Chapter 5: Shelter in the Storm
1065 Words
Rain pounded the streets like war drums.
The clouds had cracked open over Lagos like an angry god, flooding the gutters, washing dust into the gutters, turning silence into noise.
Windshields blurred. Headlights flickered.
But Nurse Ajoke’s grip on the steering wheel remained tight.
Her wipers dragged left, right, left again — a stubborn rhythm trying to make sense of the storm.
Then she saw him.
A lone figure.
Soaked.
Slow.
Shivering.
Walking like the rain owed him something. Like he had nowhere else to be.
Her breath hitched.
> “That’s him.”
---
She pulled over with a hard jerk of the wheel, tires splashing into a shallow puddle.
Winding the window down halfway, she called out—
> “Sir! Please… get in.”
He didn’t answer.
He just turned, slowly, like he’d heard the voice through layers of fog.
Their eyes met.
For a second, just silence.
Then—
Taye walked to the car.
Soaked shirt clinging to his skin.
Every step heavy.
Eyes dead-tired.
Body trembling.
He opened the passenger door, slid in, and shut it without a word.
Rain dripped from his chin onto the mat.
Ajoke glanced sideways.
> “Sir… where do you stay?”
No response.
Only the quiet sound of rain on metal.
She turned to look at him again—
> He was asleep.
Head tilted to the window.
Lips slightly parted.
Breath slow.
His body, finally letting go.
Ajoke exhaled. “Hmmm…”
Her hand gripped the wheel tighter.
She looked at the soaked man beside her.
Bruised. Fragile. Silent.
She took a long breath.
> “God… wetin I don enter?”
She drove.
---
Flashback Dream
Sunlight.
Laughter.
Dust rising from bare feet.
> “Taye, Taye! Pass the ball!”
Two boys kicked a scruffy football across a compound.
One barefoot, the other wearing oversized flip-flops that slapped the earth with every step.
Their mother’s voice floated from the kitchen window:
> “Food is ready ooo! Better come before I change my mind!”
Then their father’s voice, warm and deep:
> “My players! After lunch, we go Soccer Palace. Winner gets malt!”
The boys cheered.
Taye laughed.
> That laugh… it was full.
---
Taye smiled in his sleep.
For a moment—he wasn’t broken.
He was home.
Location: Ajoke’s sitting Room – 7:48 a.m.
The rain had finally stopped, but the house still carried its silence.
Then—
A voice cut through it like a broken bottle.
> “Ajoke… who is he?”
She didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even look up.
> “I’ve told you — I don’t know.”
Ada stepped forward from the hallway, hands on her waist, eyes sharp like razors.
> “You brought a complete stranger into this house?! In Lagos? In this economy?”
Ajoke sighed, rubbing her temple.
She was too tired for drama.
> “He was a patient. Injured. Alone. I saw him walking in the rain, barely conscious. What was I supposed to do—let him die on the street?”
Ada folded her arms, eyebrows arching with judgment.
> “You didn’t even ask his name first?”
> “He didn’t give it.”
> “Exactly.”
> “He was half-dead, Ada.”
> “Half-dead people still get questions!”
Ajoke slammed her cup onto the table.
> “For God’s sake! I helped someone. Can we not make this into a Nollywood thriller?”
The room fell quiet.
But tension buzzed in the air like power about to trip.
Without a word, they both turned and climbed the stairs—one after the other.
---
Guest Room – 7:56 a.m.
The door creaked open slowly.
The room was dim. The curtains drawn.
Taye sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed, hair falling over his eyes.
He looked… distant.
Like a man whose body returned from war, but his soul hadn’t.
He didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe loud.
Ajoke stepped forward gently.
> “Would you like something for breakfast?”
No response.
But after a second, he stood.
No sound. No expression.
He reached for his jacket from the chair. Slipped it on.
Walked to the door.
Then—just as he grabbed the handle—he paused.
A beat.
Then his voice came, low and gravelly, barely above a whisper.
> “Thank you.”
And then he was gone.
The door shut behind him with a soft slam.
---
Living Room – 8:02 a.m.
They rushed to the window.
Ajoke parted the curtain, Ada peeking over her shoulder.
There he was—walking past the gate.
No limp.
No goodbye.
No glance back.
Just silence and wet footsteps.
Ada’s jaw dropped.
> “Wait… he just left like that?”
Ajoke rolled her eyes.
> “Why are you asking me? No be both of us dey here?”
Ada kept staring.
> “What if he’s a ghost?”
Ajoke turned.
> “Eh?”
> “Think about it. Shows up from nowhere. Doesn’t eat. Doesn’t talk. Disappears into thin air…”
Ajoke gave her the side-eye.
Ada continued, dead serious.
> “I'm just saying. Stranger things have happened. This is Lagos, not Disney Channel.”
They burst into laughter.
A much-needed laugh.
But then—
BANG!
The metal gate outside shook violently.
Ajoke’s laughter died.
Ada blinked.
> “Wait… did someone just open the gate?”
Ajoke chuckled nervously. “Maybe he forgot something?”
Ada turned sharply.
> “Forgot what? His silence? Or he’s coming back to kill us?! Let me go and check—”
They moved toward the window, giggling, halfway playful.
But halfway there—
Ada stopped.
Cold.
Her face froze.
Eyes wide.
> “Ye! Ajoke… look.”
Ajoke’s smile faded.
She leaned beside her and looked out.
Then—
Her voice cracked.
> “Jesus…”
Parked outside the gate—
A black SUV with tinted windows.
Doors opened.
Three men stepped out.
All black.
All armed.
Gloves. Masks. Weapons slung.
> Not police.
Not neighbors.
Not the Stranger.
Ajoke stumbled back.
> “Who are they?”
Ada turned slowly, trembling.
> “Which kind question be that?! No be your house?!”
Ajoke clutched the window frame.
> “Oh God…”
- Writer
