Ride To Riches

CHAPTER THREE: The Devil’s Highway

The sun came up slowly over Abuja. Tunde did not feel any peace.

The morning had started. Tunde was not feeling okay.

He had not slept all night.

One hundred million naira was all he could think about.

This number was always on his mind.

He saw reasons to get this money everywhere he looked.

The roof of his family’s house was leaking.

His mother looked very tired.

Femi’s school sandals were torn.

Savage was trying to be strong. Tunde could see the hunger in her eyes.

Poverty is very bad.

It makes people feel ashamed and weak.

It takes away their dignity. They are left with nothing.

Tunde was sitting outside his house thinking about what to do.

The streets were coming alive around him.

People were selling things by the road.

onere driving through the roads.

There was music coming from a mechanic workshop somewhere near.

Tunde was only thinking about the black card in his hands.

The Black Circuit Invitational was a racing competition.

People talked about it like it was a myth.

It was dangerous and against the law.

Many people had died in this competition.

Now Tunde was going to join it.

The front door of his house. His mother came out.

She had a plate of bread and tea in her hands.

“You have not eaten since yesterday " she said softly.

Tunde said, "I am not hungry."

His mother said, "Not eating is not something to be proud of."

She sat down beside him.

They did not talk for some time.

Then she asked, "When are you going to Lagos?"

Tunde looked up slowly.

His mother already knew he was going.

She had seen it in his eyes the day before.

Tunde said, "I have to go."

His mother sighed.

“Tunde, some things that seem like opportunities can be bad for us."

Tunde said, ". Sometimes the only way to get out of a bad situation is to take a risk."

His mother looked like she was in pain.

“You talk like you are going to war."

Tunde said, "Maybe I am."

These words hung in the air between them.

His mother took out a silver chain from her wrapper.

Tunde knew this chain.

It was his father’s chain.

The only valuable thing his father had left behind when he died.

His mother put the chain in Tunde’s hands.

She said, "I wanted to sell it times but I could not."

Tunde looked at the chain. Said, "I do not want it."

His mother said, "You need something to remind you who you are."

Tunde’s jaw tightened.

He said, "What if I do not know who I am anymore?"

His mother looked at him sadly.

She said, "That is what I am afraid of."

Before Tunde could say anything loud engines were heard outside.

Many motorcycles were driving past. People were shouting.

There was chaos

Savage ran out of the house.

“Tunde!" she shouted.

He stood up immediately.

He asked, "What happened?"

Savage said, "There is trouble near Musa’s workshop!"

Tunde did not wait.

He ran towards the workshop.

The streets were a blur as he ran through the roads of Abuja.

Sweat and dust were over his face in the hot morning sun.

Panic was spreading through the neighborhood.

When he reached the workshop it was on fire.

Smoke was everywhere. People were shouting for help.

Tunde froze.

He said, "No…"

The mechanics were trying to put out the fire with buckets of water but it was too big.

Tunde grabbed one of the mechanics.

He asked, "What happened?"

The mechanic said, "Big Joe’s men came looking for Musa."

Tunde was scared.

He asked, "Where is Musa?"

Nobody answered.

Then Tunde saw Musa.

He was coming out from behind the workshop covered in blood and soot.

Tunde ran towards him.

Musa could barely stand.

His lip was. One side of his face was swollen.

Tunde asked, "What did they do to you?"

Musa spat blood on the ground.

He said, "They wanted to know where you were."

Tunde was very angry.

He asked, "Where are they now?"

Musa said, "They left."

Tunde clenched his fists.

The workshop was burning behind them and flames were eating everything Musa owned.

Musa looked at the fire with eyes.

He said, "That workshop was my life."

Tunde felt guilty.

This was all his fault.

Everything happening around him was becoming dangerous.

People close to him were suffering because of his choices.

Musa grabbed Tunde’s shirt.

He said, "You need to leave Abuja "

Tunde frowned.

He said, "What?"

Musa said, "Big Joe is not finished with you."

Tunde said, "I am not running."

Musa shouted, "This is not about pride anymore! These people will kill you!"

Tunde’s breathing slowed down.

For the time he was really scared.

Not for himself. For his family and the people around him.

Big Joe was making things worse quickly.

Tunde knew the streets well enough to understand what came next.

There would be bodies.

Hours later the burned workshop was still closed off by the police.

Tunde was sitting silently on a rooftop looking at the city.

The wind was blowing softly through the afternoon heat.

Abuja looked beautiful from away but it was cruel up close.

His phone was vibrating.

It was Victor Blanco.

Tunde answered immediately.

He asked, "You heard what happened?"

Victor said, "I hear things."

Tunde’s jaw tightened.

He said, "My friend almost died."

Victor said, "That is unfortunate."

His voice was cold.

Then Victor continued, "You now understand the difference between street racing and real underground racing."

Tunde did not say anything.

Victor’s tone became sharper.

He said, "The Black Circuit changes lives, Tunde. Men kill for opportunities to enter it."

Tunde had already decided to join.

Victor said, "Good."

There was a silence.

Then Victor spoke again.

“A driver from Ghana arrived in Lagos yesterday."

Tunde asked, "What about him?"

Victor said, "He won twelve championships across West Africa."

Tunde’s eyes narrowed.

He asked, ". "

Victor said, "He died this morning during practice."

The rooftop felt colder.

Tunde stood up slowly.

He asked, "What happened?"

Victor said, "Nobody knows."

