He said he wanted to be a soldier. He wanted to be the hero who would save innocent people across the country, so they wouldn’t experience the horrible things he passed through as a child. The times were so difficult, and he waited every evening for a miracle, and for his Papa to climb out of the shallow grave under the mango tree in his compound. As though he didn’t witness a full magazine empty into his father’s body that unfortunate Thursday evening, he would, with a loaf of bread, tease his father to eat.

           People said his father was a fool for thinking he could outwit Salk, the lord of the underground. After all, what was a loaf of bread that he couldn’t forfeit to Salk in exchange for his life? And they were right. When his mother couldn’t afford to feed him and his two younger sisters, she would lift her skirts high for those miserable-looking men who reeked of sweat and alcohol, to fulfill their desires on her buttocks at every corner of the road, for a handful of coins and one or two loaves of bread. Wherever he went, he was derided. He was called the Fool’s son or the Harlot’s son. However, he happened to grow a thick skin from such insults earlier than expected.

          Each night he returned from the day’s hustle and bustle, he would recline in his father’s rocking chair and think. He would thank God—if God could hear him—for keeping his sisters pristine at seventeen, in a community where their mates had already done five abortions. He swore to work tooth and nail to ensure that they remained that way despite knowing their mother’s unpleasant occupation. He would protect them till he could afford to take them out of the community.

          But his fears came sooner than he thought. One Monday morning, while mixing and serving concrete at the site he worked, he overheard two workers talking about the girls they were going to have a swell time with, and his sisters’ names came up. He immediately flared up and pounced on the nearest of the men. Blows, bottles and stones went flying, leaving trails of blood everywhere. This would stand as one of the pivotal moments in his life’s trajectory.

          Lieutenant Baby Poison was the name they called her. Baby because she had the face of a child and would definitely be catcalled if she passed a group of teenagers. Poison because she didn’t give the men the juice they would expect from a foxy lady living in that community. In retrospect, it was said that she carried poison between her legs, and could easily use her assets to throw a scumbag behind bars.

           She received the distress call and immediately responded with her team, teargassing all that were at the scene of the fight, and rounding up all the suspects. That would not be the first time the other suspects would be sleeping behind bars. In fact, when they arrived at the cell, they were hailed by other inmates, cheered for remembering the hood. He stood in a corner of the cell, after being harassed physically and otherwise. He realized that his attempt at bravery had only attracted more unholy eyes to his sisters’ waists.

          On the next morning, Lieutenant Baby Poison brought him in for interrogation. She noticed the red that drew from somewhere in his shirt and wrapped around his neck.

          “How did you get the mark on your neck?”

          He stared hard at the floor.

          “I’m talking to you. Can’t you talk?”

          His breathing was heavy with puffs.

          “I see. I guess you aren’t comfortable with my approach.” She smiled at him, “You are a very good-looking young man with a promising future. Do you know that?”

          His face tightened in confusion. He wondered what trap she was setting for him this time. She was beckoning him to confide in her—going against her professional ethics—claiming that she could see the innocence in his eyes. After an hour of questioning, she did the impossible: she paid for his bail.

          She promised she was going to deal with the scumbags back in the cell. But more importantly, wanted to meet with his family. He was taken aback by this sudden interest in his wellbeing, worse from a law enforcement officer. He knew his mother would feel uneasy too. Their family wasn’t on the wrong side of the law but everyone had their skeletons locked away in a cupboard.

         The day she visited was a memorable one. The house hadn’t been that spick and span since the day his father bought a sim card many years ago. Then, for one to have a sim card, he was regarded with high esteem because it cost a fortune. As she knocked on the door, he silently hoped that her coming would somehow bring joy to his family.

          And to a reasonable extent, it did. She spoke to his mother about her desire to sponsor him through the university. She also promised to connect him with someone she knew who could give him a job so he could work after his classes. His mother would be enrolled in a skill-acquisition program for widowed women and his two sisters, in a bakery. His mother was short of words. She prayed earnestly for her, beseeching the Heavens to bless Lieutenant Baby Poison for her sake.

          “Whatever I do for your family is for the greater good of society. I was once like him, careless and without direction and I would have ended in a terrible situation if not for the right persons that saved me,” she said.

          He was glad, speechless even. Good things were happening to him too fast. And he was amazed that his family’s saviour, this woman, demanded nothing more from him except to stay out of trouble, especially the evil that lurked in his community. He was content doing that. He also did not mind feigning to have gotten into trouble so he could be arrested by Lilian—she told him her name one evening—only to be released the following day after an overnight sex servicing.

          He soon got the wrong eyes on him. Salk visited him one evening with a chance to become what he always wanted to become. Salk promised to make him a soldier of a Cross of Toads, the community cult. He was not given a choice though. Salk swore to do worse to his sisters and mother than he had done to his father if he thought it wise to turn down the offer, or worse still, involve Lieutenant Baby Poison.

