s hand tightened around the hilt of her knife. She didn’t want violence, but she wouldn’t let them take her or Amani without a fight.

As the guard rounded the corner, she sprang up, slashing at his arm. He yelled in pain, dropping his flashlight.

"Now!" Zuri screamed, grabbing Amani’s hand and pulling her into the shadows.

Ahead, she saw a small fishing boat tied loosely to the dock. It was old and rickety, but it would float.

"Get in!" she ordered Amani, shoving her toward the boat. She jumped in after her, fumbling to untie the rope as the guards closed in.
"Stop them!" one of the guards shouted.

Gunfire erupted, bullets ricocheting off the metal of the dock. Zuri pushed the boat away from the pier and grabbed the oar, paddling with all her strength.
The guards reached the edge of the dock, their shouts growing fainter as the boat drifted into the bay.

When they were far enough from the shore, Zuri collapsed, her chest heaving. Amani clung to her, trembling.

"We...we made it," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
"We’ll be okay," Zuri said, though she wasn’t sure if she believed it.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

FURTHER INFO FROM THE CHAPTER

MWIZI - THIEF

SANSE – POLICE/ SECURITY

For anyone wondering the slashes signify entering into a new scene