Chapter 11

For a moment, everything went black. When he came to, he found himself sprawled across the floor. A patter of rushing footsteps pounded his ears.
“What the hell, dude? I heard someone scream--“
Jabu froze in his tracks, mouth agape as he saw Luyanda on the ground. Luyanda tried to sit up and winced as white-hot pain stabbed through his side. He sat back down again.
“Dude. Is that… blood?”
Luyanda glanced down at his ribs. A dark, wet patch was pooling on his t-shirt.
“What the hell happened?” Jabu inched closer.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re hurt. We need to take you to the sick bay.”
“I’m okay, man--”
“Let’s get you on your feet.”
Jabu hoisted Luyanda up, draping one of his arms across his neck. Just then, Amina rushed into the warehouse.
“Did you guys hear that—?”
She paused mid-step, and stared at Luyanda leaning on Jabu. Her eye drifted towards the patch of red wetness on his t-shirt.
“What the—?”
“I got hurt,” Luyanda muttered. “Packing a crate.” Amina made a beeline towards them. She took one look at the wound and tried to lift his t-shirt. Luyanda moaned.
“We need to get you to the sick bay.”
“I’ll be okay, really. It’s just a scratch. Nothing major.”
“I don’t care. We’re taking you to the sickbay right now. Otherwise Uru will have my head for not following procedure.”

Amina and Jabu helped Luyanda to the sickbay. Luyanda heaved a sigh of relief when he saw how late it was and how few people were around. He was not in the mood for questions or curious glances from passers-by. The pain in his side didn’t allow for that. When they got to the sick bay, the nurse in charge took one look at Luyanda, forced him onto a stretcher, and wheeled him into the examination room.
“What happened to you?” she asked, drawing the plastic curtain behind her and cutting off Amina and Jabu’s concerned looks.
“I’m not too sure,” Luyanda mumbled.
She pulled his t-shirt off and inspected the wound. “Who stabbed you?”
“It was an accident. I was messing around in the museum with swords and spears and stuff, and I missed my step and fell, and…”
“Let me guess… you somehow landed on one?”
“You guessed it.”
“A likely story,” she clucked. “You’ll spend the night here. I don’t want you to run up a fever. I’ll put you on a drip, just in case.”
“No way!” Luyanda struggled to sit up. “My parents will kill me.”
“Why would they do that?” She pulled his arm towards her. “Ball your fist. I need a vein.”
“The thing is,” Luyanda continued, stretching out his hand, “my folks don’t want me working at the museum. So if they found out I got hurt, they’ll-”
“What?” the nurse interrupted. She held up the syringe in her hand.
“What do you mean what?”
“The needle just broke. Hang on. Don’t move.” She reached across to a chest of drawers propped against the wall and pulled one open, picked out another syringe, tore off its wrapper, and brought it to the vein bulging in the crook of Luyanda’s arm.
The needle bent against Luyanda’s skin. She frowned and pushed harder. The syringe bowed, then snapped.
“That’s it! I’ve told them so many times, we need quality supplies…”
“Listen, honestly I feel much better,” Luyanda interrupted her, sitting up. “I think I’ll be okay to go home, really.”
“You’re not going anywhere, young man.” She pushed him back onto the pillow. “Call your parents. Tell them what happened and tell them you’re in here for observation. I’ll bring a new box of syringes.”
She pulled the curtain open and stalked out of the sickbay.
Jabu and Amina looked up from where they had sat down to wait. Luyanda waved at them. They stood up and came over.
“Dude, how are you feeling?”Jabu asked.
“I’m okay. But they want me to stay here for the night.”
“Yeah, I guess it is because you lost a lot of blood,” Jabu answered. “Want me to phone your folks?”
“No, ways! I’ll err—I’ll call them myself. You guys go on home. You’ve done enough for me already. Really, I’ll be fine. Thanks.”
“I’m staying here until your parents arrive,” Jabu said, folding his arms.
“Jabu, you’re being an idiot. I’m alright. Look.” He wiggled closer to the edge of the bed and turned over.
“See?” he said, “No more bleeding. I’m stable.”
“Thank God,” Amina muttered. “Now we’ll can get to the bottom of what happened in there. So why were the two of you fighting?
“We weren’t fighting!” Jabu protested. “I wasn’t even near him when he got hurt!”
“He’s right,” Luyanda said. He recounted the same story he had fed the nurse. Amina looked as incredulous as she had. So did Jabu.
“There was no spear next to you, mate,” Jabu said, when Luyanda finished telling his version of the events. “It was just that old stool.”
“And stools don’t stab people,” Amina added, raising a sarcastic eyebrow.
Luyanda opened his mouth in reply, then fell silent as he weighed his words. There was no way they would believe whatever he said about the strange dream he’d had. Was it even a dream? How did it cause a wound? He thought he was sane, and so did his friends, and that was how he wanted to keep things. What he needed was more time to figure things out. He saw the nurse returning, carrying a small box of syringes in her hand, and an idea popped into his mind.
“Ow,” he moaned, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” the nurse tut-tutted, bustling into the sickbay. “You two will have to leave. Your friend needs rest. You can save your questions for later.”
She shooed Jabu and Amina out of the clinic. Jabu stuck his head over her shoulder.
“See you tomorrow, dude. Sure you don’t want me to call your folks?”
“They’re on their way,” Luyanda lied.
“Cool,” Jabu nodded. “Buzz me if you need anything.”
Luyanda gave him a thumbs up and a weak smile.
The nurse marshalled them down the corridor, then turned and headed back to Luyanda’s bedside. She drew the curtain shut and picked out a fresh syringe from the box had brought with her.
“This should work,” she said, as she removed the cap from the needle and took aim at Luyanda’s arm. “This batch arrived this week.”
She massaged his arm and pushed the needle into the vein in the crook of his elbow. Nothing happened. She pushed harder, her eyes growing wider as the needle bent more and more. With a soft twang, it snapped in half.
“Damit.” She hurled the broken syringe onto the floor. “I give up.”
“Don’t worry,” Luyanda said. “I don’t even need a drip.”
“Don’t be silly. A few minutes ago, you were feeling faint.” She sighed, exasperated. “How am I going to get you hydrated now?”
“Maybe just bring me some fluids to-”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job!”
Luyanda clammed up.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I’ve never seen this before in all my years working here.”
“Yeah. There’s a first time for everything.”
The nurse shrugged. “Okay. Let me get you some re-hydrants.”
She bustled out. A few minutes later she returned, balancing a tray laden with three bottles and glass.
“I need you to drink this,” she said, filling up one tumbler with a milky white liquid and handing it to Luyanda. He gulped down the sweet, tangy drink.
“What time are your parents coming?”
Luyanda choked and coughed.
“Take it easy,” the nurse said, and took the glass away from him. “You said your parents are on their way?”
“Yes, yes. They should be here any time.”
“You called them, right?” She shot a beady eye at him.
Luyanda cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes. Can I have more of that please? It tastes great.”
She poured him another glass and he guzzled it down.
“I need you to get some rest,” she said, propping up Luyanda’s pillow. “I’ll come check on you later. When your parents arrive, we’ll decide whether we can let you go home for the night. Try to sleep if you can.”
“Thank you, sister,” Luyanda said as she refilled the glass and left it beside his table. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”
“Just say, ‘call the nurse’ and your PAD will call me.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She took one last look at his dressing, picked up the two empty bottles, and bustled out of the sick bay, snapping the curtain shut behind her.

