Football singularity

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The Jeep surged into the narrow path, branches clawing at us from both sides, scraping against the metal with the shrieks of nails on a chalkboard. Each violent jolt threatened to toss me from the cargo bay as I clung desperately to the rusted railing, bracing my feet on a crate that bounced and skidded around beneath me.

Behind us, the jungle erupted into a symphony of gunfire, the heavy percussion of automatic weapons punctuated by sharp, erratic bursts. Through the chaos, I glimpsed Sir Michle huddled low in the passenger seat, his tailored suit now covered in sweat and grime, his face pale with terror. His reaction made me wonder how a man who can make his fortune from the blood of innocents could be so weak-willed.

Heck, I've seen kids barely ten clutch an AK and gun down grown men in desperation. "Can't you savages drive straight?!" Michle spat, voice cracking with panic.

"Unless you want me to crash into a tree, shut up!" Kwame barked back, his voice oddly steady for a thirteen-year-old facing death head-on.

Kosongo's voice erupted from the radio clipped to Kwame's vest, urgent and commanding. "We're two klicks from Mwamba village, it should be abandoned—hold it together!"

Following his voice, Kwame gripped the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding a tree as he turned towards the south. Looking back at the cars that were still following, I slid open one of the crates, revealing a beast. A black, slightly used M249, quickly chambering one of the prepared armo dryms, I propped it up on the crate in front of me.

I could have sworn I saw the driver in the leading pursuer curse upon seeing what I had set up. Not caring, though I just squeezed the trigger, spraying a volley of bullets, aiming at their engines and tiers. The recoil slammed violently into my shoulder, each burst of fire rattling through my bones.

Brass shells spat from the gun, tumbling into the cargo bed with a musical chime. My vision narrowed into a tight tunnel, adrenaline flooding my veins as the muzzle flash illuminated the chaos behind us. The lead jeep pursuing us swerved sharply, the front tires shredded by my assault.

It lurched sideways, smashing into a fallen log and flipping violently through the air, hurling men screaming into the dense brush. Two more vehicles swerved wildly to avoid collision, one skidding off the path into a deep ditch, metal groaning in protest. "Nice shot, brother!" Kwame shouted over the growl of our engine and the ringing in my ears.

The jungle track grew tighter, the long branches slapping the side of my face, cutting my skin with shallow, stinging slashes. The path twisted and turned, making aiming impossible as the pursuing vehicles faded further behind. Things suddenly became quiet as the last of the pursuers crashed into a tree after driving into a ditch.

Already out of ammo, I watched the car lurch into the air like a cliche Hollywood scene, spinning in the air like a corkscrew. There wasn't a slow-motion scene as the laws of nature took over, sending the car crashing into a tree and ripping it apart. Kwame didn't stop driving until we finally burst free from the oppressive clutch of the jungle and into a dusty clearing, the sparse cluster of derelict buildings looming in the distance.

~~~

[Hours later]

The fire crackled softly at our feet, its glow flickering dimly against the crumbling stone walls of the old schoolhouse. Shadows stretched long and thin, dancing eerily along cracked blackboards and overturned desks. Bullet holes pocked the walls, and faded posters— reminders of a forgotten past—clung desperately to the stone, peeling and yellowed with time.

Kosongo leaned against the wall, his assault rifle close by, eyes sharp and vigilant despite his exhaustion. Abu and Kwame sat quietly nearby, ration packets opened and half-eaten, their faces smudged with dirt and weariness. They sat near the fire, warming themselves as they listened to the Michles' complaints and Kosongos' attempts to placate him.

"I didn't sign up for this incompetence," he hissed, his voice thick with irritation. "Kofi promised me capable men, not frightened children. If you little savages had done your job properly—"

"Kosongo shut him up before he attracts what's out there," I said as I gazed out of the broken window, more afraid of the creatures that now called this place home than whether our pursuers were still chasing us.

"Brat, whom do you think you're talking to?" Sir Michle hissed, brushing off the dust on his coat in frustration.

Kosongo's sharp voice cut through the tension, eyes blazing fiercely as he turned to Michle. "He's right. Keep your voice down or whatever's lurking in this godforsaken place will have you for dinner."

Michle sneered bitterly, glaring daggers at me before huffing in annoyance and leaning back against the wall. "Insolent little—"

"Enough," Kosongo growled, silencing the man with a fierce stare. "Rest, Sir Michle. Tomorrow we move again."

I turned away, settling at the corner just a few meters from the entryway. Huddling tight, I closed my eyes to conserve energy with a light nap rather than dealing with that entitled bastard. I figured that since I didn't plan on ever returning to camp, I should enjoy one last nap to end this miserable existence.

"You know I never would have pegged the great Rakim Rex as a martyr," A voice whispered clearly in my ear, shocking the drowsiness out of me. "I guess even you don't have a perfect solution for every situation."

My heart jolted, my head snapping to the side. There sat a slightly tanned white boy dressed in a pair of navy-blue Saint Andrews military boarding school uniform, pristine despite our surroundings. His Black mohawk, butchered to a clean buzz, a cocky smirk tugged at his lips as he watched me with an amused gaze.

"Not you again, I already know you're not real, so you can stop with the theatrics?" I muttered under my breath, clenching my eyes shut briefly, willing him away. Liam didn't flinch, not minding my displeasure. Didn't vanish either. If anything, his smirk deepened.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, casually flicking a bit of lint off his blazer. "Not real, figment of your trauma-addled imagination, blah blah. Still, I'm all you've got right now, and we both know you can't get shit done without a pep talk."

I didn't answer and merely gazed into his blue eyes, trying to understand what he was getting at. He had been the only apparition that had been appearing before me like a recurring bad dream. At first, I was happy to see him, but he is far more sarcastic than I remember him being.

"Thought so." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowing slightly. "You really think you can do it? You'll rot in this shithole if you don't, so I guess you don't have a choice. With that lizard in a suit barking orders like he's not the reason we're neck-deep in this mess?"

"There is no we, you're not real," I hissed back, making sure to keep my voice low as I spoke through my sleeve.

"Oh, that really hurt my feelings, and here I thought we were like brothers," Liam said, tapping his temple. "You know, like Scar and Mufasa."

"Wow, you do know that Mufasa is the bad guy in that story?" I replied in half disbelief, slightly wondering what point he was trying to make. "Still, it's not my fault you moved back to Scotland, it's also not my fault you decided to get yourself shipped off, so spare me the pity party, I'm kinda busy, you know."

"NO! You do not get to turn your back on me, Rakim Rex. You owe me that much," he exclaimed, the relaxed expression completely disappearing from his visage as he jumped up from the boulder he was sitting on.

"Naw fam, I don't. You are not real, bro." I exclaimed, my voice rising much louder than before, even startling the monkey in the suit. "And it's Rakim Eze over here."

"What the F$%k is wrong with that boy? Is he talking to himself?" Sir Michle hissed in annoyance, shooting a glare at Kosongo.

Kwame, hearing his exclamation, jumped up from his sleeping position, looking more frightened than he was. "It's Madam Koi Koi." All the colour seemed to drain from his face as he subconsciously reached for his gun.

"Who is Madam Koi Koi?" Ade asked, also visibly frightened, but unlike the younger Kwame, he didn't immediately reach for his gun.

"The elder said she was..."

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To Be Continued...