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C.N.Obinna ©2017

Chapter one


It is said that everything happens for a reason. Both good and bad. Just the way a plant germinates out of a seed thrown on a soil, every action we make has an effect, whether good or bad.
**
The night Peter Maxwell's life changed, he'd been drunk.
It really all started on a bright night; the moon was full and it cast long grotesque shadows over trees. The grasses and trees rustled silently as the soft night breeze passed through them.
It was one of those nights; the nights they say evil prospers the most.
The night was calm and there wasn't a soul to be seen except for two dark figures that sat silently by a clearing in the bush.
This part of the small forest was always deserted by this time. It was usually busy during the farming season, with groups of farmers and hunting dogs passing by regularly. It was not yet the farming season.
The only noises one could make out were the soft ambient noises and the gentle hooting of an owl nearby. This was why the two figures who were standing now and whispering to each other had chosen this location. One of them was with a cigarette and would occasionally take a pull and release a cloud of tobacco smelling smoke into the air.
They sat quietly on tree stumps. Only occasionally coughing or whispering to themselves. There was a sound in the bushes; someone was coming.
"Who goes there?!" barked one of the two figures, the one with the cigarette.
"It's me you fools" The Chief said as he delicately walked through the bush path to the open clearing, minding his well-pressed clothes. The two figures were suddenly at attention, the one smoking quickly dropping the smoke on the ground and stepping on it. Both men bowed in respect as the Chief became visible. He waved his hand impatiently.
"Where is he? I haven't got all night and I don't like this place"
One of the figures moved over to where they had parked a pick-up truck. He opened the back door and dragged a body to the ground. He closed the door and proceeded the body with the ease of one carrying an empty carton. He dropped the limp figure on the ground in front of the other two men.
"Is he dead?" The chief asked, looking at the person lying on the ground next to his feet.
"No, Chief" One of the figures said and He kicked the person on the head.
The person shook slowly and then started struggling, his hands were tied.
"Take off that sack" - The chief said pointing to the sack covering the captive's face. There was a tense silence as one of the figures fumbled with the ropes holding the sack in place.
He removed the sack and threw it on the ground.
The Chief squatted close to the half conscious man. He placed his hand on his chin and smiled;
"You don't look so smart again, officer. What's the matter?"
The officer opened his eyes slowly and stared at the person talking to him.
"Please." He begged, his voice strained.
The Chief stood up, frowning. He hated begging men. He thought a man should have dignity even in the face of death.
"This is Coastal City. I own Coastal City. You have to understand that no one and I mean no one messes with the PACK."
The Chief turned his back and began to walk away.
"Get this over with." He waved at the two figures.
One of them grunted and pulled out a handgun from his pocket.
He walked close to the whimpering officer who was too weak to beg. He sneered and placed the gun towards the man's face and pulled the trigger.
The noise of the gun was loud, piercing through the small forest and echoing through the night.
The Chief turned,
"Jesus!" He said angrily, "Couldn't you have silenced that gun?"
He was about to say something else when his attention turned sharply to the bush path, the two figures followed his gaze. They all stared wildly at the person standing at the far end of the bush path.
The Chief stared at the man by the bush path, his mouth in a sneer and his mind calculating; had this man just seen what happened? How long had he been here and most importantly, was it bright enough to see my face?
He glanced sharply at his boys, their face all gruesome, like dogs awaiting the kill order from their master, he nodded. That was the 'kill order'.
All the while, the man by the bush was terrified to his knees, he had seen everything, as a matter of fact he had been there long enough to get a full picture of the bad people in the bush. They had to be bad people. He had seen that guy put a bullet through the other guys brains and all the while they had been oblivious of his presence. He had been startled by the gun shot and that had made him give away his presence. Now they were staring at him. He almost stepped forward to say that he hadn't seen nothing and that they needn't bother about him; a bad idea, he decided.
He cursed himself for not having left earlier. He kept staring at the men and then taking in a deep breath, he bolted to his left.
The shocked goons looked at their master, he rolled his eyes in dismay
"Don't just look at me, get him!"
That was all they needed to hear.
The two of them jumped and starting running in the direction the person had gone. They strained their muscles and probably covered a few yards with just one leap. They had sight of the man ahead of them, just a faint visual but just enough. This would be too easy, they thought. Meanwhile, the man was running with all his might, he could hear the fast approaching thudding of footfalls behind him, his eyes were clear now, all traces of alcohol had disappeared. He headed deeper into the bush, wet grasses clinging to his feet, branches from trees slapping his face, he had no idea where he was going but he kept running anyways. He was beginning to tire and he felt fear grip him at the thought of exhausting his last energy. Why didn't I exercise more? he thought to himself as his heart hammered in his chest. The foot falls behind him had grown faint now, he was a little bit relieved. He reached a crossroad and stopped short for a fraction of a second, he turned left and then right, he had to decide quick, but then all of a sudden a dark figure from no where grabbed him by the arm and pulled with an enormous strength.
"Follow me now!" The figure ordered

Nice one, more update please

Chapter two

Peter Maxwell wasn't your regular average guy. He was 31 years old and had no achievements, except for successfully getting fired for the 5th time in two weeks–If that counts. At one point in his life, he had attended an excellent school, had a great family and nurtured beautiful prospects for the future. Now, he sat in a hot room, in an even hotter factory, staring at the operations manager.
"You're fired!" The Manager yelled, the veins on his neck straining to burst. Peter just sat still, his mind far off. This was a scene he had become all too familiar with. He sighed and thought to himself: "let's just get it over with".
He packed his scanty belongings from the factory building and walked out into the hot afternoon. He hadn't quite belonged there. He had big dreams, whereas the people there had accepted their fate. As he felt the hot sun on his skin, he wondered if he, too, had accepted his fate.
People walked past him like he was invisible, vehicles honked and advanced at crawling speed, bikes maneuvering the traffic with an expertise only gotten from years of riding. This was life going on without him and technically, he had no impact on it.
