Matured Stories – Shadowguard

SHADOWGUARD

Opening sequence.

I will be among my fellow soldiers on the practice field if I haven’t already been fired. I wasted my time in the military, which is really wonderful.

How can I find Shola?

I turn to confront the restaurant manager, Mr. Biodun. His suit was always missing a button, and he was small and fat. I keep quiet as he shakes his head.

“Tell Shola he’s fired; all of you are not serious in this place.” Mr. Biodun kicks the counter and stamps his feet.

Shola hasn’t received payment in nearly two months, so I’m tempted to request that she be paid for last month’s income as well. If I had an option, I’d leave this place as quickly as possible.

But, sir, who will bring food to clients if you fire Shola?

After pausing, Mr. Biodun looks over to Ali, my coworker.

Can you ride a bike, Aboki? He queries.

Ali smirks. “I can’t, and my name isn’t Aboki,” I replied.

After hissing at Ali’s response, Mr. Biodun looked at me and asked, “Can you ride?”

“Me?” my eyes enlarge.

He bows “You, indeed. The delivery bike can you ride it?”

“Ok, check the order list and start delivering, make it fast,” he says as I nod and tilts his head in the direction of the entrance.

I groan and say, “Ok, sir,” as I remove my apron.

My shoulder is tapped by Mr. Biodun, who says, “Jare, you’ve been promoted.”

 

Being a delivery lady seems more lucrative than I had anticipated. Aside from the fact that I’m not standing around all day, the tips from customers have been better than I had anticipated.

It’s time to close now after hours of deliveries, but I still have one to make.

The clouds are forming and the sky is growing gloomy; soon it will rain. I accelerate the bike and veer into a lonely street with a few parked automobiles along the side of the road.

I mutter to myself as I ride through the rows of identical homes, “Number seventeen, Allen avenue.”

I slam on the brakes as soon as I see the home number and glance at the address once more on the phone’s screen. Finally.

In my left hand, I hold the enormous pizza that I am holding as I stand in the doorway. I cautiously knock on the door and wait like I always do. I knock once more but get no answer.

“Is she at home? There is not much time left.” I mumble.

I finally decide to make a call after numerous failed attempts, but a whimper at the other end draws my attention. A deep internal scream causes my heart to skip a beat, but it quickly stops.

There must be something sinister going on because my mind can’t stop thinking about it. I quickly turn the doorknob and rush inside without pausing.

As the door closes behind me, the pizza in my left hand falls, sending shockwaves through my entire body.

She is lying on her couch, lifeless with no eyes. A masked man with a knife covered in blood is standing next to her. He carefully places my customer’s eyeball inside a tiny bag made of leopard hide.

It’s unbelievable that I’m in the center of a crime scene and that the murderer is now staring directly at me. He seems less of a worry for me now that he is a few inches taller and holding an old, rusty knife.

 

He swings his knife at me, whistling past my ear as I avoid it. I move backward to gain a better distance from him because I don’t want to put too much distance between us. Both of us are playing it safe in this fair match.

He is in a relaxed position and is prepared to attack or defend at any time.

Both of us are breathing heavily, including me, who has sweat running down my forehead.

Never get stabbed in a knife fight is the most important lesson I learned while serving in the military. I grab him by the wrist and jab him in the neck with my elbow, despite not having an arm.

The masked man’s knife falls to the ground, and I quickly kick him in the chest, knocking him to the couch next to the dead woman. The knife vanishes from view and reappears in his hand as I reach for it.

He raises the blade and prepares to strike.
My heart rate increased. I don’t know how he got the jump on me, but I also don’t want to die or lose this fight. He lunges at me once more, almost reaching me with his arm. I do, however, miss getting a neck slit. I quickly lean over the couch and kick the knife out of his hand.

The moment his weapon touches the carpet, it vanishes and then reappears in his grip.

This isn’t normal, and I don’t even have time to be astonished by what just transpired.

He lunges at me once more while holding a long knife. I wait until he gets closer before raising my right hand over my head and suddenly pushing the knife down with my left hand. Sadly, it slips from his left grip, and a sudden pain shoots up to my rib.

 

As warm blood seeps from my sides, I collapse to the ground. I groan in agony, get back to my feet, and lift my face to see a quick fist strike my nose. I drop to the ground face-down and look up to see the mask man standing on top of me.

All I can think about while his knife is aimed directly at my throat is dying. I’m really going to pass away. Due to significant blood loss, my vision becomes hazy. He lowers his knife gradually, but an external siren stops him.

The assailant stands up, peers out the window, shakes his head, and walks away from me. Red and blue light suddenly flashes into the room, sending a sigh of relief down my spine. When he abruptly leaves as if he never existed, I feel anxiety once more.

This is my first time coming into contact with a supernatural being, and my name is Bunmi.

To be continue