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

by Olanrewaju Odesomi

dilemma-1

When the boss left the room, he thought he heard the two guys flanking him release a sigh of relief. They looked like caged rats – scared and a tad out of their elements. Something was brewing behind the scenes. He knew, but he couldn’t decipher what it was at the moment.

“Failure they say is never final, but that can’t be farther from the truth. Failure in this situation can be final, especially for all of you sitting down here.” The boss as he is called around this clime said immediately Shola was seated, barely breaking a sweat. He was weilding a newspaper, as he paused for effect. Shola sighed, trying to understand. Was that a subtle threat? He checked the other two occupants of the room. They avoided looking at him, just starring at the man called boss. The boss was now silently watching, gauging the effects of his words. He was the only one standing at the conference room, and his almost six feet frame was towering, almost sinister in its stance. The three other occupants, including Shola were seated at the other end of the long meeting table. Shola in the middle, while the other two flanked him on either side. The boss coughed, and started pacing the room, hands in pocket, and face as unyielding as the himalayas.
“I’ve briefed those two on what to do, and they’ll get to you…” Nodding at Shola, he continued
“…what can I call it now…” He was moving almost noiselessly. “…let’s say a colleague, who does not stay in Lagos is arriving with a package, and what’s required of you is to keep them safe”
The boss was immaculate in his three piece suit that sat snugly on a white shirt. There was a seriousness about him at the moment that’s sending Shola’s nerves into overdrive. When he was called to meet the boss at the conference room, he thought it was just a normal meeting as he meets him there most times for meetings, but on getting there, he was surprised to meet the two strange men with him. The boss reached behind Shola’s chair, and rested his arms at the back of his chair. Shola could feel the heat of his arms against his neck. He was perspiring suddenly.
“Now, what we are about doing is very important, reason why am putting you, Mr Shola in charge. I repeat, all you need do is get the woman, and the package a sound night rest, and by morning, you will take her to where she needs to go.” Shola felt a little tap on his shoulders as the boss straightened, and resumed pacing.
“For all our sakes, please don’t mess this up”
Shola wanted to ask questions. Why him, a mere
accountant? What’s the package? Why the
seriousness? Why was he needed to do that? Someone else instead should be doing this, as this is far from his job description. What’s it with the two goons by the way?

————- ———- ————-

When the boss left the room, he thought he heard the two guys flanking him release a sigh of relief. They looked like caged rats – scared and a tad out of their elements. Something was brewing behind the scenes. He knew, but he couldn’t decipher what it was at the moment.
“So, how would it go?” Shola inquired.
The two starred at each other for what seemed an eternity, as if communicating somewhat.
“We go bring you the person safe and sound”
The one to his left said. He was missing two front teeths, and his lips were big, and black. His bignose was quivering slightly, as if addicted to something. He had the facial features that only belongs to those in the lower tide of society. When he spoke, the permanent crease on his face broke into two, making his expression sinister. His voice had the deep quality prevalent especially in serial smokers, and touts alike. What would someone like this be doing here? Shola thought to himself.
“Safe and sound o” The other supplied with an accent. His dental were complete, but irreversibly darkened by tobacco. He was short, and heavy set. He starred at Shola, his puffy eyes roaming all over his face, as his nose snorted silently. These were no employees here, that’s for sure. They don’t fit the stereotype. The place was a non-governmental organisation with the sole aim of ensuring the democratization of governmental policies in the country. The two on the other hand look like pawns used for dirty jobs. Or, maybe there were just the menial workers or drivers, but he couldn’t help but shake the feeling they were agents of darkness, and that had little to do with their weather beaten, and uncared for black features. They exuded the charms of snakes, and the street smartness of foxes.
“What do you do” Shola asked, his curiosity getting better of him. “As in, do you work here, or just work for the boss? And in what capacity?” The silence following the question was almost deafening. They could both have been deaf, it seemed.
“Maybe we go, and carry her come now now” The short one rudely blurted out instead, and stood up. He shifted the chair he was seating on backwards, and stepped away. His broken english was not as distorted though as his steps. He made an effort as he moved his body from one side to another, his bow legs making the whole effort almost comical. The other stood up clumsily, clashing with the chair and table, and silently followed suit, not acknowledging Shola.
Shola stood up too, and made his way to the window. Their organisation was on the tenth floor, and currently in his view was the skyline, dotted by few skyscrapers, that dwarfed the more common smaller houses with weather beaten brown zinc roofing, that sprawled around a web of cars, and humans. Hiding behind the skyscrapers was the red sun, bedeckling the picture, and casting huge shadows.
He turned, and realised the boss left his newspaper on the long table. How did they manage to even get the table into the room, he wondered as he passed, and made his way to the door. The newspaper’s front page read “GOVERNOR TO VISIT VICTIMS OF FLOODING IN LAGOS”

