WARNING: THIS SECTION IS SUITABLE FOR MATURE READERSHIP
BY ANNA MARIE
Chapter Ten
MBUCHI
“That man has been raping my eleven year old daughter for the past month because he believed that her blood was pure enough to cure his AIDS virus and yet you people are still letting him run free!”
Mbuchi could still hear the sobbing voice of Mrs. Hilda Mundia echo accusingly in her head as she and her three female police officers sat around the polished wooden table in the kitchen of Mr. Moses Hatontola’s three bedroomed Chalala house.
“Nachisa,” Chimwemwe, her fellow police woman whispered to them, pointing at the bright headlights illuminating the kitchen wall.
“Pwisheni ifyo,” Mbuchi pointed to the big silver pot on the white Defy stove, standing up.
This was her favorite part. Making sick fiends like Mr. Hatontola pay for heinous crimes they perpetuate, knowing that they could get away with it because they had political friends in high places.
Not anymore. A group of rich, concerned Zambian people had formed a secret vigilante organization which ensured such culprits would definitely pay for the crimes they committed.
Mbuchi, her three friends – Chimwemwe, Queen and Fridah – and a handful of former soldiers from the Zambia Army were the enforcers of the vigilante justice and had a big weekly salary from their donors.
“It’s ready,” Fridah advised, stirring the burning contents of the pot with her right hand, while the left held a Samsung cell phone, recording every minute.
The sound of the key turning in the key hole of the kitchen door galvanized them into action.
They pushed on black ski masks and waited for the coward to enter.
“What! Who- ”
The tall man was immediately pounced on in a mass of punching fists and a devastating choke-hold to his long, thin throat which had him pinned to the brown ceramic floor tiles by Mbuchi, her right arm bulging into a thick bicep. Queen dashed to the stove while Chimwemwe and Fridah got off him, seeing how Mbuchi had immobilized him effectively. All through the ambush, Fridah’s phone was recording their activity.
“So you like molesting defenseless little children, signing their death certificates when you infect them with the AIDS virus huh?” she ground out angrily, her brown eyes bulging through the slits of the ski mask with hate.
Fridah angled her cell closer to his face, aiming for a close-up.
“I..i…didn’t..mean…to…hurt them,” he choked out with difficulty, while his hands tried to pry loose her fingers curled around his throat in a vice-grip.
“Bwembwawe!” Fridah yelled at him, kicking him in his left ribs, “so you raped more than one child?”
Chimwemwe pulled off his blue jeans, laughing at his nakedness.
“Ba tata aba! Balikwata ama political friends and a lot of money yet he can’t buy ka kaputula kamo shuwa!”
“Fumeniko,” Queen said, removing the steaming pot and looming over his nakedness.
“The little girl from opposite your house you have been raping told us that you were telling her that she is so sweet when you were brutalizing her so we decided to make you sweet too,” Mbuchi whispered in his ear, nodding her head to Queen.
Mbuchi could feel his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down nervously through her fingers.
Smiling, Queen tipped over the contents of the pot, letting the scorching brown liquid fall all over his stomach and penis.
His tortured screams filled the entire house and his body writhed and buckled violently almost tipping Mbuchi off.
The liquid, a one k.g of melted white sugar, burned through the skin of his shaft, sticky and painfully winding its way to his thighs and balls as he writhed about. In a matter of seconds, Mr. Hatontola had passed out from the pain.
Satisfied, Mbuchi smiled and motioned for them to leave, a job satisfactorily well done. Tomorrow, she would e-mail Mrs. Mundia the video anonymously.