Dead men tell no tales.
Dead men tell no tales? There is a lot a dead man can tell you, only if you know how to ask. The Forensic Expert had arrived from Ibadan this morning. They had been in the morgue since he arrived. Detective Kola was sick to his stomach and kept thanking his stars that there was nothing down there. Inspector Jobiowu had to be excused since he could not keep the contents of his stomach down.
"The bodies have been buried for over a month. I'm sorry there is not much I can tell you". Doctor Ìbíyẹmí the forensic expert stated.
"However, if you have DNA to match it to, I could get you their identities in probably two weeks" Doctor Ìbíyẹmí continued.
Detective Kola was devastated.
"So there is nothing you tell us that would bring us any closer to telling us how these two died?" He asked.
"Well, they both died from gunshot wounds. The lack of blood suggests that they weren't killed where they were buried. One of the bodies however, was killed by a large calibre bullet" Doctor Ìbíyẹmí answered.
Detective Kola's interest was piqued at this new information.
"Could you identify the bullets and tell us what kind of gun was used?" He probed the Doctor.
"The bullet is the .45 ACP rounds. It is usually used by Isreali handmade Desert Eagle or Smith and Wessons pistols" The Doctor replied.
"But that's not saying anything Doc" Detective Kola fumed.
"I could take to bullet to a friend in Lagos, we can analyse the bullet and then pull some strings to cross check with every licensed gun in that order" Doctor Ìbíyẹmí proffered.
"Doc, that would be so awesome. I owe you one" Detective Kola thanked him profusely.
"I'm just doing my job, Detective" Doctor Ìbíyẹmí replied as he started to pack his bags and equipment.
Detective Kola flopped down into his revolving chair. He had high hopes for this case, but he seemed to be stuck without even having started. He called for Inspector Jobiowu.
"Any calls so far?" He asked.
"None sir, I already gave the press the story. They would get back to us if they have any information and we already have hotlines activated sir" Inspector Job replied.
He waved him away. Those hotlines never work, all they get is usually prank calls or people trying to make some money by giving bogus information. Detective Kola reclined the chair as far back as it would go, he closed his eyes in supplication. He brooded over the case. His handheld radio sparkled to life.
"We have an ongoing car-chase on the Ile-Ife to Ibadan express-way, All available units please respond!" He picked up the radio and held down the button.
"Dispatch, please repeat" He asked.
Constable Nike's voice came out loud and clear "On-going car-chase on the Ile-Ife to Ibadan express-way! Please be advised, OAU Security personnel in pursuit! Suspect Vehicles are Black Honda Accord and White Mercedes CLA. All available units please respond".
"Dispatch, Unit 005 here. We will take this one" Detective Kola responded. He shouted for Job as he grabbed the keys to his patrol van.
The Honda had rammed into the Camry SE at about 80miles per hour. The seatbelt kept him in his seat, but couldn't stop his head from hitting the steering wheel. It was lights out for a few seconds.
He woke, his vision blurry, a lump already forming where he hit his head. The windscreen had been smashed to smithereens, he wiped the blood that was dripping into his eyes. He winced from the pain, seems he had been cut as the glass shattered. As his vision came into focus, he could see the occupants of the Camry SE. People were trying to help the occupants of the car. They were trying to bring out the driver when the gunshots rang out and everyone scattered. He pulled at the seatbelt, but his hands were sticky with blood. His vision blurred again as the effort seemed to be to much to bear. His mind was blank, how did he get here. Another gunshot rang out. He pulled frantically against his bonds and the effort knocked him out again.
When he woke again, they were moving.
"He's awake! Hold his head steady! We have to keep him alive! Call the emergency centre! We've got an accident victim with severe head trauma!" An angelic face smiled down at him.
"What's your name? I'm Mercy, we met once at religious ground. I recognized you when they pulled you from the crash." She probed.
He looked at her, she had a such a bright smile. He knew someone that had a bright smile too. Name? He had a name, it was right there... why couldn't he remember? He closed his eyes in frustration and tried to remember but, he couldn't, he was grasping for straws. It was right there, but he couldn't remember. The angelic face was shouting at him now, he couldn't hear her clearly.
"...we are losing h... . could you drive any faster... . heyy don't die on me!... Hold... ... we are almost there" She screamed at him.
I remember! He remembered! On his face, was something somewhat of a smile. He had a name and he remembered. But other than that, there was a big gaping hole where the rest of the story was supposed to be.
"Oluwanifemi" He croaked before the darkness took him again.
Mr Bayo had pulled the trigger once. The assailant was down but not lifeless. He had aimed and shot to incapacitate. People were wary as he stepped out from the cover of the door of the security truck to check and restrain the assailant. OAU Security was visibly printed in red so he hoped that would give him the credibility he needed to protect himself from the mob that was already gathering. His heart was racing and pounding crazily in his chest, rivulets of sweat were pouring down his head and neck. His palms were clammy and sweaty as he gripped the Glock. He aimed his weapon on the downed assailant who was now trying to crawl for safety behind the Mercedes. He moved rapidly towards the assailant.
Mr Bayo got to the assailant, kicked the big handgun from his hands and turned him over. His aim was too low and it seemed his bullet had nicked a lung. The assailant was frothing, with pink bubbles coming out of his mouth. He was wheezing as he struggled to breathe. His lungs were getting flooded with blood. Mr Bayo saw that he was past saving, he hostlered his weapon to get any kind of information from the person he had just shot.
"Breathe, just breathe. I'm Mr Bayo" He cooed.
The assailant coughed out more blood and struggled to make coherent speech.
Ghost had fantasised about so many ways he would finally bite the dust. But, being shot from behind wasn't one of them. He had felt the bullet tearing through him before he heard the gunshot. He fell on his side and tried to crawl for cover behind the Mercedes. But he was slowly starting to lose feeling everywhere. It didn't hurt like the other times he had been shot. Instead, a numb feeling just spread from the area where he had been shot. Then, he started to choke, he was drowning in his own blood. He was halfway towards the Mercedes when he was turned over, staring into the still smoking barrel of the gun that shot him.
"... I'm Mr Bayo" the face behind the gun spoke.
Ghost tried to reply but he could feel the blood flooding his throat. He thought about Nife and couldn't help but laugh. But, a smile was all he could handle. He gripped Mr Bayo's arm, coughing to clear his throat;
"Fucking lucky kid" was all he managed to choke out.
Ghost coughed his last and ceased to exist.
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