Muti Nation (25 page)
I’m about to respond when I glance down to see more dead fish drift to the surface of the water. A circling carrion bird falls from the sky, dead. I glance at the trees to see the body parts already withering away, emaciated by an unseen force sucking the very life out of everything in the region.
“Go. Go
now
!” I shout. “Come on, Mosepi.” I grab his sleeve and tug hard. “We need to leave.”
“I’m coming,” he barks over his shoulder.
I point to the trees, showing him what he obviously missed.
“What the hell is that?”
“Death,” I say. “Now, move it.”
Chapter 28
They’re like ants before a thunderstorm; scurrying for higher ground.
He might have found it comical under different circumstances, but Esmé Snyders’ presence had ruined his meticulously planned ritual. At least fifteen people, all involved with the SAPS in some way or another, were supposed to be sacrificed today.
It was supposed to be a denouement for the history books.
This ceremonial hecatomb would have gained him reverence. His ancestors would have rejoiced at his devotion. They would have welcomed him to their ranks with open arms and loving hearts.
And the people would have feared his majesty.
His power would have made him a god amongst men.
While watching the shrine’s epicentre suck the life from everything caught in its clutches, he wonders how she recovered from his last attack so fast. Soon, the death will spread further, decimating the soil itself, but it won’t get him what he wanted.
“Sir, please step back,” an androgynous police officer commands.
He takes a step away and watches as Esmé and the detectives are escorted through the gathered crowd. The fat one he knows; Detective Mosepi. The other one, however, is a new face. His attention is quickly drawn back to her, though.
Esmé’s so close he can smell her perfume, taste her anger and feel her heat.
She stops in her tracks, a couple of feet away, and turns to look at him.
When their eyes meet, his heart beats faster, but he cannot look away. He cannot force himself to hide, even if his every nerve shouts for him to run. He steels himself for the confrontation as she takes a step towards him. His lungs protest as he holds his breath, hoping to disappear into the crowd.
After an agonising moment, Esmé shakes her head and forces a faint apologetic smile before continuing towards the idling car.
He exhales in relief. He knows this could have easily been the end of his game. Luckily, the ancestors still favour him.
After a few more minutes of watching the failed ritual site he makes his way back to his van.
“How had it gone so terribly wrong?” he asks himself, getting in.
His mind reels through every step he’d taken to procure the organs and limbs on the black market. They were of high quality; he’d made sure of it. Weeks of prayer had ensured him this would be the perfect site for what he had in mind. The planning had taken months. The fiasco had cost a fortune.
His ancestral magic still runs strong, which means the ritual itself hadn’t been cursed from the get-go. So, why?
“Esmé shouldn’t have been there,” he answers his own question and kisses his teeth. Her intervention had disrupted what fate had already promised him.
He directs the van onto the highway and slams his hands against the steering wheel, enraged. “She shouldn’t have been there!”
He quiets his anger through sheer will and takes a few calming breaths.
There’s a way to rectify this.
It will take time, but he can remedy the situation.
“It’s gonna be fine,” he promises his reflection. “She doesn’t have the upper-hand yet. Everything will be perfectly fine.”
But first he needs to get rid of a rat before the game tips in Esmé’s favour.
Chapter 29
EXCLUSIVE: AMATEUR FOOTAGE OF PRETORIA SLASHER’S RITUAL SITE (NSFW)
2015-09-29 | 07:22 12 Comments
Hartbeespoort—The usually serene resort town on the slopes of the Magaliesberg Mountains was disrupted this morning when Pretoria and Hartbeespoort police forces joined together to investigate a heinous ritual site, found at the Crocodile River.
According to inside sources, the ritual site is possibly the work of the Pretoria Slasher.
“Hundreds of body parts and organs were found hanging from the trees, over the river,” a News24 source, who wishes to remain anonymous, said to interviewers. “It was quite a shock to see, but it’s painfully obvious that the Pretoria Slasher is taunting police by making this statement.”
Whether these body parts and organs comes from the killer’s victims or were bought on the black market, nobody knows.
The Pretoria Slasher has presumably murdered at least three people since the start of September. Known victims include: Valentine Sikelo (27), Carol-Anne Brewis (12), and Abraham Amin (39).
Police are yet to release official information about the killer, the victims, and the sites.
Amateur footage of the ritual site was sent in by numerous Hartbeespoort residents this morning before police arrived at the scene of the crime.
Please note the following footage is not suitable for sensitive viewers. Viewer discretion is advised:
PLAY VIDEO
—News24
COMMENTS:
PuddinPie –
September 29, 2015 at 07:25
(O_O) That’s… Wow. I’m speechless.
HelenaC
–
September 29, 2015 at 07:25
How the hell is this monster still walking around a free man? Look at the carnage!
