Olanrewaju Odesomi: The chosen one’s dilemma- Episode 6 (Y! Fiction)

by Olanrewaju Odesomi

 

-Read Episode 1 of this enthralling story [HERE]

-Read Episode 2 of this enthralling story [HERE]

-Read Episode 3 of this enthralling story [HERE]

-Read Episode 4 of this enthralling story [HERE]

-Read Episode 5 of this enthralling story [HERE]

 

EPISODE SIX

     Where is this sheet of paper, Shola thought as he slumped on his bed. He thought he left it somewhere in his room the day Bola gave him the piece of paper. He stood up, and ran a hand through his hair. He knew he came inside with it. His room was already scattered in a bid to look for the missing paper. It was a page from a notebook that was torn out, and folded neatly into two.

At work, it hit him suddenly, while with Ngozi that it might have been Michael that also wrote the note. He stood up, and subconsciously half ran to the storage where redundant files were kept, knowing he would find one with Michael handwriting on it. He did, and only then did he feel Ngozi’s breath caressing his neck. He had no idea she had followed him.

Now, he had a page containing Michael’s handwriting, taken from one of Michael’s file, but the problem is, he couldn’t find that sheet of paper to compare it with. He bent, and checked under his bed – just accumulated dust resided there. He straightened, and checked on top of the small safe in his room, directly opposite the bed, and on which sat an eleven inch television. He opened the two drawers, but could find only writing materials, and old pictures.

His room, bare except for the bed, the safe with the television, a wardrobe, that has both doors opened, as clothes hanged out in their numbers, looked defiant. He had opened the wardrobe immediately he got back, and had gone ahead to check the pockets of every trousers there, angrily discarding them anywhere once he couldn’t find anything in the pockets.

Although there was light, he realised he was sweating profusely, opened the window, and tried to calm down as a gush of wind slapped him in the face. Where was this fucking sheet of paper, he asked no one. He wanted to verify if indeed Michael wrote him that letter. He didn’t know where the notion came from, but something in him wanted to compare both.

“Bola!” He screamed at the top of his voice, something he rarely did.

 

…………………………………………………………..

the-chosen-one

 

Isaac’s back was strained from the stiffened, crooked poise he had been maintaining going on twenty minutes now, while his eyes, even in the semi-darkness, transfixed on the empty chair in front of him. They may call Isaac the boss, but here, he was meeting the real boss. His aching back was more a cause of the tension shooting around his body than anything else.

He was seated alone in the room, with its blinds closed, and having the peculiar stale smell of a room rarely used, or opened. He had gotten a phone call, informing him a car was waiting for him at home. No explanation was forthcoming, but Isaac already knew they were not much into courtesy, and their actions, at best, were cases in oddities.

He was leaving the Governor’s office when the call came through, and true to their words, a black Mercedes was waiting for him at home. Immediately he came into view, a man alighted, and opened the back door for him. That was six-thirty pm.

They drove him here – somewhere around Oshodi. He knew they would change hide out immediately this meeting was over. Once outside, the driver opened the door for him, and ordered for Isaac to follow him, taking him to this room. The building itself was like every other in the area – a small bungalow, with a small front porch, and two windows flanking either side of the front door, but more importantly, it was plain, and unspectacular.

The room the driver took him to was not a big one, and from all evidence, not an impressive one either. There were two chairs, and a table in between them, a small book shelve bulging with books was adjacent to where Isaac sat, and the closed window, and a door was the only other feature of the room. He knew they would get in touch, yet was pensive, and agitated. These were people operating on a higher sphere of influence, and power

The door opened slowly, and a figure came in. Isaac couldn’t make out his features partcularly well in the shadows, but he was lean, and his frame looked hardened as nail.

“Thanks for coming.” He said as he sat down. A shrill went up Isaac’s spine. The voice was soft, yet firm. It was the last voice you would expect from a man – a woman’s voice. But, it was uttered with a reassurance that reverberated like a speaker. Isaac nodded.

“I understand you met the new Governor today.” It was a statement that dared objection. “And I would also like to believe you’ve put our plans into motion.” His hands moved silently, and picked up something from the table that separated both men. It was a white sheet of paper. He read its content for a while, as if it was a transcript of Isaac’s conversation with the Governor. Isaac wouldn’t put it pass them to have it though.

“Thanks for coming.” He said as he sat down. A shrill went up Isaac’s spine. The voice was soft, yet firm. It was the last voice you would expect from a man – a woman’s voice. But, it was uttered with a reassurance that reverberated like a speaker. Isaac nodded.

     His clasped fingers around the paper opened up, letting the paper cascade to the floor. After watching it do so, he sniffed. “I will also like to believe you know your next steps.” He rubbed his nose. “Is there any problem?”

“None sir.” Isaac replied, as if he was a child answering his school master.

“Good.” This came out as a whisper. “Muna though, I believe, is starting to get ideas.” It wasn’t a question, but his pause demanded a reply.

“She’s under control sir. She’s as far away as possible.” Isaac tried to sound convincing.

