Timi weaved through the morning bustle of Lagos, pushing past pedestrians and skirting between market stalls. Each step was driven by urgency as he glanced at his watch, watching the seconds tick down. The streets were alive with noise: the honking of impatient drivers, the calls of vendors selling bread, newspapers, and phone chargers. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead, a sign of both exertion and the relentless Lagos heat.
Ahead, he spotted the school bus pulling up at the stop just as it rounded the corner. Without hesitation, Timi broke into a full sprint, his backpack bouncing with each step. He reached the doors just as they were about to close and managed to jump in, gripping the rail for balance. The bus driver gave him a quick, unsmiling nod, his only acknowledgment of his effort. Timi, too breathless to respond, simply nodded back and makes his way to the back seat, where he slumped down, exhaustion settling into his limbs. He glanced out the window, watching the city blur past, and let his body relax.
The bus was quieter than usual. Most students were in their own world, engrossed in phones, listening to music, or chatting in low voices. Timi settled into his seat at the back, feeling the weight of his backpack pressing into him. The scenery outside blurred as the bus picked up speed, and as the rhythmic rumbling settled into a steady drone, Timi's eyelids grew heavy. Before he realized it, his mind started to drift, slipping from the bustling streets of Lagos into a different reality altogether.
---
The stillness is suffocating. I stand in a shadowed corridor, my grip on my rifle firm as I sweep my gaze over every inch of the space ahead. It's silent—too silent, as if the building itself is holding its breath. The walls are grimy, coated in layers of dust and decay, a reminder of forgotten times. I feel the weight of my team behind me, their silent presence a comfort in the darkness.
The corridor stretches out in front of me, barely lit, each step a potential hazard. My eyes scan each crack, each shadow, anticipating movement. Every sense is heightened, the air thick with tension as we inch forward, clearing each room methodically. Each door we pass, each empty hallway, only adds to the suspense; the silence hangs heavy, pressing down on us as we advance. My heart beats steadily, each pulse sending a fresh surge of adrenaline through my veins.
We approach a wide doorway leading into what seems like a large, cluttered room. I lift my hand, signaling the team to stop as I take a cautious step forward, glancing into the space beyond. The room is filled with old, broken furniture and scattered debris. My gaze catches on a faint glimmer in the far corner—a metallic flash that I recognize immediately. It's the objective, the package we came for. I give the signal, and my team fans out, covering every angle as we move toward the target.
As I approach the table where the bag sits, a sense of unease prickles at the back of my neck. Something isn't right. It's too quiet, too still, like the silence before a storm. My instincts scream at me to be cautious, but I can't afford to hesitate now. I extend my hand, fingers brushing the cold metal clasp of the bag, and in that split second, all hell breaks loose.
The door behind us slams open with a deafening crash, and I whirl around, my rifle at the ready as figures pour into the room, weapons raised. Everything slows. My training kicks in, and I drop to one knee, bringing my rifle to bear as I fire off a series of shots. The room erupts in chaos, gunfire echoing off the walls as bullets fly in every direction. I see my team spread out, each member taking cover and returning fire with deadly precision.
One of the attackers dives for cover behind a rusted filing cabinet, but I track his movements, squeezing the trigger and watching as he falls. The roar of gunfire fills the room, punctuated by the shattering of glass and the splintering of wood. Dust and debris swirl through the air, thickening the atmosphere and blurring the line between friend and foe. Another assailant charges at me from the left, swinging a crowbar. I sidestep, slamming the butt of my rifle into his jaw before taking him down with a swift, precise shot.
My second-in-command moves beside me, his face set in grim determination as he pulls a grenade from his belt. With a quick nod, he hurls it toward the doorway. The explosion is blinding, the shockwave sending debris flying as it momentarily clears the entrance of attackers. I seize the moment, grabbing the bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
"Fall back!" I shout, my voice barely audible over the chaos.
We move as one, covering each other as we retreat, our movements fluid and practiced. My rifle is an extension of myself as I fire suppressive shots, keeping the attackers at bay as we back out of the room. Each step is a calculated risk, every turn a potential ambush. My heart pounds, each beat matching the rapid-fire rhythm of the battle around us.
We burst through a side exit into an alley, but the danger isn't over. Another squad waits for us outside, their weapons raised, eyes cold and unforgiving. My instincts take over, and I dive for cover behind a stack of crates as bullets rip through the air around me. My team follows, each finding their own shelter as we engage in a deadly standoff, exchanging fire with our attackers in a desperate bid for survival.
