Five Seconds to Live

“Mr. Eric! Mr. Eric—”

He could hear his heart throbbing within his chest as he raced down the hallway.

“Sir, whatever you do, do not leave your office!”

His lethal warning echoed across all corners of the hallway as he ran, “I repeat, do not leave your office! Some heavily armed men just entered the building.”

When he finally reached the office, he rudely kicked the door open and said, breathlessly,

“Sir, your wife and daughter—”

He trailed when he saw the man who was inside the room running towards the window.

He was more confused than surprised.

“Mr. Eric?”

His eyes snapped open when the man jumped off without a second thought, shattering the glass.

###

Kryxtal lounge. That’s where he met her, the girl that changed everything. If only he knew what disturbing future awaited him, he probably would not have approached her table. The night was still young and promising when he walked into that lounge. It was his favorite hangout.

The place was too crowded, and the air was filled with music and laughter. Laughter overpowered the jukebox. Conversations swirl in a dirty cloud of smoke.

He ordered the usual and went to an empty spot he found right around the corner.

He took a sip from his glass. It burned going down, and it felt wonderful. The night seemed too ordinary—until his eyes found her perched cross-legged on a stationary stool a few meters away.

Athletic and confident, she showed off her breast in a tight dress and wore high-heeled, knee-high red leather boots, her face shiny, almost iridescent with too much makeup. She was a little too well dressed for a dive like this. She only started looking in his direction when he walked towards her.

For a slight second, he thought she wanted to pull out something concealed underneath her dress. Then she tossed a nervous smile at him, pulling her hand away. Everything about her suggested she wasn’t just some ordinary girl he could hit on, but her smile suggested otherwise.

“What’s your name?”

Her question cut him to the quick. Normally, it’s the guy who makes the first move, but her audacity attracted him the more. From her accent, he figured she wasn’t from around here.

“Diallo,” he smiled. “Diallo James.”

He realized that he couldn’t hear his own voice over the general din. She looked at him and smiled back. Then she pointed to her ear and shook her head.

He said his name more loudly and added, “What’s yours?”

“Emma.”

She must have had a really sharp voice for him to have heard her over the loud music.

“Emma? What a lovely name for a lovely lady.”

Emma’s feature formed a slightly amused smile, her black hair falling over one shoulder of her sequined dress as she turned to look around. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for someone in the crowd.

She got so distracted that she didn’t hear him offer to buy her a drink.

Diallo could see that she wasn’t interested in having this conversation. Was she expecting someone else? Was that why she was sitting by herself?

“Ah, terrible timing,” he smiled painfully, pretending to leave. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you were—”

“No, no, I’m not,” she cut him short before he could finish, her darting eyes accompanying a cordial yet insincere smile. “It’s not what you think. It’s just that I’m—,” she trailed.

He realized she was cooking up an excuse, and when she couldn’t find one, she tossed a gentle gaze at him.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sure we can have this conversation some other time.”

She spoke with such genuine affection and gentleness, trying not to sound like she was brushing him off. Her intention was betrayed when she added, “I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.”

That’s his cue to leave.

“Sure,” he said in a flat tone, returning her smile, trying not to show his disappointment. The smile he gave in reply made his cheeks ache.

He wanted to ask for her number, but something about that last statement left him feeling uneasy.

“In the middle of what?” he wanted to ask.

When he turned to look at her, she wasn’t staring at him anymore, but was looking about the dive searchingly. He realized she wasn’t waiting, but searching for someone. Who?

Diallo didn’t dare to ask. He kept walking until he got to where he’d been sitting earlier.

He stayed out of sight as he watched her from his table, guzzling his booze. Emma—if that was even her real name—kept her composure while scanning everyone’s faces. The smile she’d worn a little while ago was quite gone, and behind that mask was a very dangerous character.

And yet, sitting there in the stillness, with the liquor’s warmth melting the rock in his gut, he found himself especially attracted to her. Suddenly, she picked up her purse and made her way towards the exit. Diallo surmised that, perhaps, whoever she was searching for wasn’t in the room.

Before she left, he saw her whisper something to the man waiting at the door. The man was looking neat and dapper, wearing an expensive shirt with a vest and a leather pant. He helped her into her coat, and they walked outside together.

Diallo gulped down the rest of his drink and quickly stood up to follow them. He had a slight

hunch of what was going on and thought to call 911. On second thought, what if he was simply overreacting? What if Emma was just a perfectly normal girl who’s just a little overdressed in a lounge, having a good time with her boyfriend? The latter seemed unlikely.

When he stepped outside, he saw the man standing far across the street. He paid particular note of how the man stood with his hand dipped in his pocket. Diallo saw a black Venza pulled up in front of him, and the man quickly looked around with suspicious eyes before entering the vehicle. Then they drove off. He didn’t see Emma. Maybe she already got in.

