Fiction: When a good mission goes bad

Though it is bundles of years ago, I recall the day like it was only yesterday. It was in the mid term and the FIFA World Cup was boiling to its final. The nearest town being miles away from home, the only way we were to watch the soccer world-cup was to buy our own TV set. That’s when a thought crossed my mind, why can’t I go home and get us the small TV in my room and we use it to watch soccer? When I proposed it to my buddies, they bought the idea at a good price. We immediately started making plans; funds were raised for my facilitation. I had to leave the following morning. We planned how I was to beat the school surveillance cameras, the ever watching eye of the teachers and security guards. All went well as planned, I succeeded and made it home in one piece, but challenges were far from over. How was I to enter without being spotted by the maids and the canines? The security guard was also a threat. But I somehow managed to beat them and sneak in through the back gate and unlatched my bedroom window. Surprisingly no one was around; at least I didn’t see anyone. Having travelled for many hours I first attacked the fridge to replenish the burnt energy. But I had a feeling something was amiss, the house was unusually quiet. I scanned the whole place but couldn’t notice anything out of place. My reverie was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. I peeped through the window curtain and what I saw made my stomach quiver; I wished I hadn’t eaten like a hungry sailor. Both my parents and three police officers were now scanning the house. I had no doubt someone might have seen me climbing through window and alerted them. Sweat begun trickling down my face. In no minute, they were entering the sitting room where I was, still shaking like a leaf on a windy day. Should I surrender and tell them everything? Thing is, I had no time to think and make up my mind. Not knowing what I was doing, I found myself hiding behind a big refrigerator, now I could hear their voices clearly. “We are tired of thugs terrorizing us and you people do nothing!” my dad’s voice boomed in an angry tone. “Sir, we are going to do our best, the thugs will be caught, but what I can tell is that they are people who are familiar with this family,” the officer was saying. Thieves? What are they talking about? I haven’t stolen anything, at least not yet. Later, I came to learn that unknown people had broken into our home and made off with a huge amount of cash and other valuable items. I was sweating like a pig, my heart thumping like a drum, what was I to do? How did I get into this mess and how was I going to get out? I wished it was a dream or a nightmare! Anything I could wake up from. Though I was minutes away from the real fire, I couldn’t stop thinking about how disappointed my buddies at school would be! What would I tell them? Would they believe me? Closing my eyes was all I could do to stop myself from seeing their sad faces; I kept rehearsing in my head what I would tell them. M fear of getting caught behind a fridge blended with the exhaustion of the six-hour journey plus the worry of facing my friends, the result was disastrous. I didn’t know how I got there, but I gained my conscious in a hospital with my mum holding my hand and a police officer seated in a corner grinning like a goat on twos. martin.bishop18@yahoo.com