"ALRIGHT, Jim. I'm heading out," Derek Mbūgua said as he got up from behind the computer at the movie shop.
"I said, I'm heading out!"
"Wha-oh!" startled, Jim turned around, his thick Afro quivering above his head.
"Really, man?" Derek sighed, looking from his assistant and to the large screen in front of him, "I wonder, we ni assistant wangu ama customer?"
"Ilikuwa game ya mwisho!" said Jim, trying to defend himself, "Plus you're leaving now so I'll get back to work. Bro, tulia."
Derek gave him the eyebrow like he always did.
"Man, you worry too much," Jim added, exiting the FIFA '23 game, "mtu hurelax kidogo. You gotta loosen up."
"I need to loosen up?" Derek retorted, looking surprised, "what's that supposed to mean?"
Jim chuckled, making his plump face become all puffy.
"Oh come on, unajua namaanisha nini. You're all work man and you never catch a break like the rest of us."
"So what are you saying? That I don't have a life?"
Jim nodded with a shrug.
"But I work, I eat and sleep. What more is there?"
"Okay, Imma stop you right there bro. When's the last time you met someone?"
"Ati?" Derek frowned, "What?"
"You know, a girl? Or a boy? Or both? I dunno what kind of stuff you're into, man, but-"
"Jim," Derek snapped.
"Mm?"
"Get back to work before nianze kufikiria about replacing you."
Jim raised his hands in a 'I surrender' kind of way. "Okay, boss. Geez, no need to get all worked up."
A customer walked in, requesting for a TV series just as Derek turned and left.
He was still thinking about that awkward conversation with his assistant while crossing the road to the next avenue when he noticed the time on his Casio™ wristwatch. Thirteen minutes past noon. This brought his mind back to the present, recalling that he had a few phones to repair as he arrived at his other workplace.
There were three of them, all with critical screen damage. He pulled open a drawer after disassembling the phones, looking for replacement screens and found that he had none. He had to make a supply run.
It took him only about ten minutes by bus to get to Salute iWorld--his favorite tech store in the city that had about everything someone like Derek Mbūgua would need to fix any electronic gadget.
The tech store was just opposite the Westgate Mall, next to the Westlands Forex Bureau that Derek passed on his way into Salute iWorld.
He knew where to get his stuff, shortly before going to checkout at the cashier with the purchased replacement screens. All too easy--he told himself and later exited the tech store.
A bus was picking up passengers at a stop close to the mall and Derek tried to hurry towards it but got there a little too late, missing his ride back. It was a bit chilly that afternoon and walking through town had not been part of his agenda but he could not wait for another bus. He had phones to fix, with the owners expecting them all brand new by the end of the day. Ergo, he decided to walk back.
With the screens encased in bubble wrap and packed in a box, Derek left the stop and was just walking past the Westgate Mall when someone ran into him so hard that he lost his balance and fell backwards.
"Ah! Angalia kwenye unaenda!" he cried, "Watch where you're going!"
He was halfway getting up when he had his first look on the person he had run into. A girl with dark curly shoulder-length hair, wearing rounded glasses.
*
About ten minutes earlier, she had just managed to slip out of her hotel room, barely being able to break free from her attacker's poor grip.
"Thought you could hide from me!" the assassin hissed in Tamana's face, making her sharp features come into focus.
Her brunette hair was tightly pulled back just as Tamana remembered it being during their previous encounter only this time she had on a white apron--he room service uniform of Villa Rosa that was worn over her black leather attire, with only the heeled boots being visible.
How nobody had not been able to see under that made Tamana uncomfortable but she had much more pressing matters to worry about. Her life for one.
The assassin had tried to pin her against the wall, inches from the door. Tamana wiggled, trying to scream. The assassin took out something. A syringe. She drove it into Tamana's left arm just below the shoulder.
The needle did not go in completely though. Thanks to Tamana's wild shaking that gave her a chance to push herself towards the door and was soon running through the hallway, her satchel still dangling over her shoulder.
At the lobby, security and other visitors were befuddled to see a young girl bolt right past them, closely followed by a woman in room service gear. They watched the couple until they were out of sight from the hotel.
One of the security guards rushed to the entrance, trying to spot the strange individuals when he noticed something on the floor. Picking it up, he discovered that it was a passport.
Outside, Tamana was still running, all while looking over her shoulder to find the assassin hot in pursuit. She had to lose her.
There was a bus stop up ahead just past the Dunhill Towers at Parklands Road where a City Shuttle transit bus was already leaving. Tamana ran up to it and managed to jump in.
The assassin was not so lucky. She tore at her disguise, throwing the dress to the ground so that she was standing in her leather outfit before taking out a pair of sunglasses and putting them on.
Just a few yards from her was a grocery store. A retailer was just offloading crates of bread from his motorcycle and had just taken down the last crate when a tall white woman in black suddenly jumped on the motorcycle, turned it on and rode away onto the asphalt.
The assassin chased after the transit bus on the motorcycle, leaving behind a shouting owner who tried to run after her but hunched over on the kerb, still yelling and cursing.
