Chapter 2: Flight II
January 2000
(Nigeria)
***
"Oh no!!!" Joseph's heart pounded violently against his ribs as his breath hitched in his throat. Before him lay a sight that defied reason—vehicles abandoned in sheer panic, doors left ajar, engines still running as if their drivers had fled mid-motion. The eerie silence between the chaos made his skin crawl. Something was deeply, terrifyingly wrong.
Then—**Bang! Bang!!** The sharp crack of gunfire tore through the air, ricocheting off metal and concrete. Instinctively, Joseph ducked, his pulse skyrocketing. Screams echoed in the distance, drowning in the merciless barrage of bullets. Smoke curled upward from burning wreckage, the acrid scent of gasoline and gunpowder mixing into a suffocating fog. His mind screamed for direction—forward or stay and perish?
And then, like lightning striking his thoughts, an idea jolted through him. Instead of weaving through the maze of abandoned cars—**go around them**. No hesitation. He gritted his teeth, hands tightening around the steering wheel.
**Throttle down.** Tires screeched as he swerved onto the sidewalk, maneuvering past shattered glass and toppled street signs. Every second counted. Every move determined survival.
***
**Bang! Bang!!**
Barely scraping past the wreckage of abandoned vehicles and the deafening barrage of bullets, Joseph slammed the brakes—**too close**. The tires screeched in protest, his heart pounding against his ribs. His hands tightened on the wheel as his breath came in ragged gasps. Just ahead, barely inches from disaster, stood a woman. **Pregnant. Vulnerable. A survivor.**
Her eyes, wide and desperate, met his.
"Please help us!" she pleaded, her arms protectively cradling the weight of life growing within her—a weight far too fragile for a world drowning in war.
Joseph hesitated. The chaos swallowed his mind in a storm of doubt. Just moments ago, he'd maneuvered past a battlefield of abandoned cars, weaving between twisted metal and death itself. **Survival meant moving forward**—he couldn't afford to hesitate. But the woman didn't back down.
"No, don't leave!" she begged.
***
**Lola's POV (Mrs. Sunday)**
Joseph's voice was the first thing I heard after the relentless ringing in my ears.
"Oh no!!!" his voice snapped me back to reality, but the weight of dread already sat in my chest.
With my head still low, I sneaked a glance at him. Fear. Love. Care. It was all there, carved into the tight grip on the wheel, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. But there was something else—**determination**. He wasn't about to let death corner us.
The engine roared, and Joseph hit the throttle, pushing forward, leaving behind the chaos—but never escaping it. The fight for survival wasn't over. **It was only beginning.**
Then, without warning—**brakes slammed.**
The jolt sent terror ripping through my veins. **Why stop?! Why now?!**
My regret clawed at me, screaming inside my head. We should have left earlier, before the attack, before the war claimed another family. But we stayed—we had **said our goodbyes**, and now they threatened to swallow us whole.
**"Please help us!"**
The voice pulled me upward. Against the weight of dread, I lifted my gaze—and froze.
**A woman. Just like me. But heavier.** Maybe five months in. Her exhaustion mirrored my own, her fear clawing through the air between us.
I turned to Joseph. He met my stare. **He didn't want to help. It was dangerous.**
**"No, don't leave,"** she whispered, her voice cracking. **"My husband… he died this morning. The rebels... Please help."**
Joseph's jaw tightened, his mind fighting a war of its own. Taking her in was a risk. **A massive one.**
She swallowed, desperate. **"At least… let me carry his child. Don't let them die in this chaos, too."**
Joseph turned to me. **I was the deciding vote.**
My heart clenched, my chest burning with the weight of the choice. I met his gaze. **Nodded.**
Without a word, Joseph caved.
**"Quick, get in the back!"**
A soft sob slipped from her lips as she hurried in.
**"Thank you,"** she whispered.
Joseph didn't answer. His grip on the wheel returned, the weight of survival pressing hard against our fragile existence. The engine roared once more, pulling us forward—but war didn't let go that easily.
**The journey wasn't over. Not even close.**