Death By Carbs (16 page)

THE FANS

 

 

Thursday 6:42pm

 

 

THE BANTING FOR LIFE FACEBOOK PAGE

 

Nizreen Sooliman
feeling sick

Hi my name is Nizreen, and I am a Banter. I just ate a Whopper with fries and a coke!!

Like 72

 

Cliffy Oosthuizen
No, your not a banter, that is rubbish. You don't deserve to say you're a banter!!! Epic Fail Nizreen! Serves you wright that you feel sick now. Get off this page if your' not taking it seriously. It's called the Banting For Life page, not the Banting 4 Sometimes When You Feel Like It page!

Like 1

 

Rochelle Simmons
Don't be such a dipshit Cliffy. Everyone is human even alcoholics fall off the bandwagon every now and then. Nizreen, it's okay, pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again tomorrow.

Like 53

 

Maureen Ewehout
Nizreen, I'm here to tell you that you can do this. We all stumble and make mistakes. Please DM me if you want to talk about it. Don't let this wobble send you off track, okay?

Like 7

 

Cliffy Oosthuizen
– no
Rochelle Simmons
– what do you want me to do, say that's okay and you can eat it whenever you want. it's not like that if she wants to poison herself that's fine, but I won't say it's okay and blow smoke up her ass. That stuff is rotten and I don't even want to see it on this page. What if someone sees what she posted, and just hearing about it makes them fall off the wagon too. It's irresponsible! Nizreen, if you're not in it to win it you shouldn't be Banting. That's all.

Like 12

 

Lisa Leib
I had macaroni and cheese tonight, if that makes you feel any better, Nizreen. Misery loves company. We went to my outlaws for supper, and my cow of a monster-in-law made mac & cheese, even though she knows I'm on LCHF. I'm sure she does it on purpose, she's such a cow, bet she's laughing now. And my husband loved it, ate it all up – he always says how much he loves her cooking. There was a salad but it wasn't enough and I was starving after a long day at work, so I had some. My tummy is paying for it now. She said she made it cos she knows how much the kids love it. Jaaa right! Also, Cliffy, you're a tonsil. We're all only human.

Like 39

 

Ashwin Naidoo
I think Cliffy is right, she should be ashamed of herself, feel so bad that she doesn't transgress again!

Like 1

 

Rochelle Simmons
transgress? What are you, the banting police?????

Like 18

View 134 more comments

 

THE EX-CEO

 

 

Thursday 8:57pm

 

 

Trevor cruised into the designated drop-off point just before nine. It wasn't like he had anything else to do. He was operating on pure adrenalin (also the sugar rush from the slap chips and cake). Thoughts whirled in his head. What if the cops were doing a sting operation, and as soon as he handed over the money, they burst out from behind a bush and arrested him?

He knew it was unlikely: why would the taxi driver double-cross him? It didn't make business sense. Plus he'd answered the first hitman's cell phone. He would only be able to do that if he'd managed to take out the first hitman. Unless, Trevor thought, they were all working together, but how? That didn't seem possible. His brain felt addled, incapable of following a single thought through to its logical conclusion. He blamed it on the sugar.

Trevor parked in the lee of the dunes; it was dark and there were no other cars, only the dunes rising up on either side of the road, and the hulking shape of the battered building housing the public toilets. He trekked up over the shifting sand to find the highest vantage point
and get the lay of the land. His still-pyjama'ed legs sunk in deep at
every step, exhaustion creeping further into his bones. As he reached the top of the dune, one leg sank into the sand past his knee and when he pulled it out again, he noticed he no longer had a shoe on the end of that foot.

Trevor slumped down at the top of the dune with the deep, dark, cold stretch of the ocean before him, and pulled his jacket closer around him as he scoped out his surroundings. He couldn't see any large SWAT operations being set up: no lights, no cars and not a person in sight.

After what felt like ages shivering on the dune, the only moving thing Trevor had noticed was a very old maroon BMW, which had been circling the area. Was that his second hitman?

At eleven, Trevor began the trek back down the dunes to his car, then left the parking lot. He spent an hour driving around within a five-kilometer radius of the drop-off point, on high alert, his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.

 

THE HIJACKERS

 

 

Thursday 11:49pm

 

 

‘So you know what to do, hey Papsak? You go up onto that dune, and watch down here. If you see cops coming, whistle, then I'll run into those dunes. You run in the opposite direction, and I'll see you at home,' Thabo said.

Papsak nodded, but his eyes were wide. They hugged hard and slapped each other on the back.

‘Hamba kahle, Uncle Mlungu,' Papsak said to the body perched on the back seat; then he turned and scampered off into the dunes.

Thabo turned as a white Merc driven by a bald mlungu pulled into the parking lot. It crunched to a halt beside him, and the man rolled down his window.

‘'Ello,' the man said, in the funny accent Thabo recognised from their earlier phone call.

‘Do you have the money?' he asked in his most threatening voice.

‘'ow do I know you're not with the p'lice?' the man said. He seemed very nervous, and he smelt like slap chips.

‘I've been driving around with a dead body in my car for the last two days! How do I know
you're
not with the police?' Thabo said.

‘I'm not the rozzers, I swear on my loife,' the man said. ‘I'm goin' to get out the car now, I'm not armed.' He climbed slowly and wearily out of his car with both hands in the air, a Shoprite bag dangling from one thumb. Thabo noticed he was unshaven, wearing an inside-out suit jacket, a shirt and tie and a pair of pyjama bottoms. He had on only one shoe, and his sock was covered in sand. This man looked like a crazy person, not a policeman.

‘That's ‘'im. I can't believe it! You really got ‘'im!' The bald man
peered into the back of the gusheshe.

