FORGIVE ME PAST: A Price to Pay

Anyway how would it fail to when my mind was clouded with regrets about the betrayal I was still pushing on without any objection? Even the moon was grieving for that matter: it was sliced into a thin grey curve, making the night remain pitch black despite its presence. If it wasn’t for the croaking frogs in the nearby trench, the night would have been a grave.

The frigorific wind pushed against us calmly yet efficaciously, piercing its frost pins into our skins. Stone looked like a ghost, and Gerald, far too concentrated—or absent minded—to know his surroundings. He seemed to have no time for waiting for the car anymore, yet it had been only about four minutes since Ronnie had departed. He buried his hands into the pockets of his jeans and mumbled.

We had to wait for more three minutes to see the one-eyed Spacio joining the lamenting frogs, in chorus, with its cacophonous engine. If we had another choice, we would have denied the ride, but since we were against the clock and had no time of making preferences, we saw the sound-manufacturer as the best author of silence and quickness for our mission.

Stone and Gerald occupied the back seats as I, almost naturally, took the front in order to direct our driver for the night. From the start, I doubted Ronnie’s abilities on the wheel—not because I didn’t like him, but because I’d never seen him drive. When we set off, he proved, indeed, that he was one of the worst drivers! He could speed up and then break at once. He must have been an ambulance driver at one time! The only reason as to why we never got an accident was because the road was empty.

My heartbeat intensified the more closer we got to Sande’s. It wasn’t long after Ronnie put out the engine that Gerald distributed the black masks and rusty daggers amongst us. I didn’t really think everyone had to get a weapon; I mean, the plan was to frighten Sande, take all we wanted and leave without any fuss—it needed only one person to do the former, while the rest did the latter. I didn’t raise my concern, however, so we got out of the car and tip-toed our way to Sande’s door as soon as we were set.

Pausing at the veranda, we first analysed the environment to find out whether we were the only owls present at that time. About a minute later, after seeing no sign of danger, Gerald removed a master key and a tiny pin from his pocket, and danced with the padlock until it gave in to his artistry. The music playing inside was enough to drown the tiny alien noises that would alert Sande.

He pulled it open, carefully, and we all disappeared into the dark abode. “He must be in the bedroom,” I whispered and we trod warily to the wide-open bedroom door. I know it’s funny—or disappointing—how I was now putting in all my efforts in such a sinister mission, but please understand; at that time it was impossible to make a U-turn! I swept along the intermediate aspect of the wall, immediately after the door frame, with my right hand, searching for a switch because we needed light to know the position of our prey.

I could feel my colleagues’ hands erect with the daggers, ready to dissect anything. To our surprise, when the light went on, Sande was deep asleep, with a woman in his chest. He wasn’t moved by the light like his partner who cracked her eyelids open to four strange men in the room. She yelled, pulling the blanket to her self and leaning against the upper side of the bed as though having a nightmare.

Sande woke up immediately to her shrill outcry to find out what was going on but his urgency faded when he saw us. His glance jumped from Stone to Ronnie to Gerald to me, clearly trying to contemplate who the hell we were and what the hell we were doing in his house, more so at that time, and in masks! Ronnie shushed the panicky woman to inoculate her against any more noise.

“Lady and gentleman, we’ve come here to take only the things that can be replaced by you, and not the irreplaceable such as your lives.” In my opinion, I thought such an introduction was rather scary. “We promise we won’t do you any harm as long as you comply,” Gerald finished to brief the frozen faces. Ronnie, Stone and I immediately walked up to them and forced them onto their knees, on the cold tiles.

“Heads down!” Ronnie commanded. The naked captives obeyed, trembling. My heart was broken when I saw my good Samaritan suffer by my hand. Ronnie exagerated his role by placing his bloodthirsty dagger on Sande’s neck as he massaged the wining woman’s naked breast. I wanted to rebuke him against the unnecessary actions but there were no grounds for me to do so. Besides, any objection could spark off an argument with him, and yet there was no time for that.

“Stone, stay here on the watch as we load our property,” Gerald said, tactfully preventing Ronnie from assuming the position. The latter joined Gerald and I to the sitting room, leaving Stone keeping an eye on our prisoners.

We disconnected, assembled and fetched our goods from the sitting room into the car, just like the Arabs and Europeans transported their gold and slaves from the interior to the coast—confidently ‘shopping’ goods we never paid for. Gerald hailed me for my sowing in a fertile ground. I swallowed the compliment with difficulty because my heart contemplated it as being ironic.

On our way back into the house, after the third round, we heard Stone shout for help from the inside. We rushed to his aid only to find him writhing in pain, in a pool of blood, at the entrance of the bedroom. Sande, probably having heard us run towards the door, wasn’t able to spring out, rather, decided to make a loud alarm for help. “Walalala, thieves, thieves!” He shouted as loudly as he could but we weren’t ready to leave Stone in harm’s way.

Having not yet known his current position, Ronnie crawled towards the bedroom entrance where Stone lay, and after peeping on the other side, he jumped and battled with Sande who was just opposite the entrance, ready to die with anyone who would tried to man-up. He had assumed ownership of Stone’s dagger, and I think that gave him some guts. “Take Stone to the car,” said Gerald as he joined in the brawl that was still a stalemate.

The few seconds I took to help Stone up were enough to witness the momentary battle. As Ronnie and Sande wrestled, Gerald wrapped his right arm around the latter’s neck. The firm hold must have cut off the blood supply to Sande’s neck because Ronnie was now able to remove the dagger more easily from Sande’s grip, and planting it into his chest three times. The short-term hero immediately became cold.

I don’t know how long it takes neighbours to attend to an alarm for help in the night, but they were enough for us to do all that. I think they were still deciding whether the alarm was real or just an empty cry from the nightmares their neighbor was possibly having. As for the woman, she was still frozen on the floor, bowed, like a Muslim wholly immersed in prayer, mindless of the chaos devouring her surroundings.

Gerald and I rushed Stone towards the car, as Ronnie started the engine.
By the sound of the first neighbour’s opening door, we had already hit the road. Stone was helplessly gasping for air. “You are going to be okay, just try to relax Stone,” I reassured him, applying pressure on the wound on his neck to stop the fountain of blood gushing out. Gerald, too, was applying pressure on his right rib cage. Stone’s state was a hopeless one, and it was a real miracle he was still with us.