Luyanda lay there in silence. He looked out the window and wondered what he would do. He had to get back home, with no one noticing, and he had to do it fast. That was the only way to avoid a long story back at home. If his friends at the museum were already giving him a hard time, his parents would be insufferable. He glanced at the dressing on his side. It wasn’t too bulky. He could get away with it if he put on a clean shirt.
“Msiza?”
His PAD beeped to life. “Yes?”
“I need a plain white t-shirt from the nearest shop. Medium. I want it delivered to my exact location. Not to the door, but the window closest to my precise coordinates. Got it?”
“Sure.”
He lay back and waited. An hour later, a steady mechanical buzz rose outside his window. A small black delivery drone hovered beside the pane. Luyanda hopped out of bed, opened the window, took the package in his hands and shoved it beneath his bed as the delivery drone hovered off. He waited a moment to make sure that all was quiet. No one stirred in the ward. He inched out of bed, retrieved the package and tore it open. He examined the plain white t-shirt for a second, then pulled it over his head, being careful not to let it touch the gauze. To his surprise, his wound didn’t hurt at all as the soft cotton fabric ran over it. He prodded it with his finger. A dull ache ran down his side. It was almost imperceptible. His eyes lit up. He could take the dressing off once he got home, and his parents would be none the wiser.
“Incoming call from mum,” Msiza announced.
“Ignore it.”
“Incoming call from mum,” Msiza repeated.
Luyanda groaned. “Okay.”
His mother’s face popped out of his PAD. “Where are you?”
“I’m just done at the museum. We had a lot of work to do.”
“Please take a cab. I don’t want you on the bus at this time.”
“Yes, mum. See you soon.”
“Okay. Call me when you’ve left, okay?”
“Yes, mum.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too, mum.”
The hologram flickered off and went out. A door creaked open in the ward. Luyanda leapt back into his bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. He lay there in silence for a few minutes, then dragged the covers off and stole out of his bed. He tiptoed to the curtain and tugged it open. The room was abandoned. A slow, steady beep emanated from some machine somewhere. The front door stood slightly ajar. Luyanda powered off his PAD, to avoid any surprises, and stepped out into the corridor.
He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then stepped towards the door. He eased it open and waited to hear or see something. The machine beeped steadily away. There were no other sounds. Luyanda’s shoulders eased, and he stuck his head out into the passage.
The passage outside the ward was dimly lit. At the far end, next to a door, was a big trolley piled with boxes. A beam of light shone from beyond the door, casting the trolley’s shadow against the opposite wall.
A rummaging sound came from behind the open door. Luyanda stiffened as the nurse stepped out into the corridor. She picked up a box from the trolley and turned back into the adjacent office. Seconds later, she appeared again, grabbed another box, and lugged it in. Luyanda’s eyes widened in horror. All the gaping holes in his impetuous plan became embarrassingly clear. He considered going back to the ward.
He looked across the passage and saw the trolley’s shadow. It was alluring, almost as if it was calling out to him. He couldn’t explain what he did next because he didn’t think about it at all. He pressed his back against the wall, traversed the corridor, and stepped into the dark shadow the trolley cast onto the wall. The air squeezed out of his lungs, and his body became paper thin. A cool calmness engulfed him, as if he had just stepped into an air-conditioned room on a hot summer day. He felt the trolley’s cold, hard edges, its shiny surface, its smooth wheels, its flat metal shelves.
At that moment, the nurse stepped out of the adjoining room. Luyanda’s breath caught in his throat. He started planning excuses in his head. He needed to use the bathroom. The ward was stuffy, and he wanted to get some air. His backpack was still in the museum, so he had to go and get it.
The nurse stared straight into his eyes. Luyanda was just about to speak when he realised that the nurse was not looking at him. Was she seeing… through him? Luyanda looked over his shoulder. There was nothing there but the dark shadow on the wall. He spun around again. The nurse shook her head, placed her hands on the trolley’s handles, and pushed it forward. For the second time in as many minutes, Luyanda’s heart jumped. Although his feet were planted on the ground, he was moving. He wasn’t walking or floating, but was sliding along the wall, keeping pace with the trolley, its wheels creaking in his ears.
The nurse came to the end of the corridor, pushed the door open, and wheeled the trolley into the reception area. Then she sat down behind her desk and touched the PAD on her wrist. Its holographic display popped up in front of her. She swiped across twice, tapped once, and leaned back as a video started playing.
Luyanda couldn’t explain what had just happened. All he knew was that he had to get out of there. He edged away from the trolley. The nurse’s eyes snapped up. Luyanda froze where he stood. For a split second, he thought she’d seen him. The nurse pushed her chair backward and rose to her feet. Luyanda remained where he was, pressed against the wall, standing in the shadow cast by the open door. He could feel the door’s smooth contours, its flat panels, its well-oiled hinges. He held his breath as the nurse looked straight at the door he was standing next to. It was ajar. The nurse pulled her sweater around herself and approached. Luyanda didn’t move. She stood right next to him. His blood turned to ice. She pulled the swinging door shut, shoved her hands into her pockets, and ambled back to the nurse’s station.
Luyanda couldn’t believe what had just happened. For the second time in as many minutes, the nurse had walked straight past him. It was as if he were invisible. A strange idea formed in his head. What if…? No. It couldn’t be. From his vantage point beside the wall, he scanned his environs. He was only a few metres away from freedom. He wondered what he would do. He paused and listened in silence. Then he noticed them.
The shadows. They were all around him - on the wall, on the floor, beyond the door. They were as real and as present as he was. And somehow, he understood that he would be safe inside of them.
Luyanda slid along the shadow on the wall, the shadow beneath the door, the shadows on the floor of the passage. His heartbeat quickened. It was as if he were flying, flying so fast that breathing was difficult. Before he knew it, he was standing in the corridor. His lungs pushed out, his feet hit the ground, and he gulped down a breath of air.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he took off down the passage at a light jog and was out on the dark campus lawn in minutes.

