ELVIS (ACTION) EPISODE 27&28

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

“Officer down, officer down” Ben screamed into his earpiece as he rushed towards the fallen Dauda while the van sped away, blood is already streaking out of Dauda’s mouth through the valley-like creeks on either side of his lips. He coughed lightly and more blood streaked out, a gunshot wound standing confidently on his chest; his cloth getting more soaked with each passing second, the blood diffusing from the source using the cotton material he has on as a medium till his whole cloth is bright red.

Ben took off his cloth and pressed it to Dauda’s chest in a bid to scale down the rate with which blood is been lost by Dauda all the while shouting to the other teams to get closer with the car, he was breathing heavily murmuring words of encouragement and hope to Dauda, who tried to smile but ended up in spurting more blood and wincing his face in a funny contorted manner, he demeanor depicts pain which gathered courage with every failed attempt of smiling. Ben is already crying, pleading for the other teams and Dauda not to go.

Within few minutes which seemed like decades to Ben, a car was brought and Dauda was lifted into it, Ben held his head in his laps encouraging him to hold on and also urging the driver to go faster, his cloth drenched in bloeat (a mixture of sweat and blood).

At the office, Timi is dutifully eating his fingernails, befuddled by the ease with which their plan has been vanquished and speed with which it went down the drain, losing two men –Dauda et Elvis- as casualties, one been rushed to the hospital the other’s lost into the thin air with the way the tracker dot went offline few minutes ago, how did they lose it, they have been easily outwitted and circumvented, he hugged the rushing feeling of disappointment and frustration as he held his head in his two hands conceding defeat.

Afar off the spy smiled and nodded satisfactorily with the perfect execution of his plan.
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He had been floated in and out of his unconscious state for the umpteenth time, he must have been injected with something which made him so weak, a punch can’t do that. His whole body is aching-a similar feeling to that of a man who a train just ram through- his heart’s pumping rate is very low about 50beats per minute, each heart beat stressed, his whole head have a large amount of furious Igbo women, who were pounding with maximum dexterity and total abandon, they are tearing his head apart, the low point is that he couldn’t raise his hands to hold his head because his hands have shot-put weights attached to each of them mentally, they weight like a sack of cement. All he could do is lie in the astride manner in which he was dumped and hang onto the ironical slogan ‘hope for the best, expect the worst’ before he glide into another state of momentary unconsciousness.

The heat from the afternoon sun was scorned him, worsening the pain in which he was before, the pain dragged him out of his unconsciousness, he couldn’t shield his eyes from the piercing sun rays he managed to turn his head from the piercing rays; seems he’s finally awake. He laid still has he took his immediate environment. He was in a small room, small but exquisite judging from the foreign tiles and the superfluous design of the ceilings. Apart from himself, the room is bare; totally empty. The window blinds have been open wide with the burglary-proof metal bars crushing every weak hope of escape; he must have been placed at his exact position so as for him to feel the wrath of the hot dry-season sun of September.

After lying still for some minutes, he managed to drag himself from his lying position to his a sitting one with his back against the wall. His abductors must be very confident of his slim chance of escape with the unbound nature of his hands, or maybe the building his heavily fortified, he thought, right now all thoughts of escape aren’t forthcoming, replaced with Timi’s mutual feeling- disappointment and resignation-, all he could think of is how best he would plead to die, hope he would be given the privilege to choose how he wants it, he had always hated gash deaths, he preferred serene ones or quick ones.

He remembered Jane, her location is currently unknown, what his parents must be passing through right then; when the realization of the unknown location of their only pair of children hit them; his mother must have cried herself to stupor, he tried to guess the present countenance of his hard dad, he hadn’t seen his dad broken before even after the death of his elder brother many years back, his dad had handled it like a man. He wished to see how well his dad will handle the loss of his last pair of children alive, what word of condolence and self-pity will he come up with, what word of commiseration will he sooth his wife with?.

He remembered Dauda who had tried to save him, he could recall seeing him fall, Dauda’s dead, dead while trying to save him, what must his sick wife be passing through. He remembered all Dauda has discussed with him and confided in him. how he had lost his sterility to the Craters Empire (a smuggling and crime ring before its wiping out courtesy of MSN), Dauda had been the inside agent in the Craters for many years before his cover is blown, he narrowly escaped with his life, he did escape but not as a man but an eunuch. His wife had been fighting a battle against cancer for many years; they have two kids who are just in their junior secondary schools.

