United Kingdom, present day.
‘They cant
harm me, I live a charmed life. Told you before.’
‘Bello,
let’s leave please.’
‘Don’t worry
baby. This lot are pussies.’
In the dimly
lit alley Bello Momoh sized up the three men that blocked his path. He could not
make out their faces but he did not need the light to know they were hostile.
Two had sticks and one had a pick axe. He had Laura. He felt her squeeze his
arm, trying to drag him backwards to ‘safety’ but he resisted. Five years and
seven months living as the lone minority in the Backwater council estate had
made him well acquainted to animosity. He was never one to run from a fight no
matter the odds. So far he had come up
trumps in two ambushes, sent two men to the hospital and killed a dog that had been
set on him.
‘Danger and
I are two lions born on the same day, and I, the elder and more terrible.’ He
had once told his girlfriend, quoting Julius Ceasar from Shakespear’s drama.
‘We know how
that ended up.’ She had quipped back.
With a
Master’s degree in psychology among his repertoire, it was not foolhardiness that
fuelled Bello’s belligerent nature. For one he had the body of a body builder and
was a black belt in taekwondo to boot. But those were not the credentials he
relied on. There was something else.
They had
been dating for a year when he revealed his secret to Laura.
‘My mother
took me to a witch doctor when I was born and I was dipped in magic iron. I
will not die until I have lots of money.’ He winked.
‘Bello, come
on. Surely even you do not believe in that African voodoo thing. It is
hocus-pocus.’
He looked at
her with a smirk.
Hocus-pocus? Only if
she knew.
He did not
think it was his chiselled frame, his honey coated words or his intelligence
that had won her over. It was that ‘something else.’ Mama had assured him he
would be able to have his way with anyone. But he was to use his powers wisely.
He had spotted Laura at the University beauty pageant contest. The moment she
stepped out on stage the other contestants had no hope. Bello promptly ditched
his ex who he had gone there with and sought out the beauty queen. Since then
they had been joined at the hip (a good number of times) and Bello held on. He
was not going to let her go in a hurry. Never mind that he lived in a rundown
area where men with nothing creative to challenge their minds took offence at
seeing a stunning white girl in the arms of a black man. Bello savoured the
attention and was bent on twisting the knife. Eat your hearts out.
They had
gone for a movie and she wanted to get chewing gum on the way back. There was a
shop open at that time of night. It was not quite on the route home and that
meant they might chance a short cut via the dark alley. Hoodlums hung about the
place and he had had a fight there before.
The shop was
open. Bello waited outside for Laura. She got what she wanted and slipped her
lithe hands around his biceps and they shared a joke. They had just turned into
the alley when the men jumped out of the shadows. Bello did not know if the men
had tailed them to the place or if they had been waiting for an unlucky victim
to walk by. Either way he did not care.
The men
advanced.
‘Hey black
boy. You like white meat, do you?’
‘You think
you can come to our country and fuck our women do you?’
‘If you come
any nearer I am going to fuck you too, arsehole.’ Bello challenged. He unhooked Laura’s fingers
around his arm and protectively stood in front of her.
‘You can
talk, can you? I am going to shut your mouth for you.’ They were skinheads with
tattoos plastered around their wrinkly skin. They wore sleeveless camouflage
vests and jackboots. Every single one carried a sizeable amount of bulk that
matched Bello’s but none had his muscles. The shadows retreated from their
faces as they got nearer so he could see the hate in their eyes.
Soon, he
mused, it will turn to fear.
Taking down
two men was easy if one had the speed. The trick was to attack first, hard and
with accuracy, aiming for some vital part – the groin or the windpipe – to
incapacitate the first man.
Then turn to
the second (who would be rattled on seeing he had no support).
Against
three men it was not that straightforward. In the seconds it took to attack the
first man, the other two would definitely charge. If they were amateurs it would
still be easy work but if they were veterans of a good number of street fights
then he would have to be fully focused.
