ON THE RUN (EPISODE 29)

Certainly, every now and again, people would find themselves in one trouble or the other. The shocking ones they knew nothing about, the minor ones they expected, and the very serious ones they’d dragged into their own court. Hence, only a few would go out of their way to find a lasting solution to it while many would sit back and wish it away. But none of these was the case of Salewa this truth-seeking morning.

She loftily stared at the screen of the prehistoric Nokia phone, thinking of the suitable lie she’d serve Sanmi to eat. Then it came to her like an epiphany that the digits displayed on the screen matched Ireti’s, so she claimed ownership.

“It’s mine.” She said, then seized the phone from his hand. “I had to change to another network, and I really don’t want to lose my contacts on my other line.”

“Okay.” Sanmi said, but didn't believe her. He knew how much his wife loved fancy things and wouldn't settle for anything less than what’s swanky, even if it’d cost her the last penny in her account. “Let me check where the crash came from.”

More like reflex, she placed her hand on his bare chest, holding him down in bed, then she answered the call. “Hello?” She said, then covered the mouth-piece of the phone and said again to her wary husband, “wait...just a minute.”

He hid his persistent curiosity behind a fake smile as he laid back on the bed, holding the pillow in his arms. He wondered who was on the line to have kept her mute and very attentive. Could it be one of her uncles? Or oh, her mum? No, it was Ireti. Never could he have guessed right, because he remembered vividly that her every day everyday conversation with Ireti was usually bubbly and was far from been a monologue.

Now Ireti was driving, at a considerable speed, down to Amdala barracks. Assured she had threatened Dede not to step an inch out of the house until she arrive, she immediately hung up the call. She peeked into the side mirror, then touched the bruise by the corner of her mouth. Her tear-stained face was titivated with a swollen contour on her left cheekbone and a plaster that cut across her right eyelid, looking more like Tyson after his ear-biting game with Holyfield.

Desmond, that beast!

He had called Dogo in, and ordered him to dump her insentient body in the secret room he kept his culprits. There that evening Ireti woke up to a shining yellow bulb that suspended in the middle of the very high ceiling. The room appeared more like a cell, bunk beds pushed forlornly against the wall, and dirty stainless plates stacked at a corner. There in the room was the lady who she heard screaming and whose blood speckles she saw on the floor at the passage of the building. And on one of the bunks laid another man, who stared at the ceiling as though retracing the journey of how he ended up in the room. Their eyes shimmered with undeniable pity and their countenance like that of a hungry refugee.

Ireti wouldn't stop being the die-hard of a person that she was, even after the long hours in coma. She sprang to her feet and soldiered on to the locked, ligneous door. Bang! Bang!! She pounded yet again at the door.

“Hey! Stop it. You’re placing your life on the edge.” The younger lady generously advised. “These men are dangerous.”

“Yes I know Miss, I was slapped. But I would be more dangerous if I don’t get out of here, right now!” She banged on.

The man on the bunk sat upright to face the mindless Ireti who now yelped out vain curses in her local dialect. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Knocking... Or what does it seem I’m doing?” She paused, then reluctantly turned and fixed her angry stare on the bald-headed man. “And when did you finish counting the ceiling boards?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Who do you think you are?” His voice deepened.

She giggled. “Desmond still have my profile. If you get the chance, you can ask him.” She retrieved her attention from him, and then again hit the door, this time even louder.

His jaw clenched as the bang resonated in his already troubled head. The wrinkles on his forehead doubled as he squint a look at her small fists, going back and forth, hitting the door in quick succession. He stood away from the bed and paced towards her.

Suddenly, the door opened with a very heavy force, whacked Ireti in the face, crashing her against the tiled floor. Everybody stood still like a paused movie. An outraged man with a body like a tower of lumpy pillows occupied the door-frame, pulled out the sleeping pistol from his belt-pouch, cocked it and squeezed the trigger at the bald-headed man.

Thud! He dropped dead. The hefty man by the door took a step aside, out of the room, and Desmond walked in with an evil grin. The two ladies were instantly blanketed with sudden fear of death, one that wasn't there for Ireti few seconds ago. The last shard of her bravery wouldn't scare away a cockroach. She remained still on the floor like a pole, sweat trickling down her bruised face, and her steady gaze clocked on Desmond’s mean look.

“In his gun are two extra bullets.” He sat on his heels before the dead man, pointing to the hefty man by the door. “One for each one of you that dares disturb my peace again.”

Yes, oftentimes the saints paid for the sins of the sinners.

“I still have your money...not spent a dime.” Ireti said to Desmond as he forged out of the room. “Please allow me get it for you.”

He had a quick deliberation on the spot. “Good. You’ll get my money and you’re free to get the police too.”

“No, I won’t...I promise. I swear!” She said almost immediately, her voice tingling with tears.

Desmond cared less about her response, turning at once to the hefty man. “Keep her till tomorrow. Then, she has twenty four hours.” He chuckled and left the room.

The twenty four hours had began to tick. She drove like the queen of the road; getting off behind slow drivers and sped pass even the very fast ones, ignoring the obvious red traffic light, dodging traffic jams by charging through a one-way route, all to get to her house to discover the bag of money missing. No doubt, Dede was the prime suspect. Now Dede, who just broke a louver in the Fashakins residence, had no idea about the danger that lay ahead of him. He scurried to the door and looked through the keyhole to be ascertain that the patent sound didn't arouse their suspicion. Salewa snapped a kiss on Sanmi’s neck, then walked to their bedroom door and slammed it shut, as if she knew someone was peeping at them. Dede moved his sly, bulbous eye away from the keyhole and quickly scaled out of the house, through the naked window.

He crept like a petty thief to his room. Time no longer smiled at him as he thought it wise to leave immediately, even without packing his clothing. Sure the money would set him up with new set of clothes if he could successfully escape. He picked two of his shirts and a pair of jean trouser and squeezed them into the very important bag. He slung the bag on his right shoulder, then shot a fast glance all around the room to be sure he had nothing important behind. No, he had nothing in the room, nothing at all, nothing that weighed nearly close to important, wondered why he worried. He rushed to the door and paused, his hand on the doorknob, when he heard the zooming sound of a car. He moved briskly to the window and saw Ireti coming out of the car.