Chapter Fourteen

"Alaye, waka straight," the erstwhile conductor hissed, kicking the staggering Timmy on the shin. He and his confederates were leading their now blindfolded and gagged victim away from the bus.

Timmy had no idea where they were, the blindfold was used halfway through the journey and the only exposed part of his head was his nose. The gag was hurting his mouth and face, but there was no means of complaining even if he dared to.

Stumbling and jumbling between two of his captors, he was taken on a short journey before they entered what seemed like a house. They asked to see 'Oga' and they were soon ushered into a room with rug-covered floor.

Timmy was made to sit on the ground and he tried to imagine what was going on around him. Were they going to kill him? What had he done to deserve such fate? If they didn't want to kill him, what on earth did an Oga want with him? The only Oga he knew was Oga Donatus. It most likely was not that Oga, but what if it was? What if Donatus hated him this much for some reason? But he wasn't given a chance to further delve deeper into conspiracy theories.

"Ah, you boys have delivered?", a bass-voiced man asked as he came into the room.

"Yes, boss," one of the kidnappers answered.

There was a second or so of silence which felt more than a decade to Timmy, then the man spoke.

"Ah ah, what is this? You sure say this one is good enough?"

"Sure, Baba," the kidnapper assured.

"Ah, this one look too young o," the man grumbled, tugging at the blindfold. "Come, loose this thing let me see his face."

Immediately, someone rushed over to Timmy and untied both the blindfold and the gag. The sudden contact with light made Timmy bat his eyelids in an effort to get used to his bright surroundings.

"Ah, this one is a child na," the Oga exclaimed. "I said bring me a young man and you went and brought a boy. Hey, how old are you?"

Timmy had no idea that the question was directed at him, he was more intent on surveying the room and faces around him.

"You no dey hear wetin Oga dey ask?", the knife-wielding kidnapper growled, causing Timmy to look around in fear and confusion.

"Ode! I say how old are you?", the man repeated, slapping him on the head.

"Huh? Uh... I'm uhh... twenty."

"I told you na. He's a child," he hissed. "Anyway, just take him to the back and lock him there. We will take him to Baba later."

One of the young men promptly rushed forward and replaced the gag and blindfold before leading Timmy to his new temporary abode.

***

Spending hours in a tiny, dark room was not an easy thing for someone like Timmy. No phone, no TV, no food, no friends and no noise were surely some of the things that could kill a man, or so he thought. He knew that if he continued to sit and wait till they come for him, he would easily run mad in no time, so he fell to pacing.

The blindfold, gag and chords that had been used to bind his arms had all been removed. He was free to move within the length and breadth of the little room which was only accessible through a locked metal door and there was a tiny window through which air filtered into the place. From time to time, Timmy looked up at the high window and wondered if there was a way to get up there. If only the walls weren't smooth... but they were. If only there was something to hold on to... but there wasn't. So how on earth was he going to get out of this place?

Donatus, by now, ought to have discovered that he was missing, and what would he do? Call his parents? Call the police? He hoped it was the latter. If it was, then there was hope.

He stopped pacing and slumped down in a dark corner. Yes, there was hope. For all he knew, the police could be on their way here and they would burst through the door very soon to rescue him from this horrible place. Yes, they would. They would. And slowly, he drifted off into a deep sleep, inspired by stress and exhaustion.

Timmy was startled awake by a loud bang. Immediately, he jumped up with his eyes wide open and expectant, but instead of the armed policemen that were in his dreams, it was actually his captors with the usual gag, blindfold and chord.

He groaned in disappointment and was about to stamp his feet in protest, but one of them who was wielding a big stick looked him up and down with a glare that told him that no nonsense would be tolerated. So he relaxed and allowed himself to be tied, gagged and blindfolded. Not that he could offer much resistance though. He was very hungry and weak. He could see, just before the blindfold was fastened, that the environment was getting dark, so he must have slept for several hours.

