Fearless

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Tick. Tick. Tick.

With every pulsation, my entire body vibrated. The sound reminded me of the ticking of a clock and one thing is sure: my time was running out. Poor heart, it was probably pumping more blood than it had ever in such a long period. Every single nerve in my five foot four slightly plump body was tingling and all my hair stood on its roots.

I needed to do something. I couldn’t just stay there, I needed an escape plan.

Looking about in a bid to be more aware of and familiar with my surroundings, I turned to my right and just about enough light shone on a stone lying about a meter from where I crouched behind a stationary car. Would I have enough energy to lift it?

The price to pay for such irrational decisions at that moment was a little too high. If I couldn’t get to that boulder quietly and quickly enough, I would be bare and within plain sight of the kidnappers.

Last time I checked, which was never, the superpower to take on three armed men hadn’t been bestowed on me, not even with all the self-defence classes I took with Dara. And even if such superpowers were active, those men were armed. Watching blood and life drain out of me in seconds wasn’t really on my bucket list this year; it was more stuff like living my life to the fullest and building the guts to sneak out to parties that perch in there.

The fact that I haven’t been seen yet was in itself a miracle of some sort.

“Wait, what exactly was I doing?”

“Why am I here?”

“Why did I enter this compound?”

I should have run away screaming bloody murder when I saw them drag that girl inside. Why on the face of this round earth did I sneak right in after them and hide myself? Blame it on the movies I’ve been hiding to watch these days, such rotten and impossible ideas that they have deposited in this unsuspecting roller-coaster that I call a brain.

But, the girl’s cry for help drew me in. I didn’t think I was that help though, I was helpless .

Just as I was about to make a move to peep from my hiding spot, I heard a loud voice;

”Shut up ya mouth! Which kain yeye cry you deh cry so? Abeg shut up make we hear word”

It wasn’t until he spoke that I made sense of the noise I had been hearing since sneaking in. It was the captured girl’s whimpering, they must have covered her mouth and she was probably sobbing but all that came out was a faint whimper.

My heart broke for her.

“Oya, stop that nonsense weh you deh do before I slap you.” Another voice thundered, along with a loud bang. I presumed he hit his hand on an object for emphasis as the average Nigerian does.

I guess the captured girl is an average Nigerian too, because the whimpering subsided.

”I go call your Mama now and we go untie your mouth make she for know say we don carry her pikin. If you talk any rubbish, we go finish your life here. You hear me so?” the second voice said in a gruff and threatening tone.

There was silence for a while.

And then the sound of a dialling phone rang out.

I could only figure out the conversation from the one-sidedness of it.

The three men together threatened and coerced a frightened woman on the phone to bring them 5 million naira that night if she wanted her child alive.

I couldn’t hear her response for two reasons; One, the phone wasn’t loud enough and most of what filtered through were the woman’s loud sobs amidst cries for help from her “Chi”. Two, I had, in a split second, figured that the noise and ruckus were sufficient cover for me to move around without being heard or seen. Hence, my mind was preoccupied with executing my well-laid plans and not with a response which was sure to be affirmative.

What mother wouldn’t give the world just to hold her child in her arms again and be assured of safety? My thoughts exactly, none!

I peeked from behind the vehicle and looked around.

There was an incomplete structure in the middle of the compound where I figured the men and the girl were situated, the car which I stayed crouched behind was the only other prominent item in the compound, sitting dusty and unused at the left side of the building. From the disadvantaged point I was in, I couldn’t see much of the occurrences in the building where the actual action was happening.

”As you deh come, if you call police you no go see your daughter o. Make I just tell you now.” John shouted out after which he cut the cut evidenced by the three beeping sounds I heard. Yes, I named the second man John. I think it fits his voice, strong and annoying.

Ah, is this what Stockholm syndrome feels like? Naming a captor due to familiarity.

Who was I kidding? I wasn’t even the victim.

The ticking began again.

Every vibrating pulsation in my head was louder than the last in my head. In a moment of decision and courage, I pushed myself up to my feet, let out a little yelp and fell back down. Stretching out slowly, I gave my leg’s function some time to return to its former glory, stood up again and this time, gained a foothold.

From the building, I could hear the men rejoicing and discussing plans for the money they were yet to receive. Fools! Have they never been taught not to rejoice early by life’s extensively detailed course called disappointment?

Creeping out quietly from my safe hiding spot, I tiptoed in the dark, covering the space between me and the side of the building, ensuring to keep well within the shadows and make as little noise as possible.

I waited a while as I got to the building, and listened for any sign that John and his clan of fools had heard my movements.

The light of the moon gave me sight as I executed my not-so-perfectly laid plan: get behind the building and climb over the wall. I needed to leave this danger that I had stupidly put myself in.

Thank God for the times I sneaked out of school with Dara to buy potatoes from the woman two streets away. How else would I have gotten such invaluable training on jumping fences? If I hadn’t acquired this skill set, what would have become of me?

I smiled as I remembered Dara’s trademark phrase; “It pays to be mischievous, girlies!,” and then continued on my quiet journey,

Just as I hoped, there were holes in the walls that I needed to secure the foothold needed to climb over. It was a kidnapper’s lair, of course, they needed to climb out in times of trouble. My smile widened, it was quite apparent that the fools clan weren’t as foolish as I presumed.

I hoisted myself up onto the first hole and put my hands in the one closest to my outstretched arms and pulled myself up.

I put my foot and hands in the next holes and was about to do the next when I remembered.

The girl.

Could I just leave her here with these animals?

The assurance that I could get help before dawn was non-existent, especially with the dysfunctional country we live in.

A puff of air came out of my mouth after a sharp intake while I began making the worst decision ever.

Gently and quietly, I made my way back down the wall, not feeling but knowing I had a thousand abrasions on my palms, legs and arms due to cuts from the rough, unfinished wall.

As I trekked cautiously back to my previous hiding spot, I cursed myself for being too soft and heroic while hoping and praying to God that I didn’t die tonight.

My plan was simple and had only one step so far: to wait.

I whispered out, “Wait till they sleep and break the captured young girl out of here with me, heaven help her that she can’t climb up a fence. I’d dump her and go my merry way.”

Sunshine And Rainbows

As I mulled over the exquisite plan in my head, a cold, clammy, large hand grabbed my arm and for a second, gravity glitched.

”Who are you?”

My brain registered the voice before my eyes did the face. I watched his mouth move but didn’t process the words. His grip on my arm wasn’t as tight as fear’s grip on my chest.

He’s the third, the one whose voice I hadn’t heard in all the ruckus. He had a scar running straight down the middle of his face with fiery eyes harbouring a murderous look.

Another hand clamped my shoulder and shook me vigorously. That was weird because I could see his second hand on his waist in an impatient and annoyed pose.

***

Franca’s eyes snapped open, her chest rising and falling rapidly as though she had just outrun death itself.

Her mother stood over her, hands on her waist.

“Franca, wake up! It’s six-thirty already. You’re going to be late for school today!”

Franca blinked repeatedly, trying to separate reality from the nightmare that still clung tightly to her skin.

“It was… just a dream,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

Her mother sighed and walked out of the room, muttering about lazy children and wasted mornings.

Franca sat up slowly, placing a trembling hand on her chest.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Her heart was still racing.

She swung her legs off the bed, and froze.

There, on her palm…