Every shot is calculated, every move intentional, but the odds are stacked against us. I reload, my hands steady despite the chaos around me, and peek out from behind cover, taking down an enemy who's gotten too close. The alley is filled with the sharp crack of gunfire, the shouts of my team, and the relentless advance of our foes.
In the midst of it all, I feel the weight of the bag on my shoulder, a reminder of why we're here. The mission isn't over until we're out, until the package is secure. I glance over at my second-in-command, who meets my gaze with a determined nod. We're not done yet.
---
"Hey, you! Aboy! Wetin you still dey here for?"
The harsh voice snaps Timi back to reality, and he blinks, disoriented. He wasn't in a dusty alley, not surrounded by gunfire and enemies. He was still in the quiet of the empty school bus, staring up at the gruff face of the driver, who was frowning at him impatiently.
"Comot for here make you lap school!" the driver scolded, his English sharp and disapproving.
"Wetin you still dey here for? Na school bus be this, no be your papa bedroom!" The driver's voice was firm, yet there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.
Timi's heart was still racing, his pulse pounding as the adrenaline of the dream lingered, leaving a faint ache in his chest. He shook his head, gathering his wits, and managed a quick nod. "Sorry, oga." His voice was hoarse, as if he had actually been shouting commands, feeling the weight of that imaginary rifle in his hands.
He rose slowly, grabbing his backpack and stepping off the bus, his mind mostly half-rooted in that other world where he was a soldier. The familiar sounds of the school grounds began to anchor him back in reality, but the vividness of the dream clung to him, lingering in his mind like the taste of salt after a storm.
As he walked toward the gates, he was still half-caught in that other world, where every step was quite the calculated risk, where he wasn't just a student. Then he walked through the gates of Greenfield International School, he kept his head low, pulling his backpack higher on his shoulder, feeling the eyes of students who barely knew him glance in his direction. Some were regulars here, privileged, confident, accustomed to their world of comfort and ease. But Timi—he knew he was different, and that dream was quite a reminder of the divide that separated him from everyone else here, no matter who they were.
He takes a deep breath, grounding himself in the present, reminding himself that for now, he's just Timi—a student.
-----
Nila stepped onto the bus, her gaze immediately falling on her friends, who were seated a few rows up, animatedly discussing the latest gossip. Lian's face was partially hidden behind her jet-black hair, her focus on her phone, occasionally showing the others something on the screen. Next to her, Chiji leaned back in her seat, her Swiss-Nigerian features highlighted by the morning sun, an amused smile on her face as she listened. Across from them were Feyi and Claire, both laughing and tossing comments back and forth, their voices rising in excitement.
"Did you see the post from last night?" Lian waved her over, her phone's screen held up for a brief moment. "It was insane!"
Nila gave them a small smile, deciding to let them talk without her for once. "I'll sit back here," she replied, sliding into the seat directly behind them. She stretched out, letting her head rest against the window, the sun's warmth lulling her into a quiet, comforting space. The noise of her friends' chatter faded as she closed her eyes, feeling herself drift into sleep, a light, pleasant sense of weightlessness overtaking her.
---
When I opened my eyes, I found myself somewhere completely different. I was no longer on the bus; instead, I was sinking into the soft leather seat of a sleek, low-slung car. The interior was something out of a dream—luxurious, sophisticated, a blend of carbon fiber and cool, smooth leather. My fingers traced over the stitching as I took it all in, feeling the vibrations of the engine purring beneath me.
Outside, the world was bathed in early morning light, casting a warm glow over jagged cliffs that rose alongside a winding mountain road. Far below, a mist-cloaked valley stretched out like an endless canvas, painted in hues of pink and gold. Everything felt surreal, yet intensely vivid, as if I was both awake and still deep in a dream.
Next to me sat a figure in a dark, tailored suit, his face completely hidden by a reflective mask. It wasn't like anything I'd seen before—smooth, metallic, erasing any sign of expression beneath it. His gloved hands rested on the wheel of the car—a Lamborghini Aventador Roadster, I realized, its sharp, angular frame looking like something from another world. The engine's deep, rumbling growl sent a strange thrill through me, its power vibrating through my whole body.
I swallowed, trying to shake off the strange combination of fear and excitement that knotted in my stomach. "Where…where are we going?" I managed to ask, my voice sounding small in the space around us.
The man didn't turn his head, but I felt his gaze on me through the mask, a piercing presence even without visible eyes. "Does it matter?" he replied smoothly, his tone teasing, almost amused.
I crossed my arms, fighting to stay composed. "Yeah, it does. You show up out of nowhere, take me on some random drive through the mountains, and I don't even know who you are or where we're going. I think I deserve a little clarity."