"Excuse me sir, please step away from the building." A security officer said politely as he approached him. Peter Maxwell looked at him "nothing polite about that look on his face", he thought. The look on the officer's face was that of a sadistic satisfaction, he obviously loved showing people the door.
Usually, on days like these–which have been quite often by the way–he would have been thinking of a way forward, the next move to make but not today.
Today, he felt like ending it. He felt like putting a final fullstop in the sad story that is Peter Maxwell's life. He walked slowly, sticking to the sidewalk, deep in his thoughts. There had to be a quick and painless way to go; he had heard of people who attempted suicide but ended up in 'E.R' at the hospital, he shuddered at the thought of all that pain. Surely, there had to be an easy way out. He stopped short as he heard a car honk rapidly.
"Hey, get off the road!"
He looked around. People were beginning to gather; he'd wandered unto the middle of the road. He shivered a little. He couldn't believe he had been that close to ending it.

Standing outside a store across the road, a man's attention was drawn briefly to the 'wandering man' in the middle of the road. He watched for a while and then he turned his back to continued his call.
∆∆∆
The time was 7:12p.m. Peter woke up grudgingly. The sleep had definitely not been an enjoyable one, mostly because his mattress was torn in various places and infected with lice, but also because his sleep had been 'uneventful', just a drift, no dreams.
He remembered the afternoon earlier in the day, he thought of the fact that he was now jobless, he thought of the rent long overdue on his shabby apartment and he suddenly wished it was all a dream– but if wishes were horses, right?.
He stood up and switched on the light in his room. The room looked worse with the lights on. There were various running cracks on the wall, cobwebs hanging on almost every corner of the ceiling. The wall was supposed to be blue, but it had on an oily greenish coat that gave the room a depressing feel. He looked himself over in the mirror, he was tall and malnourished. His skin was dark and he had deep brown eyes shaded by bushy eyebrows. His hair was rough and he was spotting a week old stubble on his chin.
He suddenly longed for the good old teen years, when he had been handsome and healthy, when he had parents. Now, his handsomeness was hidden deep behind all that hardship. A wave of nausea hit him and he felt like throwing up just at the sight of himself.
Over the years, Peter had picked up alcoholism, a vice he really couldn't afford to keep up, but he did anyway. "Tonight– he thought, "I am going to talk to my dear friend about my troubles." His dear friend was the bottle. He locked his creaking door, dropped the key into his pocket and walked out into the night.
∆∆∆
James walked casually into a convenient store. He wore a black face cap and had on a loose-fitting T-shirt; he couldn't risk anyone recognizing his contours.
Two days ago, he had discovered that he was being followed almost everywhere by two mysterious figures, hired goons from the looks of it. But for how long? He had no idea but he had managed to lose them this morning. He had paid a taxi to drive around town and after about an hour, he was very well convinced that he had lost them.
He was sure now that his life was in danger and the thought of it brought sweat to his face, he wiped his forehead with the back of his palm and then he paid the cashier. He had bought a bottle of hair dye and a clipper; he planned to tweak his looks a little, it probably won't help but it was worth the try.
He stepped outside the store and brought out his cell phone, he looked at it for a while and then he frowned, he checked his watch and then he dialled.
"Yea? It's 2:40, what is it?" James spoke into the phone.
"I wouldn't go home if I were you" –Came the voice over the phone.
"What do you mean?"
"I saw two men moving around at your apartment, I was er...observing."
"You always do that" James said hurriedly, he could feel his heart hammering against his chest. If this was what he thought it was, then he was in much deeper trouble than he thought.
"Tell me exactly what you saw"
"Okay. I was at home, relaxing you know, the compound was quiet as usual. Then I had noises at your apartment and suddenly Brandy started barking, you know that high pitched 'stranger danger' bark she makes around strangers, so I decided to check. I didn't like the looks of the two guys I saw checking out your apartment. One was looking through your window while the other was trying out your locks so I er..decided to call you." He stopped, out of breath and exhaled.
James' mind was busy, how did they find out where he lived ? and if they were indeed the ones, then they'd probably be in his house by the time he got home. He had to tread carefully.
"Can you tell me what they looked like?" He asked, hoping to God that they were just regular street hoodlums attempting to burgle his house.
"Hmmm." The person at the other end of the line was thinking.
"Yes, One was very huge, wait...they were both huge come to think of it, but one was taller, very dark, shaved hair and oh, he had a deep scar running from his right eyes , over his nose and to his left cheek. Disgusting, and...."
"No need." James interrupted, he didn't need to hear more, he had also been disgusted by that scar when he had discovered the guys trailing him this past days. He was sure now that it was them. That meant they had found his house somehow. He was sweating now.
James turned his back when he heard some noises, apparently some guy had wandered unto the road, he looked at the guy closely, just another frustrated citizen, he thought and then he turned his back.
"Okay, thanks. And don't call this line again, as a matter of fact lose my number." He said and quickly cut the connection.
"You're welcome." the neighbor said sarcastically.
He peeked through the window and frowned thoughtfully, the men weren't there anymore and why has Brandy stopped barking? she usually barked for another half hour after the strangers had left; stupid dog. He decided to go and check on her, She had probably run out of the compound again. He turned around and immediately felt the blood drain out of his face. He was staring at the two massive men behind him; his heart almost gave way.
∆∆∆
James looked around him, the streets were crowded as usual, perfect for blending in. He needed to get back to his apartment, but he had to wait first, probably at night fall.
He walked across the street and paused to cross the road, he looked left and then right, watching the traffic. His thought went back to the man he saw standing in the middle of the road. Everyone had a problem. It was Coastal city, afterall.
He went over to a store selling provisions and bought a pack of Cigarette and a lighter. He sat on the bench in the store and adjusted his cap so it covered his face a little more, he still had eyes on every movement around him; he was being extra vigilant now. He had no option. The butt of the cigarette tasted bitter in his mouth as he held it between his lips. He struck the lighter twice and lit up, letting the smoke drift over his face. He drew in sharply and released the smoke slowly. Looking at the cigarette, he grimaced, a nasty habit , one he'd picked up a few years ago, during the tense years of libraries, giant books and exams. His tense nerves were calm now, he sat back and tried to think about how he had gotten into this mess in the first place.
