Chapter 15: The Journey To Somalia.

At lunch, I took a seat across from Ebube. The cafeteria was louder than usual as everyone was getting geared up for summer break and sharing

plans with each other.

Ebube wasn't eating and instead he was studying a sheet of paper. I asked, "What's up?"

He kept his eye on the paper and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. He circled something and mumbled, "It doesn't fit"

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

Ebube turned the paper around and pushed it toward me across the tabletop. On the page was a series of meaningless, random numbers. He had circled one of the numbers near the right margin of the page. I don't get it.

"There are seven columns of numbers," Ebube said, explaining. "In most cases, the value of the numbers increase from left to right in a predictable manner. There are some outliers, but that number I circled doesn't fit"

I studied the page. Ebube's explanation appeared to be true. The numbers in the right most columns were higher than the columns on the left. But the

number Ebube had circled also fit the pattern. I asked,

"What makes you think that this one doesn't fit?"

Ebube's hands rested on his hips. "Can't you see it? It deviates more so than the others, barely perceptible, but nonetheless detectable."

Nobody else at ROYGBIV X Academy talked the way Ebube did. He had turned into a real brain wizard.

"If you say so." I said, accepting my defeat.

"I know so," he said and tapped the side of his head with an index finger.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked,

"Are You doing anything special over the

summer?"

He rocked in his chair. "Yeah, swimming in my stepmother's pool and working. She wants me to look at papers like the one I just showed you to

find numbers that don't fit."

" What are the numbers for?" I asked curiously.

" Ssshhh! Top secret" he shut me up.

"Is she going to pay you to do that?"

"Sure! Yeah," he said but offered no details.

I then gist him about my upcoming trip to Somalia.

Ebube looked at my itinerary. "That's

cool boy!"

To me, I wondered what was cool about Somalia which I knew was a war state still recovering from itself. Why not the USA, Canada, London, South Africa or Tanzania?

We talked about so much more for minutes.

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After school, I walked with Ebube to

meet up with Justice Bianca.

Ebube opened the passenger door and

climbed in. I held the door open and leaned in too.

After we greeted and she asked about our welfares. I gathered the courage to ask,

"I was Just wondering Ma if you have any news about my brother?"

Justice Bianca looked at me and removed her sun glasses. "I called Ayo's school this afternoon. He's still there, confined to his hostel. They later agreed to keep your brother there until we can find a home for him."

My eyes caught something on the windscreen. There were other inscriptions but the 'This vehicle is fully-Armoured under the specification of bla bla bla.'

Her words put me at ease.

"Can I go see him? Maybe this weekend?" I asked.

"I don't believe that would be in Ayo's

best interest." She snapped.

I whispered " bullet proof car?" into Ebube's ear.

He nodded in affirmation.

"How could not seeing my brother be in

his best interest Ma?"

The corners of Justice Bianca's lips turned down. "I understand how you might view what I said as

counterintuitive, but Ayo seemed very angry with you. I spoke with the school psychiatrist. She opined that a period of separation may ease Ayo's

current trauma."

That didn't make sense to me. But formerly I got the impression that my ignoring Ayo was what caused his anxiety. Isn't that what set him off? Then again, what did I know? Justice Bianca and the psychiatrist had to be smarter than me about those things. I had to trust them.

"Dr. Dogonyaro is sending me out of the country for the summer Ma. My flight leaves right after finals exams. Can I see him before I leave?"

She frowned. "That might be too soon Runso."

What's she trying to say?

"Then, that means I won't be able to see him at all until I return to school next term?." I tried protesting.

"See, Runso, If you want Ayo to get better, don't go to him now!"

It sounded more like a command to me than a suggestion.

"Do you want him to get better?" She asked suddenly after a few moment of silence.

"Of course I do"

"Then Runso, you have to Calm down. You and

I are on the same team. What I'm trying to impress upon you is the fastest way for Ayo to find a better life is for him to make a clean break. I'm saying that you need to give him space. Let's get

him settled. To see how it goes with him."

"How long might that be?"

She tapped her fingers against the

steering wheel. "Go enjoy your summer holiday first. I promise to keep you updated on Ayo's Progress. When you return to school, I'll see if we can make proper arrangements for you to see him."