For once, he had spent a large part of an entire day without food and he could feel the ugliness of hunger: his legs were wobbly, he could feel his stomach almost touching his spine and he could feel his heart beating faster than ever. Even breathing was harder than normal. Ah! So this was what those hungry people felt? If he ever got out of this mess alive and in one piece, he would always save a little change for hungry destitutes on the street.

As they led him out of the dark room into open air, Timmy could hear a lot of noise being made around him, but they came to his ears as muffled sounds since the blindfold material was tied tightly over both his eyes and ears. Suddenly, his captors stopped and one of them began loosing the blindfold material.

When they had taken it off, Timmy quickly took a quick look around his surroundings. He could see a very large and beautiful compound, a fleet of cars, a locked blue gate and... an armed policeman sitting beside it and staring straight at him! What the...!! Just then, the blindfold was thrown back on, a different material this time, more opaque and tied very tightly.

It came into Timmy's mind to begin struggling, perhaps to attract the attention of the policeman. He did not know that the policeman had been staring at him from the moment he stepped out of the room.

"My friend, behave yourself," one of his captors scolded, smacking him heavily on the head.

Timmy, confused by hunger and mental stress, only increased his resistance. But instead of police intervention, he got a clearing kick that swept his feet off the ground. Someone grabbed him by the arm and another by the legs and he was lifted off the ground and dumped into a hollow place. His legs were forced in and he had to lie in a foetal position. It was the smell of diesel and the shutting of the lid that gave him the idea that he was in a car trunk.

***

It was a tortuous journey that Timmy had riding in the trunk of the car. Everything from speed breaks to potholes were traversed and responded roughly. He was like a dice in a cup being shaken and he didn't know exactly what to feel. He wished he could just die, he also he wished he could turn back time to his time in the States and he wished too that he was back home in Abuja. What a life!

Just when he made up his mind, in frustration, to hit his head repeatedly against the trunk, the car suddenly came to a halt. The trunk was soon opened and he was hit by a cool breeze, taking away some of his pains.

He could not see through the blindfold, but he could feel the night, the quiet cold night. By his arm and legs again, he was pulled out from the trunk, and to his surprise, the blindfold was taken off. The first person he saw was the armed policeman and he was shocked! Was he an impersonator? Or was this not really a police uniform? Then it hit him. The policeman was the armed guard in the mix, so he certainly could not be his rescuer, rather he was one of his captors! Then how on earth was he going to get rescued? And by the way, what had they brought him here for?

"My friend, move jor," one of the young men said, pushing him from behind.

His exhaustion and the suddenness of the push sent Timmy straight down. He welcomed the dirty ground with unusual relief and was about to get comfortable when he was given a savage kick. There was an impatient shout from the Oga and he could hear some feet marching ahead.

"Alaye, get up na," someone shouted, kicking him again at the ribs, but Timmy only held on tighter to the ground as if it was his happily wedded wife. The person had no choice but to pull him up by his collar, but it was a serious battle to move him an inch forward.

"See me see wahala o," he grumbled as he fought hard to push the taller Timmy forward.

"Tunde o! Bring the boy na. Ah ah!", Oga called from afar.

"I dey bring am, sir," he called back and pushed Timmy down on the ground again. "I no know how much dem wan pay me for all this work o," he hissed and proceeded to pull Timmy by the shirt collar.

Timmy relaxed his entire body and let himself be dragged on the ground. He could see the shadows of the tall trees as he plowed along on the forest floor. He was so weak and resigned that any opportunity to rest, he did not miss it. Right now, dragging or not, since he was doing nothing but keeping still, he began to doze off. Only when he was dropped flat on the ground did he open his eyes and look around him. He thought he had gotten to the stage where he feared nothing, but what he saw next made him sit up immediately.

A savage-looking man decorated in a scary fashion was seated in one end of a small shrine, and there was a hole in the ground right in front of him. What scared Timmy the most was that smoke was constantly emanating from the hole! Was that where they were planning to throw him? A semi-circle of his captors were formed around the hole, their heads bare and bowed. Suddenly, there was a blood-curling shout from the shrine's priest. He was speaking a language that Timmy could not understand, pointing directly at the armed policeman opposite.

