Chukwu was convinced.
Totally convinced.
As sure as he was about payday.
He poked his head out from behind a stack of diesel barrels.
Six of them.
They made for a terribly stuffy hiding place.
The barrels sat on a truck.
The truck sat on a dirt road.
The road led to Yantoto Hills.
Every part of that had been confirmed by Lanre's wife.
She'd said something about keeping an eye on him.
And checking in with the company.
That damned archaeologist would've left him behind in Lagos otherwise.
Chukwu pulled out a bottle of cologne and sprayed the barrels.
"Better," he muttered.
He settled back down among the rattling drums.
The roads were terrible.
He unlocked his phone and reread the Assistant Manager's message.
"Gather all available information before blowing up Yantoto Hills"
Information for what?
From what he'd heard, Yantoto Hills was the resting place of some deity.
What difference would information make?
The Assistant Manager was already a complete madman.
A professional madman with access to a cell phone.
Still...
As long as the salary kept going up.
He couldn't complain.
He often wondered how the company managed to increase everyone's pay every month.
It was insane.
Stranger still, the job itself was simple.
Hire laborers.
Work them to the bone.
Then pay them far less than they deserved.
Ping.
Ping.
His phone chimed.
A Champions League update.
Gyökeres (1) - (3) Manchester
"Yes!" Betting felt good when you won
He kicked one of the barrels.
It rocked sideways...
Tilted...
Then settled on top of the others.
A thin stream of diesel began leaking from its side.
"...Cologne isn't fixing that."
A knock came from the back of the truck.
"Who dey there?"
"No space, bros," Chukwu called.
"Oga Tony tell me make I stay here."
"Oya."
Chukwu heard the man settle back into the driver's seat.
The moment Tony's name came up, everyone relaxed.
As expected.
Tony had brought his clan along.
If Chukwu got caught now, Lanre would probably delay the truck.
Maybe even send him back.
Or...
He might not care.
That uncertainty.
God forbid he ever became anything like that archaeologist.
Born into a distinguished family.
A title to inherit.
Connections everywhere.
Yet he'd rather chase a dying career than use any of them.
A cursed man.
Getting married?
Fine.
People were strange.
But having a child...
...
Oh.
....
That idiot
Chukwu reached into his pocket and pulled out the wooden whistle Lanre had given him.
He held it up to the light.
"Why'd he give me this?"
He slipped the cord over his neck.
Then blew.
Air.
Just air...
And fractured...
Fractured...
Fractured...
...tured...
...ured...
...
Chukwu collapsed among the barrels In a small pool of diesel.
The truck, along with the convoy before and behind it, rumbled down the asphalt road.
Some trucks behind swirve trying to dodge the diesel spilling out.