Yetunde Chapter 3!🤩❤️

Chapter 3.

It had rained all through the night. A stormy night. Yetunde stirred in her bed countlessly while trying to get some shuteye. She could not sleep.

 After the call she had received 2 days ago from Dayo explaining that the Igbos were not backing down and were tearing their defenses down one by one, she had become scared.

Scared for him. 

Scared for the fact that she was a bullet away from becoming a widow. 

Scared for the troubles of the beautiful family she always wanted never materializing. 

In the midst of the fear, the anxiety and the sleeplessness, she gathered the courage to get up from the bed. She had a long day ahead and the dizziness she had been feeling for some days past was not helping. 

She finally found the courage and eventually got out of bed that morning, reminiscing the nights where she would roll over, bump into Dayo’s hard physique and relax at his touch. He had only been gone for a week but his absence felt like a couple of years.  She was in no way ready for another uneventful day, drowning in her sorrows. 

She dragged herself up to switch the television on. The little black and white rectangular box whizzed but after a few hits came roaring to life. 

The first thing she saw were bodies. Bodies. A lot of them lined up, some faces covered and some revealed. The glaring one being the face she recognized.  The ex-head of ammunition James, whose place Dayo had taken laid there lifeless and bloody. She drowned out the new caster’s words and focused on him. Wondering how bad the war had gotten for him to die. James was a very sensitive man. He was funny and knew how to whip up a good barbecue. But above all, he was strong. A very strong man undefeatable in a war. So what had happened? 

It came crashing down on her. If James was laid bloody and lifeless in her television screen, what was the fate of her husband? Was he part of those lying lifeless with covered faces? Would she receive a corpse soon? She rose and with newly found energy, dashed back into her room to retrieve her phone. Out of fear, she fumbled on the keys but when she eventually found the number, she dialed it with a speed she couldn’t quite fathom herself, saying a quick prayer to God to hear the voice of the only man she had ever loved. 

 

James was someone Dayo always looked up to. Like a role model or like a father? To say the death of James drove Dayo mad would be an understatement. James was the man who always had Dayo’s back in war. And James died for him? That single fact drove Dayo insane. The Igbos had come targeting him with the mindset that the war would be over if the Yorubas didn’t have a leader. 

As their plan progressed, in the midst of flying bullets, Dayo’s back was not protected. All he heard were gunshots followed by a loud huff as a body hit the floor. There he was, turning around to see a bloody James.  He held unto his friend in shock until he realized what had just happened. And like any reasonable friend would do, he wanted to save his friend’s life. Remembering the compulsory first aid classes he had taken, Dayo laid James’ plain back on the floor and began to try to extract the bullet from his body. In the midst of the fuss, he felt a comforting wet hold. James held his hand. 

“Let me die here. The most suitable place for a warrior to die is indeed the warfront.  Be good, my friend.”

Referring to them as warriors was always James’ cup of tea. Dayo always found the term funny but now? Nothing was funny anymore. He looked at his friend one last time, said a prayer for him and closed his eyes with his palm. The devastation hit him in all the angles. All Dayo saw was red. They had come for him yes? Then him, they would get!

After the invasion when things were fairly calm at camp, the lost soldiers were being accounted for. The remaining soldiers refused to be quiet. They were angry and wanted revenge. James was close to each and every one of them on a personal level and it hurt each of them gravely when they heard about the death of James. They wanted revenge and for the first time, Dayo didn’t oppose it. They wanted blood. 

The bodies of the men fell as 3 gunshots were heard. The shout of “For james” were too loud. The Yorubas wanted revenge. They had invaded the camp of the Igbos to fight for the life of their ex head of ammunition they just lost. They had successfully shot 20 men and were retreating back to their camp when about 5 hooded gunmen came to attack them. Dayo had dished out commands and was not worried about the 5 men. He was sure their death was coming. 35 men to 5? 3 of men were already dead with the other 2  attempting to run when Dayo ordered them to shoot one. Waving his hand forward, he asked his comrade to bring the last one to his knees in front of him. 

This Dayo wasn’t the one Yetunde knew, this Dayo wasn’t the one his fellow soldiers knew. This Dayo was the cold hearted man who just lost a man who was like a best friend to him. The opponent’s soldier shuddered under Dayo’s gaze. Dayo let out a hearty laugh.  A “warrior” as James always said never trembled in the face of death. He looked him in the eyes and told him with cold dead eyes 

“Go back and tell your people,

The war has just begun”. 

