Spirit King: Return of the Crown

by Dashiel Douglas

  A couple minutes passed. Jeylan peered down the dank hallway. “Somethin’ ain’t right. She’s acting all strange.”

  A whir hummed in the distance. Jeylan scuttled to the window. “It’s a helicopter! Chipo didn’t say anything about a helicopter.” Jeylan scooped up his backpack. “We gotta roll!”

  The whirring intensified as the helicopter settled behind the building. Just then, the office door was flung open violently, slamming the wall. A burly man appeared attired in military khakis, a stretchy T-shirt that accentuated his veiny muscles, a black ski mask, and a patch over his left eye. As if that wasn’t terrifying enough, he carried a serrated hunting knife on his hip, a pistol in his belt and a machine gun over his shoulder. He looked like a one-man army. The boyz let out a collective gasp.

  The soldier stalked over to them. “Sit down!” he barked, glaring through his good eye. Kazim shuddered, then fell into his chair obediently. Jeylan sat defiantly. And Marley just stood frozen, like a deer in headlights.

  “I said sit!” The soldier thrust Marley hard into the chair, banging him against the wall. Marley’s glasses dangled, clinging to his face.

  The soldier’s phone buzzed. He raised it to his ear. “I can’t hear you,” he said, plugging his other ear with his finger. “Turn off the engine.” The helicopter’s rotor blades slowed to a stop. “Yeah, they’re all here,” he replied. “No, not yet. I’ll get it now.”

  The soldier returned his attention to the boyz. “So let’s make this snappy, shall we. I believe you have something that belongs to us.” The boyz wilted. They knew exactly what this guy wanted. “Let’s not make this difficult.” The soldier aimed his pistol at them one by one. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” he threatened. “Let’s see, which to shoot first. I think the chunky one.” He halted the gun at Marley.

  “Hey, hey. That’s not chunk,” Marley prattled, obviously terrified. “It’s just leftover baby fat. My mom said it’s a genetic thing. Apparently, we’re a family of late bloomers. I think it—”

  “Shut up!” the soldier growled.

  “Sorry,” Marley murmured, one eye now twitching. “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. Started when—”

  The soldier tightened his lips and crammed his gun into Marley’s nose, crushing it flat. Marley’s eyes bulged. He threw his hands in the air.

  “What are you doing?” the soldier spat. “Put your hands down! You’re not under arrest. I’m just gonna shoot you in the face.”

  “Stop!” Jeylan intervened. “Enough.” He unzipped his backpack and removed the cassette. “Here.” He tossed it to the soldier. “Now leave him alone.”

  The soldier tapped the tip of Marley’s nose. “Chunky boy, you’re lucky to have friends that won’t let your brains get splattered all over the wall.”

  The soldier phoned the person in the helicopter. “I got it. I’m coming out now.” He paused. “Are you sure? Ok,” he said hesitantly. He put the phone on speaker and faced it toward the boyz. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

  A man’s voice gloated, “I want to thank you guys for finding the package. I couldn’t have done it without you. I’ve been looking for it for fifteen years,” he chuckled. “And it’s been right here under my nose the whole time.

  “I have to admit, I caught a lucky break. My buddy here knows Chipo. They did business together a long time ago. So when I found out that D’Melo snuck into Kipaji, my gut told me that Chipo had to be involved.”

  The boyz exchanged looks, surprised that this guy knew D’Melo by name.

  “Who else would have been able to smuggle him into Kipaji?” the man continued. “So I did some digging and discovered that Chipo and D’Melo’s mom were friends in college. I put two and two together and here we are.

  “But you shouldn’t be upset with Chipo. She didn’t cave in easily. We offered her a stack of money to give you guys up. She refused. We threatened to kill her. She still didn’t cave. But then we uncovered the one thing that cracks even the most loyal and headstrong rebel. Chipo has a child. She hid him well, but not well enough. We found him way out in sticks with her parents. As soon as Chipo saw her son with my buddy, she was ready to give us anything we wanted. Children are magic!

  “After my buddy took care of the border patrol guards, the only thing left was for Chipo to coax you over the bridge. And the rest, as they say, is history.