The man with
the pickaxe had the heaviest weapon. He needed time to balance it and swing. So
Bello went for him first. He grabbed the man’s arm as he raised the axe, kicked
him in the shin, punched his neck and followed up with a head butt. The man
grabbed his throat in agony and sank to his knees.
From the
corner of his eye Bello saw the other men already swinging their sticks. He had
just enough time to dodge one. He expected to be hit by the other. But by
charging at his adversary, he shortened the arc of the man’s swing and reduced
the force of the impact. It caught him on the shoulder. He had felt much worse
in his lifetime. He punched the man’s stomach and drove his elbow into the
grimaced face in front of him, breaking a nose and drawing blood.
The man went
down.
Bello did
not spin around fast enough. The third man seized him in a choke hold and locked
his hands behind Bello so there was no way to reach them easily. But it was far
from hopeless. Bello had earned his black belt fighting stronger opponents. He
tucked his chin in to ease pressure on his neck.
‘Hey Johno,
get up, get up damn it, and get the girl. I have this sucker.’
Laura!
Bello heard one
of the fallen men scramble to his feet, then he heard his girlfriend scream,
and at that point he lost all reason.
He kicked,
he lashed out, he dug his teeth into the flesh of the man pinning him and bit
hard. The man yelped in pain and
released him. Laura had gone but he
could hear her voice from down the alley, shouting for help.
She was on
the ground spread-eagle. Scattered strands of her hair billowed across her
face. Her tee shirt had been torn in two
and her bra was pulled down so her exposed breasts bobbled free. The man that
had pursued after her was seated on her torso, pinning her down. He moved from
side to side to dodge her fists with which she pummelled his body.
‘Stop
struggling, bitch!’ He slapped her face.
Bello
reached them just then.
“He controls
the world who controls his emotions.” He had learnt that phrase in training and
it had served him well. There was always a solution to seemingly impossible
entanglements if one kept his heart in check and calmly used his head. In the moment though, seeing his girlfriend
unceremoniously exposed and being assaulted, that advice went out the window. In
a fit of rage he seized the man by the collar, yanked him off Laura then
knocked him down with a punch.
If he was
not so intent on punishing the man he would not have followed up with incessant
kicking, and stamping, he would have paid attention to the scurrying sounds
behind him and he would have heeded Laura’s warning shout.
At the last
moment he turned. Too late.
The stick
caught him across the temple. Pain! The impact made him stagger. His knees went
wobbly and his vision blurred. He swayed from side to side, struggling to stay
on his feet, somewhat wary of the second wave of attack that was sure to come.
They gave
him no chance. He doubled up from a punch in his stomach, reeled backwards from
a knee in his face and finally fell from a sharp pain in his chest. It was pain
like he had never known.
The world
went still. From afar he made out voices.
‘What have
you done? You just killed the man.’
‘He deserved
it.’
‘Let’s get
the hell out of here.’
‘Help us.
Somebody help us.’ Laura was screaming.
‘I call
ambulance and police.’
Bello
recognized the voice of Mr Wong, the Chinese shopkeeper from where they bought
the gum.
He felt
himself having spasms.
‘He is
shaking. Please do something.’
‘Ambulance
come soon. Wait.’
And then his
world went black.
Africa, twenty five years ago...
‘This child
will not die! I say he will not die!’
Mma Nana
quivered at the shrill incantations of the witch doctor, doubting the wisdom of
bringing her newborn son to the old hag revered in the village for her mystical
powers. After two miscarriages though, she had to insure her successful birth.
A small log
fire burned in the centre of the room. The flames cast moving shadows on the
walls, giving the place an ethereal feel.
Mma Nana coughed from the smoke that filled the interior of the little
hut. Her eyes watered. If she felt such discomfort she wondered how bad it was
for her baby boy. He squealed his protest as hard as his lungs allowed. The
witch doctor held him by one leg so he hung upside down, dangling like meat at
the butchers. She raised him towards a shrine of ostrich feathers and cowries.
