The Dice#38

Dunni and Lana have been holding their hands during the bus ride. They journeyed all day, stopping at intervals for the women to pee. Some were brave enough and escaped in the bushes, but one lady was not too successful, and for the second time in the same day, they encountered another lady shot in cold blood. “anyone who tries escape again will be killed,” he locked his gun, and they shuddered with fear.
The bus came to a stop, and they were asleep to file out, being stripped of every form of jewellery they had on them and led into the bush. As they walked, most women had to take off their heeled shoes as it was almost impossible to walk in the forest with them.
A cold chill washed over Dunni when the jewellery with the tracking device was taken off her. She hoped the guy taking the jewelries off them stayed with the group, they would be fine. Her hopes were dashed when he returned to the bus, and they watched the bus drive off, killing every hope of being found.
“I need to take my diabetes shot,” she heard Lana talking to one of the guys who looked at her blankly.  She pointed to her bag, removing the injection and gesturing to her upper left arm.  Another guy was screaming to keep moving, but Lana stood her ground and repeated what she said earlier. He nodded. She rolled her sleeve upwards, hitting her arm and administered the dose. “When is the next one, Dunni asked worriedly.
“Tomorrow, same time. How many do you have with you? 7 days’ worth. I always carry it in my bag. Dunni did know the obvious show of relief on her face. “We’ll be out before you know it.” She encouraged her friend as they resumed walking, rushed by the guy with them to join the others.
Dunni was struggling to remain optimistic. Every iota of hope diminished by every step into the forest.

They had walked for the better part of the day, they were not allowed to rest, Dunni could see the exhaustion on the other womens face giving her a glimpse of what hers looked like. The perfectly made face of some of the women all disappeared beneath a cake of brown powder smeared with sweat, others had trickles of black kohl forming a path below their eyes, nose and disappearing to their chin. Just about that time, Dunni felt she could no longer go on. One of the guys leading them backed the order to stop. They were approaching a settlement, and another town dog hope was rising. This could be their deliverance of escape; instead, everyone did their duties as if they had not noticed the strange entourage arriving, and the women almost dropped due to exhaustion.  He gestured with his guns that they should sit, looking around at the bare floor of red sand with no chairs. He backed, “ ku zauna”  gesticulating with his gun.  The women all sat down while a middle-aged woman from nowhere came up to them with a clay pot of water that she passed to the women, who took sips and passed it to the next, an untold understanding that the water was all they would have and the importance that everyone had some to get their strength back. Dunni looked into the woman’s eyes, wondering whether they could get any help from her. She skirted her eyes above them, looking everywhere but hers.  While she was still trying to take in the environment, looking for landmarks to know where they were, another of the men was barking at others to stand up. Dunni wondered what was happening back at home, whether her mum or siblings had heard, she could not entertain the idea that she would not make it back home and choose to keep her hope alive that not matter what they would be found and rescued.

Dunni and Lana held hands tightly during the endless bus ride, their palms slick with sweat but refusing to let go. The bus was packed with fear and silence, interrupted only by the occasional sobs of women who couldn’t mask their despair. The journey stretched through the day, punctuated by hurried stops where the women were ushered out to relieve themselves. Some, driven by desperation and bravery, attempted to slip into the surrounding bushes, hoping for freedom. But freedom came at a cruel price.

The first attempt ended with a gunshot that echoed through the trees. Now, for the second time that day, Dunni saw another woman fall. Her lifeless body crumpled into the dirt as the rest of the women stood frozen in terror.

“Anyone who tries to escape again will be killed,” the man with the gun barked in surprisingly impeccable English, his voice devoid of emotion as he locked the weapon. The metallic click sent a shiver through the group. No one dared to look directly at him, but every head nodded in terrified compliance.