  “Well guys, it looks like my job here is done. It’s been a real pleasure doing business with you.”

  The soldier asked, “Do you want me to get rid with them?”

  The boyz’ eyes shot open.

  “No. Let them go. They’re just kids.”

  “But, they know too much.”

  “Without the package, who would ever believe them? They’re nothing but ghetto hoodlums.”

  “I don’t know about this,” the soldier asserted.

  “I’m not a killer. But make no mistake, if any of them decide to open their mouths, I give you permission to pay their families a visit.” There was a brief pause. “Let’s see here. Darren and Jocelyn Kendrick.”

  The boyz’ terrified eyes darted to the phone.

  “They must be Jeylan’s parents.” Jeylan’s jaw clenched. “1471 Stone Street.” The man then said the names and addresses for Kazim’s and Marley’s families.

  The soldier clicked off the phone. “You’re lucky he has a heart. If it were up to me—” he sneered, then sloshed out to the helicopter.

  Chipo’s head poked cautiously from the office. She shuffled out holding her four-year-old son, whose face was buried in her neck. She rocked him comfortingly. “It’s over. We’re going home now.”

  She turned to the boyz, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry! They had my child.”

  “We get it,” Jeylan sympathized. “You gotta take care of yours.”

  “But Mujiza and Diata sacrificed their lives for the recording. And now the truth about Dimka will never be known.”

  “Or, maybe it will,” Jeylan smirked. “Marls, please tell me you were recording what happened here with your nerd glasses.”

  Marley lifted his cheek and shrugged.

  “Marley!” Jeylan fired, throwing his hands up exasperatedly.

  Kazim glared at Marley. “You record me going to the bathroom, but you don’t record this dude taking the evidence and threatening to kill us and our families!”

  “Well,” Marley asserted. “When you were in the bathroom, I didn’t have a gun in my nose. My mind was a bit preoccupied with thoughts of my face hanging from the wall!”

  “Man,” Jeylan said half-jokingly. “I should have just let that dude shoot you!”

  “Now that’s just rude,” Marley quipped. “If you did—” a triumphant smile creased his eyes, “then you wouldn’t have known that I recorded the cassette when we played it in the alcove.”

  “Noooo,” Jeylan purred, his eyes gaping.

  “Now who’s the man!” Marley gloated.

  Jeylan said, “Dang, dawg. Why you gotta ruin a beautiful moment? That saying went out in the eighties . . . with Kaz’s Jheri curl.” They burst into uproarious laughter.

  Jeylan and Kazim jumped on Marley jubilantly. His chair toppled over. They chortled, clapping Marley on the back.

  Marley then played the recording. They leaned in.

  “Hey, turn that up!” Jeylan said, wanting to make sure he was correct about what he was hearing.

  After a few seconds, Marley shut it off. Only the lash of the rain cut the unnerved silence in the room. They realized that the man in the helicopter was the second voice on the recording.

  “Oh, God,” Chipo hummed, a frightful grimace overwhelming her face. “I gotta get you guys out of here!”

  They ran to Chipo’s pickup truck and tore for the airport.

  The sizzle of lightning followed by thunderous blasts conjured dreadf
ul thoughts in D’Melo’s addled mind. Zara and the boyz were somewhere in the middle of the battle for Kipaji. And it’s all my fault. He knew that the only way to end the war started with him getting out of the fortress prison. He gathered enough energy to prop himself against the sweating cinderblock wall, crinkling the plastic sheet behind him.

  “Kavu, how can you do this to Kipaji? To our people?” He made another attempt to kindle the light he had glimpsed in Kavu’s heart.

  “They’re not my people. I stopped being Kipaji the day my family abandoned me.”

  “You know that’s not true. We didn’t abandon you.”

  “It doesn’t even matter what’s true anymore,” Kavu lamented. “All I know is that I was left here, while my family was off in America, never even giving me a second thought.”

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” D’Melo replied, unwilling to give up on him. “When things settled down after that night on the bridge, Baba came back here. He made an agreement with Dimka to exchange himself for you.”

  Kavu’s posture shifted attentively.