He made his way out of the university gates and looked across the street at the bus stop. He realised that he had left his backpack at the museum. There was no way he would go back for it now. What if Amina was still there? She would give him a hard time once again. His bag would have to wait until the following day. He still had his PAD, and that was all he needed to pay for the bus. Nor would he order a cab. He had to save every afri he could.
He turned the PAD back on.
“Msiza, call mum.”
A few seconds later, Maddie’s face flickered on the display.
“Are you on your way home?”
“Yeah. I’ve just left.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Why?”
“You don’t look too good.”
“I’m just tired, that’s all. See you soon.”
He ended the call and hurried out the gates. The bus stop was opposite the exit, on the other side of the highway. Hovercars zoomed back and forth in the gathering dusk, throwing shadows across the road with their headlights. A walk bridge spanned the freeway. He looked down the street and thought he spotted his bus hovering a few intersections away. There was no time to cross the bridge. Running across the highway was the only choice. He waited for a lull in the traffic, checked that the coast was clear, and stepped off the sidewalk and onto the road.
An odd, queasy feeling shot through his tummy. His insides cramped together. Right in the middle of the tarmac, he leaned over and retched. But he brought nothing up. The pain was unbearable. He moaned and tried to walk. His gut tightened as though gripped by a vice, and he doubled over again. His muscles went limp, sapped of all their strength. It was all he could do to keep from falling over.

At that moment, a deafening screech filled his ears, and the glare of headlights blinded his eyes. The crunch of metal and glass exploded all around him. Razor-like shards swept past his face, scraping his cheeks, his arms, his neck. He was weightless, suspended in the air and soaring. Then the cold, hard ground crashed into his back, his shoulders and his head.

And everything went black.

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