The Hyena Code — Continuation 1
The moon was absent in the sky and it was still drizzling as Yemi walked briskly behind his mother towards the bus stop, which was full of people struggling to enter the few available commercial buses.
“Yaba, Yaba,” shouted the conductor of a yellow bus with black stripes that screeched to a stop. The moment the conductor jumped down from the vehicle, people surged forward to get into it.
Bidemi put Yemi in front of her and started to force her way in. It was a herculean task. Fortunately, a man also trying to enter the bus, used his big frame to create room for mother and son, and they were able to get in.
“Thank you, sir,” Bidemi whispered to the man as they took their seat.
The bus was quickly filled up with passengers, leaving little or no room for movement. Bidemi sat in the back seat with Yemi sitting on her lap. The driver started the vehicle and began to move towards the 3rd mainland bridge.
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3rd Mainland Bridge, Lagos, Nigeria.
The movement of the vehicles on the 3rd mainland bridge was at a snail’s pace, and the unending glowing rear lights meant the traffic situation ran the length of the city’s longest road bridge across the Lagos Lagoon to connect the commercial district and mainland section of the city.
Musa, who was behind the wheel of a dark blue Toyota SUV, moved his head side to side to the rhythm of Wizkid’s hit song, Ojuelegba. The music from the car stereo kept him upbeat as he slowly drove to the mid-point of the bridge. He glanced at the dashboard to check the time and stepped on the brakes as a car suddenly cut into the lane he was in. Musa hissed in frustration. “This Lagos nawa o. It is 11:55pm and traffic is still at a standstill.”
Kolade, who was seated on the passenger side, looked up from his phone and said, “Musa, get off this long bridge at that intersection. Let’s go take Yaba, it can’t be that bad down there.”
“You sure?”
Yes na, And we can use it to connect Ikorodu Expressway, Oshodi, and then the Ikeja Air Force base in good time.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“Yes, I say so because I know so. After all, even if I no senior you for rank, I senior you for age.”
They both laughed.
Musa and Kolade were part of the special forces drawn from the Air Force. Musa was a Major, while Kolade was a rank below him. They were on a two-week official leave and had come to Lekki, Lagos for the annual get-together of their secondary school old boys association. Musa was in an all-blue attire of a tee shirt, jeans, and sneakers, while Kolade wore a green jacket, black shirt, black jeans, and green sneakers. Musa was light-skinned, lanky, and six foot tall, while Kolade was darker, two inches shorter, and burly. They were both in their early thirties.
They had been best of friends from their secondary school days, and Musa’s father, who was a powerful and influential politician, had been instrumental in Kolade’s enlistment into the Air Force.
Musa got off the 3rd mainland bridge and headed off towards Hebert Macaulay Way. Just as they got close to Herbert Macaulay Way, they ran into more traffic congestion.
“Kai Kola, this one too looks bad o.”
“No worry, I sabi shortcuts for here. Just move forward small and we will take the next left turn, we go go through Makoko, Iwaya, and burst out at Unilag road.”
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Yaba/ Makoko, Lagos
There was traffic on Hebert Macaulay Way, Yaba, and a lot of people at the bus stop. Most people who could afford it were taking an okada, a commercial bike, to their destination.
Bidemi and Yemi disembarked from the bus and she flagged down an okada. After a brief moment of negotiation of the fare, The charge was higher than usual because of the time and traffic situation. Bidemi got on top of the bike and put Yemi between herself and the bike rider. Then the driver took a right turn off Hebert Macaulay way and headed for Makoko.
Yemi leaned a little to the side to stare at the road ahead. The whole area was pitch black as there was no power supply in the area. The okada headlights were faint and the road ahead was barely visible.
Yemi watched silently as a large, dark object started to roll across the road. He grabbed his mum’s hand and pointed to the rolling tyre. The Okada rider swerved to dodge the tyre and crashed into a stationary car.
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Musa turned left from Hebert Macaulay way and drove towards Makoko. The car headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the area and making it easy to negotiate the road and dodge the potholes. He took another left turn at the prompt of Kolade and then he stepped on the brake.
The car screeched to a halt.
Kolade looked up from his phone and glanced at Musa, “wetin happen, why you brake like that?”
Musa said nothing but kept looking ahead. Kolade followed his gaze and saw why.
The head was facing them, eyes still open. It had been severed from the body, and blood was still gushing out of the torso. The still figure was wearing a bloodied black skirt suit.
“Reverse now,” Kolade whispered with urgency as he drew a pistol from under his jacket.
“Wait,” Musa replied, “there is a small child besides the body.”
“Are you mad? The body is still bleeding so the killers are still there waiting for us to leave. I’m not ready to become their victim.”
“I know. But the child is still alive.”
“Guy, reverse this car now. This is not the time to play hero.”
Musa drew a pistol from under the car seat and switched off the interior light of the car so it would not come on when the car doors opened. He watched for a few seconds. He knew there was no turning back. He had once watched Boko Haram terrorists rape and behead a young girl as he lay hidden in the tall grass after barely surviving an ambush during a mission in Borno State. He knew he could not have confronted seven heavily armed men while he was wounded, bleeding, and with no weapon of his own, but he never forgave himself for doing nothing. Musa said a silent prayer and got out of the car swiftly. He walked briskly to the body, his gun held down by his right thigh.
Kolade silently got out of the car with his weapon drawn. He moved swiftly to the left into the shadows, to cover his friend and have a clear line of sight.
A boy in a bloody white and green school uniform sat on the ground, crying and shaking as he held on to his mother’s lifeless hand. Musa got down on his left knee to pick up the child and heard feet rush towards him, three men came out of the shadows from his left with raised machetes. He saw the glint of the sharp and bloodied machetes as they rushed towards him.
Two shots rang out and two of the men dropped down dead before they reached him. The third man stopped, startled by the sound of the shots and the sight of his now-dead colleagues. Musa raised his gun and shot him between the eyes.
Kolade noticed movements to Musa’s right and he turned slightly to train his weapon at the spot. It seems two figures had started to approach Musa but they quickly retreated when they heard the gunshots and did not see where or who was the second shooter. Kolade strained his eyes, willing them to pierce through the darkness. But the figures had easily melted back into the shadows. Kolade fired off a warning shot to further scare them off.
Musa picked up the child and ran back to the car. He opened the back seat door, put the child there, and did a quick scan to be sure the child was not hurt. Then he opened the driver’s side and got in. Seconds later, Kolade entered the vehicle and they slammed the doors shut at the same time. Musa reversed all the way to Herbert Macaulay way.
To be continued
Signed
Olumide Holloway (King Olulu)