After escaping the gang narrowly, his escape been made easy with the coming of MSN into the picture, his wife’s health deteriorated, his first child died miraculously from a water disease epidemic, left with only a child and a dying wife and above all an eunuch. He took to drinking to avoid slumping into the emotional crater building up. The drinking smeared his medical record at the organization and the credibility of his utterances and actions are always doubted, which led to him been suspended and his well-deserved promotion to the post of the IG was denied.
After years on the sidelines, things turned a bit better, his wife’s health got better and she was discharged, his only son left gained admission into the university and nature seems to be smiling at him, he went back for his job and got it, hence, him working with Elvis.

Elvis had lost track of time, he doesn’t know how long he had slept or how long he had been thinking, all he knows is that he’s still alive at least for now. Now he could arguably criticize and fight in support of two different sayings: the lazy hand is not the devil’s workshop because right then all he could do is lie down just thinking, maybe thinking is the devil’s handiwork; he commended the man who said ‘the prison is the best place to think’ because you’ve got all the time in the world especially if you are not getting out soon, you’ll see things in a different and unbiased sense and your thinking expanse would be greatly enlarged. He felt woozy and then passed out; into his fits.

“Get me a fan, he had had this before” he heard a familiar voice commanding someone else.

After some minutes he managed to regain his consciousness, he was dumb-stricken to see Ellie bending over him.

“Ellie?” He said softly, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, welcome back, I’m sure you’ve met my daughter Bridget” MSN said leaning on the wall of the room.

“Bridget?” Elvis said confused, “Ellie, what’s going on?”

“I’m not Ellie, I’m Bridget, so you’ve heard, I just saved your life needs at least a gesture or sign of appreciation” Ellie or Bridget replied.

Bridget stood up gloriously and walked towards MSN, she gave him a warm full hug.

“I miss you dad” She said.

“Well-done my daughter, I missed you too” MSN said returning the hug.

The hug was broken and Ellie (forgive me, still trying to get used to Bridget) made for the door exiting the room, she stopped at the door and faced the dazed Elvis.

“I never attended Hallmark” she said before walking majestically out of the room, swinging her hips provocatively and seductively, he knee length down flowing with the sway of her hips.

Elvis couldn’t close his mouth, his jaw had lost its retractiveness as it dropped.

TWENTY EIGHT

Shambolic is an absolute understatement of the state of mind Elvis is after Ellie’s revelation. He felt his heart been wrenched away from him, just like pair of thongs are been used to pull his heart out of him. The woman he had loved, whom he’s planning of making her happiness his topmost priority peradventure he made it out of this alive, whom had tormented his emotions both knowingly and unknowingly for the past few days or rather few weeks, he woman he had been envisaging spending his entire life with, the height of betrayal was too much to handle for his already weak heart. Tears flowed down freely.

MSN has resumed his leaning on the wall, his lanky figure resting heavily on the wall. A wry smile played around on his face as he enjoyed the embarrassing state of mind and emotional meltdown Elvis is displaying. He was proud of himself, of his daughter; she was a genius, bringing down the man who had foiled his plan, twice. He was however intrigued by the shrewdness and astuteness of the young man, his intelligence and level of reasoning made him like him. he had played the game with this young man and he had enjoyed every bit of it, just like all good things; they always have an end. He waved his hands and two guards standing by entered holding a small medical box.

He had been crying, trying hard not to give in to the emotional landslide and deteriorating mental state he’s experiencing but he’s fighting a losing war, a war he’s not strong enough to fight; he doesn’t have a heart no more; it has been thrown, it has fallen, it got broken and completely grounded all by a person. He had never felt so broken in his life, losing someone he loved, someone he had thought he had lost but miraculously found now it all came crashing down, like a scaffold which base has been eaten by termites. He let himself loose as tears flowed down freely down his face, right now, Elvis means absolute dejection.

He was so deeply engrossed in his emotional trauma, blinded in his own tears so much that he didn’t see the two lanky beings walking towards him. They laid down their portfolio before him, one of them brought out a syringe, he set up the syringe, drew some liquid from a small bottle, satisfied with the quantity drawn into the syringe, he tapped the needle severally to shake off any lingering drop, the other man took Elvis’s hand and raised it high enough for his accomplish, the accomplish took the hand, pressed a blood vessel around his upper arm till it bulges out. He injected the syringe and pressed its contents into the waiting bulging blood vessel.

