Apocalypse Now Now Read Online Free PDF

smile and wait. He wants me to ask to come in and thus to acknowledge his role as gatekeeper. I don’t because he knows why I’m here and he won’t dare keep Anwar waiting. I begin to whistle and tap my foot. He panics and opens the door like the minion that he is. Pawns are so predictable.
    The NTK rank and file are sprawled on couches eating takeaways and smoking
tik
from light-bulbs that they’ve stolen from teachers’ cars. They look up as I walk through, following me with their bloodshot and dangerous eyes. Musty Masonic banners hang from the peeling walls to which the NTK have added their own artwork – thousands of scrawled tags, centrefolds from substandard porn mags and two cheap katanas from a Chinese shop which they’ve hung crossed on the wall. Classy.
    Russell leads me through a doorway to the back room. It’s large and curved, almost circular, and has a black-and-purple decaying pulpit that commands the centre of the room. The Masons must have used this room to sacrifice babies or something. No wonder Anwar likes it so much. I can’t help but notice a small keypad on the far wall, probably a safe where the NTK keep their profits.
    Anwar and Toby are seated on a low, dusty couch in the centre of the room watching a younger kid have his shoulder tattooed. The dog tattoos are a sign of initiation into the gang, a mark of achievement for successfully passing the violent rituals of membership, the bare-fist fights with gangs from other schools, the housebreakings and the weird sexual rites of passage.
    Anwar is tall and gaunt. He has a missing tooth and a lazy eye, both of which accentuate the rabidness that he emanates. He is shirtless and the handle of a gun juts from the waistband of his regulation grey school pants. I knew that Anwar’s older brother was connected to a notorious Cape Flats gang and the NTK couriered drugs for him into the suburbs. I didn’t know that the NTK actually had guns at Central.
    I swallow hard and pull my eyes away from the gun, focusing on the tattoo artist, an old guy with prison ink covering most of his body. He works methodically with a school compass and blue ink from a pen to render the crude drawing of a dog on the clavicle of the NTK’s newest initiate. The kid doesn’t flinch andAnwar nods approvingly. I wait while the old inker does his work. Finally the tattoos are done and the artist grunts and shuffles out the door. Anwar says a few words to his new minion and then waves his hand and the kid leaves too.
    Anwar and Toby stare at me like vultures at roadkill. ‘Baxter,’ Anwar says, geturing for me to sit on one of the lumpy chairs arranged in front of the couch of power. I sit and force my body to remain relaxed. ‘You have two minutes,’ Anwar says.
    I pull a folder from my bag and offer it to him. This treaty is what I’ve been working toward since I started the Spider, a subtle and nuanced blueprint for the future political landscape of the school. ‘Why are we working against each other?’ is the question it asks. Instead we can use our various competencies for the good of us all. The possible alliance with Dirkie Venter is the beginning. With Dirkie’s contacts the Westridge business community could expand into other schools. We would be the United States of Schoolyard Contraband. Each gang had its place. Working together there was nothing we couldn’t achieve. I would inspire the gangs of Westridge to take responsibility for their future. I’m like Oprah. If Oprah had weird glasses and sold porn.
    Anwar takes the treaty and motions for Toby to follow him to the NTK war table. Toby gets up slowly and grins at me as he walks to the table. Anwar opens the folder and spreads the pages across the table. I bite furtively at one of my nails as they look at it, conferring in low voices. Finally Anwar straightens up and turns to look at me with a smile on his face.
    ‘Baxter,’ Anwar says. I allow myself a moment of smugness. Apparently even Anwar’s