The wounded Corolla jerked forward, belching smoke, clawing its way toward daylight. Inch by inch, it crawled out onto Main Street�an old carcass limping into chaos.
For anyone watching, it was nothing but Joburg�steel grinding, tempers flaring, chaos blooming in a concrete throat.
For Themba, it was music.
He watched the Hilux glide behind the smoking Corolla, ghosts moving in silence. One by one, the gears meshed, the formation sliding toward Kruis Street, into the city�s veins, east to Kempton Park�toward the waiting shadow. As soon as they cleared Kruis Street, the formation dissolved like smoke, each ghost peeling away into its own stream of traffic.
By the time mall security wandered over to bark questions, the convoy was already gone, swallowed whole.