………………………………………………..
“Daddy, I’ll be acting in the school play, my aunty told me.” Aimee said hiply,her disarming smile splitting her beautiful four years old face. Shola took his eyes off the road to stare at his daughter through his glasses.
“Really?” He tore his eye off her face, and back to the road, as he manoeuvred traffic.
“Yeah.” Her smile was as huge as her appetite for ice cream.
“That’s good” Shola said.
“She said we’ll start on monday” It was a friday.
“And what else did you learn in school today?” He asked.
“Emm…..our teacher told us that Nigeria is fifty four years old. But, is a country a person?”
Shola smiled at the question.
“She meant that its been fifty four years since our country gained independence”
“What’s independence” Aimee asked automatically. Shola took a left turn, their street was just a turn ahead.
“Independence is when a country is born, or came into being” He made the turn into their street.
“Ok” she muttered silently, frowning.
“But who gave birth to Nigeria then?”
Shola laughed, his body shaking from the effect. It was short lived though as he saw the two goons from earlier today, accompanied by a woman in front of his house. How did they know my house, he wondered aloud. His daughter must have heard him as she strained her neck from the back seat to see what he was talking about.
“Who are they?” She asked
He didn’t answer. He parked the car behind the Range Rover Sport the three were leaning on. They saw him, and stood upright, waiting for him to come down.
“Stay here” He told Aimee, and got out of the car.
“Evening sir” the two echoed curtly.
The woman kept quiet, instead starring at him
quizzically, an eyebrow raised. She was carrying a black leather suitcase. She looked to be in her late twenties, her hair dyed blond, and her face smeared with what seems a catalogue of make ups, and fixes. It seemed almost deliberate as if to hide her real look. She was dressed smartly, and expensively in a figure hugging black suit, and short skirt, from which emerged her long smooth legs. She was beautiful, striking almost.
“Why are you here” He asked them immediately, one eye on his daughter in the car. She was
starring curiously at them all. “If I remember vividly, you were supposed to bring her to the office, not come to my house. And I waited for you, only leaving when it became obvious you were not returning.” The two men frowned, and fidgeted as they sneaked a look at each other.
“This is…..the person now” the short one stammered uneasily
“I can see that, but i don’t remember telling you to bring her here”
The tall one was about to say something when Shola hushed him with a raised hand.
“How the hell do you even know where I stay?”
They were quiet. The woman seemed to be enjoying this, as a smile was edged on her face as she stared from man to man.
“Someone answer me” Shoal angrily blurted out loudly. He immediately starred back at hisdaughter in the car. He gestured for them to move
further along the car to where his daughter won’t
see them.
“Will someone tell me something?” His level of agitation was rising. He left his former house twomonths ago, didn’t tell anyone other than family and close friends where he moved to, and left no forwarding address at his former place. He had his reasons for doing so.
“The boss gave it to us, and made us pay you a visit” The short one said, feeling quite amused. Alarms were ringing danger in his head, all in synch, rising to a dangerous crescendo. “But, how did……” He trailed off. These fools probably knew next to nothing. There was an uneasy silence as the trio waited for Shoal to say something. His BP was sky rocketing, and his heart racing, but outwardly, he was calm “What are you here for?” He inquired.

The two goons looked at each other incredulously, as if they couldn’t believe his stupidity
“I said the boss say make we pay u a visit” one of them replied.
“With her in toll?”

“Yes” She spoke for the first time. Her voice was a sing song. They both stared at each other. She
raised the same eyebrow again, daring him somewhat. Shola raised his hand, dropped them in futility and tore his eyes away fromhers.

