ON THE RUN (EPISODE 10)

The sound her keypad produced hinted Dede that Salewa was either checking her balance or about to dial someone else, but not Ireti. He still stood, dazed, staring blankly at the door, hoping Salewa had make a quick exit. His heart raced as she went against his thought, inching towards his bed. She paused and giggled, eyes glued to her phone and her fingers ran fast on its keypad. ‘You better download whatzapp before the world leaves you behind,’ the line Dede heard which answered the questions his curious mind popped. Salewa guffawed, throwing herself on Dede’s bed, twelve inches away from Ireti’s cell phone. The response she got from the person, an old-school friend, she was engrossed chatting with made her laugh that loud.

“Whatzapp doesn’t have the features you want, so you’re waiting for ‘Whatzpopping’, stupid girl.” Salewa chuckled, still with her head buried into her phone. “Let me forward this to Ireti, I can’t laugh alone o, make she do come yab this yeye girl for me.”

Now, the heat that emitted out of Dede’s body, literally, could dry a soggy cloth. Drips of sweat sped down from his wrinkled forehead through his chest into his blue Tommy Hilfiger boxers, which his jean revealed, sagging half his buttock. Dede’s palms became damp, he clenched his fingers tightly in them, shuffling towards Salewa.

“Ehn ehn, can’t you raise those sticks you call legs?” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Sorry ma.” Dede stood still, like a statue, were he was.

“Sorry for...”

The fan gave a creaky sound as the power supply was restored, catching Salewa’s attention. She threw a glance at the three-winged object and a smile edged the corners of her mouth, she couldn't call that a fan. It looked more like an amputated octopus, the blades were bent and the color was quite questionable, white turned brown due to rust and bulb-formed webs that designed the periphery of the blades.

Power supply couldn't be trusted, no not in Nigeria, maybe years from now, Salewa almost said as she lifted herself from Dede’s sunken mattress.

“There are clothes for you to iron.” Salewa said, walking to the door. “Follow me now and get them cos I need them all in my closet tonight.”

“Ok ma.” Dede said, fairly relieved.

To be called a superwoman wasn't only in being successful in many areas of life as a woman, because Ireti just earned that by living under Dede’s bed for more than a minute. The rats that ventured in the same mission, all woke up in the trash can.

Salewa held the doorknob, and like sniffling cocaine, Ireti had inhaled dust and was at the verge of sneezing.

************************************

Before the rebels could shine their light around the room, Sanmi rushed towards one of them, the one with the lamp, pierced his bayonet into his neck and threw his arm around his neck, from behind. He groaned, and Sanmi silenced him, strangling him quickly. He dropped dead, likewise the lamp that kissed the ground from his hand. The room became dark again.

Sanmi wiped the blood stains on his face while fear consumed the other rebel as he never expected their captives to possess any weapon. And also he was newly recruited, enjoined to accompany the late rebel to the hut captives were kept. Lacking experience in defense, but not at this stage were his neck was about to be screwed. He brought out his pistol, but refused cocking it not to alert them. Sanmi groped his way to the door, likewise the rebel. The General, who only was a warrior when it came to signing cheques and swindling funds allocated to soldiers, crept to the edge of the hut, camouflaging himself like a tuber of yam.

They bumped into each other. Quickly, Sanmi flung a jab which luckily found a place on the rebel’s face, his left eye. He groaned. Sanmi using his instinct, reached for the pained rebel, then engulfed his neck in his left arm.

“I swear I go kill you if you try any nonsense.” Sanmi touched the rebel’s neck with the tip of his bayonet.

“Dan Allah!”

Sanmi squeezed the rebel’s neck the more, choking him. “You dey mad ni? Why you dey shout?”

“Dan Allah.” The rebel managed to say, not understanding any bit of what Sanmi said.

Sanmi thought it wise to escape with the rebel, so as to give their troops more information about the rest missing soldiers. However, communication was a problem here and it wouldn't take them as far as he’d expected.

“Commander sir?” Sanmi called the General.

“Captain, I’m here.”

“Sir, we have to leave this place now.” Sanmi edged the rebel out of the hut, under the bright full moon. “Hurry out now, sir.”

Despite been starved, his potbelly still protruded, hindering him from pacing faster. After several stumbling, bumping into unknown objects, finally, the General made his way out. Now, they all could see each other.

Sanmi forced the rebel to move along, still with his arm engulfing his (the rebel) neck. “I had rather die honorably than miserably,” the rebel mumbled in his dialect. He silently cocked his pistol. Then something happened.