Chapter 2: Ten Days for Goodbye

When I dey hang for the city wall, na small thing remain make I die finish. Beating, branding, whipping—everything Musa suffer for him last life, I don chop am for this one because of am. As I dey near death, I spy am under the wall, and joy just rush my body.

Harmattan breeze blow my wound, dey sting me pass salt, but my mind still dey sharp. My skin dey pepper, back dey bleed, but as I see Musa, e be like say my spirit waka commot from my body, dey watch am from far. I dey wonder why I still dey happy to see am after all the wahala.

So, when the person hanging on the wall turn to me, he fit come too.

That moment, crowd quiet small, like say spirit waka pass. I dey try lock eye with am, hope say my last message go reach am. Sometimes, spirit dey talk loud for silence.

I gather all my remaining strength, open mouth, wan shout make e no worry about my life or death. But before words fit come out, arrow just fly—no delay—enter my heart.

Na real Naija soldier—e no dey waste time. My mouth open, words stick. Before I form sentence, arrow don land. Wall people shock, even enemy mouth open like say dem see masquerade.

He really want me dead.

The way him hand steady, no shake—na soldier blood. My heart cut, but na that finality for him eye pain me pass. This one no be play at all.

Smoke dey rise, fire dey burn, war drums dey sound, but my side quiet. My chest get hole, blood dey rush out, but pain no even reach me. He hold my broken body, and for his eyes, I see one kind gentle look wey I never see before.

All the wahala and confusion just vanish. I dey float, like say rain dey touch my skin but I no dey wet. I look am, see small water for his eye—abi na sweat? But I know say Naija man no dey cry for public. Still, the thing pain am reach bone.

"I no fit let the soldiers and people behind me take this kind risk. No matter who e be, I go do the same thing. I no get choice. Aisha, for this life, I owe you."

Him voice soft like after morning prayer. World dey noisy but our own place quiet like old shrine. I wan answer, but mouth weak. I just dey look am, spirit dey float.

I smile. Maybe even him no know say, wetin he owe me pass this life.

For my mind, I dey count all the sacrifices—some wey even he no go remember. Life fit be cycle, but debt for heart na heavy load. Maybe for another world, e go balance.

Once, for this same place, same wahala, he drop all him weapons, dismiss three battalions, waka enter city alone, die after all the torture—just because the person hanging for wall that time na Halima, no be me.

Dem say pikin wey mama love no dey die for road, but for Musa own, na love nearly finish am. I remember am well—sun hot, sand dey enter eye. He throw sword, open hand for enemy, waka like lion wey no fear death. Everybody shout say this general craze. But na love dey push am. Halima dey wall that time, no be me.

He get choice that time. Na just say the person wey he choose no be me.

Na so e be for life—choice dey, but sometimes heart no dey carry everybody. My pain na like pebble for shoe, always there, nobody see am.

System, the task don finish abi? I fit comot now?

[Alright... Please wait for the system to finish calculating. Estimated completion in ten days.]

I for jump up, but strength no dey. I just sigh, make spirit relax. Ten days again?

With arrow inside my chest, I still suppose stay for ten more days?

Body weak, mind strong. I look sky, ask myself if na punishment or na blessing to still dey here.

The system just quiet.

Wetin dey happen?

Na so e dey do sometimes, like old generator wey dey refuse start. My own case be say even machine don tire for my matter.

[Madam, you fit choose not to go. The task don finish; you fit stay here and no return to the apocalypse.]

Opportunity dey, but which one better? Stay here with pain, or go back to hunger? My mind dey do like harmattan breeze—no direction.

I smile talk, but my voice get one kind bitter taste.

"Here no even reach apocalypse level."

Small laugh escape my mouth—bitter but true. I don see apocalypse, this place na small play. Hunger dey worry me pass for my real world, so this small pain na nothing.

Yes, Musa live pass twenty-seven; my task succeed. I fit go back to real world, live pass my own twenty-seventh year... I wan go back. I wan go back sharp sharp.

The hunger, the cold, even struggle for water—everything dey my mind. Na only hope of better life dey push me. I dey count days like prisoner wey dey wait freedom.

After I wait for long, system finally talk.

[Okay, Madam, I promise: for these ten days, you no go suffer any pain or wahala. You fit dey healthy and happy, and take time say proper goodbye to this world.]

System voice come like cold zobo for hot day. Ten days to arrange my life, clear ground, make peace. E remain small make I thank am sef.

Na the last benefit wey system give me be this. E wan make person wey full of wounds and arrow for chest use these last ten days well.

I shake head. Even machine sabi say sometimes, person need time to close chapter well. E no good make story hang.