DEVIL’S PAWN: Who Can Kill Simon, The Cat With 9 Lives?

...

ELEVEN

Pause not to take a breath

For the task is not complete.

It remains still, the flame that burned

Until the final stone is turned.

It was the last hours of night. The dark was quickly losing out to the power of the morning sun just rising in the horizon. The rays of the sun gradually lighted up the refuse dump by the road side. A stray dog foraged on the dump, sniffing and scratching.

Not far from the dog, a man was sleeping on the pile of rubbish. He stretched and settled back to sleep. The dog ignored him. It sniffed at a bag excitedly and pulled at it. The bag was weighed down by other things. The dog pulled harder and the bag came free. A thick clod of earth came free with the bag and landed on the face of the sleeping man.

The man turned, waking up. It was Simon.

He felt weak, empty. With much effort, he lifted his hand and wiped off the dirt from his face. The odour of rotten things hit his nose like a punch. Not until then did he look around and realize he was lying on a dumpsite. An open bag with some decomposed food lay before his face. and the maggots in it seemed to be swarming out towards him.

He sat up and spat. Some particles of the dirt had entered his open mouth. His sudden movements startled the dog. It yelped and ran away.

Simon’s limbs were weak. It was like someone had filled his veins with water after draining out his blood.

Blood...

The word triggered a memory. Yes blood. He had seen lots of blood in the dream.

Blood and bullets…

A hot bullet had struck him in the head. He remembered.

Quickly, he put his hand to his head, half-expecting to see a hole there. There was no hole. Something else was there, dried to his forehead. It was hard like a blob of solidified paint. It was shaped like a bullet that had made impact with a hard surface.

He stood up and pulled off his shirt like a madman. He remembered there had been several shots to his body in the dream. He scanned his chest. From his chest down to his navel, there were several spots with pear-shaped, caked blood. He allowed himself to sink down to his knees.

It’s not a dream.

Bit by bit, it all came to him. He pieced together the memories as they came to him.

Then her words came to him like bullets. Until the final stone is turned… your task is not complete.

The words echoed in his mind over and over again.

The final stone…?

Which stone?

The task is not complete?

“But I tried, I did my best,” he shouted out loud.

A woman walked by the dump with a tray of vegetables on her head. She heard his shout and looked at him. He did not look sane with his wild hair and grit-covered body. She shook her head and quickened her pace.

You tried your best. That’s why I saved you. But we have a bargain. Just one more, one final stone and you’ll be free.

He wrung his hands. I don’t want to kill anymore. I’m done.

The woman was still within earshot when he spoke the words. She started running. Simon saw her retreating figure. He paid no attention to her.

You have to do it. You know the consequences.

Simon clasped his head in his hands and wept like a baby. Heavy sobs shook him as each memory of last night passed through his mind.

...

A uniformed police officer sat by the door of the ward, peering again and again at the patient who occupied the bed in the room he was guarding. He had a gun holstered to his side.

A doctor appeared from one of the corridors, giving instructions to the petite nurse by his side. The doctor paused when he got to the officer, and exchanged greetings before walking into the hospital ward.

The room was large, but there was only one bed in it. The young man in it had bandages and dressings all over. Every few minutes, he would grunt and try to shift, but the pain in his body wouldn’t let him. Blood trickled lazily into the drip chamber and down the IV line into his vein. The blood bag was already three-quarters empty.

Another IV pole and line with multi-lead tubing stood at the other side of the bed. The infusion clamp was turned on, and the bag hanging from it was empty.

The ward was quiet. Only the beep of the heart monitor and the patient’s intermittent raucous breathing broke the silence. Part of the hair on his head had been scrapped off to allow the nurses to do some stitching. The doctor examined the stitches and nodded in satisfaction.

“He seems to be doing fine,” he said.

“Yes doctor, but I recommend that we give him something to help him sleep.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, he hasn’t blinked since he was brought in. He just keeps staring at the ceiling and he doesn’t respond to questions.”

The doctor looked at the patient once again. He waved his hands before the face but the patient’s eyes remained fixed to the ceiling.

“Hello,” the doctor said ,waving his hands again.

The patient grunted and tried to move again. The doctor inspected the bandages. Satisfied, he turned to the nurse.

“Okay. What do we have available? Something mild…”

“We have some Tryptophan.”

“That would do. And if anything happens, you let me know immediately,” the doctor said walking towards the door.

…

Simon walked away from the refuse dump, carrying with him the offensive odour of decomposing things. He did not know where to go, because he did not know where he was. He just walked straight ahead like a zombie. He had a destination, but he didn’t know it.

By now the police will be all over the town looking for me.

He wondered if Emeka had said anything. The wounds he had inflicted on Emeka were superficial, nothing fatal. So he was alive. And she still wanted her price. She’d made it clear. It was all or he would go just like the others.

He never for once doubted that she could kill him.

“Get out of the way, mad man!”

The Okada rider slapped Simon as he narrowly missed Simon’s leg. Simon jumped, jolted out of his reverie by the slap. He had been walking sideways like a crab without even knowing it.

Surprised to find himself in the middle of the road, he tried to dodge a car which was rushing towards him. Passersby screamed at him to get out of the road, confusing him the more.

The car was already too close for him to avoid, so he braced himself for impact, shielding his face with his hand.

…

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEDNESDAY...

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