"Go, go, go, go out," Oga whispered to him.

When the policeman had walked out of the shrine and stationed himself a few metres away, the priest calmed down and went back to staring at the smoke curling out of the hole. No one made any attempt to speak and Timmy had the opportunity to look around his new environment albeit in terror.

The shrine was decorated with assorted skulls, calabashes and several angry-looking carvings. The priest himself was topless, only wearing a bright-colored cloth around his waist. His face, chest, beard and hair were decorated with several couries and white designs, probably from native chalk.

"Hmm mm mm mm," the priest suddenly launched into a hymn of some sort, making Oga shift uncomfortably.

The humming went on for a while as he continued to stare at the smoke and then he stopped abruptly and looked directly at Oga. He spoke some words in that language that Timmy could not understand and Oga signed to one of his boys. Before Timmy could say Jack, he was grabbed by the collar and dragged towards the hole. His eyes widened in horror and he struggled in panic to free himself from the grip on his collar. In the process, the gag slipped off his mouth.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Timmy turned his head and snapped his teeth at the hand holding his collar! But he missed by a very slim width. The hand had already left his shirt and he was now sitting very close to the priest, with the hole between them.

He quickly looked up to see the priest giving signs. Immediately, the chord binding his hands were cut. But instead of jumping up and running away, he sat there stunned and open-mouthed. The priest had moved forward and was staring directly into his face. Timmy's heart skipped several beats and even his breath was held in fear.

"Hmm," the priest snorted and withdrew to his original position, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Oya, get out, get out," Oga whispered, waving dismissively at Timmy.

Understanding that he was now free, Timmy staggered to his feet.

"Eh?!", one of the young men shouted, startling him. He looked around and found that the priest was pointing steadily at one of his kidnappers who was looking like he'd just seen a ghost. There was a bit of a quarrel and then suddenly, the young man jumped off his seat and fled from the shrine into the forest!

"What are you looking at me for?", Oga shouted angrily at the other young man who was seated beside him. "Come on, go and catch the idiot!"

The young man obeyed immediately and ran out of the shrine in pursuit of his colleague.

"Don't come back here without him o!", Oga called after him.

Timmy, on the other hand, stood half-dazed, watching the entire drama like someone in a trance.

"Ogbeni, what are you looking at?", Oga whispered harshly to him. "I said, get out! Or do you want to die?"

At the sound of the word 'die', Timmy was jerked back to reality. Without thinking twice, he darted out of the shrine and ran blindly into a large tree. He fell on the ground, but jumped up immediately and continued the race deeper into the forest.

*****

"If you did not send him to that Lagos, all this would not have happened o," Rebecca grumbled as she sat forlonly on the sofa adjacent to the one her husband was occupying. Only 24 hours after Timmy was declared missing, she was already looking twice her age.

"Who brought the idea that we should send him there?", her husband retorted with a hiss.

"But you are the man of the house na. Is it not you that makes all the decisions?"

"Woman, just shut up and stop talking like a child. The boy will be found. The police are working round the clock."

"I don't care what they are working round. If they like they can work round the chandelier, they should just find my son for me. Only God knows if it's not tha... that your friend Dona that is behind all this," she murmured.

Chief turned sharply to her. "What do you mean by that?"

"Chief, can't you see? You sent your son to him and after some time, he calls you and says 'Ehh... he's missing'. He should be arrested. I'm sure he knows what happened to Timmy and where they are keeping him. I can feel it with my mother's instinct."

"Eheh? Okay. So where was that your mother's instinct when you advised me to send Timothy to him? Back then, it was not working, abi? Or you just bought it recently?"

She turned her face away and said nothing in reply. Chief eyed her up and down and gave a long hiss.

"The food is ready, I've served it," Tracy said as she walked into the sitting room.

"I'll eat later," Chief replied. So she turned to her mother.

"I'm not hungry," was the sour response from that area.

Tracy shrugged and retraced her steps back to the dining room.