About 2 years back, James had gotten out of school fresh with ideas, ready to lock horns with the world. Apparently the world wasn't ready for that. A few months later, hs found himself editing news columns in a local newspaper. At first he was 'okay' with the job, it was as close to reporting as he could get, but as days slowly turned into weeks and weeks morphed into months and months into a couple of years, he got fed up. He quit his job with the local paper and became a freelance writer and investigative journalist. He was good, really good, so he got hired by a privately owned magazine: COASTAL CITY times , as an investigative reporter. This was what he craved for, the thrills, the adrenaline-fueled storie. Things were finally falling into place.
On a hot July afternoon , James strolled into the chief editor's office and dropped a file on his desk.
"Good afternoon, Brown."
Brown looked up and grunted. This better be good, he thought.
James took a seat, "Have you ever heard of the PACK?" he asked.
The C.E.O and Chief Editor of COASTAL CITY times, Mr.Brown, looked up at him and then at the file. Brown was a 51 year old, with a flawless snow white hair and smooth rubbery skin. His skin was the color of ebony and his eyes glassy.
"What is this?" He asked, having a bored expression on his face.
James looked up excitedly at Brown and said:
"I may be unto something. I've been following up a few leads these past few months, strictly off the record and the trail keeps getting hot. Have you ever heard of the PACK?" He asked again.
The expression on Brown's face became cloudy; he was thinking. He regarded the young man in front of him and then gazed at the file.
"Forget it." he said.
James frowned,
"What do you mean forget it? this just might be our biggest news story yet, think of the money we could make, the name. Come on, Brown." He said, almost pleadingly.
Brown flipped through the file in silence, James shifted in his chair uncomfortably. The silence was Bugging him. He was about to speak when Brown spoke.
"Look boy, forget it and that's final." He shut the file and relaxed on his chair.
James choked with frustration, the veins on his forehead almost popping out. He tried to control himself, then he calmly said.
"Okay, Brown. Whatever you say." He stood up slowly and turned to leave. Brown looked at him thoughtfully.
"Yes."
James turned back.
"What?"
Brown sighed, "yes, I've heard of the PACK, but actually only a few have."
James hurried back to his seat.
"What's all this about the PACK?" Brown asked.
"Well, this and that." James said carefully, he had a feeling that Brown wasn't fully ready for much details.
"Right, this and that? Was that all you were excited about, this and that?" Brown asked with an are-you-kidding-me look on his face.
"No, Brown, I may have found out some things about their operations." James said slowly.
Brown became alert.
"Really?"
"Yea." James said excitedly.
More silence, Brown squinted his eyes, he always did that when he thought.
"Alright, let's talk about this later."
James took that as a dismissal and got up to leave.Brown watched him walk out of his office. He frowned and then looked at the files.
"A brilliant kid and thorough work, too" he thought aloud to himself, "too bad." he said as he picked his phone and dialed.
∆∆∆
James finished another stick. He had a feeling that he shouldn't have told Brown so soon and he cursed himself for being a fool to have made another false move. Too late now, he was in too deep. He had to go all the way. He thought about the other files, he'll hold on to those, he thought. He looked at his watch, 15:09 hours, he stood up and disappeared into the vast crowd.

Chapter three

"Yes Chief, right away." He dropped the phone and looked at his partner.
"Time to move." He said. Their job description had been simple: "find the damned reporter and bring him in."
∆∆∆
The Chief sat in an air conditioned office and admired his well manicured finger nails. He had been getting reports for some weeks about some reporter who had been snooping around and asking questions. That was alright, they always did that, sooner or later they'd be scared off. But that was not the case with this particular reporter. He hadn't taken him seriously until he got a call one day.
"Who is this?!" He barked inti the phone. He could very well afford to bark at anyone, he was the Chief after all.
He listened for a while, nodded once and said:
"Have it on my desk by one p.m." with that, he ended the call. He didn't waste his breath on any one.
The Chief was looking at the massive view from his office when he got a buzz from his secretary; that was around twelve fifty-eight p.m. He strolled slowly and pushed a button. The secretary walked in briskly, with beads of sweat on her forehead, the time was twelve fifty-nine p.m, She dropped a parcel on his desk. The Chief turned around.
"What's the time on that?" He said, pointing to her watch.
"One p.m, Sir." She said calmly.
He grunted and waved her away. He was pleased with his power. One p.m was one p.m as far as he wanted it to be.
He tore open the parcel. It contained a file. He opened it and read it slowly, his eyes following each word. He nodded slightly. The information contained in it was very detailed and accurate. It even impressed him. None of his workers were this good at logistics, he almost considered giving the little pest a job. Almost. He closed the file and stretched his fingers over the telephone.
"Akoni." He said when the line clicked. That was the name of his top dog.
"Find that damned reporter and bring him to me. It's about time I got to meet our hero." He said this with a sneer.
He dropped the phone, and opened the file once more, he studied the face of the reporter, a wicked grin on his face.
∆∆∆
Akoni threw a shot of whiskey down his throat and slammed the glass on the table. The hot liquid always helped before a job. He handed an envelope over to Nkita-ara or Mad dog as they called him. The envelope contained a large coloured photograph of the man they were to bring in.
Akoni and Mad dog first came into contact with the reporter after about a day of pointless roaming.
After asking around and using their contacts, they finally got information on where the reporter worked. Things just got easier for them, at least so they thought. They followed him for two days straight before they figured out where he lived. Patience was a mutual trait between the two 'Dogs'. Although, their job seemed a little bit more complex with this reporter; he seemed to be everywhere and nowhere.
Akoni was behind the wheels while Mad dog sat opposite him, his eyes locked on the compound adjacent to them. They had been in this position for eight hours now and it was about to pay off.
"Man, I'm tired." Mad dog groaned, sitting straight and rubbing his eyes.
