The Septavalent Stone Critique request – 6

Nothing prepared Eshury, who was smiling triumphantly at first, for what he was about to see as he got to the scene of the accident. His smile faded instantly, and his heart began to beat so hard he felt it would burst out of his weak chest. As he neared the bus, he lost control and began to cry.

The bus was upside-down, and out of every window a hand or leg or some hair and in some places all three were sticking out. On the windscreen, however, one girl’s face was sticking out of it, and she appeared to be smiling. Mariam was dead.

Eshury looked at the Revlis, horrified, and threw it as far away as he could, but he did not hear it land, so he looked around, and saw its owner standing a few yards away with the Revlis in his hand, smiling wickedly.

Eshury could not breathe as his lungs began to fail him; he fell on the ground, unable to understand what was happening.

Osirik walked straight up to him, and with his Revlis, he dragged Eshury up before him until his legs could barely touch the ground.

“This is what you get for trying to do an elder’s job, you small fool,” he said to him in a dangerous whisper. “Did you think you would succeed against me? Do you think it was mere chance that when you lit the pot you saw exactly what you were looking for?”

Finally Eshury’s lungs began working properly and he struggled to get out from the Revlis, but Osirik continued.

“Did you honestly think that I would leave my Revlis lying around if I did not want you to take it and use it?” He let Eshury go.

Eshury fell to the ground rubbing his shoulders where the Revlis had pressed into him. He was no longer crying instead he lunged forward to attack Osirik, but he was knocked backwards with a bang of the staff.

“Now you intend to beat me with no staff?” asked Osirik in an amused tone.

“Why?” Eshury shouted angrily, running towards him again. This time he was knocked a few feet backwards, hitting the bus. “They were innocent people. Why did you–”

“Me?” said Osirik, walking towards Eshury. “It was you who stole my Revlis when you did not know how to use it.”

“Then why did you let me?” Eshury retorted, his back hurting now from the impact. “If you wanted to punish me, there are other ways, ones that did not involve the lives of innocent people. Was it not enough for you when you stole the stone and ruined my chances of becoming an elder like you?”

“Punish you?” Osirik was outraged. “You accuse me of trying to punish you? Yes, you are right of course – I took the stone, for reasons I cannot tell to you – but punish you?” he said with a smirk. “My boy, this is not about you.”

Even though Eshury had suspected and actually known that it was Osirik who had taken the stone, it was still shocking to hear it from the snake’s own tongue.

“Now if you would excuse me, I have to clean up your mess, and we will forget this ever happened.”

He waved his staff and pushed Eshury away from the bus.

“Are you not going to kill me?” Eshury asked incredulously. “Are you not afraid that I will tell the others?”

“When they get back from Ouagadougou,” Osirik said, blasting the bus door off its hinges, “it would be too late. The stone would have left the shores of Africa; it will be out of our hands. Except, of course, if we are summoned.”

“So you are responsible for those disasters in Ouagadougou,” Eshury said as realization slowly dawned on him.

Osirik nodded, and explained everything to him in lavish detail, leaving out, of course, the reason he had taken the stone. He spoke as if they were at leisure, as if they had just come out to roast some fish and were merely discussing the events that had taken place at last week’s meeting. When he was through, all the passengers, including one dead and the rest alive but unconscious, had been removed from the bus.

“You are crazy,” Eshury blurted out. “Deluded. Insane. How dare you?”

“Or am I? As you grow older and understand better,” Osirik said, lifting Andrew up on his shoulder with ease, “you will see that while some things happen randomly,” he added as he banged his staff on the ground in preparation to move, “others happen for a reason. I meant it when I said we expect many wonders from you.” And at that, he was gone.

Eshury now had concrete evidence on who had stolen the stone, but what good would it do if he was powerless and couldn’t get it back before it was too late?

What had Osirik meant when he said something about the stone leaving Africa and being out of their hands? Or better yet, why did he take the stone in the first place?

The elders had not given him any means to communicate with them, so he had no choice but to do the most difficult task yet; to wait for them to get back. It was like he had won a million cowries, but couldn’t spend it. He began to rehearse what he was going to say to the elders when they returned so he would be prepared when they arrived. He played it out in his head, and soon something of a mantra developed in his mind.

If my staff was ready, and I had been appointed with my godly duties, he thought, I would have been able to stop Osirik …

Chapter Four

The Hindan House

Mrs. Ugabi woke up with a start, sweating profusely. She looked at the clock on her bedside; it was nine-thirty P.M. She let down her curtains and put on the light.

She picked her phone with shaky hands. “I told that stupid boy to call me,” she muttered, as she dialed Andrew’s number. “Just like his father; so pigheaded and forgetful of important things.” She pressed the phone to her ear, yawning.

It rang continuously, but there was no answer. She breathed heavily, and then called Mr. Ugabi. It was the same; the phone kept ringing on and on. Still no answer. She ran her hand across her forehead.

Something did not feel right.

“I hope he is okay,” she said to herself, her hands clutched to her chest. She rocked back and forth for a few moments, and then she called the two phone numbers again, but there was no answer.

She got up and took out a pair of jeans, and a shirt. She tied her bushy hair with a scarf, took the car-keys and then turned off the light. Within a few minutes, she had locked up the house and gotten outside. She opened the big compound gate.