He chuckled softly, his gloved hands gripping the wheel with a relaxed confidence. "Destination isn't everything, Nila. Sometimes the journey is what matters."
His words sent a shiver down my spine. I turned away, looking back out the window at the world rushing by. The road hugged the mountainside, dropping sharply to our right, the cliff plummeting into a dizzying expanse of empty air. Despite the precariousness, an odd calm washed over me, as though I was meant to be here.
"Okay, mystery man," I continued, turning to face him. "If you won't tell me where we're going, at least tell me who you are. I don't usually ride with strangers."
The masked man tilted his head slightly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Consider me…a guide of sorts. Someone who's here to show you a new perspective."
I let out a laugh, my disbelief bubbling to the surface. "A guide? You don't look much like a tour guide."
He shrugged, a casual gesture that only added to the intrigue. "Maybe not. But who's to say I'm not exactly what you need right now?"
I narrowed my eyes, studying him, hoping to catch some hint of his face through the mask. "That's a lot of confidence for someone who hasn't given me a single straight answer."
He tilted his head further, his voice edged with humor. "Isn't it more interesting this way? If I told you everything, where would the mystery be?"
I looked out the window, feeling my irritation blend with fascination. The car was picking up speed, the engine's growl intensifying as we took another sharp curve. My pulse quickened, a mixture of excitement and fear swirling within me.
"Fine," I said, playing along. "So, Mr. Mysterious Guide, what exactly are you here to show me?"
He let out a low laugh, warm but with a hint of darkness. "Maybe the question isn't what I'm here to show you, but what you're here to discover."
I felt a strange, electric tension coil in my chest. "And what's that supposed to mean? You're still talking in circles."
Another curve approached, sharper than the last, but he took it effortlessly, his hands moving in perfect synchronicity with the wheel. I couldn't help but watch him, the way he seemed almost fused with the car, as if it were an extension of himself.
"Sometimes, Nila," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur, "people need a little push to find out what they're truly capable of." His head turned slightly, the mask giving him an eerie, otherworldly aura. "Maybe this drive is just the beginning."
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. Something about his presence—the mystery, the danger—left me feeling unsteady, yet unwilling to back down.
The road stretched out ahead, opening into a wide expanse flanked by towering cliffs on either side. The car accelerated, and the landscape outside became a blur, colors and shadows blending together. My pulse thundered in my ears, keeping time with the roar of the engine.
Up ahead, I saw it: a massive petrol tanker, lumbering slowly along the road and taking up nearly the entire lane. My stomach clenched as I realized how fast we were closing in on it. I turned to him, expecting him to slow down or change lanes.
But he didn't. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, and the car surged forward, its speed doubling. The tanker loomed larger, and my heart pounded wildly as I calculated the seconds left between us and a collision.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice shaky, barely concealing the fear creeping in.
He didn't waver, his hands steady on the wheel. "Relax, Nila. Trust me."
"Trust you?" My voice rose, disbelief mingling with terror. "We're about to hit that tanker! You have to stop!"
He turned his head slightly, his voice calm, almost soothing. "Why are you so afraid of a little risk?"
I stared at him, feeling a surge of anger bubble up. "That's not a little risk! That's reckless! There's a difference!"
The tanker grew impossibly close, its towering frame blotting out the road ahead. Every instinct in me screamed to look away, to brace for impact, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the road, from the shadowed shape of the tanker blocking our path. My hands gripped the edge of the seat, my knuckles bone white, my breaths coming in rapid, shallow gasps.
"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the engine's roar.
The masked man tilted his head, a subtle acknowledgment, but he didn't slow down.
"Trust yourself, Nila," he murmured, his words barely audible, a whisper against the sound of my pounding heart.
I felt trapped, frozen, as the car raced forward, the tanker now looming like a monolith, its metal surface gleaming in the early light. A scream built in my throat, my pulse hammering in my ears. Just as the car was a heartbeat away from collision, I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact.
But instead of crashing, I felt a sharp jolt—a hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake.
---
"Nila! Hey, wake up!"
She snapped her eyes open, her heart pounding as she looked around. Her friends were staring at her, concern mixed with amusement on their faces. Lian still had her hand on Nila's shoulder, giving her a soft shake.
"Were you dreaming?" Lian asked, raising an eyebrow. "You looked like you were about to scream."
Nila blinked, trying to shake off the lingering fear. She could still feel the weight of the dream pressing on her chest, the image of that masked man and the petrol tanker vivid in her mind.
"Uh, yeah," she managed, laughing it off even though her hands were still shaking slightly. "Just… something weird."