          He learnt that his father worked as an engineer in the oil well his community housed. And Lieutenant Baby Poison was among the police officers posted in the community to ensure that the government’s oil exploration went on undisturbed, amidst the numerous complaint that the government work was making their land inhabitable. Their land and water bodies were polluted and so, their crops, livestock and fishes died in their numbers. This made poverty and crime the order of the day. On the fateful day his father was shot, he learnt that his father was returning from the plant, wearing the government workers’ overall and there had been a protest against the evils of the government earlier that day. His father was stopped by Salk and his men who were looking to extort him. He learnt that his father tried to oppose, questioning Salk’s men. They claimed the government had taken their daily bread, and this was the only way they could survive.

          This discovery made him hate the government: the people who took the good fortune of his people and the life of his father. The attack on some of the government workers, including expatriates attracted amnesty to the community because the government could only do the necessary things when they were badly hit. He hated to be among those men, covered with mud and grass, slithering through bad roads to kidnap government workers, but he knew he had no choice—refusal would make him a coward, and endanger the lives of his mother and sisters.

          Lilian, half-drunk one evening, decided to confide in him.

          “Today is the sneakiest you’ve been lately,” she moan-talked.

          “I don’t understand,” he replied, fixing his gaze on her.

          She fondled his nipples, one after the other and bit his neck. “You always almost get us caught daily, my darling. But today, not even the greatest detective would suspect that you and I were acting a script. I should give you the naughtiest positions today. Don’t you think so?”

          He smiled and his eyes widened in excitement.

          “The government is planning something big. This plan is going to take out all the militant soldiers once and for all.”

He looked shocked. She saw the child-like innocence in his eyes and fell hard. It was difficult not to love him. She made him swear that no ear was going to hear what they discussed that evening.

          “I would be stupid to tell another soul a word of what you’ve said.”  

          She, like the first time they spoke, acted out of sentiment. She told him to get all his belongings and those of his family ready because, in five days, the government was going to erase the community from the map with bombs. The operation would commence immediately after a kidnapped expatriate was rescued. She called it Operation HAWK. But she noted that she needed his help to infiltrate the Cross of Toads.

          His jaw dropped again, this time, wary of his discovery. She opened up about her initial intentions. She had approached him as a mission, hoping to gain his trust by being the good Samaritan. Prior to their meeting, she had done some research on four young men she predicted Salk would conscript into the army of the Underground, and was lucky that her bet was correct. However, she had not planned for all the things being with him did to her body. How his baritone voice sent chills down her spine to places she wouldn’t mention, how she longed to worship at his feet, to play with his microphone. It was this newfound love that made her spill the beans. She could not sit back and watch as he and his family were wiped off with the others. To placate his fears, she promised to relay his name to the relevant authorities as the informant—and with the money he would be paid, his generation would never know want and poverty again.

          “I can assure you that you have more to lose if you decline my offer, my darling.”

          He took the offer with both hands. He envisioned himself in the Big City, living his best life. He had always desired to be able to cater to the needs of his family and he wasn’t going to lose that chance. He demanded to be paid before he became Judas and three-quarters of the agreed sum was deposited.

          He exposed the location of the hideout of Salk and the kidnapped expatriate. Things however took a different turn out when Lilian and her troops arrived at the location and to their greatest surprise, were met with strong opposition from Salk’s men. Lilian followed the directions he gave her and met with Salk—more like he was waiting for her to either kill him and free his hostage or surrender and be killed.

          When he got to the hideout, he was shocked. The two fighters had decided to do away with weapons and go physical. Lilian heaved a sigh of relief when she saw him. Her mouth had been badly bruised by blows. Salk, on the other hand, snorted upon seeing him.

          “Bastard!” Salk shouted.

          He swallowed hard and threw his face away. Salk repeated his insult, swearing to do bad things to him. He cocked his gun and got their attention.

         “I am at a crossroads here, my darling,” he smiled. He turned to Salk, “Don’t think I have forgiven you. I swore to avenge my father’s death.” Salk hissed, unconcerned that a gun was pointed at him. Lilian begged him with her eyes to do the right thing, but he smiled and pointed the gun at her. “My darling, thank you for the good things you’ve done for me and my family. You are a good woman truly. But you don’t need to worry yourself today because the expatriate you came looking for has since met Jesus.”

          He placed the gun on his head and cried for his mother and sisters. They wouldn’t look at him the same way when they found the truth. Salk dared him to pull the trigger and Lilian begged him not to.

          He pointed his gun away from himself, and towards the two individuals waiting for the outcome of his decisions. He cried when he pulled the trigger because he knew he had no choice. Blood is indeed thicker than water.  

_{Arinze Daniel Udoye is a student physiotherapist at Nnamdi Azikiwe University. He is known commonly as drwaters or your wahala friend. He writes Nigerian coming-of-age, youth, and young adult fiction. He believes that with his stories, he can twist the emotions of his readers to his will.}

_{When he is not a student, he loves to make beautiful ladies laugh, one story at a time.}