Akoni grunted. His comrade was right but he was the leader, he was not supposed to appear weak.
"No wahala, we go soon nab am." He replied in pidgin English.
"Why you think say the Chief want make we track 'am?"
Akoni looked sharply at Mad dog,
"You better quiet , you know wetin the Boss been dey talk every time say Curiosity kills the..eh.." He paused, scratching his chin.
"The cat?" Mad dog put in.
"Which cat?" Akoni replied,
"Forget." He heaved and leaned back on the car seat.
There was silence in the car as both men were left with their thoughts. Thirty minutes later, they saw him come out of the compound.
"There he is." Mad dog said in good English, jerking Akoni's arm. They both watched him stop a taxi, he looked left and right and then towards their direction. They knew he was being cautious but they had no idea if he saw them. The taxi moved slowly and then sped off.
"Let's go." Akoni said and started the engine of the shiny new Toyota Camry, he engaged the gear and followed the taxi. No one expects a bunch of goons to trail a subject in a spiffy car. That was why the idea had been clever. It had been Mad dog's idea. The Chief had just nodded and waved his hand when Mad dog had made the request, to Akoni's dismay.
The morning traffic was a bit dense, and it was almost difficult to trail the taxi. It didn't help that car in front of them was a beat-up old Peugeot 504 which kept starting and stopping, as if the thick black smoke it was emitting was not enough.
For a brief moment, they lost sight of the taxi. Both men began to panic but then they caught sight of it. Just in time too, as the car was just turning into a corner. They drove fast down the narrow street and turned sharply into the corner almost colliding with another car that was also making the bend. There was a quick reaction braking between the two cars. The street was tight and it was almost impossible to reverse; both men cursed.
They finally pulled the car out of the street but it became hopeless to keep up trailing the taxi as the street led to the major expressway. At that poing, they decided to give up and head back.
"We go wait him for the house." Akoni said between his teeth, he was mad now.
They drove on in silence.
"You feel say the guy do that thing on purpose?" Mad dog asked, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Which thing?" Akoni asked
Mad dog thought for a while.
"Forget." He muttered.
∆∆∆
Both Mad dog and Akoni sat restlessly in the car, waiting. The time was just a few minutes after twop.m.
"Let's go check out his house." That was Mad dog. His grammar reflected his mood and ironically, he spoke well when irritated.
Akoni looked at him, with fire in his eyes.
"Since when you start giving me orders?" He asked in his feeble attempt at perfect grammar.
"Oh, sorry. Let's just stay here."
"Shut up!" Akoni said and then hesitated.
"Let us go inside that house and see what that damned reporter have in it." Akoni said, picking his words one one after the other.
Both men stepped out of the vehicle, the sun shining mercilessly on them. Both of them stood tall but Akoni was a few inches taller. He was black and his head glistened under the sun. His powerful biceps threatened to tear his shirt. He had a hideous scar that ran from his right eyes down to his left cheek, a bad reminder of a drunken fight from a few years back. He knew the scar was hideous because he saw the way people looked at him, even Mad dog and that infuriated him.
Mad dog was different from Akoni; he was also huge with bulging muscles, fair skinned and tall. He had a rugged handsomeness, the type that ladies seemed to die for and one that could make him easily pass for a model than a killer. But beneath that tough, fine exterior were brains and ruthlessness, he was not called Mad dog for nothing. He sometimes acted psycho and considered killing a hobby. One, according to him, he'd not been getting enough of lately.
Akoni pushed open the gate and stepped in. A dog started barking. He hated dogs. Mad dog looked around the large compound, he missed nothing, including the peeping tom concealed by the window. Both men moved forward.
"I think this is his apartment." Mad dog said and moved towards an apartment, searching every inch of the building.
"No keys." Mad dog said.
"Check the locks." Akoni said pointing to the steel protector.
"It won't open. let us go around." They were whispering.
They walked silently round the compound, looking through windows as they moved.
"Listen!" Akoni whispered.
They crouched behind a window and listened.
"......oh, he had a deep scar running from his right eyes, over his nose and to his left cheek; Disgusting..."
Mad dog glanced at Akoni who was staring, glassy eyed at the person talking. Akoni's eyes turned from a dark steely color to red with rage. Mad dog was mad also. Poor guy he thought, but that scar.
"Look, this one is unlocked." Mad dog whispered to Akoni who grunted and slid out the bolt holding the back door.
A dog came rushing towards them. Akoni looked frightened a little, he was terrified of the beast. Mad dog on the other hand, had on a cool expression, although what was going through his mind was far from cool. He looked at Akoni as if to say 'let me handle this'.
As the dog moved towards them, barking, Mad dog waved his hand, getting the dog's attention, the dog rushed towards him, it's jaws were wide open exposing a perfect set of 'canine swiss-army knives'. Mad dog had a snarl of his own on his face; it was beast against beast. He shifted sharply to his left so that the dog zipped past him, he adjusted himself and with one great thug gripped the beast by the neck, one massive muscle over the ribs in a firm hold and one against the throat in a tightening death grip. The dog whimpered and groaned, slowing down in it's movements. Mad dog smiled as he squeezed the dog's throat. There was suddenly a snap and he felt it go limp against him. He dropped the dog gently on the floor as one putting a baby to rest, and he said: "Sleep well."
killing the dog didn't take up to a minute; it had been quick and equally gruesome to watch.
Akoni stood still, eyes wide open and jaw dropped. He stared at his comrade who had a sick look in his eyes, like he had enjoyed every second of it. Mad dog licked his fingers as if he just finished a delicious meal, and then he looked sharply at Akoni.
"What?" He asked in a hushed whisper, his mood was getting better.
"Oh, nothing." Akoni said and quickly glanced away. The sick bastard, Akoni thought.
"Now for that 'son of a beech' " Mad dog said, pointing into the house.
Bold now without any dog around, Akoni opened the door, and both men slipped silently into the house.
They stood close together, behind the person who had been on the phone, creating a menacing picture of two giants, watching and waiting for him to turn around.
