ON THE RUN (EPISODE 13)

“Ahn ahn Salewa, you are too harsh abeg.” Ireti walked behind her to the kitchen. “You’ll never change. See how you threatened the life out of that boy.”

A smile edged the corners of Salewa’s mouth. “Mrs Abracadabra, you know I’m not like that. One thing led to another.” She winked, “you know na.”

“Hmm, I understand. Fire fire.” Ireti grinning, sandwiching her hand in between her laps.

Salewa laughed.

“Now tell me, how was it? Did he hit it well enough? Or did he...”

“Kilode!” Salewa interjected. “Gbeborun, that’s the more reason I’m treating him that way so I won’t sell my pride cheaply to him.”

“I know. I’m aware of your stunts. But...” Ireti opened the fridge.

“Where have you been ever since?” Salewa interrupted.

“Been around o. Was about going to see one of my customers when this stupid LASTMA people held me down this afternoon.” Ireti poured some juice in a tumbler. “So from there...”

Salewa interrupted again. “Madam off-key, I mean where have you been in about an hour thirty minutes ago?”

Ireti sipped her juice slowly, her brain running haphazardly, trying to figure out the lies that best suits the question.

“I took a stroll.” Ireti said after seconds of deliberation.

“Where do you know in this barracks to stroll to?” Salewa got hold of the frying-pan.

“Cos I don’t know anywhere was the main reason behind the hike.”

“Oh, that’s well enough. Hope you’re perfectly acquainted with the whole cantonment now?” Salewa mocked, smiling.

“Whatever.” Ireti rolled her eyes at her and emptied the cup in her mouth.

A grin tugged at Salewa’s lips as she placed the pan on the hot plate. Ireti’s phone rang out from her leopard print clutch bag. She reached for her cell phone, turned around, inching out of the kitchen. Salewa noticed how dirty Ireti’s blouse was from behind, curious, then called her attention to it. Ireti waved her hand at her and answered the call.

“Hello?” She walked out of the kitchen. “Please, who’s this?”

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Dede, who got to his room only to meet a note on his bed, was on call to confirm who was behind the written note, ‘call me, 07066684063.’

“This is Dede. You sey make I call you.” He walked to a corner of the room to get his iron. “Oh aunty, so na you.”

The call disconnected.

He threw his phone on the bed, then spread a blanket and a wrapper on a table to iron the cloths he was given. He hollowed his lips, whistling out ‘Oliver Twist,’ a song by D’banj, as he pressed the cloths one after the other. Dede separated Salewa’s favorite cloth, to iron it specially, knowing that forewarned was forearmed. He walked to his wardrobe to get some hangers when his phone beeped, alerting him that he had a message.

He picked his phone from the bed, dropped it on the ironing table, right beside the iron, then fit the cloths on the hanger. Afterwards, he spread another cloth on the table, and read the message he received. This moment proved that the human body are perfectly connected; the rod in between his legs gathered momentum, stretching long and strong, as his wide eyes scrolled through the text. He smiled, wishing the whole lines in the text could come to fruition.

The text read thus:

‘Dede, we are both going to my house tonight. Don’t know how you are going to do it. I promise to drop you back as early as possible tomorrow morning. My body aches for you. Ireti.’

He read the text over and over again like he never understood its content the first time. Dede smiled on, biting his lower lip as he tried to suppress, with his hand,  the risen giant between his legs.

He shrugged. Dede let down the iron on the cloth and swiftly pulled it away. Blackout! Power supply had been interrupted. His heart drummed very fast, faster than normal, as he checked the status of the cloth with the aid of the light from his phone.

The cloth burnt, Salewa’s favorite.

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

Pow! He shot himself. Sanmi released his hand off his neck and the rebel dropped dead. The gunshot struck loud, piercing into the ears of the rebels in their huts, about 600 meters away. The rebels who died were only sent to check on their captives and not to kill any, this got the leader of the sect suspicious. He ordered five of his men to fetch the two rebels sent and confirm the reason behind the gunshot. They rushed out of their hut, fully armed.

Sanmi, wise enough to know that they were in danger, called on the General, dashing eastward, hoping they threaded the right path to their camp. It became darker. The moonlight faded away as they approached the forest. Sanmi groped his body for his cell phone, but couldn't feel its presence. No doubt, the rebels had it, Sanmi said to himself. They forged ahead into the unknown. Sanmi gripped his bayonet, hearing a rustling sound from afar.

The General, not minding he was bare-footed, stayed glued to fast-pacing Sanmi. His legs wobbled as he looked back severally, imagining the devil and his horns lurking around his shoulders and gnashing their teeth in an evil grin. The General feared the dark, not even now at the center of nowhere in a thick forest. It didn't matter if he still wanted to command his troops, or steal more funds, he didn't want to die.

Sanmi stopped. The General too. The roar of the waves rumbled in the background. The heavy wind blew dust and the dry leaves, shook the branches on the giant trees, pouring down weak leaves like snow. Seconds later, it all became still. Dead silence!