“It seems you’re amused, right?” He asked her. She shrugged, and smiled, revealing white even teeth. This was not good, he thought. There were here to make a statement, and one so unmistakeable – that they knew where he stayed with his daughter, so he better not mess up or something. He cursed under his breath.
“Am going in with my daughter, so can you kindly take her back to an hotel. Tomorrow, I’ll come for her, and we’ll go together to the place.” He quietly appealed with them. The two guys nodded and smiled like the fools they were, while the woman was indifferent. He grinned his teeth together, turned, and went for his daughter. He got to the car, opened it, and his daughter stepped out, her bag in toll. She looked at the intruders, and wanted to ask questions, but kept quiet.
Shola banged his car door, checked to make sure it was locked, and made his way to the house. The three were now in front of the gate, standing, waiting. As they got to the gate, the short one stopped him, and extended a phone. Shoal starred at the phone, ignoring it. The short, stocky one was directly in the way.
“What should I do with it?” Shola quizzed.
“It’s the Boss, and he wan speak with you. Collect now.” Shola took it, and put the phone to his ears, his other hand holding his daughter, who starred at them all.

…………… …………………. …………

Shola was trying his best not to act scared as he dropped Mina – that’s the name she gave him. They were in Mushin. He killed the car’s engine, and got out with her. He squinted through the dimness as she straightened her crumbled skirt. It was early, around six am, and the place was deserted like every saturday morning, as most people were at home sleeping. She had directed him to drop her in front of a large building, in a street that wasn’t paved, and ran haphazardly, punctuated every now and then by a body of brown muddy water in pot holes. It was erringly quiet, and the house they were in front of had no light, even though the rest of the houses had theirs on, cutting through the darkness. Where they were though was thick with black fog.
Drowning the silence were crickets, singing away, as frogs, probably in one of the many water filled pot holes complimented it with their own peculiar brand of creaky beats.
“Can I leave now?” He asked her, wanting to get away from there as fast as possible. He left home around four-thirty am to go pick her up at the hotel, from where he drove her here. They talked little in the car, as her mind seemed occupied. She didn’t answer him now too, just kept starring at something far ahead. They were in the shadows, and he could barely make her out of the blackness that hugged them.
“You’ve done enough, you can leave.” She said suddenly.
“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” He formed chivalry, even though he wanted so much to run like a frightened chicken. “Are you meeting someone here?” He could feel her move towards him, almost noiselessly.
“Yes. And this place is perfect. I’ll be fine, thanks.” her voice was smooth like fine china, yet assured like a lions roar. Perfect for what? He thought to himself. She was close to him now, and briefly touched his lips with a finger. “You’re trembling” She laughed. He didn’t know he was.
“Don’t be scared. You’re the chosen one. Embrace it.” She caressed his cheek, turned, and left, not waiting for a reaction. The suitcase made a little creaking sound. He just stood there, and watched as the uncompleted building swallowed her into its guts
He couldn’t get into his car fast enough to get the hell out of there.

 