‘I told you I had the body,' Thabo said.

The man handed Thabo the shopping bag, which was packed with one-hundred-rand notes. ‘It's all there, I promise.'

Thabo shoved the bag inside his jacket, then opened his back door. Reaching in, he clasped Uncle Mlungu around the chest and dragged his body out of the car. Uncle's arms had thankfully dropped back down by now, and he was less stiff than he had been before, but more smelly. He was also even heavier than Thabo had expected, and he began to sweat with the effort of heaving the two-days dead body.

‘Quickly, open your back door,' Thabo instructed the bald man, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

‘What are you doing?' the bald man asked, his voice shocked, his accent suddenly gone.

‘I'm giving you the body you paid for. Watch out, he's heavy.'

‘I don't want the body!' the bald man gasped in horror.

‘You paid for him, you must take the mlungu,' Thabo insisted,
equally horrified at the thought of being stuck with Uncle. ‘Open your door!'

The bald man didn't respond, so Thabo shifted the body, using his knee and shoulder to leverage the dead weight over one shoulder, and managed to open the back door of the bald man's Merc, swearing profusely.

‘Wait, what are you doing? Don't put that man in my car, are you crazy?' squeaked the bald man, pushing Thabo away and slamming the door of his Merc closed.

Thabo could no longer manage the weight of Uncle Mlungu. Staggering backwards, he dropped the body onto the tarmac with a thunk. Then he watched, open-mouthed, as the bald man ran around his idling Merc, leapt in and sped out of the parking lot with a squeal of tyres.

Thabo stood gaping at Uncle lying on the ground in front of the gusheshe. Then he turned to watch Papsak sprinting down the side of the dune, taking long strides, his arms waving wildly.

‘What happened?' panted Papsak, skidding to a halt on the sandy tarmac, bending over, hands on his thighs.

‘Crazy mlungu gave me the money, then left without Uncle. Quickly, let's get out of here.'

The two men scrambled into the gusheshe. Thabo laid his arm along the back of the passenger seat, looked over his shoulder, then put his foot flat down on the accelerator to reverse. There was a massive thump as the car lurched forward, hitting Uncle Mlungu hard.

‘Fok!' Thabo shouted.

‘What are you doing?' Papsak yelled back. ‘Why are you running over Uncle Mlungu?'

‘Shit shit! I thought the gusheshe was in reverse.' Thabo tugged at the gear stick, the cogs grinding as he forced the car into reverse, then surged backwards, clunking up onto the pavement and ramming the back of the gusheshe into a pole. Papsak flew forward, banging his head on the dashboard.

For a moment both men sat stunned as the car bounced off the pole and rolled forward, straight into Uncle Mlungu a second time, before coming to a creaking, crunching stop.

‘Someone's coming, quick, drive, drive!' Papsak screamed.

Thabo looked round as a shabby man and woman, both in dirty yellow parking-guard vests ran into the car park, waving their arms and yelling.

‘Drive!' Papsak shouted again.

Thabo put the car into gear, then rammed his foot down on the accelerator. There was a double thud as both the front right and back right tyres hit Uncle Mlungu again, and then they sped out of the parking lot, skidding as they tore down the road in the direction of Khayelitsha, the car making an ominous clunking noise.

‘Are you okay?' Papsak asked.

‘I think so,' Thabo responded. ‘Is anyone following us?'

Papsak turned in his seat and looked out the back window. ‘No, nobody,' he said. ‘Why did you drive over Uncle Mlungu like that?' he asked.

‘It was a mistake. I thought the car wanted to go backwards, but it wanted to go forwards.'

Papsak sat back in his seat and pulled on his seat belt, rubbing at the egg his clash with the dashboard had left on his forehead. ‘Nentloko!' he mumbled.

Thabo pulled the Shoprite bag out of his jacket, and handed it to Papsak, who took three different goes to count the money. ‘Fifteen thousand,' he said eventually with glee, just as smoke started pouring out the front of the gusheshe. There was another loud clunk from the engine, and a small fire began billowing from the bonnet.

Thabo pulled over on the deserted stretch of road. The two men took their shopping bag and started the long walk back to Khayelitsha, thumbs out for a ride.

 

 

THE PARAMEDICS

 

 

Friday 2:02am

 

 

‘Don't you think it's funny that they call this the graveyard shift? It makes no sense if you work in a button factory or something like
that, but for us, I mean, it's creepy, don't you think?' Zayne was saying
as the radio in the ambulance blurted to life through the static.

‘Come in five nine indigo, reports of a hit-and-run at Strandfontein beach in the main parking lot,' the dispatcher's voice came through
the radio.

‘Copy that, five nine indigo, we're on our way,' S'bu said into the radio.
‘Turn on the siren,' he told Zayne.

 

As Zayne pulled the ambulance into the parking lot between the dunes, he spotted two informal car guards standing beside a body flat on the tarmac. While Zayne parked and cut the sirens, S'bu raced over to the body.

‘I thought you said he was still alive?' he said to the female car guard.

‘I saw his finger move!' she protested.

‘Hang on a minute. Hey Zayne, haven't we seen this body somewhere before?'

Zayne dropped to his haunches next to the body, which was not in the finest condition. ‘No ways! Isn't that the Professor Noakes guy from our hijacked ambulance? What's he doing here?'

‘Looks a little worse for wear. What have you been up to, buddy?' S'bu asked the dead body.

‘Hey, do you still have that cop's card, the one from the crime scene, who grilled us after the hijack?'

‘Yeah, hang on a sec, it's in my wallet. I'll get it and radio the mor-
tuary.'

‘We didn't do nothing,' said the male car guard. ‘He was sommer like this when we found him.'

‘Is there mos a reward?' asked his mate.