BRO JOHNSON (EPISODE 14)
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Bayo dialled Sparkles number. It rang out but she didn’t pick the call. ‘Hmm…Sparkles, I hope you are not planning something funny.’ He soliloquised silently.
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‘Bros, this one that you keep talking about Sparkles…and you just came back from her place not too long ago. Is she the one?’ Wale said. Wale just got a direct entry into 200L Microbiology department of the school and had been staying with Bayo. He was going to take over Bayo’s apartment after he eventually leave the school.
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‘It’s nothing. A project just happen to link both of us. Nothing more.’
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Just then, Sparkles called back.
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‘What’s happening? Don’t you think it’s getting late?’
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‘Calm down brother. The thing doesn’t work like that. We should give the story two days to circulate. I am already getting unusual traffic on my site. This is going to be a big gig. Or may at least lead to one.’ She chuckled.
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‘Really, I don’t care about all that. When are you uploading those pictures?’
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The last sentence caught Wale’s attention. Wale was a natural snitch. He won’t rest until he see what picture is bringing this two so much closer.
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‘Tomorrow morning. Bayo relax…if we plan this job well, we should get nothing less than fifty thousand naira.’
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‘Hmm..’ Bayo sighed. He doesn’t know how these things work but he was expecting much more, considering the level of risk involved. He thought of going all in.
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‘What?’
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‘Sparkles, we need to see today. I didn’t only took pictures of that guy and the police. I recorded a short video too. The chances of getting more money should increase, right?’
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‘Oh! You! Okay. Let’s meet first.’
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Bro Johnson stood where he was. He refused to move an inch. Whatever set-up this was, he wasn’t going to walk right into it. He would wait. This mysterious Honourable must have a plan. He wasn’t just going to kill him like this. That’s going to make things more complicated for him. The man should know he could be traced to him. Moreover, people could now link the Honourable to him. So, if he wasn’t going to kill him, why this unnecessary detention.
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A door squeaked and a dimmed light shone before Johnson.
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Standing right before him was Jackie! What kind of buttons must have Pablo pressed that had made sure a hardened Criminal was released in about twenty-four hours?
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This country is doomed! This is unthinkable corruption in high places, Johnson thought.
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‘J man, the run away soldier,’ Jackie smirked. ‘Come in.’
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Johnson noticed that Jackie’s right arm was bandaged. There was a not-too-obvious scratch on his left cheek.
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Johnson perused the enclosure. Apart from the fact that it wasn’t well lit, it looked antique. There were some dried animal parts hanging here and there on the walls. Ahead of him was a big chair. It looked like those ones the kings in Nollywood movie sit on, just that, this one was plain—it wasn’t really decorated. It was perhaps made of mild metals. Two small animal skulls were at the tips of the chair’s arms. On the wall just above the chair was a symbol Johnson could only relate to as a tatoo he once saw on Rambo’s arm. There was a man on a red and black robe kneeling before the chair—facedown—muttering gibberish. Johnson noticed two small benches at opposite sides of the room with each just enough for two persons to sit. If a third person would sit on a bench, then, the three would be inconvenient. He sighted Rambo on the bench on the right side. He gave a hey-bro-we-meet-again kind of gaze but Rambo looked away. He didn’t have any clear injury, only that there seemed to be a bruise on his neck. Within a moment, Jackie was sitting beside him. He pointed to the opposite bench, motioning him to go sit. Johnson looked to the opposite bench and saw Honourable there, seated. Good, he was going to ask the man what in heaven’s sake was going on.
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As he sat, he began, almost whispering, ‘Sir, I don’t think––’
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Pablo shushed him and made him see his pointed finger. He was pointing at the man on robe. He was by now, getting up and carrying a small local bowl with water—or some sort of liquid. He chanted some strange words. The others—except Johnson—repeated after him.
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‘You may now come.’
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Pablo went first. He got there, bowed and knelt before the fetish throne, stood up and dipped a finger in the liquid, then licked it up. Jackie went there and did same. Then Rambo.
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‘Young man, it’s your turn,’ the man called on Johnson.
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‘No! Not me! I don’t even know what is happening here. I am covered by the blood of––’
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‘Hold it there!’ The man interrupted. ‘This harmless process is done every three months for Honourable and his loyal men. For their protection and smooth operations.’
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Johnson phone rang. He flipped the phone through his hands, it was Pastor C. Williams calling. Very timely, he thought. He motioned that he was going to pick the call.
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‘You dare not!’ Pablo snorted.
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Jackie shook his head.
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Robe man gave a loud evil laughter. ‘Young man, since you have entered this room by yourself, stepping out of this room or speaking with anyone outside here without taking this honey is automatic death.’
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Johnson thought, It’s honey after all. Not blood. He had two options, he should simply oblige and later find the way out of…or around all these…or just shout the name of Jesus and get himself freed from this trap. Report himself to the police and face whatever consequence.
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‘JESUS!’ Bro Johnson shouted. He expected everywhere to shake and the others there to begin to twist in pain…like in the movies. But, nothing happened.
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‘You don’t know anything.’ The man chanted few incantations and said, ‘If you still value your life, come right here before I count three.’
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Johnson was mystified. So, he would die just like that?’
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‘One!’ The man began.
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In his heart, Johnson was wondering if he was really a Christian. If he’s not truly, he was ready to give it all to Christ all over again, and sincerely.
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‘Two!’
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What to do now? What prayer was he even to pray now? If he die now where would he go? He wasn’t sure…he wasn’t sure of anything… only that when there is live there is hope…
‘Th––’
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Johnson moved forward.
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Success Timothy Ayo
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Success Timothy Ayo 