TOMMOROW AWAITS

Episode 12-The Leap

"Ada? What are you doing? "

I jumped on hearing  my name. It was past midnight and i wasn't expecting anyone awake. The voice sounded sleepy but persistent,still.

"Ada?"

I heard the rustling of someone climbing out of bed and the barely audible footsteps on the cold stone floor. Mohammed.

I turned,from my sitting position on my bed to face him,challenging him with my eyes to stop me. He was wide awake now and blinking rapidly, to clear up what sleep was left in his eyes or  wake up from what he perceived was a dream.

"You can't be serious. That is an M-16. You can blow yourself up with that. What exactly are you doing with that anyway  and how on earth did you get it from the storage room?"

I rolled my eyes.

"I know what it is,Mohammed. Vintage Vietnam weapon and i can pull a trigger if i want to. Now if you'll excuse me,i have a trip to make"

I had finished loading the gun and attempted to brush past him,heading for the door, but he blocked my path.

"Easy tiger. Easy! Easy! Let's take it from the top. Where do you think you're going by this time of the night with a loaded what? Machine gun? The hell,girl? What is wrong with you?"

He rolled his eyes in exasperation, like i was going crazy or something. Too bad,i wasn't in the mood.

"Look! I don't have time for all this right now. Either excuse me or let my gun do the honours."

The look on his face told me all i needed to know. He believed i could murder him in cold blood without a second thought. I liked that, and the way he raised his hands in defeat and sighed.

"Okay! Your game. At Least,tell me where you're going"

His eyes pleaded.

I weighed the pros and cons.

"I'm going to get my mom. Now, Bounce!

I was out the door in a flash, leaving no room for questions and a bewildered Mohammed behind.

We parked the car, half a mile away and crossed the bridge on foot. I had no single idea of what i was doing,but, finding my mom was top priority. In case Ben sent some of the soldiers to look for us,i had the perfect alibi.

Yes! Us. Mohammed had insisted on following me after all,he drove us all the way here. Sometimes,i wondered if his brain functioned properly. This could end up being the biggest mistake of my life, yet he wanted to dare the odds.

  After searching undercover for about and hour,we finally spotted them. They had camped out in the open,in what looked like a half-destroyed,abandoned school building. Something was not right here. From the distance,i could hear loud conversations in a fluctuations of Hausa and Arabic. Something big had happened in their camp to warrant all the shouting. The time was right. I couldn't have picked a better time to come snooping.

We crouched by one of the blackened rubble of fallen walls which had been reduced to a quarter of it's original height,probably by a locally made bomb.

Mohammed was fidgeting beside me. I could understand. I was scared too. If we were caught,the consequences were worse than we could ever imagine. If we weren't caught, the aftermath would be just as grave. Talk about the devil and the deep blue sea.

I had previously eavesdropped on the security briefing Ben had with the soldiers and i knew for a fact that the Boko Haram sect had crossed the third mainland bridge. I put two and two together and deduced that they had to be the same group that had stormed each of our houses,the group that took my mother away. I was determined to find her,or die trying. Either way,i win.

  Getting the gun was not as hard as i had anticipated. The settlement wasn't as guarded as it ought to be. 

  The enemy Camp was growing silent as the night engulfed us in it's warm embrace,the full moon illuminating the landscape in all it's glory.

"Yes! This is a wrong time. No! Haba,mallam! None of us can make it this night o. You see..."

Someone was having a phone conversation above us in a perfect blend of pidgin and clear English. I knew instinctively not to turn my head,the person could probably see us already since the only thing separating us,was a dwarfed wall. Trust Mohammed to foolishly turn his head and peep. I cursed inside of me. The person paused in his conversation and there was deep silence.

"Mallam! See,let me call you back! Something just came up"

I held my breath. There was silence as the stranger ended the call and put away his phone.

"Stand up,both of you! In the name of Allah,stand!"

The baritone voice was laced with authority,daring us to disobey. Slowly, we stood up,hands on our head,guilt in our eyes and turned to face our assailant. A gawky teenager with bloodshot eyes. I didn't need someone to tell me this was not the life he had chosen for himself. He had on,a dark green jalamia which in the moonlight looked exactly like the black one i had donned on. The plan was to dress in disguise, complete with the traditional caftan-like gown and red chequered scarf. I had missed the fact that Mohammed was dressed in jeans. I rolled my eyes and kept them shut,anticipating the worst.

"Musa! What is happening there? Did we order any execution tonight "

An older,commanding voice asked from a little distance behind the bandit holding us hostage who obviously was the Musa in question. He turned towards the direction the voice had come from and explained slowly in clear Arabic that he had suspected us to be spies sent by the Nigerian government and was only trying to do the needful. I opened my eyes,the woman had reached us now and stood,hands akimbo,looking from us to Musa,quickly assessing the situation. She was dressed in simple overalls sewn with a beautiful  black material,the origin of which i couldn't place. I wondered which of the abducted girls had carefully and painstakingly handsewn the article of clothing.  She was a very beautiful woman and i could see that, despite the poor quality of the moonlight.

She dismissed Musa with short rapid spurts of fluent Arabic, assuring him that she would handle us herself. I assumed her to be one of the top officials in the camp,who called the shots. She wasn't veiled like the other women i had seen walking around camp doing one chore or the other. Her dark hair fell below her shoulders,complementing her fair skin properly, she had to be from the Fulani descent, i assumed. They were known for having such beautiful hair. I wondered what a woman as beautiful and delicate as this was  doing, leading a group of terrorists. She didn't look the part,but looks,they say,is deceptive.

"Who are you,and what do you want?"

She asked in a no-nonsense tone,pulling out a pistol i hadn't noticed earlier and pointing it at us,darting it quickly from one to the other. If we took one step,she would gun us down with little trouble.

That was the moment Mohammed opened his eyes and looked up.

"Mom?"