A story written by INEGBENOISE OSEODION OSAGIE. (07068221839, 08093828575, [email protected])
Treetops of different sizes swayed over the tall fence that was too high to jump. Richard strode left. Nothing resembled a gate or an entrance. There was a dilapidated two-storey building with an outside staircase. He scurried to the stairs, climbed and settled on the upmost step, which gave him a good view of the orchard and a fair portion of the clean wind. Two distant figures stood in the orchard. He placed his case by him, brought out his scope and peered through. Two men stood close, discussing. There were no arguments or anything resembling that. One of the men held a handgun, but it wasn’t pointed at the other. Two bags lay on the ground.
The man without a gun opened a bag and said something. It was a deal. Most likely a crime deal, but not the expected. The two men talked and dealt like criminals. Neither of them could be Ivie’s friend. Her friend might only be a victim in the hide. The police could take care of the situation. They should. He stopped scoping and fixed his scope in the case.
A blast of gunshot hit his ears, causing him to grab his scope and peer again. Holy Jesus. Someone was down on the floor, and a young woman held a gun. He mounted his scope to his rifle and peered, peered and peered again. How could that be possible? The woman was… his wife. The woman who just shot someone was his wife, was Ezinne. He positioned the scope firm to his eyes. It was his woman. She was spitting out words to the bleeding man.
Richard sat on the steps and passed his hands through his hair. What just happened? Sirens began from a distance. He looked at the three figures in the orchard and held his scope again. That woman was his wife, on her everyday blue top. The Ezinne he married had a man on the ground covered with blood. She positioned the pistol as if for another shot. The man with her snatched the pistol and also snatched the gun with the bleeding man. He grabbed the bags from the ground and said something to her, which was followed by them fleeing out of the orchard.
The sirens became more audible. Richard sat there, staring at his firearm kit, and unfolding all that happened the last minute. His wife definitely took his Glock pistol and his silencer.
Raindrops began hitting his head. He returned eyes to the orchard and turned them away at the sight of the shot man rolling in blood. Did… his wife do that?
Footsteps multiplied towards him, and a shout emerged. “Don’t move. Don’t touch the gun. Hands up.”
Oh.… He covered face with his palms and breathed into them.
“I said hands up. I need to see your hands above your head.” Two more officers joined. They aimed their Berettas at him.
He raised his hands. Saturdays were never good.
“It’s not above your head. I said I need to see them above your head.”
He raised them above his head. An officer strode to him, dipped hands in his pocket and brought out his mobile phone and keys. The officer clutched his wrists with a handcuff. Richard tightened fist and shut eyes.
“You’re under arrest, and you’re coming with us.”
He opened eyes and turned to the orchard. Two officers rushed the bleeding man into a wagon, and the others examined the scene. An officer shouldered Richard’s firearm kit.
He followed the officers’ lead. The surroundings now had countable number of persons who gawked as he headed to the police wagon. He stepped into the backseat and was accompanied by an officer. The wagon shuddered and moved.
The rains came in full force and gushed down the side window.
To Be Continued….