WAZOBIA: A Tale of Two worlds

20

The depressing omen of Imisi's death decided to trail me as we drove into the outskirts of Abuja.

My mood in Abuja would not change. I had no loved ones here. Nobody that effortlessly made me happy. No Kachi, no Imisi, no mom.

Might as well carry on with my purpose on a straight face.

I planned to stay at a secluded lodge. Somewhere more or less deserted; you know, somewhere very scanty. I had no doubt that I would find one.

"Jioke, okwa, you know your way around?"

Chijioke turned his eyes from the steering wheel to face me.

"Yes ma. I know Abuja very well,"

"Good,"

There was a slight pause as we waited for the traffic lights to switch green.

"So you know lodges and hotels"

"Yes ma. Plenty fine fine ones wey dey luxurious, where big man dey go stay," he said.

"No. I'm looking for one that doesn't have many people. Very scanty. In a remote area. Just one quiet guest house."

He kept on driving, looking at the road, for a minute and then answered.

"No problem ma,"

*. * *

It wasn't up to forty five minutes till we got to Trinity lodge. It was the usual, low class hotel that served as a cheap hiding spot for married men who couldn't control their hormones, youthful getaways and men who knew they had a short lifespan, drinking and smoking at the bar.

It was disgusting but it was perfect. A good room cost only two thousand naira. It was sensible though; I would've deemed them out of their minds for one naira higher.

"Two rooms please," I told the street dressed receptionist. I had concluded that she was also a known staff of the red light district

I handed her the money and she gave us keys. I took out the bunch that said "11" and gave it to Chijioke.

"Jioke, you will stay downstairs eh," he nodded, "just carry my bags up for me and give me the car keys,"

He gave me a confused look.
"Madam-"

"I want to go somewhere," I said, making sure my eyes told him that it should be left there. I was going somewhere.

"Okay ma."

I turned to walk upstairs, but not before catching the cocky eye if the receptionist sex worker, plying Jioke.

There was an eery silence in the car as I drove up the quiet GRA street, save the AC blowing into the back seats and the sound of my pale, artificial nails tapping in the steering wheel.

I fixed my nails; but for defence and attack purposes. Reason I didn't paint or polish them. They weren't for fashion. Just a very handy attack mechanism.

I swerved to the left and slowed the car down as I drove up the gate.

Two army officials came out from the security booth to meet me. One on either side of the car.

I rolled down my window and switched on the inner car lights.

"Good evening, soldier," I said; my American accent overtaking for some reason. Maybe it was because it was something that was frequently said at camp. Nostalgia and fear surged through me.

"Good evening. Can I help you?" The very dark, muscular man at my side if the car, holding up an AK 47, said.

"I'm Eze Simbi. I'm here for General Ibrahim"