  “But it was a trick. Dimka was never planning to let you go. He was just going to kill Baba.

  “When Baba returned to America without you, it dealt the final blow to Mama’s heart. Whatever spirit she had left was crushed. She spiraled into a severe depression. A couple months later, she tried to kill herself. Does this sound like people who didn’t care about you?”

  “I don’t believe you,” Kavu said weakly, his shoulders sagging. “Anyway, it’s too late now.” He sighed. “What’s done is done.”

  “You’re right; what’s done is done. But what happens next is up to you.”

  Kavu tucked his lips, clearly fighting down fresh anguish.

  Kavu’s phone buzzed. “That’s good, sir,” he muttered unconvincingly, his eyes soft. “Yes, I heard you, sir.” His gaze slid away from D’Melo. “No, sir. I’m okay with it. Nothing has changed.”

  Kavu stared vacantly at his phone. “Well,” he said in a low voice. “It seems the last bit of your luck has run out. The recording has been recovered.”

  D’Melo swallowed hard. “Are my friends okay?”

  “You’re about to have your stomach carved up, and you’re asking about your friends?” Kavu chuckled with a mix of disbelief and admiration. “Your friends are fine.”

  “Can I just ask you for one thing?”

  Kavu lifted his chin, indicating that he was listening.

  “Please, please let Zara go. You have the recording. There’s nothing she can do to hurt Dimka now.”

  “Wow,” Kavu said, awed. “It must be really nice.”

  D’Melo was unsure what Kavu meant.

  “To have people that you love so much that you think about their welfare when you’re minutes from being killed in the most gruesome way.”

  Kavu headed for the door. Just before he exited the cell, D’Melo said, “Do you know the last thing Baba said to me?”

  Kavu paused at the door, facing away from D’Melo.

  “He said, ‘You’ve never truly lived if you don’t have anything in your life that you’re willing to die for.’”

  Kavu’s head dipped. “The medic will be here soon,” he murmured, his voice shaky. “You should prepare yourself.”

  “Hey,” D’Melo said urgently. “What about Zara? You never answered.”

  At the sound of a light thud, Kavu swiveled abruptly toward the window above D’Melo. He shook his head and mumbled, “Unbelievable.” He chuckled incredulously. “Well, I get the feeling you’re going to find out about Zara very soon.” He strolled out, the door clicking locked behind him.

  Moments before, Zara had swerved and halted, skirting the floodlights. She had made it to the prison just outside D’Melo’s cell with the buckets and brick in hand. She crouched beneath the lighted window, scanning the compound to make sure she hadn’t been spotted. Her heart raced as a floodlight slid along the wall. She flattened herself in the mud, the light barely passing over her.

  The window was just above her eye level. She latched onto its iron bars and boosted herself up. Through the opaque plastic, she could discern a figure at the cell door. Is that D’Melo? Kavu? A light drifted along the wall toward her. She climbed her feet up in a panic, thumping the wall with her knee. The figure at the door swiveled searchingly toward her. She leaned back as far as her arms would allow to avoid being seen. She cringed, the wound on her shoulder ripping wider. A tear of agony joined the raindrops pelting her face. The floodlight skimmed just under her contorted frame. That was too close.

  She strained to hear two muffled voices inside the cell, one coming from beneath the window. When the talking stopped, she lifted up cautiously. The figure by the door was exiting. Her eyes swept side to side. No one else was in the room. This is my chance!

  She dropped down softly. Driving her wiry fingers into the muddy earth, she frantically scooped the watery soil into the buckets.

  The doorknob twisted. D’Melo knew this was it. His earthly life had come to an end. He pondered how strange life could be. In the span of a few days, he had gone from basketball All-American waiting to attend the college of his dreams to a prison cell in Malunga, waiting to die.

  Kavu entered first. His eyes darted between D’Melo and the window. A pair of soldiers followed, wheeling a gurney. Handcuffs clinked against its metal rails.

  A deluge of gratitude flooded D’Melo’s heart. His mother suffered for years, but always made sure to push a smile onto her face for him. Baba could have had the life he wanted and deserved, but instead he chose to sacrifice it, seeking justice for the Shujas who the world still believed assassinated President Amani. His friends willingly put their lives in jeopardy to help him get the recording. And Zara came back for him when she was so close to safety in Nanjier, because she will never leave me behind.

