As Long As She Lives (full published version!)

Chapter 10

Wemusa couldn't stand the wailing. Since the King's death had been announced, the common room had been filled with people crowding around the only TV in the building, indulging in a frenzy of vicarious misery. The BBC had the most coverage but any time they turned their attention to a different story the old woman holding the remote would search through the other news channels replaying the same vision of the same violence. Not a single person in the common room was from Umoja but the walls resonated with ululation as though their king had died, as though their families were in danger. Wemusa hated each and every one of them.

The communal pay phone rang. Wemusa leapt upon it. "Hello?"

"Adela Owolowol, please."

"She's not here." Wemusa hung up on the caller. He'd been putting up with this display for hours, praying his family would return his calls, and he wasn't going to let anyone else block the line, now. Leaving his number was a risk – he wasn't supposed to tell anyone that he was in Australia – but Henri's men had other things to worry about. Of course the mobile network might be shut down, or his family simply may not be able to afford a phone call to Australia. Shit. If they couldn't afford to call they might send an email to his old email address. Henri's nasty little tech-head, Penda, had set up his old email address and would surely be monitoring it – if not today, then soon. He needed to check his email and delete anything they sent before Penda got to it.

Wemusa was still panting when he handed his money to the kid on duty at the internet café. It maddened him that he couldn't afford a mobile phone with data access. He didn't mind not wearing tailored suits from London. Well, he did, but he understood – it made sense that he shouldn't have luxuries, hiding as a refugee as he was, but a phone with data access shouldn't be a luxury. Even the poorest of people in Umoja – frankly most of Africa now – had a phone that could receive email.

He chose the computer in the furthest corner from the door, putting his back, and therefore the screen, to the wall. He opened a browser and pulled up a webmail app. His hands were shaking, but not from the run.

He got his username and password right on the third try. Months of spam scrolled down the screen. He tried to scan the addresses and subject lines for anything from family but each line only jumped out of his focus as the next loaded. He forced himself to be patient by opening a search page to look for news from a more local perspective.

He'd typed one and a half words into the search bar when an Instant Message window popped up.

Penda: You think you can log on to this account without me knowing?

Shit.

Wemusa: I saw the news. I wanted to report in, nothing else was getting through, so I thought I'd try this.

Penda: Have you found the woman?

Wemusa bristled. He would answer to Henri, not Penda, especially when it was Penda who was holding up his efforts to find the woman.

Wemusa: I've told you over and over, there are 5 million people in this city! Send who you like, they won't know the city as well as I do, and they'll need a name, too, and that's on you.

There was a pause before "Penda is typing a message" appeared. Eventually the message appeared, disappeared then re-appeared and disappeared again. Penda was nervous. Wemusa could use that.

Wemusa: Look, Penda, we used to be friends. Can you at least tell me if my family is safe?

After a long pause Penda started typing. Wemusa waited.

Penda: I don't know about your family. Sorry.

He hadn't really expected him to.

Wemusa: Your family?

Penda: I've had word. They got out of the house before Julien's supporters got there.

Wemusa: They're attacking houses?

Penda: Of course they are!

Of course they were. They'd be targeting anyone known to be favoured by Henri, which would include Wemusa's family.

He clicked back to his webmail and scanned the emails that had finally finished loading. Nothing but spam in the past twenty-four hours, and there was no point scanning any more. The best he could hope for was that they too, had run before the mob turned their attention to them.

Wemusa: Would Henri punish you if you put the word out for my family to get to the pick-up point?

Penda: There is no pick-up point.

Wemusa: What?

Penda: Henri won't risk showing our hand till he's ready to launch his full attack.

Wemusa: Well what's he waiting for?

He'd typed it before he'd thought. He didn't need to wait for Penda to type the answer to know what it would be.

Penda: What do you think! He won't make a move until he has proof that woman is dead!

The Western media had been interviewing "experts" on the situation all day, each of them with their theories on how long Henri would wait to show his hand, and why, and not one of them had come close to the truth. It didn't matter that Henri had been raised in England and educated at Cambridge, his mother had instilled his culture's beliefs in him and he took them more seriously than the western media would ever understand. Henri wouldn't do anything while the teacher's curse was still on him. Wemusa could use that too.

Wemusa: What's the trouble getting the name? Couldn't you hack the hospital database?

Penda: Of course I could! There was nothing there or in the school's records except the British identity they planted.

Wemusa: Well, you knew they would probably have fixed the computer records. Is that all you've been doing all these months?

Penda: Of course not. We've been trying to get into the school but it's been on lock-down and none of the girls or the nuns have left without police security.

Wemusa: So pay the security.

Penda: We haven't exactly had the resources. Besides, it's chaos now. We don't know who we can approach, let alone trust.

Wemusa: So use the chaos Penda. The BBC says everyone's rioting. Can't you get into the school while that's going on? The head nun and the older girls will know the truth – take them and burn the place down to hide it if you have to!

There was another long break before Penda resumed typing. He was weighing up the risk of continuing to work with an outcast and the reward if he could claim credit for the death of the teacher.

Penda: Log on again in 24 hours. 

** As Long As She Lives is now available worldwide in print and eBook in (ePub as well as Kindle) at the usual online retailers (Amazon, eSentral, Nook etc...) If you're enjoying my work, I hope you'll consider supporting it by purchasing a copy!

Cheers!
Darcy.