A Fight for Survival

Chapter 2

Ntsiki’s hands clenched the steering wheel, her breath held as the figure approached through the swirling snow. The storm was unforgiving, the gusts of wind howling like unseen beasts, whipping through the night to an unusual extent. The car windows fogged up as she tried to peer into the darkness, catching only faint glimpses of the man moving toward them.

Thabiso leaned forward, tension crackling between them as they exchanged worried glances. His voice was low, barely audible over the storm. “This feels wrong, Ntsiki. Something’s off.”

“I know,” she murmured, her throat tight. Her gut twisted with an instinctual warning, but there was nowhere to go. The road was barely passable, and the snow was coming down too fast. Turning back was not an option.

The man stopped just outside the driver’s window, knocking with a gloved hand. A hood obscured his face and a thick scarf wrapped around his lower face. All Ntsiki could make out were his piercing eyes cold, hard, and watching them with unsettling precision.

She rolled down the window just enough to hear him. “What do you want?” she asked and her voice steady despite the thrum of her pulse. “Car broke down a few kilometres back,” the man replied, his voice deep and gravelly. He shivered, though it seemed more out of habit than from actual cold. “Been walking for hours, trying to find shelter.”

“Where were you headed?” Thabiso cut in, his gaze sharp. “Johannesburg,” the man said, his tone casual, almost too casual for the circumstances.

“But this storm it’s a killer. Do you mind giving me a ride?” Ntsiki’s fingers hovered over the window controls, her instincts screaming to keep it closed. She looked at Thabiso, his face etched with unease. They were already on edge and this man was an unknown a possible danger. “Please,” the man said, leaning closer to the window. “I don’t want to die out here.”

The desperation in his voice gave Ntsiki pause. She knew what it felt like to be abandoned, to feel like you had no one to turn to. However, this was different. She was not in control here. The storm had stripped her of that.

Thabiso shifted in his seat, his voice dropping to a whisper as he turned to her. “I don’t trust this guy, Ntsiki. We can’t just pick up strangers in the middle of a storm like this.”

“I know,” she whispered back, her eyes darting between Thabiso and the man. “But what if he really is stuck? We can’t just leave him out here to freeze.”

“Better than putting ourselves at risk,” Thabiso countered. “There’s something off about him. I can feel it.” Ntsiki glanced back at the man, who stood shivering in the relentless cold. Her heart waged war with her mind. The storm was getting worse by the second, and they could not sit here debating forever.

With a deep breath, she cracked the window a little wider. “Fine, get in. But you sit in the back, and you keep your hands where we can see them.” The man’s eyes flickered with something, a flash of triumph, maybe, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. He nodded gratefully, moving toward the back door.

“Thank you. I owe you one.” Ntsiki unlocked the door, her stomach churning as the stranger climbed into the back seat, shaking snow from his clothes. She caught a whiff of something, faint but unmistakable. Gunpowder. She froze, her hands stiff on the wheel, but she did not say anything.

Thabiso shot her a look, his eyes questioning, but he did not speak either. The car was now a pressure cooker of unspoken tension. The stranger settled in, his gloved hands resting on his knees. “My name is Sello,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his breath fogging the glass between them. “Thanks again for stopping. Not many people would in a storm like this.”

“Yeah well, we could not leave you out there,” Ntsiki said, forcing calm into her voice. The car resumed its slow crawl through the blizzard, the snow now so thick it felt like they were driving through a white void.

Silence hung heavy in the car, broken only by the hum of the engine and the rasp of Sello’s breathing. Ntsiki’s mind raced. Something about this man did not sit right. She could feel it in the way he moved too controlled, too deliberate. In addition, that smell it clung to him like a bad omen.

“So,” Sello began, his voice slicing through the tension, “what brings you two out in the middle of a storm like this?” Ntsiki kept her eyes on the road, her tone guarded. “Just trying to get home, you? What’s your story?” Sello chuckled, a sound that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “Oh you know it is about business. I had to take care of some things down south. I did not expect to get caught in a storm like this, though.” Thabiso shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his jaw tight. “What kind of business?” Sello’s eyes darkened, though his smile remained. “Let’s just say it’s the kind of business where time is money.” Ntsiki felt the tension rise again. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Sello was playing with them and keeping his answers vague, offering just enough to keep them wary but not enough to give himself away. “We’ll stop at the next petrol station,” Ntsiki said abruptly, hoping to cut the conversation short. “Shouldn’t be too far.”

Sello’s gaze lingered on her for a moment too long. “Sure. That works.” As the car moved slowly forward, Thabiso kept glancing back, his instincts on high alert. He could feel it that Sello was trouble, and the longer they stayed in this confined space, the more dangerous it felt.

Finally, the dim glow of a petrol station appeared through the wall of snow. Relief washed over Ntsiki as she pulled up to the station, its lights flickering weakly in the storm. It was not much, but it was shelter.

She parked the car and turned off the engine, the silence almost deafening after the steady hum of the road. “Let’s get inside,” she said, reaching for her coat. “We’ll wait for the storm to ease up.” Sello nodded, but there was something in his eyes, which is a glint of calculation. He got out of the car slowly, watching them carefully.

Thabiso leaned closer to Ntsiki, his voice a low whisper. “We need to be careful. I don’t trust him for a second.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted, her stomach knotting with anxiety. “But for now, we stay calm. Let’s just get inside.” They stepped out into the storm, the icy wind cutting through their clothes. Ntsiki kept her eyes on Sello as they walked toward the petrol station, her nerves fraying with each step.

Once inside, the warmth hit them like a wall. The petrol station was nearly empty, save for a single attendant behind the counter, an older man with weary eyes. He glanced up briefly, and then returned to his magazine.

Sello wandered toward the shelves, inspecting them casually. Ntsiki and Thabiso exchanged a tense look, their silent agreement hanging between them and watching him.

As they moved deeper into the petrol station, the storm raged on outside, trapping them in this small, claustrophobic space with a man who was far more dangerous than he let on.