She barely nodded when the next door neighbors walked in, and then secured the gate bolts to the ground before rushing back to the car. The last time she had driven was years and years ago, but it was no concern to her as she entered the white Passat, taking a few minutes before starting the car.

“I know something has happened to him,” she said more to the steering wheel than to herself. She started the car, and then released the foot break, breathing one last time before moving.

A big white Jeep drove in almost instantly, and she pressed the brake immediately, missing it by a hair’s breath.

Mr. Ugabi came out the backseat, his face full of worry.

“Where were you going?” he asked her, signaling his driver in the Jeep that he could go.

Mrs. Ugabi did not answer. She walked past him. She did not even care to ask him what he was doing back when he should have been at work.

“Ama!”

He followed her into the house, and locked the door behind them.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” she asked him desperately. “Has Andrew called you? I told the stupid boy to call me when he gets there.” She said this as simply as she could because she wanted to believe nothing was wrong. “He should have been there two hours ago. I have tried his phone, but he is not picking up.”

“Yes, about that,” Mr. Ugabi said, entering the room. He told her to sit down in their native tongue, and Mrs. Ugabi knew her suspicions had been confirmed. “They called me with his phone.”

“Who are they?”

“The bus station,” he replied quietly.

She put her hands to her mouth, rubbing it violently as if doing that would make all bad things go away.

“There was an accident,” he continued, taking care not to go too fast with his news. Mrs. Ugabi rubbed her whole face now continuously, pinching at her cheeks as well. “But,” he added, pulling her hands away. “Only one girl died. They think Andrew is still alive.”

Her face softened a bit, but she was unsure of exactly what he meant. “What do you mean by they think?”

It seemed to take ages before he answered her.

“They can’t find him.” He said it in a final sort of way, and that was it. He did not want to tell her where the bus was found, that it had rolled to a stop on an open field surrounded by bushes where there were a million wild animals. He did not want to tell her the traumatic state of the passengers that had been found, as most of them had broken bones and crushed ribs, and some were missing a few teeth. And finally, he certainly did not want to tell her what the manager who had called him with Andrew’s phone had said. “We suspect your boy has been kidnapped,” the manager had told Mr. Ugabi. “It is that time of the year. We hope he hasn’t been taken for money rituals.”

No, he did not tell her all that. He just left her with those four simple words, and waited for her reaction.

“It is your business now,” she told him bitterly after a moment’s pause. She loosened the scarf and flung it away. “If he is dead, I don’t care. If he has been kidnapped, it is not my concern. I already told him that I washed my hands off the trip if I wasn’t going.” She lay there silently for a few seconds, but found that it was impossible to wash her hands off Andrew, who was she kidding? She took out her phone.

“If I had gone with him…” she started, her temper rising.

Mr. Ugabi buried his face in his hand as he waited for her to continue.

“This might not have occurred. And even if it did, I would have known what to do.” She quickly scrolled down her contacts, fuming and shaking her head. “But no,” she bit out, feeling like hitting him. “You always want to save money. When it comes to spending you are always uncomfortable, my God! You better hope he is okay.” She heaved her shoulders up in a tense movement, suspended it for a few seconds and brought them down, exhaling violently. “You better do!”

She sat on the bed edge and scrolled down to John, her publisher, on her contacts, and scrolled a few times back up, passing contact names like Joy, and then Joan, before reaching the name she wanted. She dialed.

Mr. Ugabi did not bother to ask any questions as she scowled at him.

The phone rang. Once, twice, thrice, and then there was an answer.

“Hello.” The voice on the other end was sleepy this time. It wasn’t happy, confident and cocky like the last time. “Ama.”

“Oh! Je-Jef-Jeffrey,” stammered Mrs. Ugabi. “We-Were you not supposed to go and pi-pick up An-And-Andrew at the bus station?”

“Yes,” came Uncle Jeffery’s sleepy reply. “But I never got a call from him.” he said. “My God, it’s almost ten; he should have arrived in Abuja about three hours ago.”

“There was an accident,” Mrs. Ugabi said, this time very quickly, as if saying it normally would have made a difference. “Andrew is missing. They cannot find him anywhere. Do you have any idea –”

“Calm down, Ama,” Uncle Jeffery replied with a big yawn. “You seem to forget that he is your son. If he has any of your blood, he should still be alive, wherever he is. Now I have to sleep. I will call you tomorrow morning.” He hung up, and went back to bed.

“Bastard!” Mrs. Ugabi screamed into the dead phone. Mr. Ugabi tried to pat her but she shrugged, getting up from the bed. “I will load more credit on my phone tomorrow,” she said dramatically. “We’ll call Gabi, Zachary and Jessica – tell them to start hoping that they find his body so we can give him a proper burial.”

Mr. Ugabi picked up his phone, and called the driver. There was a long pause before someone answered.

“Hello sir!”

“Book the company helicopter for tomorrow, first thing in the morning.” He cut the phone, and lay down, staring at the ceiling. If he did not get any good news by tomorrow, he would fly to Abuja, and then to Jeffery’s house, and so help Jeffery if Andrew was dead, or even worse, had not yet been found.

Related posts:

1. The Septavalent Stone Critique request – 5
2. The Septavalent Stone Critique request – Chapter 4
3. The Septavalent Stone Critique request – 6