As the bus finally halted again, the women were rudely awakened and ordered to file out. Bleary-eyed and stumbling, they were stripped of their jewellery—rings, necklaces, bracelets—anything that glinted. Dunni felt a cold dread seep into her bones as her bracelet and necklace with the hidden tracking device were taken. Her heart clung to a desperate hope that the man collecting the items would stay with them. But her hope crumbled when he returned to the bus, taking their last tether to the outside world. The bus roared to life and drove off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and despair.

“I need to take my diabetes shot,” Lana’s voice was soft yet firm, addressing one of the armed men. He stared at her blankly, his dark eyes narrowing in confusion. She pointed to her bag and mimed injecting her upper arm. Another man yelled for them to move, but Lana stood her ground. Her unwavering defiance drew a nod of reluctant approval, and she quickly retrieved the syringe, rolling up her sleeve.

Dunni watched as Lana administered the dose, her movements steady despite the palpable tension. “When is the next one?” Dunni whispered, her voice trembling with worry.

“Same time tomorrow,” Lana replied, stuffing the syringe back into her bag. “I have seven days’ worth. I always carry it with me.”

Dunni exhaled, the relief on her face impossible to hide. She squeezed Lana’s hand. “We’ll be out of here before you know it,” she said, her tone resolute even though her heart wavered. Lana nodded, but neither woman fully believed it.

The group was hurried along again, their captors shouting and waving their guns. The forest swallowed them as they trudged forward. For hours, they marched through the unforgiving terrain. The ground was uneven, roots and branches snagging at their feet. Many women abandoned their heeled shoes, walking barefoot despite the sharp stones and thorny underbrush.

Dunni’s legs burned with every step. Exhaustion weighed on her like an anchor, but she forced herself to move. Around her, faces that had been carefully made up now bore streaks of sweat and grime. Tears carved paths through smudged eyeliner, and the forest air clung to them, heavy and oppressive.

Just when she thought she could go no further, a barked order from the front halted their progress. They stumbled to a stop, gasping for breath. Ahead, a small settlement came into view. Hope flickered faintly in Dunni’s chest. Perhaps this was a village where they could be helped or at least noticed.

But as they entered the settlement, her heart sank. The villagers moved about their tasks as though the group didn’t exist. Women hauling water pots and men tending to livestock avoided eye contact, their faces carefully blank.

“Ku zauna!” one of the armed men commanded, gesturing with his gun. The women obeyed, sinking onto the bare, sunbaked earth. The red sand clung to their damp skin.

A middle-aged woman emerged from one of the huts, carrying a clay pot of water. She moved silently, passing the pot from one woman to the next. Each woman took a small sip, the unspoken understanding of scarcity preventing anyone from taking more than their share. When the pot reached Dunni, she hesitated, meeting the woman’s eyes. There was something there—sympathy, perhaps—but the woman quickly looked away, her expression hardening.

Dunni’s mind raced as she scanned the settlement. Were there any landmarks or signs showing where they might be? Her thoughts drifted to home—her mother and her siblings. Had they noticed her absence? Had they sounded the alarm? She couldn’t let herself think otherwise.

“Stand up!” a voice barked, dragging her back to the present. The group rose shakily, their bodies protesting every movement. As they were herded further into the forest, Dunni clung to one thought: they would be found. They had to be.

The Dice #37

Tade hunched over the operating table, the midday sun filtering through the high windows of the hospital’s theatre. The light streaked across the sterile floors, starkly contrasting the chaos brewing beyond his bubble of precision and calm. He moved with the steady focus of a surgeon profound in his craft, oblivious to the storm that had just begun.

Miles away, in the dim glow of a surveillance room, MI Bello stood rigid, his eyes fixed on a flashing red alert on the secure dashboard. The notification was unmistakable: a breach involving a device linked to Tade. His breath hitched, and his jaw tightened.

Grabbing his phone, Bello barked, “Get me Tade’s location. Now.”
A clipped voice responded, “He’s in the theatre.”
“Keep him there,” Bello snapped, his tone ice-cold as he bolted out of the room. Keys in hand, he gunned the engine of his black SUV, weaving through the snarling Lagos traffic. Every second of delay coiled the knot in his gut tighter.