The line went quiet for seconds.

Then Victor spoke more.

He said, "Welcome to the world of racing."

The call ended.

Tunde looked out at Abuja silently.

For the time the Lagos tournament did not feel exciting.

It felt deadly.

That evening dark clouds gathered over the city again.

Tunde was walking through the streets towards an old abandoned warehouse near the outskirts of town.

Musa had texted him earlier:

COME ALONE.

When Tunde arrived many expensive cars were already parked outside.

BMWs, Mercedes and modified sports cars.

Underground racers were leaning against vehicles, smoking and drinking.

Loud music was shaking the warehouse walls.

Illegal racing meetings were common in Abuja. Tonight felt different.

It felt tense and dangerous.

Tunde entered carefully.

The large warehouse was buzzing with conversations and engine sounds.

Mechanics were working beneath hanging lights.

In the center of the building stood a Nissan Skyline surrounded by several men.

Big Joe was there.

The moment Tunde appeared silence spread through the warehouse.

All eyes turned towards him.

Big Joe smiled coldly from beside the Skyline.

He said, "Well… the famous driver finally arrived."

Tunde stepped forward calmly.

He said, "You burned Musa’s workshop."

Big Joe shrugged casually.

He said, "A message was necessary."

Several racers exchanged glances.

Nobody interfered when powerful men handled disputes.

That was the rule of underground racing.

Big Joe lit a cigarette slowly.

He said, "You embarrassed me publicly."

Tunde said, "You lost publicly."

The warehouse atmosphere tightened instantly.

Big Joe’s smile disappeared.

He said, "You still think this is about racing?"

Tunde stared directly into his eyes.

He said, "No I think this is about ego."

A few people nearby looked shocked.

Nobody spoke to Big Joe that way.

Big Joe took a drag from the cigarette before throwing it onto the ground.

He said, "Do you know why you are dangerous Tunde?"

Tunde said nothing.

Big Joe said, "Because people, like you are fearless."

He stepped closer.

He said, "But fearless men usually die young."

Without warning Big Joe punched Tunde violently.

The warehouse erupted into chaos.

Tunde hit the ground hard before jumping up.

Blood touched his lip.

Then instinct took over.

He attacked.

The two men crashed into tables as racers rushed backward shouting.

Punches landed brutally beneath flashing warehouse lights while engines roared around them.

Big Joe swung wildly.

Tunde. Drove his fist into Joe’s stomach.

Joe staggered backward.

Then smiled.

He said, "You finally fight like a man."

Suddenly a loud gunshot exploded through the warehouse ceiling.

BANG!

Everyone froze instantly.

An older man wearing a suit stood above the staircase surrounded by armed guards.

The entire warehouse fell silent.

Even Big Joe stepped backward respectfully.

The man’s voice carried authority.

He said, "That is enough."

Tunde breathed heavily while wiping blood from his mouth.

The older man walked down slowly.

Every single racer looked down a little as he walked by.

Tunde saw this away.

Power.

Real power.

The man stopped in front of Tunde.

"So you are Tunde."

Tunde was being careful.

"Who are you?"

The man smiled a little.

"Some people call me Chairman."

That was it.

No more explanation was needed.

The warehouse was his.

The racers were afraid of him.

That told Tunde everything he needed to know.

The chairman looked at Tunde carefully.

"You drive well."

"I have heard that, " Tunde said.

Some of the racers nearby laughed nervously.

The chairman smiled more.

"You are brave."

Then his face became serious.

". Being brave without control is like killing yourself."

He pointed to Big Joe.

"I have watched you both race."

Tunde did not say anything.

Chairman kept talking:

"Big Joe has experience."

Big Joe looked confident.

". You…"

The chairman looked right at Tunde.

"…You have a feeling about racing."

The warehouse became quiet again.

The chairman slowly took out a cigar from his pocket.

"The tournament in Lagos starts in four days."

Tunde's heart beat a little slower.

The chairman lit the cigar calmly.

"I want someone from Abuja to do well."

Big Joe looked upset away.

"You are choosing him?"

Chairman breathed out smoke.

"I am choosing the driver who can stay alive."

These words were very heavy.

Not winning.

Staying alive.

The chairman walked closer to Tunde.

"If you enter the Black Circuit…"

His eyes became darker.

"…You need to understand something clearly."

Everyone in the warehouse was listening carefully.

"The way to be great is built on blood."

There was silence.

Then the Chairman smiled again.

"Are you ready for that?"

Tunde looked around the warehouse slowly.

At the racers.

At the cars.

At the men with guns.

At Big Joe's anger.

At the world in front of him.

Then he remembered: his mother selling food by the road.

Femi crying quietly at night.

Savage pretending not to be hungry.

Suddenly he knew what to say.

Tunde looked up calmly.

"Yes."

The chairman looked at him for a second.

Then nodded slowly.

"Good."

He turned to the crowd.

"The boy leaves for Lagos tomorrow morning."

People started talking away.

Big Joe's face became very angry.

The chairman started walking then stopped briefly.

"Oh… and Tunde."

Tunde looked up.

Chairman's voice became colder.

"Many drivers enter the Black Circuit wanting to be famous."

There was silence.

". Sometimes…"

Smoke floated through the air.

"…The road chooses who deserves to stay alive."

Then he walked upstairs. Disappeared.

Leaving the warehouse very quiet.

Deep, inside Tunde,

fear and excitement met for the first time.