  “Thank you all, and please forgive me,” he sighed, his heart full.

  Like a dark storm cloud, Nyoko stalked ominously into the cell. He greeted D’Melo with a heavy boot to the gut. D’Melo gritted his teeth, holding back a yelp. He refused to allow Nyoko the satisfaction of showing the pain radiating in his stomach.

  The medic sauntered in last. Medical instruments clanked menacingly inside his shiny black bag.

  “Well, D’Melo, it looks like its time,” Nyoko stated the obvious. “It’s a shame. All you or your father had to do was tell us where the package was. None of this would have happened. You would still be a big basketball star about to make millions in the NBA.”

  D’Melo glared at him.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Nyoko croaked. “I know everything about you and your family. Who do you think tracked you down, twice? My only regret is that I didn’t have the pleasure of personally killing your traitor parents.”

  D’Melo seethed, feeling like his head might just blow off his shoulders.

  “I would have made your father beg for his life before I put those bullets in his chest.”

  D’Melo smoldered, “He would never beg for his life, to you or to anyone else.” D’Melo spat the blood that had accumulated in his mouth. “He lived with a dignity that someone like you could never understand. And he died with honor, unlike how you’re gonna die.”

  Nyoko stomped D’Melo’s face. Blood spurted from a gash under his eye. Kavu winced, then turned away.

  “You talk like you’re still some big warrior,” Nyoko said. “You may not have noticed but you are about to die and have your lifeless body dumped in the jungle for the animals to feast on. And I, on the other hand, will die one of the richest men in the world on a beautiful beach on some island,” he cackled. “Maybe I’ll even buy the island.”

  As the general raged on, D’Melo turned his attention inward. Baba’s assuring voice washed into his heart. “Haki inakuja kwako, Justice will find you.” Serenity cascaded through him lik
e a warm ocean wave.

  “I’m ready.” D’Melo straightened against the wall. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Look at this guy!” Nyoko rasped. “A hero ’til the end.” He gestured to the soldiers. “Okay, you heard him. Strap him to the gurney.”

  Just as the soldiers moved toward D’Melo, there was huge crash. A brick blasted through the window, pushing against the plastic cover. The brick slid down and hit D’Melo on the head.

  An alarm blared. Guards scrambled down from the towers. “Oh crud!” Zara latched onto the cell window bars. She hurriedly removed a shard of glass from the windowpane and used it to slice through the plastic. The soldiers in the cell hoisted their rifles and sprayed bullets through the window. Zara’s ear buzzed, followed by a searing throb. She dropped to the ground, clutching her ear. The tower guards took aim at the darkness below the window. The bullets sparked against the wall around her. She dove away. The guard-controlled floodlight veered frenetically left and right, hunting her.

  Zara dipped and dodged her way back to the window. She lifted a bucket overhead and dumped the watery soil into the cell. The soldiers fired through the window again, snapping the bucket from her hands. She raised the second bucket, bullets sparking the wall around her. She dumped the soil from the bucket into the cell and darted off.

  Nyoko shouted at his soldiers, “Why are you still standing here! Go!” Kavu and the soldiers sprang out of the cell.

  D’Melo started rubbing the watery dirt over his skin. Nyoko clamped D’Melo’s foot and dragged him away from the reviving soil. D’Melo kicked Nyoko squarely, sending him sliding backward. D’Melo scrambled back to the mud and scooped it up frantically, slathering himself as fast as he could. Nyoko drew his gun and unloaded a flurry of murderous rounds. The bullets halted. D’Melo snatched them from the air and hurled the slugs across the floor.

  Nyoko gasped, then ran in a panic toward the exit. D’Melo levitated to a standing position. Balls of mud swirled in his palms. They launched, smashing Nyoko violently against the wall, knocking him unconscious. D’Melo cupped his hands around his mouth and beckoned, like through a bullhorn, “Viboko, tembo kupanda! Hippos, elephants rise!” The forest awakened, quaking with exhilaration.