Mad dog nearly burst out laughing when he saw the look on the man's face. The man turned around and stood frozen for a few seconds. His face lost most of it's color and he went pale, his knee bucked under his weight and he fell to the ground. This was a nightmare.
"I know what you are thinking" Mad dog said, "You think that this is a nightmare. Well, you pray."
Akoni moved straight to the guy, he grabbed him by the arm and smacked him on the face with the back of his hand.
"This is disgusting?" He said, pointing to the scar and counting his words.
To be fair, it is disgusting, Mad dog almost said, but he knew better. The man was boiling.
"Maybe you hit him too hard." He said, looking at the guy who had been knocked out already and looked like a rag doll in Akoni's hand.
"Oh." Akoni muttered and dropped him with a loud thud. He walked around looking for a seat; this might take a while.

Chapter four

The man's name was Samuel. He opened his eyes slowly, a sharp pain shooting through his head. He sincerely hoped he had been dreaming. He groaned and tried to stand but his legs felt numb. This was the sort of paranoia that had bugged him all his life: being mugged. He never felt safe and so as a result he was always watching. Always. He had installed CCTVs around his house and bought a dog. So, how then did these menacing giants get into his house?
"Hey, wake up, fine boy!" He heard one of them say. He stared at the huge one who had a grin on his face and a bottle of his gin in his hand.
He was fully awake now. It hadn't been a dream, not even a nightmare; they were here for real. What do they want, why me?
One of them moved closer to him, his breath reeked of alcohol. At least he was pleasant to look at unlike the one with the hideous scar.
"I have to say, what a fine dog you have. Oh, sorry, I mean HAD." He had the devil's grin on his face.
Samuel's eyes grew wide. Oh my god, Brandy, what have they done to my dog, what have you done you demons? He said that in his mind, ofcourse. He just kept looking at them, he hadn't the guts to unleash what he was thinking.
"What do you want?" He managed to say, trying to sound brave, but it only came out as a whimper.
Both men looked at each other and laughed, they were having fun.
"Okay, where that guy?" The one with the scar asked, pointing towards the opposite apartment.
"How am I supposed to know where he is?" Sam said, he was in trouble either ways, better not give them the pleasure of an easy task.
The one with the scar snarled and raised his hand to hit him, the other one grunted, reminding him of the last three hours wait when he had hit him.
The one with the scar lowered his hand and smacked Samuel gently on the face. It hurt. At this point, even if they were to blow breeze on his face, it would still hurt.
After some thirty minutes of futile interrogation, it dawned on them that they were wasting their time. Both men huddled together and whispered.
After a while, they turned to looked at their captive. As the one with the scar was moving towards him, they heard a phone ring.
The other one picked the call. He placed the phone on his ear and listened for a few seconds.
"Yes, Sir!" And he hung up.
"What?" The one with the scar asked.
"The Chief wants us to take care of a little trouble."
"Where?"
"The forest."
"Oh." The one with the scar nodded. He knew what it meant when they said the forest. It meant that someone was about to be killed, and they were the ones to do it.
The one with the scar turned towards Samuel, as if just discovering him. He moved steadily towards him, smiling plainly and rubbing his fists. Samuel gulped and closed his eyes. He knew what was coming next. Get it over with quickly, he prayed. He waited and then he suddenly felt a sharp blow to his head, his head spun and then everything went black.
∆∆∆∆
It was already dark when James slid into the compound. He could hear noises, not from his apartment but opposite it. He moved around and saw a small crowd, each mumbling inaudibly. His heart sunk as he edged closer. A small crowd gathered around one spot is never a good sign; it seemed like something bad had happened. Pushing through some people, he forced his way through. What he saw next sent a chill up his spine.
In a mangled position on the floor was Brandy, his neighbor's dog. It was obviously dead, not even a fly could be alive in that position. "Poor dog", he thought. Sure, it was a pretty dumb and noisy animal, it was still a cruel way to die.
At that moment, he thought of his neughbour, Samuel. He watched as the noise began to fade and people began leaving, shrugging their shoulders and snapping their fingers; they must have concluded that this was some sort of spiritual incident, it didn't even occur to anyone to check the house. A dead animal was a bad omen and that was the end of it.
He moved up the steps towards the front door. He fondled the door knob but it was locked. Moving towards a window, he peered in; it was dark inside.
He walked again towards the back and saw the gate was open. He edged past the dead dog and pushed the door open. He hesitated for a moment and then stepped into the dark room.
His palms became sweating and his eyes strained for any image at all. Walking slowly and quietly, he tried to get every negative thought off his mind. This could be a trap and for all he knew, those guys could be in here somewhere. He groped around for a light switch, he found one and flicked it on. Nothing. He groped some more and found a table, he moved along the edge, moving his hand on the surface. There seemed to be quite alot of things on the table, a knife, what felt like a rope, some books, but certainly not what he was searching for. What could have happened to his neighbour? he kept thinking.
Reaching the edge of the table he squatted gently and found a socket, he touched it and felt a cord on it. He ran his finger through the cord until it came in contact with something solid. He felt around and noticed that it was some sort of cylinder. It seemed to be made of plastic, he felt a knob and turned it, light came on; it was a rechargeable lantern.

Chapter five
James raised the lamp above his face so that the whole room was visible. His trained senses began to kick in; there was a faint musky odor lingering in the air, definitely not Samuel. Samuel was a lot more delicate with his perfumes, almost feminine.
James walked around the room, someone had definitely been here, he was sure of that. He was also sure that it was those two Samuel had warned him about. He shook his head as he tried to avoid letting his mind wander to what gruesome thing could have happened.
His mind was working fast now, where could they have gone and why take Sam, had they mistaken Sam for him? He had to find him, but at the moment that seemed a huge task.
He opened the door to the bedroom and shone the light in; There was no one in there. As a matter of fact, it didn't look like anyone had been in there for a few hours.
He checked the kitchen, still with the same result.
As he was walking down the hallway, he heard a faint noise. He stopped and listened. It could be a rat.
