When Barakah opened her eyes, she saw the sky, cloudless and bright. She gasped in surprise. Where was her creaky bed? She spread her palm to feel the bed underneath her. Instead, strands of grass nestled between her fingers. She stood up quickly, eyes widened. Was this a dream? She scanned her surroundings: she was in a field, beside a stream, birds chirped from the tress across her, and the air smelt of strawberries. 

When she looked behind her, that was when she saw...Salsabil in her usual grey gown, a crown of flowers around her brown shoulder length hair, smiling widely at her. She watched her, mesmerized, until Salsabil held out her hand, beckoning. “Come.” She said. 

Barakah blinked, unsure. “Come home.” Salsabil started moving towards her. Barakah felt her feet moving before her brain could realize. Closer, closer, until she felt Salsabil’s soft hands in hers. All of a sudden, Salsabil’s face transformed into a frown, “Wake up.” 

Barakah watched in shock as Salsabil tugged at her hand, as though to pull it out. She cried out in pain. “Wake up now.” This time, it wasn’t Salsabil’s voice, but Aunty’s.

She opened her eyes. It was dark, she couldn’t even see her hands; It was cold, her legs were numb. She noticed that she was sitting up. And she noticed a small beam of light by the corner of the room. Aunty was mumbling, shuffling through a Ghana-must-go-bag. 

“What happened?” She asked, voice surprisingly clear. 

Aunty turned around, beamed the light on Barakah’s face. “We need to go. Pack your things.” Barakah slid off the bed. Her mother was right. She was really going home. 

…
Atinuke couldn’t remember the last time she felt such fear, such urgency to get away. The cold bit at her bare arms, despite the long hijab she was wearing, She steered Barakah towards a faded green Volkswagen, hoping the sleeping pill she had put into her brother’s morning tea would give them enough time to go far. 

After settling in the car, she turned on the ignition, grateful he had left the car here the previous night for her to warm it. As the car rumbled, she let out a breath and turned to Barakah, finding her bright eyes, obviously glad she was going home. “Put on your seatbelt.” She instructed, and moved the gear into drive. 

Forty minutes later, as the clouds began to give way to the sun, and as she drove towards the LASU bridge, Atinuke noticed the vehicles gather up ahead. She hissed and glanced at Barakah, whose head was tilted on the seat. sleeping deeply. 

She smiled. Good. 

One hour later, she thumped the steering wheel in frustration as the vehicles around her tried to get in the smallest space in front of them. They were still in Volks, a very notable place for holdups. 

She sighed and leaned back against her seat, the leather rough against her cheek. She regretted not sleeping the previous night and hoped she doesn’t sleep now. But with the warm air fanning her face, she couldn’t help herself.

It wasn't the loud beeps and honks of vehicles that awoke her, but the hitting against the back of her car that sent her almost flying off her seat. 

She sat up quickly, scanned the place. Then she noticed that the yellow bus in front of her had moved a few feet further. As she turned on the car, it whirred and died. She tried again, nothing. Hands shaking, she tired again, praying fervently, ignoring the louder honks and beeps behind her. 

Oh God. Oh God. She stopped to gulp in air. This shouldn’t be happening. She heard a bang to her left, against her door. A bald round head, with wide red rimmed eyes glared through her half-open window. “Wo, Iyawo. Clear road na. Abi, sho fe wa pami–do you want to kill us?!"

“Emabinu.” She rubbed her hands together. She tried turning the car on again, still, nothing. 

Another bang against the car startled her. She turned to the source, a sweaty puffy faced lad snarled through Barakah’s window. “Wo, Mummy clear road jor. Kilo shele ni?” His eyes moved to the ignition, where her hands held the keys tightly before facing her, one brow raised, nose flared.

Before she could react, his hand shot out to grab the key. “Is like you no ready to drive.” He said, spit spewing out of his mouth. Atinuke held it tightly, her anger shooting up like a planted seed. “Ah, oloni buruku niye.“

“Ah.” She heard the man behind her say. But she ignored him. the lad had an oily hand so Atinuke couldn’t bite him. She hit his lanky arm repeatedly, still tempted to bite him. All of a sudden, his hand retracted. She thought he had changed his mind. But then she saw him flailing his arms in the air, the bald headed man held him tightly. Then his eyes caught hers, “Iyawo, comot for here o.”

She quickly turned on the ignition, it worked. She didn’t wait to shout for joy or lower the window to get rid of the armpit and fresh fish smell. She just sped away.

By 08:15 a.m., she searched for her phone on the floor, picked it and switched it on, hoping He had replied to her text. 

As she headed towards Under-bridge– filled with people installs, children with bags of pure water, cartons of galas and drinks on their heads, and some individuals perched closer to the road with big bags and cartons beside them. She asked Barakah, who had been quiet since she awoke. “Are you hungry?” 

Barakah turned, “No, I’ll eat when I get home.” 

Atinuke cleared her throat and nodded. She should call Hidaya. With one hand on the wheel, she dialled Hidaya’s number and waited for her to pick. 

When Hidaya asked of their location, she quickly glanced at Barakah, whose face was glued to the window before replying, “Badagry expressway.” Barakah didn’t turn, making her sigh in relief. When Hidaya asked why she was heading there, she said, “You know brother mi will think that we’re leaving Lagos na. So he will probably go to the car park.”

She listened to Hidaya’s reply, tempted to hiss at her rude tone. She hated the Doctor with passion. As she listened to her remark about the number she was calling with, she gasped. That could be true. But she doubted it, as the SIM was in its pack when she stole it. 

She rolled her eyes as Hidaya instructed her to wait, that they’ll be okay. Once the call ended, she noticed that they were close to Abule-Ado bridge. She glanced at Barakah again and thought of ways to divert her attention. “Um, see-”

That was when she noticed a car in the rearview mirror: black, with men inside it. She frowned. It couldn’t be Yusuf, could it?

“Em, we’ll be taking a shortcut so we can get there faster.” Barakah turned to her, then to the window. “Which shortcut?” 

She tilted her head to the corner on their right. “You know there might be a holdup in Festac.” She said and looked ahead. Just as she thought, the vehicles had gathered again. She looked around for any oncoming vehicle behind her. Seeing none, she cut out of the road and took the corner, which was, to her surprise, deserted. It was when she drove ahead that she noticed that the road was covered with water. 

“Hei,” She said and slowed down. She glanced back again. The black car was no longer there. In its place was a blue sedan. She sighed in relief. Her brother might be on his way, but he wouldn’t know where she was. She looked down at her real phone on the floor, switched off. She had given Hidaya the wrong impression. Let the stupid girl believe she was in charge.

Slowly, she rode into the water, there was no bump underneath or hole. She started to relax. As they went deeper, she noticed the black car again, not behind her, but in front of her. Her heart thumped loudly. She turned back. The blue sedan was far behind, as though not sure whether to proceed. She was already in the centre of the water. Then the car dipped, earning a yelp from Barakah. Atinuke blew air in and out. She leaned out the window, the water was just under her door handle. Oh, God. 

Suddenly, the car stopped. They shared a look. No. Anti nuke tried the car but it just released a low whine, then stopped. Oh, God. Oh, God.

“Aunty?” Barakah called weakly, eyes wide with fear. 

“Barakah!” Atinuke’s head whipped up. “Barakah!” She turned to Barakah, whose eyes stared straight ahead. Atinuke looked too. It was a black car. all four doors open. Five men in black stood outside, eyes on her. But it was the man that stood in front of the car that made her gasp.

Ismail!

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