Two human skulls impaled on sticks driven into the ground, stood sentry on each
side of the shrine and rattled as she screamed.
‘Amadioha! Ebeeeeee.’
She grabbed
a handful of powered chalk from a calabash and blew into the body of the squealing
baby, coating him white. The flames rose higher. Mma Nana shrank backwards.
The witch
doctor seized a dagger from a low stool beside the shrine. Gently she lowered
the tip of its blade to the little feet of the child. Mma Nana covered her
mouth to stop herself from shouting. But if the woman harmed her baby this
would have to stop.
‘What more do
you want for the child?’
‘Em...’
‘Woman,’ the
witch doctor called out in a high pitched voice that reverberated around the
room. ‘What more do you want Amadioha to do for this boy?’
‘Mama, I do
not understand.’
‘The spirits
have favoured your child. He has protection but they want to give him more.
What else do you want for him? Choose well so it does not become a curse to
him.’
‘I want him
to be a leader among men. People will listen when he speaks and I want him to
have money.’
‘Money?’
‘Yes, lots
and lots of money. He must not die a poor man.’
‘Then so be
it. He will die a rich man.’
She pierced
the soft sole of the baby’s feet. Mme Nana covered her mouth again as her son
wailed in pain. The witch doctor dropped the dagger and held the baby’s
bleeding foot over a broken eggshell so the blood dripped into it. She placed
the baby on the ground beside the fire and cupped the eggshell in her hands.
When she opened her hands again it was not a cracked eggshell there but a whole
egg. It had mended itself. Gingerly she placed it beside the shrine, and then
she picked up the baby and handed him to his mother.
‘It is
done.’
United Kingdom, present day.
Laura rested her head on the doctor chest, drawing strength from his hug. She had
been treated for shock, bruises and a few cuts and asked to go home but she had
stayed in the hospital, waiting for Bello. He was in a coma, strapped to drips
and machines and adorned with bandages. Most of it was wrapped around his chest
where the pickaxe had pierced him. The surgery had taken the better part of
five hours and finally she was allowed to look at him through the glass window.
The doctor
walked up to her and she fell against him, overwhelmed by it all. He held her.
‘Be honest
with me doctor, will he make it?’
‘ Tonight is
most critical. If he can make it till the morning then he will likely survive. It
is a fifty fifty chance. Time to pray.’ He held her at arm’s length and looked
in her face. ‘And time for you to go
home. There is absolutely nothing you can do here and you need to get some
sleep and rest your wounds. Come back in the morning. He should be up by then. If
anything changes during the night I will call you. Okay?’
She nodded. It
was for the best.
But sleep
would not come. Horrific scenes of the attack harried her subconscious. A hot
shower did not help and it was too late to go the parents. So she switched on
the telly and turned the volume up. Some TV challenge was on. Though she stared
at the screen she barely took note of the game show host grilling contestants
with question after question. It was soon over and something else flashed on
the screen. Six numbers. 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7.
Where had she seen that before?
‘Oh, no number
five.’ Mr Wong’s voice entered her head. Of
course, the Chinese man at the shop!
A sudden
cold gripped her, making her hairs stand on end.
She had
gotten a fiver from Bello to get her gum. Mr Wong hadn’t change.
‘You buy
lottery ticket? Maybe goodluck?’
‘Oh go on
then.’ She smiled back.
‘1,2,3,4,6,7.’
He read out the numbers from the ticket he had printed. ‘Oh, no number five.
Good numbers this.’
She winked
at him, took her booty and skipped out to a waiting Bello.
Where was that ticket?
With shaky
hands she rummaged through the pockets of the dirty jumper she had had on
earlier, pulled out the piece of paper and help it up to the light. There was
no mistake – 1,2,3,4,6,7. The winning jackpot number combination. They were
millionaires.
Her world
collapsed. She fell on the bed, curled up and wept. There was no need to answer
her ringing mobile phone. She knew it was the doctor. And she knew his exact reason
for the call.
Somewhere in
the world an egg cracked open, spilling its bloody contents.