He heard the noise again; a whimper and then a slight cough.
Could it be them? He looked around for something to use as a weapon. He found an umbrella.
He started walking slowly towards the sound, his feet creaking slowly against the floor. With one hand firmly wrapped around the umbrella and another holding the lamp, he kicked the door open.
"Christ!" He screamed.
∆∆∆∆
Peter Maxwell first started with a bottle of beer, and then he moved on to the cheaper stuff, locally distilled dry gin. It was not a choice he made because he loved the stuff, but because that was how far his money could take him.
By the time he had exhausted his last Naira, he was sufficiently drunk, enough to see the world in a more friendly light.
The night was still young, the moon was high but that was it for him. Time to head home, back to real life.
He stumbled mildly, counting his steps. His vision was blurred so he decided to use a shortcut and not take the major road. He didn't feel like getting hit by a vehicle just yet.
Peter had on his signature faded blue jeans and worn out slippers. He took a side road and entered a bush path. This was a shortcut he had discovered a long time ago, he'd be home in no time.
Moving deeper into the bush, he could hear the sounds of the bush animals, he paused by a car, and decided to urinate.
After about three minutes of urinating(two minutes of willing it to come out and one minute of the actual process) his head cleared a bit.
He looked at the car. Wait a minute, what is a car doing this far out in the bush? wait, what am I even doing this far out in the bush? He asked himself. Apparently, he had taken the wrong turn and missed his detour.
He walked around the car, noting every feature. He staggered a little and touched the bonnet; it was still warm. The owner had to be around here somewhere. He stood still for a moment and then curiosity got the best of him.
He still felt drunk and as a result his head spun and his vision was doubled. He followed a narrow trail into the small forest. The moon was high now and its light gave the trees a somewhat gruesome appearance. Or maybe it was the alcohol.
He would have surely turned back on a regular day but his mind was on auto-pilot now and the auto-pilot happened to be drunk, too.
Walking slowly, trying to take in the images around him, Peter paused when he thought he heard something. His drunkenness somehow multiplied his senses, he felt braver now and at the same time got spooked by almost everything. He stood still and listened, he heard voices but these didn't sound like the voices in his head. He moved closer, still walking slowly, not because he was being cautious but because he just couldn't move any faster.
Peter stood by a patch of bush just by the trail he followed and watched the people in front of him. They didn't seem to notice his presence because they kept up with their discussion without looking his way. He could see three people, two of which looked like they lifted weights for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The other man had an air of importance hovering around him, he looked rich, no doubt the owner of the car he saw parked.
"Well, time to head home." Peter thought to himself and made to turn, but stopped when one of the huge men walked over to a pick-up truck parked a little farther into the bush. He opened the door and hauled from it something that looked like a sack of rice, it had to be, considering how easy he seemed to be carrying it. He couldn't really tell, for all he knew this was a dream.
"Is he dead?" He heard the rich one ask. He became slightly alert, something odd was taking place here. He had heard of ritual killers roaming this parts, he looked closely.
"Time to go." He told himself when he saw the rich guy move a little towards his direction, and then he heard a clicking sound and before he could move, he heard the piercing sound of a bullet ripping through body mass, he watched in shock as someone dropped to the ground.
He was sweating now, the sound of the gun had been deafening and he hadn't realized when he let out a loud gasp. What he did realized though was that all three men were staring wildly at him. He had seen enough movies when he was younger, enough to let him know that nothing good ever happens to the murder witness .
****
"Jesus!" James screamed and pushed open the door to the bathroom. His neighbour was in there, tied and gagged. He looked unconscious but he was moving slightly.
He knelt close to him and took of the rope used to wrap his hands. And then he freed the cloth covering mouth.
"What happened?" He asked,
His neighbour his eyes slowly. He had a look of fear over his face but he relaxed when he saw who it was.
"They..they came.in.here." he said amidst struggling breaths.
James looked up and around him as if they were still around somewhere. He knew who 'they' was.
"Where are they now?"
His neighbour shook his head and then tried to speak.
"They.said.something.about.a.small.forest."
"Small forest." James said and repeated it to himself. He had an idea where that could be. He'd been there once and he was aware what happened there.
"Hold on. I will be right back."
He rushed into his apartment and grabbed a back pack. He placed the items he had bought that day in it; the clipper and the hair dye and then he packed a few clothes.
Rushing into his room, he opened a drawer and carefully tore off the plywood covering from one of the compartments. From it he retrieved a small nine-mm pistol, standard issued, one he had obtained from the black market. You learn a lot of things as an investigative reporter, one of which was how to handle a gun.
"You never know when you may need it." His contact had told him. He had been skeptical about it, but he was glad he had taken up the offer. He buried the gun in his hip pocket and opened another compartment, from where he produced a clip for the gun.
He slung the backpack over his shoulders and rushed back into his neighbours apartment.
"I'll get someone to take you to the hospital." He assured him and then walked out.
****
James walked out into the night and stopped a Taxi.
"The cross road." He told the driver and hopped in. It would be another fifteen minutes before he got to the cross roads. He'd continue on foot from there.
This was getting crazy, he told himself. He should have listened to Brown and just stopped the investigation. These were dangerous people. But even he knew that he wouldn't have stopped for any reason.
He wondered who was getting executed tonight. That was all that happened in the small forest; executions. Why am I going over there? He kept asking himself.
The Taxi slowed to a stop. He got out and was about to leave when the driver coughed.
"Wha..?" He looked at the driver.
"My money!" He said with a suspicious look on his face.
"Oh, sorry." James said and fumbled for his wallet. In the process, the gun in his pocket fell off.
The taxi driver noticed the gun as it fell, his eyes glued to it. He didn't realize it was a gun at first, but when he looked closely and saw it clearly, he became alarmed.
James panicked and scrambled to the ground and picked the gun up, concealing it with his hand. That was very clumsy of him, he thought.
"Oh sorry, I..." He paused as he heard the taxi zoom off rapidly.