She was telling me, not asking me what I thought about her plan. It dawned on me that I was helpless to do anything about it. I had to live with it.

"You promise you'll keep an eye on things?" I asked.

"You have my solemn words." She said.

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We travelled all the way to Aminu Kano Airport, Kano, because there was no taxing flight to Somalia from Kaduna.

The experience of visiting an airport and getting on the first flight of my life exhilarated me. I couldn't take my eyes away from the window. The huge

Kaduna hotels became tiny and insignificant. The Earth opened up as far as my eyes could see. Made me feel small and insignificant in this pressured tube.

My thoughts went to Ayo. I wished he could be here to experience it with me.

The flight lasted for six hours 10minutes. I know that because I started my stop watch immidiately our plane went up from Nigeria.

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After the plane landed in Mogadishu, the capital of Somalia, I disembarked and walked into the terminal building. Only a few people milled around waiting to pick up newly arrived passengers. The place isn't a tourist choice after all.

But I didn't know who to look for or who is looking for me. I eyed all the waiting banners Runso or Phood isn't inscribed on any.

Sometimes I didn't understand Director Dogonyaro and all his damn privacy and secrecy. Why didn't he just tell me who to look for?

After about twelve minutes of wandering the hall, Suddenly, a man walked out of a restroom, tall, chocolate in complexion, a bit skinny, but fit, wearing blue jeans, high boots, and a short sleeved collared shirt with an insignia embroidered above the breast pocket. He glanced around the terminal a few time and made eye contact with me and smiled.

I startled.

He approached swiftly. "Hello, young Man, I presume you are Runso, aka Phood?"

He spoke in an American accent though a black guy. I could see corded muscles in his forearms, firm bicep which indicated he was no weakling a person.

He's an American

From my instinct, He might have been forty or less.

"Dogonyaro sent me to you." He said sharply,

raising an eyebrow. "Follow me."

I grabbed my compact travelling bag. We exited the

terminal building to the parking lot. He pointed a key fob at a black Wrangler Jeep and pressed a button. The SUV's headlights flashed and I heard two chirps. The trunk lid popped open.

"Stow your T-Bag in the trunk and climb

into the back seat."

"Why the backseat Sir?" I asked.

"You'll see."

I did as he asked, shut the trunk lid and

got in. The car impressed me. Leather

seats, lots of leg room, and the engine

purred, sounding like it could really go to space.

Doctor Dogonyaro has been secretive. What's this

all about?

Through the rearview mirror, I saw him raise an eyebrow.

"You may wish to consider the fact that you have just willingly climbed into a strange vehicle at the request of a complete stranger. I am now free to do unspeakable things to you, dump you in the middle of the wilderness, and you haven't even asked my name. You probably don't even know the make of SUV you're riding in. Predators know that young people are naturally curious. I acted as if I was

your contact and you fell for it.

Every word of what he said was true. My heart rate picked up and I glanced at the door handle. Nah, it couldn't be, it was central locked.

I Forced a laugh, I said, "Nice try mister America, but you're obviously my contact. You called me Runso."

"Obviously?! Based on my knowing your name? I got that from the big, block letters you inked on your T bag name tag."

Oh Christ!

A feeling of dread welled up in my gut. I worked the door handle. Nothing happened. The hairs on the back of my neck stood. I Started sweating in the air conditioned Jeep.

"Remote child safety locks engaged" he said robotically. "Every modern vehicle like this one has them. You should know that. You should never climb into the back seat unless someone you trust is at the wheels."

In a slight second, I considered the odds. This man had to be my contact. I gathered up my courage,

"Who are you?"

He waited a beat and said, "My name is Jason Woods. No need to stand on formalities, though. It would be much easier if you would simply call me Jason."

I laughed. "Is that really your name? You're a black guy!"

He didn't answer. Jason exited the freeway and drove down a lonely Side road. "Where are we going?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Oh no!

I accepted that answer for a while, but then I started getting tensed and angry. Whatever this was, I had grown tired of it. In the serious voice that I often used to get Ayo's attention, I said,

"Tell me. Where are we going, and when are we

getting there?"

"You are in no position to make demands boy," Jason snapped.

Becoming defiant, I said, "Eventually, you're going to have to stop. When that happens, I will show you the stuff I'm made of. "

He said nothing. Reaching into the center console, Jason pulled a Pistol and rested it on his lap.

