The Weth Chronicles: The Neonate Merchants III

by Anthony Othuke Ohminiabors 

Continued from last week……….

I succumbed slowly to the effects of the drug. At first I experienced a heady feeling of euphoria. I suddenly felt a surge of confidence and a growing urge in my groin. Then my eyes grew dim and swarm in and out of focus.

There was no one about.

The first three doors I threw open revealed three different girls in similar conditions. An older girl had her hands bound by chains hanging from the wall. I was aghast. I ran the length of the corridor and came upon a smaller hallway. Four steps led me into a wide basement.

Here, I heard voices.

I ran to the first door I saw, with any hope, I’d find water. I forced the door open with a heave of my shoulders. It flung open with a loud thud.

Five girls with bulging stomachs, probably in their second trimesters, sat staring at me with wide and frightened eyes.

What was this place? I gasped.

The girl directly facing me, sat up, startled. Her hands jumped to her mouth to stifle the scream that suddenly claimed her. The girl next to her pointed fearfully behind me.

I turned but it was too late.

I felt bright light explode in my head and darkness swept me off my feet.

I woke up later, totally disoriented as to the idea of time. I was in spacious room with a window that overlooked the forest. The room was an office of some sort with huge polished brown cabinets, a thick blue rug, a chandelier befitting a palace, a set of blue leather chairs and blue drapes that hung slightly apart. A huge desk and an empty swivel chair sat before me. Beside the desk stood a mountain of files, arranged alphabetically, for I could see the letters A, B, C.  Light from the chandelier tumbled into my eyes, temporarily robbing me of sight. I squinted, fighting off the dull ache around my temples. I shivered as I was hit by cold from the gigantic cooling system that hummed its class.

When I did get accustomed to the bright lights, I noticed two thugs standing by the door, their faces shiny with hate. Both wore safari suits and gleaming black shoes. One was bald, the other had on a weird hairstyle, one I couldn’t determine at the mo. Both looked as grim as gorillas.


It was long past the time we had arranged to meet, I was sure. I looked around the room for a clock. I found none. From the window though, I could see dusk had fallen.

Was she okay?

I tried to wriggle free of my bonds. They held, tying me down to the metal chair I sat upon.  The scenes preceding my capture came rolling in. The stark terror etched on the faces of those pregnant girls was as vivid as the muted pictures that flashed across the coloured screen hanging on the wall before me. The abused girls hovered over my vision like wraiths.

I heard both guards whispering.

“The Man is on his way . . .” said weird-hair.

Baldy immediately stiffened.

“What the hell is going on here really?” I asked. I could hold back my confusion no longer.

The two men eyed me. Baldy took a threatening step towards me, raising his fist to smack me in the gut when the familiar guttural voice I had heard in the cathedral two days ago, stopped him.

“Easy, Bruno,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Baldy took a quick step back, bowing almost to his knees.

The fellow whom the guards had referred to as The Man floated into the room like a ghost.

I gasped, taken aback by his frightful visage.

He was tall and huge and muscular. I could not tell his age; he could have been anything between thirty and sixty. Baldy and weird-hair paled before his presence. His face was stony; small eyes, a flat wide nose that flared with his every word and a small mouth through which the darkness in his soul shone and he was very dark, like a shadow. His lower lip curled in anger and resentment at all things beautiful—it was permanently curled, giving him a snarling look; he must have at one time, suffered a stroke.

He stood before me, peering at me like I was an ant come disturb his sleep. He dusted imaginary dirt from his black suit with his right hand and sat on the table’s edge. His gold watch screamed attention. I gave it a few seconds of my time and looked away.

It read 07:15pm.

“Who are you and why have you come to disturb my sanctuary?” He spoke in measured tones, his voice rough as gravel.

“Is that what you call this . . . this vile place, a sanctuary?” I asked, my eyes spitting my rage.

Weird-hair took a step forward.

The Man stopped him with a wave of his hand.

“Why are you here?”

“Bite me!” I spat.

He smiled, a frightening smirk that contorted his ugly face.

“Who sent you here?”

I ignored him. My mind darted, thinking of an out. There was none.

He turned to face the guards. “Get me the CSO and the Doctor. Hurry!”

Baldy nodded and was gone. He returned shortly with a tall man with a clump of greying hair, hooded eyes, broad shoulders and the body of an old man who must have once been a force to reckon with in his youthful days. Behind him, waddling like a scared duck was the man I immediately guessed was the Doctor. He carried a duffel bag around his small shoulders. His balding scalp was sweaty, shining like an egg in the bright light. His eyes travelled the room in furtive glances, keeping his gaze on the marbled floor, scared they might upset The Man where he to look elsewhere.

The Man grunted. He glared at the tall man. “Can you tell me how this young man and his companion managed to get past your men and invade my premises?”

“Sir—I . . . they came in the bread van.”


My hands suddenly felt clammy.

“And where is this van?”

“The bread-man left some fifty-five minutes ago sir.”

Rage showed in The Man’s voice for the first time. “Bring him back here, idiot!”

“I have already dispatched a team.”

The Man nodded. With a casual wave of his hands, his Chief Security Officer was dismissed. He faced the doctor.