He looked around him and then wore his face cap. He kept walking silently for a few minutes until he got to a farm road.
He looked at the farm road; there was nothing inviting about it. It was dark despite the moonlight.
A couple of old women carrying head pans and clutching black paper sacks with machete and hoes came out of the bush road. They were speaking the local language which probabky meant that they were farmers.
They walked past him, wondering what anyone would be doing there by this time. The eyed him suspiciously and walked away.
Adjusting his face cap and looking around, He ventured into the forest.
He walked for a quarter of an hour before reaching a narrow bend. The small footpath seemed endless and winding.
He looked around him, trying hard to put his imagination under check. The sounds of the forest made him nervy.
'What am I really doing here?' He kept asking himself.
He smacked his dry lips. Darn it, he'd forgotten to take a bottle of water. He longed for a cigarette, it always helped calm his nerves and made him think better.
Still wondering how he forgot to carry the essentials, he stopped short. His instincts kicked in, he was not alone. He dipped his hand into his hip pocket and produced his pistol.
He loaded the clip silently and gripped the gun the slightly. With air-like footsteps he stepped by a tall tree and crouched close to a thicket of bushes.
He moved his head slightly until he saw someone. The man he saw was standing by some bushes. This person seemed to waver on his feet like he was struggling to stand.
Then he heard the voices.
He crept silently towards the other end of the bush, adjacent to where the man was standing.
He crouched by a tree and stretched to see where the voices where coming from.
He could make out three men from where he was: he instantly recognized bully and scar face ( that's what he felt like calling them), and then he looked closely at the third man, he was short and thick set, wore a well pressed shirt folded at the sleeves. His watch reflected in the moon light. Was that who he thought it was?
There was also a fourth person; the one being addressed.
He couldn't make out what was being said but at that moment, he saw one of the goons level a gun at the fourth person and shoot.
The sound of the gunshot was deafening.
He turned sharply as he saw the unknown guy dash madly into the bush. He turned back just in time to see the two goons jump towards the direction the unknown fellow had gone.
He silently ducked out of sight and made for it also.

Chapter 6

His heartbeat was uneven and rapid as he ran blindly into the forest. He was at a farther side of the forest and from where he was he could still see the unknown fellow.
He could also see the other two guys closing in fast; he had to do something.
He made a sharp bend and darted towards the path of the men running. He still had sight on the unknown fellow. His feet gave off light noises it scraped the dry shrubs. He could also hear his own heart beat.
Grunting, He mustered all his energy and channeled them to his feet. He noticed that the man had stopped.
He rushed towards him and grabbed his hand, pulling him with all his might.
"Follow me!" he demanded, hoping he would listen. He did.
They both looked like sprinters out to beat a world record, both men, neck in neck headed deeper into the forest. Neither of them had an idea where they were headed, they just ran.
****
Akoni was slightly ahead of Mad dog. He had eyea on thejr target, but only barely.
So, He was duly surprised when he saw someone else join their target and was even surprised at the speeds they were reaching.
He paused and drew his gun, he pointed to Mad dog who was just getting to him.
"Go that way," he pointed to his left, "I'll pass that side. We'll surround them." He shouted.
Mad dog took a slight left turn. Akoni took the right. Their targets were going straight. It was a simple plan really: corner them from the left and right and then go in for the kill.
But it really didn't turn out so simple.
Mad dog could feel a surge of excitement go through him. This was the sort of thing he loved; the thrill of the hunt.
He wasn't tired, he could go on forever, it was only a matter of time before his preys exhausted their energy, then it would be fun time.
He gripped his gun tightly, straining his biceps and literally leaping. Coming up ahead were two trees and in between them was a branch leaning between them. He increased his pace and with one foot on a log, leaped through the tight space with the execution of a pro athlete.
He passed through a cluster of bushes and suddenly had sight on one of them. He lifted his gun and shot; the bullet hit a tree, scattering splinters. His aim was not perfect due to his motion.
Where was the other one? he wondered.
He lifted his gun again and fired twice. He missed again.
He cursed and tossed his gun aside.
Squeezing his hands into fist, he grunted and ran faster. His target was getting closer now. He took a leap and grabbed the leg of his frightened prey, they both fell.
Both men quickly stood, facing each other. One was trembling and lanky, the other menacing and huge.
Mad dog growled and slowly moved towards his trembling prey. He was about to lurch forward when he heard a gunshot. He paused, it'd come from behind him. At first, he thought it was Akoni, so he moved forward but then he felt a sharp pain go through his left arm; it became numb.
He grabbed his arm, grunted and then turned around.
He was staring at the blasted reporter.
"You!" he growled and attempted to throw himself at the reporter.
He was so mad that he didn't take note of the gun on the reporter's hand. A fatal error.
Another gunshot rang through the air. His body staggered backwards, and he crashed to the earth with a heavy thud.
*****
James and Peter both realized that they were getting exhausted. They were running out of time and fast.
To compound their problems, they could hear the rustle of leaves not too far behind them and the fast treading of powerful footing.
James could imagine a rampaging bull dashing madly towards them. Peter's wary mind could see a two-headed fire-breathing dragon coming to devour them.
James slowed down and branched to his left, hiding behind a tree. He watched as the rampaging bull ran past him, his instincts were instantly active.
He took a deep breath and crept out from behind the tree. He heard a gunshot. And then heard another and yet another.
He became scared.
He ran faster, careful to be hudden. He paused and watched the bull leap unto the other fellow.
James walked quickly, bring out his gun, he raised his arm, took aim and fired. It hit his target on the arm.
"Shit!" James cursed as he watched the massive man turn and face him.
His heartbeat quicken and the hand gripping the gun trembled.
He stared straight at him and could swear that he saw the flames of hell in his eyes.
He raised his gun again, steadying it with an effort. He squeezed the trigger just as the massive man took a step forward.
The bullet ripped through his forehead and burst out from the other side with blood and a mass of brain fluid. James watched the giant fall to the ground.
He took a deep breath a he felt a surge of relief go through him.
