Must Read: Elvis - Season 1 - Episode 27

7 years ago

Must Read: Elvis - Season 1 - Episode 27

“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.
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
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 la!d 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.