Oh no. I sat back in my seat, staring at the gun on his lap, my heart racing. Dread gripped me.

He drove on for another few meters and finally slowed the car, pulled over and stopped but Kept the engine running.

"What did you say?"

I was quiet, looking at him eye to eye.

The guy don't seem mean. From my judgement his frown is mask behind his face and That's a dangerous kind of person in some ways.

Turning in his seat, Jason picked up the handgun, but pointed it away from me. He looked at me from between the front seats. "Oh boy, you think you

can be faster than me?, Huh?"

I swallowed and couldn't take my eyes from the gun. Pressed into the back of the seat, I shook my head in a childish fret.

"Do you concede that you are easily duped, that you completely defaulted a simple threat assessment?"

I hated that this man had gotten over on

me. I gritted my teeth. "Yeah, I screwed

up, okay. Failed. An epic fail."

Jason Woods smiled and said,

"Good. Now that I have your attention and hopefully your respect, we can proceed with the trip"

The way he turned in his seat and faced me, I got a better view of the emblem embroidered above the breast pocket of his shirt. Four gold diamonds.

My breath caught.

"You attended the ROYGBIV X Academy? You are also TheNews?"

"If I did, I would hardly discuss that with you." He slipped the handgun back into the console, turned his attention back to the road, and pulled out.

Miles of scrub made up the view from the back seat until we started climbing in elevation. On either side of the car the trees grew close together. I couldn't see very far between them. It distracted

me, having never experienced dense forest scenery like this, until we reached a flat area and the terrain changed back to shrubs and desert.

"I'm taking you to my Ranch," Jason said out of the blues.

He offered no further explanation, and I figured there was no use pressing him. A few minutes later, the trees thickened again. But this country was mostly desert as far as I've read but seeing some kinds of closed trees gave me a different perspective.

Jason slowed the car and flipped on his left turn signal. He turned into a driveway, and we drove

under a stone arch. Four gold diamonds adorned the keystone. We cleared the trees and the land opened before us revealing a large Duplex home.

"Wow, is this where you live?"

"Yes." He said but didn't elaborate.

Jason drove around the backyard and parked the car in a garage. He popped the door locks and climbed out. I followed. It felt great to stretch my legs after that long, stressful-tension ride.

The air smelled of evergreens. He opened the trunk with his key fob, and I grabbed my Travelling bag.

He led me up a covered back porch and into the house. I followed Jason up a grand staircase to a corridor.

We entered a plain bedroom with grey painted walls, a double bed and dresser.

"This is where you will be staying for the summer," he told me. "The room has a private bath. You may want to clean up before we dine."

After showering, I made my way downstairs and found the dining room. A table covered with a white linen tablecloth, a candlestick as a center

piece. The candle was lit. A steaming bowl of fried Rice and Beef.

It sure must be beef not Carmel or Donkey. I thought.

Jason glided into the dining room wearing padded gloves and carrying a platter in each hand. He nodded toward the nearest chair. I sat and he set one of the platters in front of me.

On it, was more beef along with veggies Salad. He took his seat on the opposite side of the table.

"You made this?" I asked.

He nodded. "I consider cooking to be a simple pleasure, relaxing, especially given the opportunity to prepare a proper American meal."

Everything this guy did was so formal right down to the cloth napkin that he carefully arranged on his lap. I mirrored what he did, not wanting to

offend. I sliced a fork full of meat lifted it into my mouth, and chewed.

"Ah, man, this beef is delicious." I said. No empty words, I meant it. It was delicious.

"Not beef," he said after swallowing his own morsel. "Parboiled Carmel meat and oven baked by me with some special mixture of spies."

What the hell!

I could've vomited everything on my platter in lightning seconds but forced myself to eat the remainder of the meat in my mouth.

After we both finished, Jason excused

himself and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

He uncorked it and asked. "Wine?"

I wasn't a fan of liquor and worried

that I wouldn't like it. "Sure." I tempered.

He poured about three inch from the bottom

of the fancy glass. No problem. Even if

I didn't like it, I'd be able to drink that

much with less effect.

Jason returned to his seat and poured himself a double amount.

While eating my meal, I got to wondering and asked, "You live here alone? Are you married?"

