Mar 11 2009
Ambushed
Jacko was just ruthless. He had run a campaign of terror recently and he knew his job very well. Tall, dark, with red lips and he had a hard heart that would never confess. A born killer, he had seen wars, and there was smell of blood once he felt threatened, and he knew how to respond to threats. Developments in the political circles were irritating him. He scoffed at the idea of unity of parties that had recently contested the elections. He had not fought for unity of parties, but for total liberation from imperialism. So he would died holding on to the soil for that is what he had fought for, never mind his education and other credentials not related to his military capabilities. As he drove to his rural home, he licked his lips as he imagined the taste of milk from his big cows with fat breasts. A full glass of milk would clear all thin dust still hanging to his throat. Suddenly, he had an explosion. Bringing his huge jungle track to a stop, he checked his wheels. Another bullet hit inside his right hand. “Shit, that was close, damn”, he cursed and crawled back his wide eyes open with fear. Yes he was under attack, and he now feared death like all other human beings. Somewhere in the forest they were aiming to clear him, but were cautious for possibly he was also armed. He drove his track at a fast speed and behind him bullets riddled his rare windscreen. A kilometre away he felt safe. He then ripped apart his t-shirt then raped his bleeding arm. There was a huge wound, he felt his body sweating. Momentarily, he imagined death but drove on to the safety of his home having now realized that he was now safe from danger.