“Did the girl spill?”

The Doctor nodded, eyes still searching his feet. “They both work for The Daily Times and no one but the bread-man knows they are here.” He shuffled.

“Good. Prepare him for mating in ten. We would test his virility on his partner.”

I cringed as the small man approached me. He ransacked his bag for an already prepared syringe, which I later learnt was Methamphetamine, a powerful aphrodisiac. He plunged the needle into my arm despite my efforts to thwart his thrust. Baldy and weird-hair came to his aid, holding me with vice-like fists.

I succumbed slowly to the effects of the drug. At first I experienced a heady feeling of euphoria. I suddenly felt a surge of confidence and a growing urge in my groin. Then my eyes grew dim and swarm in and out of focus. The men in the room loomed larger than life. I laughed. I felt as if I was walking on air, as I was herded out of the room towards another room.

Baldy led me in and locked the door behind me.

Lying on the bed, her body as inviting, unlike any I had ever seen was Sarah. She rushed into my arms, pulling me down to the flat mattress, tearing off my clothes with the speed of a crazy whore. I tried to stop her, but my hands circled her waist instead, pulling her into my hardness. She moaned, screaming words my drugged brain could barely understand.  I crushed her swollen breasts with my hands, pulling her closer to my need. She threw back her head, eyes glazed as I rammed into her with the force of a bull.

I heard her beckon, begging me never to stop. I was like a demented beast; I cared little about all else, little about the faces that peered at us from the glass window. I cared only about the insane pleasure that built within my loins. I cradled her, turning her around a million times, possessing her in a million ways. She was more than willing to please, screaming gibberish to the pleasure of the watching men.

For how long we were entangled, I have no idea. But suddenly gunshots rang out, piercing our cosy heaven. I tried to get up, force my fuzzy brain to action but Sarah wouldn’t let up. She pushed me to the table and sat astride my hips, digging her fingers into my back.

Guns blazed, the chaos grew. Sarah moaned, my hunger boomed.

Somewhere in the distant corner of my mind, I felt the presence of another. I also felt him retreat as soon as he stepped into the room. I collapsed shortly after, Sarah’s moans and the sound of automatic gunfire the last things I heard. I thought of Kemi and prayed for her safety.

I came to in a clean room with clean white sheets. Inspector Rasheed was standing beside me. He gave me a shy smile. I looked at him, squinted, then the events came tumbling in like shards of broken glass.

“We finally apprehended The Man,” he said. “We’ve got evidence to put him away for life, and the government is already making arrangements on how to restitute those girls. We owe you big thanks.” He winked. “You’re lucky the bread-man got to us when he did.”

“Thank you very much.” I said sitting up.

“You are welcome Ohmston. It’s always a pleasure working with you.” He turned and headed for the door. “And by the way, your partner is fine. She is in the female ward.”

I nodded my thanks, avoiding the naughty I-can-imagine glint in his eyes.

My phone rang. It was Amber.

“Hi babeeeee.” Her voice was sweetly sunny.

“Hi luv.”

“I’m glad you are fine. I’m sorry I’m not there with you, had to quickly take Kemi home to mum and dad. They send their greetings. I’m on my way to you now, and I can’t wait to hear all the details.”

I smiled. “I’ll be waiting . . .”

My boss walked in as soon as I got off the phone, looking regal in a navy blue suit and a black bowler hat.

“Ohmston, some great adventure, huh?” he said cockily, staring at me from the corners of his eyes.

I bowed my head in shame. I couldn’t put it past Rasheed to add such unnecessary information in his report to my boss. The Inspector was one of those lucky officers on Daily Times’ pay role.

“It’s alright, it’s alright . . . it comes with the job description. Great work. The Inspector General of Police is so proud he has pledged us the use of Police resources for our investigations henceforth, that’s beside the award for valour he would be presenting to you shortly. Great work Ohmston.” He patted my back.

“Thank you sir.”

“There is one more thing,” he said, cocking his head to the side like was his way whenever he felt he had great news.  “You and your new partner will be heading for Khartoum as soon as the toxin inside your totally wears out, in a week I have been assured. We need our best correspondents to cover the war.”

I nodded. “Thank you sir. We should be ready.”

He touched his hat and was gone.

Sarah and I were made to see a psychologist to help us quickly come to terms with what had happened between us. Though I noticed a shy disposition in Sarah, the kind a school girl displays after her crush has just kissed her. Oh well.


Khartoum beckoned, and that was a big break for a young journalist like Sarah, and I was genuinely happy for her.

Little did I know that fate was coming to the party out there with a bad of grim tricks.


Editor’s note: Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.


Comments (4)

  1. OMW! Such a twist. Hmnn…fancy Ohmston and Sarah…Who woulda thought. The end? well, I wouldn't have wanted the bread man taking any credit. Did I miss something? Did the bread man know The duo were in his van? Was he an agent as well? If not…then..

  2. nice ending to the story…was already preparing my assault if you didnt complete the episode this time…..

    anyway, wats with the last line? is it "bad of grim tricks" or "bag of grim tricks".

    1. sorry P. its bag not bad. and thanks but is there any episode i left uncompleted?

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