He sniffed his glass and sipped. "Yes,

I live alone, and no, I'm not married."

I looked around the room at how spotless everything appeared to be. This is a big place. How do you keep up with things?"

"Yes, you're quite right about that. I hire a service to do my cleaning and to take care of the environment. Those domestic duties would demand too much of my time. Time better spent on my business."

What he said was in a nice slow pitch.

You can guess what I asked next.

"What business do you do?"

Jason ignored my question and explained that he had a shooting range on the premises and that the following morning he would make everything clear to me.

It ended up being one of the longest nights of my life as I tossed and turned trying to fall asleep in a strange bed and speculating about what was going to happen in the morning.

The next morning, after breakfast, Jason led me to an outbuilding off the back porch. He punched some keys into a security screen. A ballistic-like door clicked and slide open.

He flickered on a switch and illumination filled the room and I stopped dead in shock.

In front of me revealed an entire room filled with glass fronted display cases, holding tens of guns of every conceivable variants. Long guns, shotguns, assault rifles, semi-auto pistols, revolvers, machine-guns, derringers, old muskets, dueling pistols set in velvet lined cases, a gun with a barrel shaped like a trumpet, and hanging on wall pegs an assortment of cowboy holsters with six-shooters, Cross-bows, sniper rifle, rocket propeller, teargas shooter, two edged swords and some sleek designed singlets that looks like bullet proof vests.

I knew of their sort because of the label beneath them.

Now his kind of business was clear to me.

"Oh no! What are you doing with all these?" I asked trying to recover from my shock.

" This are all the samples of what I've got in stock in my warehouse." He said. " I'm a licensed gun dealer."

" I see" I nodded. "So Mr Jason, what are you supposed to teach me..exactly?"

He pulled a belt and holster from a peg on the wall and handed it to me. "Try this on."

I slipped the smooth, tanned leather around my hips and secured the buckle. Felt a little dorky. He handed me a strip of rawhide and told me to thread

it through the hole at the bottom of the holster and secure it around my leg When done, he eyed me. "Stand straight and let your hands hang to your side.

After doing as he asked, Jason said, "Looks okay to me" He walked toward a gun cabinet and unlocked it. From over a dozen handguns, he handed one to me "This is a Smith and Wesson 500 X-frame or call it S&W500, 2004 sure model. This handgun is one of the best and most powerful light weapon you'll ever handle as at today" He paused and take a good look at my face, maybe trying to acertain my expression. But then he continued,

"as little as it looks, it have an almost equivalent firing power as an AK47, just that it isn't automatic but it's double action swift recoiling, 100m max effective firing range, cartridge 12.7mm, 50 calliber, 4,000 shoot lifespan guarantee, maximum pressure 60,000psi" bla bla bla he kept on talking.

I took a deep breath. My hands were shaky.

All the details he was giving wasn't of interest to me. I was staring.

I rested the gun in both hands, flipped it over and over minding not to touch the trigger even the slightest. For the first time in me life, I was holding a real metal gun.

The high gloss stainless metal cold to the touch, the piece of weapon smelled of sewing machine oil and new metal. It weighs close to 3 kilograms and stylish. I started feeling like James Bond.

"I believe you will find it evenly

balanced and handy". He said.

Whatever.

He's talking to me as if I was a gun buyer or dealer like him.

I just nodded but within me I was screaming fear.

"Go ahead fearful child" he said. "Slide it into the

holster. It's not loaded yet"

I held the grip and gently lowered it into the leather. The fit was snug and perfect.

"Now ease it out and hand it back to

me".

I did as Jason asked. He searched around in a drawer, brought out a small paper pack, opened it and started slidding bullets into the gun's revolving chamber.

"Wouldn't it be safer if you load the bullets

outside?" I asked.

"Yes, that is if they were live rounds," he said. "Civilians call all bullets but it more mature if you if call it cartridge. You will know the difference soon enough."

Whatever. I couldn't help but to roll my

eyes.

Jason aimed the gun towards a far white painted wall with a large human size skeleton diagram labeled from 1 to 206, he then thumbed the hammer at the back of the revolver, and pulled the trigger. It made a sharp click against the snap cap. Turning to me, he said,

"It's ready. Phood? Your training starts now!"

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