James walked up towards the other guy and looked down at him.
"Relax, he's dead" James said as he tapped the distraught fellow who looked set to have a heart attack.
"See." James said, kicking the dead man's head.
He watched as the unknown fellow opened his mouth and empty the contents of his stomach.
He wiped his mouth and still shivering, he said:
"Weren't there two of them?"
"Oh, damn. I forgot. Let's get out of here!" James said as they began to move deeper into the bush.
"I'm James by the way. " He said, and turned to his companion.
Peter looked at him. He kept thinking: I have to quit drinking.
"What's your name?" James asked.
"Peter. " he replied, walking behind him.
He had no idea who this guy was but he was only too glad to follow.
Besides, he was just too drunk to make any sensible decision. Look where alcohol had got him so far.
****
Akoni was astounded. He stopped short and looked around him; he had lost sight of all three men.
He did a quick turn and ran back the way he came.
He moved around the forest for a while , sweating and cursing under his breath. He finally found a path he remembered and he took it.
The moonlight lit up something up ahead. He ran toward it and came to a halt in front of a dead body. He squatted close to it and grimaced.
First a witness , now his comrade. This was turning into a real nasty job. The Chief would certainly not be happy.
****
James was deep in his thoughts as he walked. Peter, who was still shivering from the day's ordeal, followed closely. He had no idea who those men had been and why they had killed that man, he also had no idea who this guy walking so confidently ahead of him was. He walked faster, trying to catch up with James.
"Hey, who are you and why..."
"Shhhhh..." James cut him short as they approached a small road.
He watched carefully, making sure that the road was clear. He turned and faced Peter.
"Peter, you say?"
"Huh?" Peter said confused.
"I mean, you say your name is Peter?"
"Yes."
"Well Peter, I don't really have the answers to your questions. I'm frankly as clueless as you are".
Peter stared at him in disbelief.
"You're obviously lying."
"Why do you think so?" James asked, scrapping some leaves off his shoe and then gripping his back pack.
"Well, you just killed a guy," Peter said, adjusting his sagging trousers. He was trying to keep up, which was getting increasingly difficult.
"Right, in self defense. And–" he paused and turned to him, "I saved your ass."
Peter shrugged.
"By the way, what were you doing there at that time?"
Peter looked up at the moon, and then the road ahead.
"I don't know."
James stopped and looked at him, the moon light shone directly on his face.
"You know, I think I've seen you somewhere," James said, his face rumpling in a bid to remember.
Peter shook his head.
"I don't think so, nobody knows me"
"No, I should know. I have a good memory" James said and then his eyes widened.
"Ah yes!" James snapped his fingers and looked straight at Peter.
"You're that guy who walked into the middle of the road today. I can't forget that."
"Oh that,"Peter said , looking sullen.
James walked up to him and placed his hands on his shoulders.
"Look man, I have no idea what made you walk into the middle of the road like that or what made you stray into this forest tonight but I believe so much in fate and believe it or not, we are in some deep problem." James paused, smacking his lips.
"We? What do you mean 'we'. I don't even know you." Peter shrieked.
"let me finish," he said impatiently.
"Okay."
"I believe we both met for a reason. I think I may need your help, so just stick with me and we may flow right through this, alright?"
"Alright." Peter sighed.
"Great, and you were right"
"About what?"
"About the fact that I was lying. I do know a lot about what's going on. I know who those men were and I know who the guy was that got killed." He lowered his voice at the last part.
"But first," He said loudly and with some enthusiasm, "We have to find a place to rest, change clothes and plot our next move."
"Our?" Peter thought. He had other ideas, he just needed to stick to this guy for the moment, when the time come, he'd disappear.
****
The time was a few minutes past two a.m when two haggered looking men walked into a small guest house.
"Two rooms please," One of them said.
The bored looking attendant behind the desk looked up. Shocked at the look of the men, she said carefully.
"We are about closing, Sir."
"Two rooms!" he said again, slamming a few notes on the desk.
The girl hurriedly checked a big book, suddenly wishing that She wasn't working the night shift alone. She looked up frightfully, trying to compose herself.
"I'M sorry Sir, but we have only one room available at the moment."
"We'll take it!" both men chorused.
****
The room wasn't big, James noticed.
The A.C unit was broken, the shower wasn't functioning and the only small color t.v was tuned to a local station; dreadful. The bed was rock solid and the curtains torn. He hoped he would make it till the next morning.
Peter strolled around the room. Marvelous, he thought, they have an A.C, a T.V and a bathroom that was separated from the toilet? Incredible!
He bounced on the bed, "hard but comfy" he thought, he hoped to sleep till the next afternoon.
"We'll have to get rid of these clothes" James said, he dropped his bag on the bed and sat next to it.
"Lock the door, will you." He said.
Peter walked over to the door and slid the bolt home while James watched.
"Thanks." James said.
He unzipped the bag and began emptying it's contents.
He took out some clothes, which he placed on the bed. He brought out a black wrap and dipped his hand in it, he produced a clipper and a bottle of hair dye. He dipped his hand again and brought out his gun, it looked oily and glistened in the light, he unloaded the clip; he had used 2 bullets.
Peter looked quizzically at him and raised his eye brows.
"We have to change our looks you know," James said, referring to the dyes and clipper.
Peter sat on the bed, his face worried. He suddenly felt scared, this guy had a gun with him, a real gun!
"What's really going on?" He asked.
James took a tooth brush, flung a towel over his shoulders, stood up from the bed and looked at him.
"I'll tell you later" He walked into the bathroom and locked the door, what could he do to get hot water here , he thought.
40 minutes later, both men were refreshed and had changed into new clothes, they'd decided that the clipper and hair dye could wait, James lay down, facing the wall to his left, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a sound sleep, despite the rock-hard bed. Peter on the other hand, lay wide awake, he replayed every event from the day, he'd been close to death so much now that he dreaded the thought, he'd have to be out of here by morning, but he needed money, he had to wait, damn it he thought, and closed his eyes. He really had to quit drinking.