“Is Lagos far away enough for you? Believe me, she’s here in Lagos, and kicking about, trying to open a can of worms.” He actually laughed. It came out like a shriek, deafening. Isaac thought Muna left. “Take care of her, and Shola too. But, more important at this moment is the execution of the next stage. We need to focus on the bigger picture. Our country deserves it, and so does the coming generations.” His face hardened, as he stared into space. “The best way to guarantee your future is to make it, and we are into the business of making things. We will open up borders of possibilities, and drown in the backwaters, everyone intending on keeping this status quo. The future, as much as it will be bright, but we are not careful, can be easily blighted by those whose main appetite is greed, and corruption. And that, we cannot afford.”

Isaac was touched by the rhetoric, and seriousness of tone. This was what he signed for – the bigger picture. Unfortunately, people will have to fall by the road side, and others cut from the picture. There was no peaceful way to go about it – people would die. But first, they needed him to start with Muna. Here, there were no permanent friends, only useful, or temporary interests.

 

———————————————————

 

Muna was the only female child in a family of five. And although she was the last born, and obviously the slightest of frame, she was the toughest in spirit, and the one cursed with the meanest of streak. While others girls her age ran, and screamed upon sighting a cockroach, she would instead get a broom, and smash it to death. Killing rats were also a source of joy to her.

When she was thirteen, she broke the legs of a goat that used to come to their compound. She waited for it behind her mom’s kerosene tank, and  surprised it with a vicious kick to the guts that sent the poor goat rolling on the floor, and before it could roll back to its feet, Muna jumped on its leg, and broke it. She liked the adrenaline that pumped through her.

Her viciousness made others fear her. Everyone knew better than to have her in their bad books. In secondary school, she fought the boys at will, and threw as much punches as she received, most times, even throwing more.  She was considered a tomboy, and her hard, boyish physique made them right. Where they was trouble, they called Muna.

But Muna knew then, that no one dared to call her tomboy to his face. Not even the tough guys. She was as big as any of them, and unlike them, she had no qualms about hitting anyone with anything. The years night have tempered her street fighting streak, but not her love for the physically dangerous. She stopped using her brawn, and started using her brains.

When she subscribed into their plan, it was because of the intricacies involved. The fact that a lot of damage could be done with little in physical violence amazed her. The money was good, but she also missed the adrenaline that imposed itself on her whenever a dangerous situation unfolded. Maybe that’s the reason she was defying them currently, she’s not sure. Or maybe she just liked Shola.

Liking any guy was a foreign feeling to her. She was used to using them, and when tired of their company or lack of spine dumbing them without the slightest remorse – without a second thought. But, Shola’s constant frown, and knee-jerk reactions tugged at her hardened heart, pulling away, a string at a time, the hardest fibres in her soul. She wanted to hit him square in the face, and then caress him.

Her contract with the boss stipulated she disappear after her finishing her part, but here she was, still in the city, even though she knew those two urchins were probably lurking somewhere close by, watching. This was the first time she would follow her heart, and not her head. She just wanted to see him, and maybe protect him. He probably needed it.

She directed the bike man to slow down. Her heart was racing faster than the bike, but, it wouldn’t harken to any command, unlike the bike man.

 

———————————————————–

 

Bola entered the room, her face furrowed together in anger. He must have woke her up. Shola ignored the fact. “Did you know where I put the sheet of paper you gave me on Saturday?”

“Which sheet of paper?” Her puffy eyes were now roaming around his room. If she was surprised about the state of untidiness, she showed nothing.

“The one you said a friend of mine left.” He managed to get her back to focus on him. She scratched her chin, and sighed. “Answer me now!” He snapped. She kept watching.

“I gave it to you, and left. So, I don’t know where you kept it.” Bola yawned, and covered her mouth. Shola shook his head, and asked her to leave. He tried to recall what actually transpired after he read the scribbles on the paper. He knew he came inside, and…the rest was blank.

He left for the sitting room, and started to search for it everywhere. Under the chairs. On top of the dinning table. He even checked behind the flat screen – yet, no luck. He was thinking of giving up, and going to bed when it struck him – he had hid it under the decoder for no apparent reason. He lifted the decoder, and there it was. He took it, unfolded it, and went inside for the file he brought home from work.

He came back to the sitting room, and sat on the rug, the two papers were on his lap when he thought he heard someone moving around, outside his window. He paused, and stopped breathing, his ears straining against the silence. His heart raced as he strained to hear who could be lurking around his door at this time. He checked the time – it was after ten pm.

Now, there was a gentle knock on the door, or so he thought. Shola waited, trying to make out if it was a knock or not. He got up, and silently made his way to the door, holding the door knob, but not turning it. His heart was in his mouth. He removed his now sweaty hands from the knob, and rubbed it against his boxers, before returning it. He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

No one was there. He sighed in relief. Although there was power, the bulb that lit up the fence area no longer worked. Suddenly, someone stepped out of the shadows, brandishing something.

“Jesus.” Shola whispered.

 

To Be Continued…

———————-

Olanrewaju Odesomi is an accounting graduate, and a Certified Customer Care Professional. He is a dreamer who dances to his own music, and whose peak is yet to be conquered. Guilty of writing.

 

 

Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

cool good eh love2 cute confused notgood numb disgusting fail