60

Ade’s car wailed as he tried to get us out of the sand and we attracted the attention of some teenage boys. They were mostly bare-chested, skinny, but toned, and they had planks and sticks.

‘Ade,’ I called his attention to the approaching gang. He handed them some money and they began to dig us out, placing their planks under the rear tyres so we could reverse out of our trap. The boys pointed out safe paths to take and we were off; but the green car was gone. Ade drove fast at the edge, close to grass, onto another sandy road; the forest grew larger around us. He slowed down and gazed ahead, then without warning, he downshifted and the car leapt forward.

We followed the road to a compound and pulled up behind the Peugeot. The trunk was open, as was the door to the house. We went inside. I led the way. A door in the corridor was open. I went to it and called out Amaka’s name. Nobody answered. Suddenly, a loud bang erupted from inside the room. Ade yanked me away from the open door and onto the ground. He had a pistol in his hand. He signalled for me to stay down, then he crept towards the door, fired two shots into the room and withdrew. There was no response. He stood up and approached the door holding his gun in front of him. ‘Drop it,’ he said. Silence.

I thought of Amaka. I got up and joined him at the door. A largish man – it must be Chief Amadi – was holding her to his body. He had a knife pressed against her neck. Her eyes were shut. He had a gun in his other hand, pointed at Ade. A bed and a bleeding body on the ground separated us.

‘Let her go, you bastard,’ I said. I ran at him and he fired. I dived the rest of the distance, crashed onto the bed and rolled to the ground before reaching him. I saw Ade fall backwards. He had been hit. The man dragged Amaka with him through a door.

I scampered to my feet and followed. The next room was like the first – a crude kind of surgical suite. I dashed past an operating table in the middle and sidestepped a trolley with medical instruments set on top of it. A door leading out of the room swung shut and I bounded towards it. Two shots splintered the wood. I ducked, waited a couple of seconds then launched through the door. It led to a passageway and on to an open door at the end. Beyond that I could see the forest. I ran forward hoping his next shot would also miss its mark.

I stepped into the backyard and saw only trees. A branch snapped back to hide a flash of colour. I ran towards it. My feet sank into vegetation. I grabbed at shrubs and pulled. Amadi levelled his gun at my head. I fell forward and he shot. He had Amaka with him: her torso drooped over his arm. He fired two more shots. I hid behind the nearest tree and he started to move again but Amaka was slowing him down. By now he was dragging her by her neck. He looked over his shoulder, tripped and Amaka fell away from him. I bounded forward and launched at him. We rolled around in the foliage. He elbowed me in the neck. I coughed, choking. He pushed me off and reached for his gun but I caught his leg and dragged him backwards. He grazed the side of my face and I grabbed his belt, pulling him onto his back. I forced my hands under his shoulders and looped them back to clasp my fingers over the back of his neck. With all the strength I had left, I pressed his head forward and straightened my elbows. I wanted to dislocate his shoulders if I could.

Amaka staggered to her feet. She put a hand to her head. She looked like she was going to fall.

‘Run!’ I shouted. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold him. He pushed with his feet, rolling his body until he was on top of me, crushing my back into the thick undergrowth. I couldn’t see Amaka.

‘Run,’ I shouted.

He headbutted me. The pain seared through my face. He freed himself and rolled into the bushes, crawling towards his gun. Amaka was trying to steady herself, her hands searching empty space for support.

‘Run!’

But she just stood there, looking at him, not me. By now he had picked up the gun and was climbing to his feet. I rolled over and kicked his leg as hard as I could. He fell and his gun fell away.

‘Amaka, run!’ I shouted again. I jumped onto him and felt his fist in the side of my belly. I wrapped my arms around him before he could manage another punch. Amaka picked up his pistol, almost falling over as she did. She held the gun in both hands and tried to aim. The pistol waved dangerously from my head to his head and back.

‘Drop it,’ someone shouted. I turned to look but I didn’t loosen my grip. It was Inspector Ibrahim, dressed in his uniform, holding a sub-machine gun, which was aimed at Amaka.

‘No!’ I screamed. I let go and launched at him.

He let out a burst of shots before I wrapped my arms around his legs and tackled him to the ground. He had shot her. I screamed so loud that I didn’t hear the sound of my own voice. I was on top of him laying my fists into his face. Someone caught my arms from behind and yanked me away. I kicked at him then the barrel of a gun pressed against my temple. I didn’t care. I kept kicking. They dragged me away. Ibrahim was getting to his feet. I lurched forward then a pistol was placed sideways against my head and a shot was fired. My head felt like it had exploded, then there was silence. I couldn’t hear a thing. I saw Ibrahim stand upright and straighten his uniform.

‘You bastard!’ I screamed ‘You bastard!’

He spoke to the person holding me. I couldn’t hear but I read his lips: ‘Let him go.’

I did not want to look but I turned to see what he had done to Amaka. She was still standing, pointing her gun at Amadi. He was sprawled face down, his head at her feet, a tiny pistol in his open palm, blood turning the leaves red around his body.