 

The phone rang continuously. Dayo was not taking the calls nor were any of his comrades. If anything was wrong, they would call her right? She had a right to know if her husband was okay or not, right? She was entitled to it. Who would she call? Who could she talk to? What would she do? She fumbled as she called the only person he could ask who wasn’t on a battlefield. He picked up after 2 rings. 

“Hi Mohammed. I’m sorry to bother you but have you seen the news? Have you heard from Dayo in a while? I haven’t heard from him! The war is getting terrible each and every second that passes. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. Do you think he’s okay? Do you think…” She continued ranting until Mohammed’s voice came through the line. 

“Breathe, Yeye. You’ll be fine. I’ll see what i can do to get across that strong headed husband for you.  You sound very stressed or like you need a friend. I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Do ensure to make a cup of tea for me or two when you’re at it. And remember, your husband is just fine. If anything happened, I would know by now.” 

She chose to believe his words. Mohammed was a very powerful man in the society with lots of connections. If truly, anything was the problem, he would know. She busied herself in making snacks and calling Dayo while waiting for Mohammed to arrive with hopefully good news on if her husband was okay. 

At exactly 1.30pm, she woke up screaming. She had slept off on the couch waiting for Mohammed. 5 minutes had turned to 2 hours. She had the worst dream. In it, she saw James’ corpse but it wasn’t just James. She saw Dayo’s face too. She was scared and didn’t even realize her phone had been ringing for a long time now. She picked it up and the most relaxing voice came through. 

“I’m fine Yetunde. Don’t worry your pretty head. I’ll tell you everything when I get back  home” 

Before she had the chance to reply her husband, the line went dead. She realized that he had probably looked for a phone to call her on to reassure her. She looked through her phone and saw 20 missed calls from Mohammed with a message that said

“Got roped in a meeting. Let’s do dinner?”

At first she was very angry with the message and of course the sender. Why was he treating it as a date when all she wanted was reassurance that her husband was okay? She had thought he would make some calls to check if he was okay to confirm for her. 

But let’s do dinner? She angrily texted a no thank you back to him and threw her phone back on the couch reminiscing her husband s voice. He had sounded so tired. So drained and she just hoped he was oaky. 

 

“Awon eleyi ma ku bi eshinsin, a sese bere” he heard one of the fighter Tobi, he called himself mutter. But Dayo wasn’t listening. He was thinking hard and deep on the preposition he received the night before from Chioma. He had just called Yetunde to reassure her of his safety when Chioma grabbed his arm, making his fingers slide over the end call button in the process. As usual, she had come not wearing a bra, breast jingling and dancing asking if they wanted palm oil with their roasted yam. Many of the men had accepted and some declined but grabbing his arm was uncalled for. He shrugged her off and she just smiled. 

“Chioma do you want something?” he demanded impatiently. He had no time for flirty gestures and had strategies to think of. The only woman who could ever catch his attention had a ring on her finger so he really wasn’t bothered with the batting of her eyelids Chioma was putting off. To him, she looked like someone having a stroke. 

“I need to tell you something. It’s very important.” She replied speaking lowly so no one else could hear.  What did she have to tell him? The palm oil was not original?

“Whatever you have to say, spill it out here. I don’t have time for this.” He replied quite harshly. Dayo had always been kind to women but there was something about Chioma that just ticked him off. The way she bit her lips seductively when talking to him? Or the way she always wanted to shove her breasts in his face?

“Well,I have secret information about the igbo’s next move.” 

He looked at her and laughed. Of course he didn’t believe her. Yes, she was Igbo and all but what information would she have to offer him? He was dwelling on the border of disbelief and annoyance when she said her next sentence that captured his attention. 

“I knew you would not believe me. Okay, look at this bullet” she said as she dipped her hands into her bra and brought out the same model of the bullet used to kill James. Dayo had never seen such a bullet before. When James was shot, the bullet was hard to pry from his neck. Instead, it got deeper as you tried to pry it out. To say he recognized the bullet would be underestimating but he still made himself appear uninterested. He wanted to hear what she had to say. 

During the whole time, she just stared at him. He was a hard man to read and an even harder man to seduce. She could only hope he believed her. She looked at him and when it was evident that he wasn’t going to reply, she continued. 

 

“Wasn’t this the bullet used to kill your best man?” He said nothing. No words of affirmation or even  a show that she had gotten through to him. She continued again. 

“Don’t you want to hear what I have to say now?”

He still said nothing. Just continued walking forward. She took it as an affirmation. So she followed him. To rattle about the fake lies to trap him. 

The war had truly just begun.