Elvis felt his hand been lifted but he was both physically and emotional wasted so much he couldn’t fight or rather he has nothing left to fight for, he felt a quick piercing pain on his arm, but he was less concerned, his eyes grew cloudy and he felt lighter, he was relieved of his crying spree as he fell into unconsciousness.
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She had lost count of time; all she could do is roll herself up in a dark corner of the windowless small room. She doesn’t know how long she had been abducted; she had heard nothing about what’s going on in the outside world. A plate of uneaten savory meal lies at a corner of the room.

Her designated guards doesn’t speak to her, she would have taken them to be deaf if not for their whispers and laughter she do hear at nights, all they do is enter and drop a plate of meal on the floor and taking the plate of the uneaten previously deposited meal out with them before locking the iron door after them. If they have been given the order to ostracize her, they are doing a pretty good job at it.

All she could remember was the call her abductors made to Elvis many hours ago, because she had lost count of days, she later found herself lying on the floor or rather dumped roughly on it. She was however glad she hadn’t been sexually harassed just yet, seems her abductors have a tinge of morals.

She heard two low groans outside her door before hearing the sounds of two bodies falling softly on the floor. She stood up in fright, her time has come to die, she looked around for a way of escape; she had forgotten she had harbored the same thoughts countless times but have always discovered its impossible; realizing there’s no way out, she resigned to fate and gripped the wall behind her frightfully and tightly as she await the person turning the lock on the door.

The sound of the unlocked lock drifted to her in her corner of cowering, the door opened and a woman she envisaged to be almost her age entered with a torch in hand, she turned the torch around the room obviously searching for Jane, the torch rested on Jane’s face after it had found her and the lady advanced towards her following the beam of the torch.

“We have to get out of here, now” the lady said abruptly without greetings or acknowledgement .

Jane didn’t respond out of fear and mistrust.

The lady advanced towards her and took her hand and started dragging her towards the door.

“I’m not going with you, who are you?, please don’t kill me” Jane poured our switching between resilience and sympathy. She fell on her feet and started crying and pleading.

“I’m not going to kill you, I’m your brother’s friend” Jane’s face lit up, glittering like a fluorescent bulb.

“Where’s is my brother?” Jane asked.

“Your brother is in trouble trying to save you, I’ll explain later, right now we have to get you out of here” the lady replied. Jane was relieved to know the lady was her brother’s friend but alarmed to hear Elvis is in trouble. A nudge on her shoulder brought her back.

“What’s your name/” she asked the lady as they made for the door.

“My name is Emily, you can call me Ellie” the lady replied now opening the door for them.

Jane gasped when she stepped on something sticky she later learnt to be blood and saw the body of the two guards watching over her lying on the floor dead, she looked at Ellie who nodded in the direction of the exit, Jane followed her into the darkness of the hallway.
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He was just sleeping and waking, not voluntarily though, induced by the incessant sleeping injection been admisnistered to him endlessly by the two men who keeps on entering at intervals, pre-calculated intervals, intervals very precise that they coincides with the time he regains consciousness.

Today, the administering men did not come, something must be up, he cared less notwithstanding, he just wants it all to end, he would have thought of a quick way to die if he had been in control of his sanity all these while. The afternoon sun of God knows which day shine brightly outside, its rays slicing through the already hot atmosphere easily and gleefully at that. The sun seems to be out of place to him, something smiling in this world of abject betrayal and misplaced trusts, the sun must have no idea whats going on with him with its incessant infuriating smile.

The giggling of keys brought him out of his reverie, the door opened to show MSN wearing a flowing agbada with a matching cap, a bright red ostrich feather on the cap depicting the Igbo tradition and the cane sandal and walking stick representing the touch of Hausa. Standing on each sides of him stood a man each, Stringer whom he recognized from the warehouse on MSN’s right and a fear looking devil (Erinyes) on his left. Seems MSN came for the last view if Elvis alive.

“Erinyes, finish him, but don’t stain my tiles so do it somewhere else” MSN said drawing a wicked smile to Erinyes’s face.

“I’ll do it personally sir, I’ve wanted to kill him at the warehouse but he managed to escape, moreover, he crashed the deal with the Chad militants, I’ll be glad if I’m given the honour sir” Stringer said in his usual cool manner drawing a nasty growl and mean look from Erinyes.

“Make it as humiliating as possible, wants his parents to have his two eyes and heart and his testicles too, eyes to see, heart to feel and the testicles will denote his unborn children.” MSN said. “Erinyes lets go” he added.

The stare on Erinyes face could sink the titanic as he gave Stringer the most scornful and hate-filled look he had ever dished out.

“Now is your time to die” Stringer said, he waved to the two guards standing around and they dragged out the weak Elvis.