Dora, who had just returned from seeing her husband off (he had come to console her parents and offer his unlimited support), found her sister having breakfast in a semi-festive mood: earphones on and feet tapping to the rhythm of whatever she was listening to. She stopped and regarded her with a disgusted expression on her face. Tracy saw her and pulled off the earphones.

"What?", she demanded.

"You are a bad person, Tracy. Your own parents are there, feeling anxious over the situation of your missing brother, your own biological brother and you are here eating and dancing."

"They say they don't want to eat na. Will I force them? Timmy is missing, so what will I do? Was I the one that made him disappear?"

"Just listen to yourself. Hear how stupid you sound. Your own immediate younger brother, you don't even care about him. If you were me, I'm sure you'll not even bother to call Mama and Papa to say sorry, not to talk of leaving your husband's house to come here."

"So now that you have left your husband's house to come here, have they found Timmy? Look Dora, you don't have sense. Look at the way they want to die just because Timmy is missing. If it was me or you, do you think they will care? You are the most senior and yet you are the most stupid. Can't you see that because we are not men, we are worth nothing in their eyes?"

Dora shook her head sadly and exhaled deeply. "Now I can see how childish, selfish and wicked you are. So..."

"Hey hey hey, stop calling me names o. What's the difference between our ages that you think you can talk to me the way you like? You better warn yourself o. Don't try that nonsense with me again."

"Eh?! Tracy! Are you talking to me like that?", Dora shouted in disbelief.

"Turkey and meat. Who are you that I can't talk to like that? Are you God?"

"I am your elder sister, you this insolent child! Do I look like you mate?"

"Metele by Omawumi. It is you that is a child. Because you went and married one broke-manage man, you now see yourself as an old... ah! Dora!"

"Yes. And I will slap you again anytime you don't control your stupid tongue. Idiot."

With a hiss, she sashayed past her sister who was still staring at her in disbelief.

As she watched her go, Tracy's jaw slowly tightened in fury and then, she snapped. Picking up the water-filled jug from the table, she hurled it full force at her older sister's back just as she was about to step into the sitting room.

"Jesus!", Dora squealed as the force of the jug hitting her shoulder knocked her to the ground.

"Jehovah! Ah! What happened?", her mother exclaimed, rushing over to her. "Are you alright? Hope you did not injure yourself? Wh..."

But her daughter was not interested in being petted or consoled. Pushing off her mother's hands, she jumped to her feet and marched back to the dining room.

Tracy was standing in front of the table, looking very ready for the inevitable fight. Thwap! Thwap! Dora delivered two new slaps on both sides of her sister's face. In swift response, Tracy headbutted her on the abdomen, knocking her to the ground. But as she moved to launch another attack, Dora pulled her leg. She fell flat on her back, giving Dora the perfect chance to pounce on her.

"Will you people stop this nonsense!", Rebecca scolded. But the combatants were not ready to listen. "I said, stop this now!"

She went over to the battleground to try to pull them apart, but she was knocked down unintentionally. She had no choice but to call for backup.

"Chief! Chief!", she called as she ran back to the sitting room.

"Who's making all those noises there?"

"Chief," she panted, "you are sitting down here and your children are killing theirselves in the dining room!"

"Eh? Where are they?", he shouted, picking up his walking stick and rushing over to the dining room, his wife following closely behind.

"Fighting in my house?", Chief exclaimed as he saw his daughters punching, scratching and pounding at each other. "My friend, will you people stop this nonsense! I'm here and you're still fighting?"

But the battle went on like the lives of the combatants depended on it.

"Chief, these children will kill themselves o. Let's call..."

"No, no. No need. I'm coming."

Holding his walking stick by the smaller end, he walked over to the fighters.

"Chief, be careful o," his wife admonished from behind.

He raised the stick and brought it down expertly on the head and shoulders of Tracy who was the one on top. She jumped off her sister immediately, clutching the side of her head and Chief had to repeat the action on the older sister before she could take advantage of his first victim.