Shola sat and nursed his bottle of beer. The sun outside was setting, silently groaning as it gave birth to the night. His own stomach was growling, he was on his third bottle. He left home around noon for the bar, wanting to be alone with his thoughts as he left Sheila with a cousin who also doubles as help. He didn’t know who to talk to. His wife died two years ago, and since then, he was yet to even get remotely close to any woman.
It was difficult forgetting his wife, considering Sheila was her spitting image; from her love shaped face, to delicate cheek bones; from her full lips, to the dimple that punctuates her cheek. He saw his late wife in his daughter everyday. So, getting another woman was hard. He needed first to get past the mental block.
He had no close friends too. The last one he had was Michael. They met at work, and instantly hit it off. Shoal was 28, and had been jobless for two years when he got this job. It was a lucky break he had, or so he thought then. He had gone to the vendor to scan the days newspaper as usual, searching for job openings, when a stranger called him aside.
At first, Shola was reluctant to leave the paper he was perusing as the vendor won’t allow him leave his sight with the newspaper. And he knew the moment he dropped it, his N10 ceased working, and another jobless, job seeking youth would pick it immediately. He did so nonetheless, and stepped aside, following the strangers lead.
Once they were aside, the man, dressed casually, and seemingly in his forties informed him of an interview to take place the next day. The man further intimated him to make sure he attended. Shola, stunned and surprised could only watch as the man brought out a pen and paper, and without preamble proceeded to write him the address of the place of the interview. The man further advised him to make it, and then left, barely waiting for Shoal’s murmured “thank you.”
More strangely the next day, Shola discovered
there were only eight of them there for the
interview. It was only while seated at the reception, and they all started small talk did Shoal discover they all got the information about the interview more or less like he did – informally.
They called him a week later, telling him he was employed. Shoal was joyous, and even gave a testimony in church. He was to start the next monday. It was that day he met Michael. And they hit it off instantly, partly because they were of the same age, and also because they stayed in the same area. He had a likeable personality, and was always as chirpy as a bird in spring. He possessed an infectious, positive spirit that rubbed on everyone, making people crave his presence. This used to be their favourite spot every saturday, until everything changed.
He poured the remaining content of his third bottle, and watch the foamy head evaporate. He needed someone to talk to. His guts told him something was about going down, yet he wasn’t sure what it was. He needed someone to reassure him he was sane.
Michael was his only friend, and confidant, until he disappeared, rather suspiciously, leaving everything behind, and no one knew where he went. He gulped the content of the cup in one go, dropped the cup, and sighed. First Michael’s dissapearance, and now this. He just didn’t know what to believe any longer.
And, what could Muna want that early in the area he drove her, and why did they involve him, when his services was quite disposible? Anyone with a driver’s licence could have done so. Why was she there, she thought out loud. Two guys at the nearest table glanced his way, and eyed him suspiciously. He ignored them.
The tv in the bar was on, and the news was about to commence. The tv was sat on a wall shelf to his right. More customers nursing their drink, and talking were ahead. His was the only table with a sole drinker. He liked it that way. He was not in the mood for small talk.
He was wondering if he should order another bottle or not when the newscaster went through the headlines. It was the usual epilogue of sad realities. Sad news sells, they say. The news proper started, and for some reasons his eyes strayed to his right, and stopped at the tv. His heart picked where his heart stopped, and ran furiously.
They were showing pictures of the Governor visiting the area of flooding to access the damages done, and possibly to fumble through a bout of rhetoric, promising government intervention. The camera beamed on him shaking the locals of the area, as he assessed their damaged houses, and businesses. And in the front row of people waiting to meet him, dressed in faded ankara, with loosened short black hair, and looking like someone in her thirties, with tears in her eyes, was Muna. He blinked, and starred. He quickly put on his glasses. Yes, it was her. She was changed. No longer was the golden hair, and the self assured young woman. There were even lines on her face. Make up, he almost screamed. Shola watched as the Governor got to her, and shook her hand. She bowed sheepishly. His breathing stopped at that moment. The Governor was surrounded by a lot of his entourage, and bodyguards who starred everywhere, and at everyone. The Governor moved along to others, as Muna made her way into the crowd, lost in a flash. Maybe it wasn’t her. He remembered the newspaper, and the fact he actually drove Muna to Mushin this morning.
The Governor was in Muslin. Mushin was where flood sacked people. Why would she change, and he was sure she was not a resident of Muslin, so her being there was no coincidence.
He could feel the subtle banging of an headache. And it has little to do with the drink he’s had. He called the waiters, and paid. He rubbed his head slightly as he left the bar, myriads of thoughts circling around in his head.
He could hear his daughters voice before he even entered his compound. He could also hear that of his cousin telling her to keep quiet. There was nothing subtle about the headache now. It was pounding with a vengeance. He met the gate opened, and went inside, rubbing his temples. His cousin came out before he could get to the front door. She greeted him, and knelt. He nodded, and continued walking.
“Someone came looking for you, and left a note.” She said from behind him. He turned, and starred, waiting for further explanations. She didn’t give one, but ran inside instead. Surprised, he followed her. He was at the door, when she came back with a note, folded neatly into two. He opened it, and it read “TEN O CLOCK NEWS TOMORROW. DON’T MISS IT FOR ANYTHING! WE COULDN’T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU.”

 

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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.

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