Chapter 11 – The Midnight Meeting
The night dark, the street quiet, but my heart dey beat like drum for Lagos festival. Midnight don near, and I dey Apata junction. Every step I take, echo dey follow me.
I carry small torch, my bag on shoulder, hand tight on pocket where I hide small knife. Samson warn me plenty times, "Bro, no go alone!" But I know say this one na my fight to settle. If I no face Duke, Lagos past go follow me forever.
I reach junction, empty except for two streetlights flickering. Rain don fall small earlier, so road dey slippery. I hear footsteps behind me — slow, steady.
"Come forward," voice whisper.
I turn — na Duke. He stand under one flicker, coat dey shine faintly for light. Him face serious, but calm.
"Me? Alone?" I ask.
He nod. "Yes. No Samson, no backup. Just you and me."
I swallow. My throat dry. "Wetin you wan show me?"
He sigh. "Seyi, make we clear air before more blood dey spill. Wetin happen for Lagos no be only fight for street. E deep pass. Baba Eko dey plan bigger — empire. And you — you enter him way small when you help me escape."
I pause. "Empire? Wetin you mean?"
Duke step closer. "Baba Eko na man wey dey control every gang for Lagos west side — Oshodi, Mushin, Agege. Him no dey just fight. Him dey collect money from every small hustle. And you, Seyi… you cross him when you rescue me. Him think say you don betray him."
I feel cold. "But I no betray am. I only save life."
He nod. "True, but for street, loyalty dey measured with blood. Na why him set eyes for you."
I take deep breath. "So you come now? Wetin you wan from me?"
Duke look around, whisper: "I wan warn you. Him don set new boys — hungry, strong, no mercy. Dem dey trace you for Ibadan. If you no prepare, e fit end bad."
I grip small knife tighter. "So wetin I suppose do?"
He look me deep, eyes serious. "You get choice. You fit run, hide for Ibadan. But Lagos no dey forget. Or you fit fight. But this fight no be only gun — na mind, strategy, patience. You fit rebuild, but e go test every bone for body."
I shake head. "And you? Wetin you wan do?"
He smile faint, almost sad. "Me? I dey exile. I disappear. But I no fit leave you alone. Na why I come tell you. Lagos shadow dey behind you, my brother. Decide now. Run or rise?"
Silence follow. Only night sound dey — distant horn, dripping water from gutter, small whisper from wind.
I think about Samson, the boys, Tola, Pastor Ade, our workshop, all the progress we make.
I know say if I run, peace go temporary. Lagos go still haunt me.
"Rise," I finally whisper. "No more running."
Duke nod, small respect dey for him eyes. "Good. Na the right choice. But remember, fight no dey straight road. You go need allies, strategy, and courage."
Before I fit ask more, he turn and disappear like shadow.
I stand alone for junction, rain don start fall again — small drizzle, enough to wet hair, cold for skin.
I whisper to myself: "This night no dey easy. But Lagos never stop me before, I go survive again."
Next morning, I go workshop. Samson dey repair fan. I try act normal, but my mind dey plan.
"Guy, you dey alright?" he ask.
I smile small. "Yeah… yeah. Just thinking."
He no ask more. Him sabi say whenever I quiet, na Lagos shadow dey follow mind.
We continue work. But I notice the boys dey anxious. Even Tunde dey check street every five minutes. I call them together later:
"Listen, my people. Lagos no forget. But we no dey run again. We go prepare. We dey build workshop, we dey train youth. Nothing go stop us. I wan make una trust me."
They nod slowly. Stone speak: "Bros, if you dey ready, we dey ready too."
Wasiu smile small. "If street want war, make dem try. We no dey back down."
Weeks pass. We dey strengthen workshop, build network, train boys well.
But tension dey hang. Small incidents happen — one of our old customers almost attack Stone, thinking say he be Lagos boy in disguise. Another time, unknown call dey threat Samson.
One night, Tola call me. Voice trembling:
"Seyi, I don hear Lagos boys dey look for you. You dey safe?"
I calm small, hold phone tight. "I dey safe, Tola. Don't worry. I plan every move. I no go let anything happen."
She sigh. "God go protect you, my brother."
By night, we dey plan next moves. I teach boys how to secure workshop, check perimeter, plan escape if wahala reach. Samson dey handle backup generator, batteries, communication. Every small tool become weapon for survival.
We no dey fear, but we dey cautious. Lagos no dey forgive mistakes.
Then one afternoon, news burst like bomb:
"Police announce raid on gangs in Oshodi and Agege. Several arrests made."
I pause reading. Heart dey race. Could be trap or chance. Could be new opportunity.
I show Samson. "This fit change things for us — Lagos maybe dey clean, or e go scatter."
He frown. "Na gamble, bro. But we dey street smart now."
I nod. "Exactly. Street don teach us patience, observation, courage. We fit survive."gv
That night, I write again in my journal — same one wey I carry since Lagos.
"The fire don return. But this time, we no dey burn. We dey learn, plan, and rise. Lagos shadow dey everywhere, but light go still shine. My story never finish. Only the brave fit write ending."
Next morning, I go see Pastor Ade. "Pastor, Lagos still dey behind me. But I don decide — no more fear. We dey ready."
He nod, smile faint. "My son, courage no be absence of fear. Na how you face am."
I leave church, step outside. Sun dey shine for Ibadan — small peace, enough to recharge spirit.
But deep inside, I sabi: Lagos shadow dey wait. And when e strike again… only preparation, strategy, and courage go save us.
That night, I dream Lagos — streets wet with rain, siren dey sound, shadow dey lurk.
I dey smile fisper: "You no go stop me, Lagos. I go rise."