As they stood apart, eyeing each other angrily with swollen, bleeding faces and rapidly heaving chests, Chief tried to put more space between them by pushing them further apart. But Tracy immediately returned to her old position. In response, her father applied the walking stick on her shoulder.

"Ah ah! What is it na?", she shouted.

"Are you mad? Who are you talking to like that?", Chief demanded, brandishing his walking stick.

"Don't touch me with that thing again o, Papa," Tracy grumbled in response.

"And if I touch you, what will you do?", he asked, landing another hard blow on her shoulder.

"Ah! Papa, I've warned you o! If you hit me again, I'll change it for you o."

"Eh? You want to change it? Oya, change it!"

Throwing off his glasses and his shoes, he grabbed his walking stick and went for his daughter. But Tracy, seeing how serious he was, took to her heels and he followed her without hesitation, walking stick in hand.

"Ah! Just look at your life, Dora," Rebecca scolded after the new set of combatants had run out of the house through the back door. "Fighting like a child with your younger sister a..."

"Di... di... didn't you see when she threw a jug at me?"

"Are you not the older one? Can't you be mature and come and report to me?"

"Report to you? What will you do? If it's Timothy now, you... you... you'll kill anybody that touches him. When we were small and I pushed Timothy for tearing my book and he fell and injured his knee, have you forgotten how you almost beat me to death? It's only Timothy that is a human being in this family. Because me and Tracy are not boys now, we have no value. Anything can happen to us and you will not care..."

Then she burst into the tears she had been holding back.

"Oh dear. But it's not true na," Rebecca said as she went over to console her. "I love you all equally. You are all my children."

"It's a lie, it's a lie!", Dora wailed, crying bitterly. "You hate us! You and Papa... both of you have always hated us."

"Maybe we have shown a little favouritsm towards your brother because he's the last born a... a... and because we had always been praying for a boy before he was born. But it was not deliberate, eh. I'm sorry... we're sorry for... if... if we made you feel bad or inferior. Sorry, my dear."

She held her oldest daughter in her arms allowing her to cry on her shoulder, various memories of her wrongs flashing through her mind. She was so deep in thought that she didn't hear her husband's phone ringing, until the third ring.

"Ah! Your father's phone. Please dear, I'm coming."

She pulled out a chair and sat her daughter on it before running to the sitting room. She picked up the ringing phone and stared at the screen. It was certainly an important call. Without thinking of answering it on his behalf, she ran with it in search of her husband.

"I'm coming o, Dora," she said as she passed her daughter in the dining room. "It's a very important call for your father."

Dora nodded in understanding as she dried her face and rearranged her clothes and hair.

Rebecca ran all the way to the back door, but before she could step outside, she noticed her husband coming towards the house with a broken walking stick in his hand.

"Where's Tracy?", she asked in alarm.

"She's coming. Pack her things. She's going back to school now," he said in reply as he walked in, taking his phone from her.

"What do you mean, she's going back to school?"

"Ask her when you see her," he shot back as he returned the missed call. "Ehen. Hello. Commissioner, yes, I just saw your missed call. Any update on my son?"

Abandoning the Tracy matter, Rebecca went closer to her husband, eager to hear everything.

"Are you sure?", he suddenly shouted into the phone. "Where, where? O... o... okay. No problem. Thank you very much, Commissioner. God bless you."

"Chief, what happened?", Rebecca anxiously demanded as he pocketed the phone.

"Timothy has been found."

"Ah! Thank God! God has answered my prayers. Ojo! Ojo!", she shouted, rushing outside. Her husband watched in surprise as she ran to Ojo who was also running out to meet her.

"Fast, fast, fast," she ordered just as they narrowly avoided bumping into each other. "Go and get the car ready. We are going out right now!"

"Okay, ma. Yes, ma."

And Ojo rushed off to get the car ready.

"Where do you think you are going?", Chief called out to her.

"The station. We have to bring Timmy home na."

"Bring him from where? They found him in Ogun state..."

"Eh? Ogun?"

"He has been taken to Lagos now. Don't worry, they'll bring him tomorrow."

"But..."

"No but. Just calm down and relax. Everything is under control."