DEADWEIGHT

The gravel under Adeoluwa Ngozi’s feet screech against the ground- a whisper in the cacophony of sirens surrounding her.

The assassin pants, heartbeat barely keeping up with her rapid movement. She hears five bullets fire but only picks up her pace; the secret to beating a fast-moving attack is by moving faster.

The same acre-large compound that felt like a five-minute walk just an hour prior now feels like a five-kilometre run.

Adeoluwa surveys her situation quickly, spinning her head in one motion and dodging a bullet in another. The night sky makes seeing quite a task, but the moon highlights the faceless silhouettes trying to kill her.

Ten men are standing still to take shots from the roof she jumped from.

Fifteen guards are running at her, relatively far as their coming from their posts at the wall. Three family members of the man she killed are within earshot and one of them has a gun. This is bad, she thinks to herself, as if her brain wasn’t already aware, very, very bad…

The criminal bites her lip as she realises she’s still halfway through the grounds. She’s not close enough to the guards to be tackled outright but she isn’t close enough to the compound’s wall to be home free.

And even when she does get there, she’ll still need to scale the ten-foot wall and it’s unlikely the no-longer-sleeping-on-the-job gatemen are going to let her do that in peace.

At this rate, she’ll be cornered and arrested.

She hears another three shots and something whizzes past her face.

One of her target’s relatives calls for her blood; the other two scream in agreement. Never mind; at this Rate, she’ll be dead.

Her stamina is way too low to keep up this chase; she had wasted too much manoeuvring through the now-deceased governor’s hallways earlier. She needs to sit down and catch her breath.

Unfortunately, none of the people behind her are likely to agree to a time-out.

Adeoluwa’s eyes look in front of her, hearing six shots and watching a glass bottle shatter in front of her upon being hit.

That bottle’s shards fly every which way, and quite a few scratch through the young woman’s gloved hands; she winces in pain but restrains the urge to tend to her wounds. Glass crunches underfoot and she chews at her thick cracked lips, trying to think of a plan… before an idea comes to mind.

It’s outlandish and stupid but it’s all she has.

Reaching down to grab a handful of glass, she hisses in pain and breaks her own rule by turning around.

The family is close, and she narrows her eyes to locate the one with the gun.

The one on the right- a bulky silhouette with a gruff yet screeching voice- lifts his hand in a motion that looks like he’s taking aim…

Adeoluwa throws with all her upper body’s might and uses what strength she has left to make a hard left around the building.

An ear-piercing scream fills the air as the assassin jumps over a hedge and slams herself against the ground, finally exhaling with relief. The two other family members hadn’t followed her to her hiding place so they had acted exactly as she expected; going back to help their family.

She scoffs to herself, Going back for deadweight.

She stays completely still, hearing yelling and running behind the shrubbery wall separating the household from the car park. A female family member comforts the man Adeoluwa probably blinded while someone barks orders in Yoruba to the guards.

She doesn’t understand much of her own language, but from the man’s tone and foot- stamping, Adeoluwa can assume his orders are something along the lines of ‘don’t let her leave alive’.

After the footsteps become too faint for the dark-skinned girl to pick up, she finally allows her tense muscles to relax against the cold leaves’ soft yet prickly embrace. She almost runs a hand through her hair to calm herself down but remembers her afro is tied back into a puff; releasing it would be counterproductive.

(Also, both of her hands are still bleeding and stained with glass.)

Adeoluwa can see the compound’s back gate from her position but doesn’t dare make a move.

Running isn’t going to work because none of the guards actually need to catch up with her to catch her; all they need is a good look and a gun and she’s dead.

The night has made their dependence on sight a handicap, but her luck could only last for so long…

Her light blue eyes dart around as she begins to think of solutions.

Of course, there’s always the option of waiting for her partner.

Everyone seems to only be calling for her demise; perhaps Somtochukwu is bringing something to get her right now.

She shakes her head, No.

She refuses to yield to her hopes; her delusional, ridiculous hopes. The mission has been a success; their hefty pay is guaranteed.

He’s already escaped; it would be foolish to come back now.

Why on Earth would he come back?

In an act of betrayal, her brain answers her question: he’d come back for his family- his wife.

She laughs, silently and bitterly, Going back for deadweight.

Even if he does come back, how will he find her? Her skin blends in with most of the open darkness around them (if only that logic would also apply to the manhunting mob out for her head).

She looks straight at the car that has been sitting not too far away from her. If the keys are in it somewhere…

It’s a big risk but it’s all she can think of. Adeoluwa takes a deep breath before sighing. She bolts.

Mistake, she thinks as she hears a familiar gruff voice produce a shrill holler.

She doesn’t need to know the language he just spoke to know he’s screaming for revenge.

The assassin doesn’t stop running but the man behind her starts. Too soon he catches up with her, grabbing her arm right as she reaches for the car door. She’s sparred enough with bigger men to know she’d be dead in a fight if they had the upper hand.

Adeoluwa is exhausted, petite and in paralysing agony. Her opponent is partially blinded, buff and fueled by rage.

He has the upper hand, she wants to go limp in his hands, and I’m dead.

He strikes her instantly, slamming her against the jeep. She rolls away before he can punch her face in, taking her knife out of her jacket’s inner pocket.

Why are you resisting?, she asks- taunts– herself, You’re dead.

A dead assassin.

The man screams.

A dead woman.

He lunges at her.

Deadweight.

A gunshot echoes through the empty air.

She watches the white of the man’s bleeding eyes as it grows.

The assassin raises her knife threateningly but the dead man’s relative makes no effort to respond.

A trail of blood dripping from his lips is the only warning given before his arms go limp and he falls to the concrete before her. She stares at him, mind blank, before realising both she and the now-dead man had overlooked the sound of the car starting beside them…

There’s… that’s not possible.

Adeoluwa doesn’t believe- she can’t believe– he came back for her.

No. No, he didn’t, she shakes her head, you’re hallucinating. This is some weird twisted last-vision before death or something-

“Ade, do you want to die?!”

His annoyed voice brings her gaze into the car’s bright headlights as she realises she isn’t hallucinating; he actually came back for her.

Instead of responding, she barely takes a second to run towards the car and throw open the backseat car door. “Finally.” He grumbles, accelerating as a large mob of officers suddenly becomes visible running straight at the car park.

She barely gets a chance to shut the door before he spins the car and rams the stolen vehicle into the gate with the rear to spare the windshield. The locked sheet of metal flies off its hinges, allowing the driver to turn the car forward and drive through the open roads.

Yelling and sirens are heard from behind as they move in silence until they do nothing but echo in the distance.

The light-skinned man breaks the silence, “So… how’s life?”

“How’d you find me?”

She doesn’t know what she expects but it’s not for her husband to explain in simple sentences.

“It’s nighttime. Your eyes are bright blue. It wasn’t hard.”

Adeoluwa decides to be content with her answer, releasing her hair and allowing it to breathe, “Why didn’t you leave me?”

“Seriously, Ade? How could you think so lowly of me? Why would I do that?”

“You could have died.”

He snorts, “You would have died.”

“I was…” For a second, she can’t respond, “I’m deadweight.”

“Where did you get that from?”

“…Nowhere. It’s nothing.” She leans against the door, eyes shut as she mumbles, “Thank you.”

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