Election or Home?- (An Excerpt of A Mystery)
Usman waited agitatedly for the next day, February 16. The tension in Nigeria was too much to ask anyone to be lonely. But Usman was lonely. He didn't choose this life but fate had redirected his path from the misfortune of Fortune City, the private Island he grew and had made him lose his parents and even the family that took him to care for him. Also, he grew up with a friend cum brother, Bidemi Adeoti but he died also. Usman was lonely. And the only friends he had in Lagos, Nigeria, was none other than his car, which he used for Uber, with which he made a daily income.
So, when a knock came on his door, he wondered who could have decided to visit him at that odd hour. His mind swirled round with fear that it was the police. Some days before, a politician had paid him and some other guys to steal some of the materials for the election. They had done that successfully. Then, he was paying them again to shoot severally into the air after some particular people had voted the next day. The plan was simple. They were to be masked and away from the reach of the authority.
Despite being a great day for him, he just needed something to meet his needs. The man paid them well but they would get the other part of the money after the deal was done. All he was waiting for was the next morning.
'Who's that?'
'Good… Morning'.
'Morning… In your village', he shouted as he got near the door.
'Night. Anything. Good something'.
'Who do you want to see?'
'Are you Usman Alade?'
'Yes…'
He opened the door to reveal a lanky youth. The little light from the bulb in their corridor reflected on his face. Ire, the little boy living with his parents opposite their room, ran off to their room, excited about something.
'What do…'
'Sir, someone said I should give you this', the young man said and gave him an android phone. Usman glanced around in the corridor.
'Who?'
'I don't know her. She gave me last year and said I should give you today'.
'Last year?' Usman was shocked.
'Yes. I had even tried selling it but she was monitoring me. I just want it out of my hands. And what does it matter, she was paying well. So, when she called me today, I knew I had to give you. Good bye'.
'Heys…. Come back. How does she look? What was her name?'
The young man hurried off. He switched it on and its wallpaper read:
Call your lost phone number.
Usman was surprised. He misplaced a phone in the car last year but couldn't retrieve the phone number because he didn't really need it. And he couldn't recollect the figures. However, Google had synchronized it with his contact; thus, it was easy to get it within seconds.
With trembling hands, he dialed the number and it rang. He was perplexed. Holding his breathe, he wondered who could be on the other line. The call was rejected and a message popped up: log on to 1.43.bR%Gcsr.14.34t by 11:58pm.
Nothing scared a man than to have mysteries thrown his way. He felt cold drive itself through his belly and sweat popping out of his pores. He waited impatiently for the time. By 11:58, like one on fire, he logged into the number and got connected to a webcam.
'He has logged in people', a lady shouted. He had seen her somewhere but couldn't place his hands on the place. 'Get into view. Look for light'.
He did as he was told.
'Hey! Lady… Who are you? Tani e?' He asked before he could stop himself.
'Calm down, Usman. It's me, Rachael'.
'Rachael… I don't know any Rachael. What do you want?'
'From secondary school. You know Grace Ademola or Adeoti now, right?'
'Bidemi's wife. Yes. Wait. Rachael and Grace… Rags… You're Rachael'.
'Yeah! Yeah! Rag. Rachael and Grace'.
'You're the Rachael…? I thought you went missing'
'Indeed… Story for another time. Grace, over here'.
'Grace is there with you?'
'And me…' Bidemi said.
'Bidemi!!!' Usman screamed. He jumped off his seat. He recognized the voice.
'Usman. It's nice hearing your voice. Rachael told us how you left to Lagos'.
'Yes o. We're waiting for election tomorrow. How are you alive?'
'It's a long story', Bidemi replied.
'Tell him', Rachael shouted. 'They are tracing the line'.
' Yes tell me everything. What's happening?'
'Oh! The story would have to wait. We need your help. We need you in Brown Valley. We need to get out of Brown Valley. It's been fenced'.
'Who fenced it?'
'They are almost onto us', Rachael shouted.
'Please come. Bring a long thick rope, gallons of water… A lot… and if possible, weapons. When you get there, go through Suncity. We will meet you in the forest along the border'
'Yes. Be careful o. They are battling Zombie Rats there', Another lady shouted. 'Hi, I'm Rita'.
'That's preposterous', Grace said.
'Preposterous? She's right', Rachael interjected. 'They are almost on to us'.
'We would find you', Bidemi shouted
'But why?' Usman asked.
'Our lives are in grave danger', Rita shouted.
'We've got to go', Rachael shouted.
'By the way, happy 29th birthday', Bidemi shouted.
'Yeah! Happy birthday Usman. When we see, I will make your favorite', Grace shouted and waved.
'Bye…'
'We're expecting you?'
Thinking it through, he waited for the midnight. It was election day. May money be damned. His family were in danger. Quickly, he scouted for gallons of water and fetched them. He even stole his neighbor's gallons and tightened them with ropes in his car. Whatever the reason they needed water and whatever was wrong with them, he must get there in time. The next morning, he was going to Fortune City, the Island of his birth. He hurried to the bush and packed the pistols as well as the bullets and dropped them in his backpack.
Being with his family was what he would elect. Buhari or Atiku wouldn't even know him if he voted any of them. His votes might not count. Even the man that sent them to shoot the next day might call the police on them but Bidemi, Grace and Rachael would definitely be his home. And if he had to shoot his way to them, he would. They were his home.

God knows if you abandon this eerh!!

germaphobe:
God knows if you abandon this eerh!!

Abandon kwa! I sometimes stop posting online to make sure the plots are aligned and as man must chop, I have to freelance for food. Nothing on Nairaland pays. Not even adverts of our books.

So, stopping midway is me ensuring I get the plots and stories right. Editors can do proofreading when I'm done. But abandon..

You should visit www.fortunecity.club to know how massive this project is. It's not worth rushing.

Divepen1:
Abandon kwa! I sometimes stop posting online to make sure the plots are aligned and as man must chop, I have to freelance for food. Nothing on Nairaland pays. Not even adverts of our books.

So, stopping midway is me ensuring I get the plots and stories right. Editors can do proofreading when I'm done. But abandon..

You should visit www.fortunecity.club to know how massive this project is. It's not worth rushing.

. No worries boss, gonna visit the site now

Eh eh eh, Family is family

queenitee:
Eh eh eh, Family is family

Yesk oo