Onboard the bus, Tamana found an empty seat just opposite the entrance. She turned to the window and her heart went up her mouth when she spotted the assassin riding a motorcycle and was only a few cars and a lorry behind.
She prayed for the bus to go faster. Her only luck were the vehicles preventing her attacker from reaching her and at some point, her luck seemed to be prevailing when the bus branched off to another road at a junction. The motorcycle was cut off after the traffic police hailed vehicles coming from Parklands Road to stop.
Turning away from the window, Tamana laid back in her seat, apparently having difficulty breathing and had started to feel a little light-headed.
The tout called out for the next stop and Tamana was already up before the bus could stop. In her haste, she nearly forgot to pay the fare when the tout blocked her exit.
Without thinking, Tamana fished out a one thousand shillings-bill from her satchel and slapped it in the surprised tout's open palm. She was already off the bus and did not catch the tout calling her to take her change.
Holding on to her satchel, Tamana glanced back in the direction that the bus had come from. There were a lot of motorcycles alright, but none with a leather-clad assassin.
Tamana decided to continue moving forward, having the slightest of ideas of where she was going.
She kept glancing back, getting a dreadful feeling that she was still being followed.
She had to have lost her--she told herself while fighting off the weird feeling inside her head just as her eyes began to grow weary.
As if on queue, there was a disturbance from behind. Tamana looked back once more. Nothing. She was about to go on when she caught a slight swift motion of black and that's when the assassin came into view, pushing through the horde of pedestrians, quickly coming at her.
Panicking, Tamana broke into a run, making her way through the street until she could see a large building thronged with people coming in and going out. The Westgate Mall.
Yes. She could hide in there. Among the crowd.
She continued running and was almost getting to the entrance, taking another look behind and it was at this moment that she failed to account for the person coming straight at her from the opposite direction. Before she knew it, she collided with the person and they both went to the ground.
*
"No!" Tamana cried out after the collision had caused her to drop her satchel, out of which the hard drive slid and skittered to the sidewalk.
The person she had run into was talking to her in a language she could not understand but given his tone, Tamana could tell he was not at all pleased. And she realized why.
Just next to where the drive had fallen, there was a tiny open box that looked like it had been stepped on and a few pieces of what looked like glass fragments could be seen scattered not far from the box.
Derek was still cussing as he picked up his box, scrutinizing it and discovering that the phone screens had been smashed after having been stepped on.
He had picked up something else too. The hard drive.
"That's mine!" Tamana called, trying to make a grab at the drive after picking up her satchel.
Derek withdrew the drive out of arm's reach. "Whoa! Umenivunjia screen zangu!"
"What?" Tamana asked, not quite catching that.
"You broke my screens!" he repeated.
"I-" Tamana turned around and gasped when she spotted the assassin getting closer to the mall's entrance/exit.
"Give it here, now!" she tried to grab at the drive again but Derek determinedly held it away from her, using his height to his advantage.
Tamana glanced back again frantically and Derek finally took notice.
"What do you keep looking. . ." his words trailed off after following the girl's eyes.
Cutting through the crowd, Derek saw the tall white woman dressed in black, clearly standing out from the rest of the crowd and he noticed something else--that is if he weren't imagining things--was that a gun just slightly coming into view in her right hand?
The girl's reaction made him believe it was no imagination.
"Move!" Tamana cried and Derek found himself running with her in the opposite direction.
"Wait!" he called out while still running, monetarily looking back to find that the woman really was coming after them. "This way!"
Together, they ran through the crowd at the sidewalk with Derek leading the way until they got to a deserted alley filled with trash cans. They hid there and waited.
At the other end of the alley, the woman was seen dashing past.
"Tuko sawa," Derek said, getting from behind the trash cans.
"What?"
"Tuko. . ." Derek stopped, eyeing the girl closely, "We're in the clear. You're not from around here, are you?"
"Give me back my property!" Tamana snapped and this time, Derek caught her British-inflected accent clearly plus her complexion was light. Not white but very light brown.
"You broke my screens," Derek repeated his earlier lament.
"Fine! Is it money you want?" Tamana snapped again, fishing something out of her satchel, "here, does that cover it?"
Derek's eyes widened upon noticing the big bundle of notes in the girl's hand.
For a moment, he almost took the money but then thought better about it. Something just wasn't right here.
"How do I know you didn't steal this?"
Tamana rolled her weary eyes impatiently. "What's it matter to you? I'm giving you money, aren't I?"
"Fair point," Derek mused, frowning, "but why was some psycho white lady chasing us?"
"Not us. Me! She was after me!"
"Still doesn't answer my question but since that doesn't sound like my problem . . .here." Derek was handing back the drive and just as the girl reached out her hand to take it, she started to tremble.
"I . . .Uuuh. . ."
Tamana felt her legs grow weak as if they had turned to Jell-O. Her eyes were like lead and she began to lose focus of the person standing in front of him until she could bear it no more.
"Hey! Hey!" Derek called, managing to catch the girl in mid-fall as she passed out in his arms.
"Wake up! Hey! Come on!" Derek kept calling, shaking her as he did so but the girl remained unresponsive.
"Great!" he muttered to himself, "I couldn't just wait for the bus!"