DanTheMan
–
September 29, 2015 at 07:42
@HelenaC
–
Agreed. The police seem too busy picking their noses than wanting to catch killers.
HelenaC
–
September 29, 2015 at 07:45
@DanTheMan
–
I wouldn’t go that far in putting them down. I’m sure the police are doing everything in their power to catch the Pretoria Slasher, but they’ll need to do more a lot faster. It looks like the guy’s already branching out to the Northern Province.
DanTheMan
–
September 29, 2015 at 07:59
@HelenaC
–
You have more faith in our judicial system than I do.
NaeNae92
–
September 29, 2015 at 07:32
WTF did I just watch? Is this a belated April Fools prank?
SkyrimKyle
–
September 29, 2015 at 07:33
FAKE! This footage is so fake, it’s not even funny!
ParaNorman – September 29, 2015 at 07:37
@SkyrimKyle
–
I don’t think so. Decomposing flesh is difficult to fake.
SkyrimKyle
–
September 29, 2015 at 07:42
@ParaNorman
–
I bet you’re one of those conspiracy theorist dudes. Hahahaha! Do you see little green men in the sky too? Or wait. Does Bigfoot actually exist?
ParaNorman
–
September 29, 2015 at 07: 43
@SkyrimKyle
–
Your response was unnecessary. I’m giving my opinion on the matter as everyone else is doing. And yes, I am a conspiracy theorist, although we like to call ourselves something less derogatory. Asshole.
ThatStationaryGuy
–
September 29, 2015 at 07: 33
Whether it’s real or not, this is f@#*ing disturbing.
Twerkarina
–
September 29, 2015 at 07:52
Are you kidding me @News24.
Valentine Sikelo was reported, by you, to be 28 years old in a previous article! Are you too lazy to check the facts by using your OWN published articles?
Ugh. The journalism in this country is going to be the end of me.
Chapter 30
We’re so close to a break in the case, I can almost taste it.
Not being able to enter the quarantined area makes it harder to find clues, obviously, but there are quite a few things Gramps and I can study from afar. For example, the perimeter itself is remarkable. One side teems with life—green grass and insect activity is found in abundance, fish alive and swimming, birds chirping—whereas the other side is a complete void. Neither of us can come up with a reasonable explanation of how life had been siphoned out of the “Dead-Zone,” but it’s undeniably the most interesting evidence of esotericism we’ve ever encountered.
I pick up the borrowed binoculars from Detective Mosepi’s equipment bag and stare at the trees. From afar they look as if they’ve been decorated with cadaverous Christmas ornaments. Dead fish and birds dot the water’s surface, floating yet lifeless. It’s an eerie sight.
“If anybody believes this is the result of a chemical spill, there’s no hope for the human race.” I lower the binoculars, and look to where Gramps is hunched over in his striped pyjamas, taking samples of the earth.
“It’s not impossible. Isn’t there a nuclear research centre nearby?” he asks.
“Pelindaba? Yeah, I guess. It just feels like a stretch.”
His shoulder twitches into a shrug as he stands. “The tales they weave is none of our concern. We have a killer to catch. But I’m starting to think we might not be suitable for the task.”
“Oh?” I ask. “Who else is there if not us?”
“I don’t know, but let’s be honest; we’re out of our depth.” Gramps says.
Thinking about it is one thing, hearing it said out loud by my grandfather of all people is different. I’m afraid he might be right, but we cannot make assumptions if we haven’t assessed all the facts. Besides, I still have to make my way over to the Pretoria Central police station to interrogate Rochester Ramphele. Who knows what titillating facts I can scare out of him?
“This aberration is beyond our expertise,” Gramps says. “I feel we simply need a while to ponder the facts without interruption, in order to find a viable solution.”
“We don’t have time to ponder this stuff.
Him
is out there, killing for sport, and people are anxious.”
“Anxious… yes,” he sighs.
“Are you ready?” Detective Mosepi’s voice comes from behind us. Gramps and I turn around to face the burly detective as he checks his wristwatch. “If we don’t leave now, we won’t make it in time for Ramphele’s interrogation.”
“I’ll be right there,” I say.
He grumbles something unintelligible, pivots and walks away.
“That one will never change,” Gramps says, shaking his head as he picks up his equipment bag.
I drop the binoculars in the open bag for him when he holds it out to me.
“I’ll see you back at the office,” he says. “Hopefully I can consult with Howlen and Father Gabriel about what’s going on here when I get there. That’s if Howlen’s decided to come into the office in the first place. What’s the date?”
“It’s the twenty-ninth of September.”
“Hmmm. It’s a bit early in the year for his self-destruction streak to shine through. Something must’ve happened to tick him off.”
