In Cold Blood

Its nearly ten o’clock in Kampala and the sun is as hot as at Mid day. Brenda squints as she steps out of her one roomed rental pad in Wandegeya. She reaches into her handbag in search of her fake Ray-ban sun glasses. It takes her nearly 10 minutes to get the sunglasses out of her African craft hand bag. She brushes a stray strand of her human hair braids off her face and dons the pair of Chinese Ray-bans. She looks stunning to the by standers. Kabogoza had been watching her since she stepped out of the rental block that Brenda had called home for about three months now. For two months now, Kabogoza had religiously followed through his routine. Secretly, he had started loving his routine after he intrinsically started falling in love with Brenda. Several times, he battled the feeling and succeeded in shoving it to the backyard of his mind where lots of thoughts and memories were dumped to rot and evaporate into the forgotten vacuum of time. Kabogoza sat right next to Brenda in the taxi that was destined for Namanve. He never said a word to her. Brenda never noticed him as she always did. She had a lot on her mind and the chicken-crut hulk of a guy seated next to her was nowhere near her class or type of men. At Kireka, the taxi lounged a bit soliciting for three passengers. Brenda, was chatting with Omondi on the phone. She occasionally giggled and even once took a selfie and whatsapped it to her chat-mate. She was taken aback when the taxi conductor announced they had reached Namanve. She paid Ugx. 1.500 and alighted. Kabogoza waited about five minutes before he alighted too. It was going to be a long day for him. He was willing to wait as long as he had waited for each of those 60 days before. This had been a very expensive undertaking for him thus far. He had used all his savings so far and for a couple of weeks, he went without meals to save up just enough dime to pay for the taxi fare and sometimes boda boda fare to whatever destination Brenda took that day. Today was going to be another one of those long, disturbing days...but he was hopeful he would do it today. He would fulfill his life's most high purpose. He believed without a shadow-of-a-doubt knowledge that doing this one brave act would elevate him into saint-status in the after life.
It was about 9:00pm when Brenda stepped out of the heavily guarded premises of her employer. She flagged a boda boda who instantly stopped and motioned her to jump aboard. Kabogoza smiled behind the rider’s helmet and asked Brenda to hold on tight. He took the turn on his left and headed towards the Kampala, Industrial park. Brenda attempted to scream and make known her protest but Kabogoza was riding fast and soon the darkness of the sequestrated park engulfed Brenda’s shrieks. Kabogoza was now racing down a dirt road that led to small clearing called nowhere in the middle of a place named freaky. Suddenly, Kabogoza brought the motor cycle to a halt. The violent thrust of inertia brought both himself and Brenda flying over the handle bars. They landed on the ground with a thud. He tasted blood on his lips and the adrenalin rush had a similar intoxicating effect on him as would three straight shots of tequila on the rocks. With the vile intent of a killer high on a cup of human blood, Kabogoza reached for his fly and yanked out his 9-inch semi-erect manhood while Brenda pleaded for mercy. He half spun and bitch-slapped her across the face with a force that might have cracked a car glass, then he ripped her clothes off and tossed her legs apart. She was in deep pain and she was already too weak to rise a finger or even scream. Like a drunkard who hears the muffled sound of music from the outside of a discotheque, Brenda heard incomprehensible sounds around her. She was detached from herself. She was already dying. A heavy lump deliberately pressed her down, infringing her breath, crushing her lithe, petite body against the solid ground. Kabogoza continued with his assault on Brenda’s almost lifeless body until he found release, until he felt he had drained all his sick lump of semen into her honey pot. He had binged on her without the slightest the restraint. He felt like the devil in 1945-on the eve of the holocaust. From a distance, he heard the hooting sound of the passing train. Brenda heard that too but she was already past the point of no return. Kabogoza knew it was time for departure. He knelt down over her obscenely sprawled body, snapped back her neck and with just a single breath, she was gone. He spat on her face and jammed his booted heel into her face, knocking her nose and part of her once beautiful full lips back into her skull. The dying sounds of the hooting train provided her soul the solace it needed to brave a decent entry into the unknown world of the dead. Kabogoza brought the Senke motocyle back to life with a single kick and raced towards the train tracks. He got there just in time. He screamed,” Welaba nsi” as his body made impact with the invincible steel of the speeding train. Within less than a minute, his body was splintered into a thousand pieces of black and red mangled flesh. Over the horizon, a pair of owls flew and hooted. The stillness of the night carried the sound of their hoots and flapping wings over the emptiness of the night. The ghoulish light of the receeding moon drew brazen sketches of their flight pattern against the dreary sky. In the morning, the local news paper ran an article.”PSYCHOPATH RAPES AND MURDERS GIRL, TAKES HIS LIFE AFTERWARDS”