“Trace that signal,” he barked into his phone as he sped. “I need every detail. Don’t lose the coordinates.”

At the hospital, Bello stormed into Tade’s eerily quiet office. His sharp eyes scanned the space, cataloguing every detail, searching for the slightest anomaly. Nothing looked out of place. He began mounting his equipment while waiting for Tade.


Halfway across the globe, Moses jolted upright, the shrill chime of his phone slicing through the night. His pulse thundered as he saw the blinking notification. Not now. Not her. With trembling hands, he swiped the screen.

Dunni.

“No,” he whispered, his chest tightening as he dialled her number. The call failed. He tried again. Nothing.

“Come on, Dunni,” he muttered, voice cracking into a prayer.

Desperate, he scrolled through his contacts, calling Ola.

“Moses,” Ola answered on the first ring, his voice taut. “I was about to call you.”
“Where is she?” Moses demanded. Ola did not need to ask. Moses had also received the distress call.
“She’s at the Women’s Centre in Abuja,” Ola said quickly. “We’re looking into it. It might be a false alarm.”
Moses exhaled sharply. “It better be. Because if it isn’t—” He left the threat hanging, his tone razor-sharp.

Minutes later, a message confirmed his worst fear: a bomb had exploded at the Women’s Centre.

Moses’s chest burned with frustration. He tried calling Ola back, but his phone was engaged, which was no surprise. His calls to other staff and contacts went unanswered, the seconds stretching into agonizing eternities. When he finally reached Dupe, the receptionist, his voice lashed like a whip.

“Dupe put Ola on the line. Now.”
“Oga Moses! No greeting?”
“Emergency,” he snapped. “Now!”

Ola’s voice was shaky when he finally came on. “There’s been an explosion, Moses. We can’t locate her yet.”
“Not good enough,” Moses said, his tone venomous. “I’m going to Abuja.”
“Moses, let us—”
“No.” His voice cut through the protest like steel. “I will contact a security agency I know here who may have links in Nigeria and book the next available flight to Abuja.”


The hours blurred as Moses’s plane streaked across the night sky. His jaw clenched, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios. Reports were scattered and unreliable. Dunni’s name was conspicuously absent—neither among the injured nor the dead. The silence gnawed at him, each second tightening the noose of dread.

The trending hashtags painted a grim picture: #BringBackOurWomen, #AbujaBlast. The chaos felt insurmountable, but Moses had no patience for despair. He’d already mobilized Benesh Segal, the elite and secretive security firm renowned for solving the unsolvable. If anyone could find Dunni, it was them.


Back in Lagos, Tade walked into his office, his movements brisk, only to find Bello barking orders into a comms unit. The air in the room was electric and tensioned.

“What’s going on, Bello?” Tade demanded, his voice sharp. “Did my mother send you?”

“No, sir. There’s been a distress signal from one of your devices.”

Tade froze, his blood turning cold. “Is the location Abuja?”

“Yes,” Bello confirmed grimly.

“It’s Dunni,” Tade said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The architect.”

Bello’s eyes hardened. “We’re on it,” he said, rattling off orders to his team.

Tade’s hands trembled as he dialled Dunni’s office. Ola picked up after what felt like a lifetime.

“Ola, what’s happening?” Tade asked, forcing calm into his voice.
“We picked up her distress signal. There is a confirmed bomb- blast, but Dunni has not been found.

“My security details also picked up a distress notification from a piece of jewellery I gave her. They’re following the coordinates.”

“Send me their information,” Ola said. “We must coordinate this as we have engaged the services of an external security detail. This information you provided is the best news I have had all day.”

“Done,” Tade replied.

As Bello’s team sprang into action, they contacted Ola’s team immediately.  Tade’s resolve hardened. He wouldn’t let the gnawing dread consume him. Not yet. They would find her. They had to.