He quickly got to his car which was parked right across. He was in no state of mind to get behind the wheels, but he needed to know who they were and what they were doing in that lounge. Just as he put the car in reverse, he heard a loud thud behind. The car was lifted a little further from the ground as it drove over something.

Then he quickly got out and scampered to the back to inspect what it was. He felt a chill of terror when he found Emma underneath his car, her face completely crushed under the weight of the tire.

###

The last two years have not been easy for Diallo. He hasn’t been able to forgive himself ever since that night. He’d spent every single day of his life regretting what had happened. Sometimes, he’d stay up all night, wishing he could make up for his crime. Many times, he’d gone down to the police station to turn himself in, but never made it past the gate. Something always stops him. Perhaps it was the thought of what they’d do to him if he

was taken into custody.

Earlier, when the security guard warned him about the armed men that just entered the building, Diallo knew his worst fears had come true. They have finally come to make him pay for a crime that he committed two years ago.

The rush of cold wind against his ear brought him back to the present reality. An uncanny feeling spread throughout his body when he realized he’d been falling for over two seconds since he jumped off that window. His feet should have touched the ground by now. The air went out of him after he looked below his feet and saw that the ground seemed so distant.

A shudder ran through his body when he was hit by a realization. He had jumped off the twenty-eighth floor of that building.

###

Diallo was in shock as he stared at the body lying in a thick pool of blood. He’d killed a human being, and the thought terrified him. Dread crept along his spine when he heard a screech. He looked up and saw the black Venza that had left earlier reversing in his direction. Had they been watching him? Did they see when he knocked Emma down? If they did, then he was in big trouble.

He knew he couldn’t stick around to find out what they’d do to him. He quickly got into his car and started driving. He felt Emma’s bones crushed under the weight of his tire as he drove away.

It made him shudder.

From the rear mirror, he saw the car stopped just where he’d left Emma, and the man she was with earlier quickly jumped out. He trotted over to examine her body. When the man confirmed that she was dead, he raised his head to look at Diallo as he drove away.

The man broke into a run towards him. Diallo’s eyes snapped open when he saw him pull a gun from an ankle holster and pointed it in his direction. Diallo kept his head low, feeling a cold tingle run down the length of this spine. The man wanted to fire, but hesitated and pushed the gun back in. Diallo was already out of his firing range.

As Diallo drove safely away, he couldn’t help wondering who the guy was. Was he Emma’s boyfriend? Was he her escort? A bodyguard, perhaps? The man pulling a gun on him only reaffirmed his hunch. They were in that lounge to take down a target. But who?

It didn’t matter at that moment. Someone had seen him kill Emma with his car. He was more scared of being recognized. It was likely that the man Emma was with had gotten a good look at his face when he’d approached her table earlier in the dive. After all, he’d been watching Emma from the exit.

Diallo remained still, returning his eyes back on the road, his mind racing as he drove.

“This can’t be—”

His mouth moved with great difficulty, as if he were trying to remember how to speak.

He could still see Emma’s lifeless eyes looking up at him. He gulped hard at the memory.

“This isn’t happening.”

He clutched the steering wheel to steady himself, but his arms didn’t stop trembling.

He couldn’t wrap his head around what Emma was doing behind his car when he ran her over. When he looked in his side mirror, he was relieved to find that he wasn’t being followed. It felt like his nightmare was finally over. But Diallo knew, deep down, that it was far from over.

###

Diallo let out a hoarse cry of sheer terror as he descended to the ground at such terrifying speed. His thoughts were flooded by horror and confusion. Fear jolted through him as the ground appeared to be rushing towards him. With every second that passed, he felt his speed double.

He tried to bend around to grip anything, heart leaping, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

He only managed to flip himself around. The air whistled in his ears, blowing at him from all sides.

He could barely see from the rush of cold wind slashing at his face. He looked stunned and horrified.

His lungs were swollen up like an overfilled balloon.

This was one of those few times in his life when he was certain he was going to die and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Unlike patients with terminal illness, his was a worse case.

He only had seconds left, maybe even less.

Diallo had been living in fear of the day when he’d have to pay for his crime. There’s really no escaping karma, is there? All this time, he thought his death would come at the hands of Mr. Kasin or one of his hired assassins. Who could have imagined that he’d die falling from a great height?

###

His stomach knotted with dread when he saw the news the following morning. The journalist’s voice was devoid of any emotion as she reported the incidence that went down yesterday in front of Kryxtal lounge, and these were her exact words:

Yesterday, just hours after the Lagos state police department put out an arrest warrant for Mr. Jackson Kasin, a Nigerian drug Lord operating in Vegas, a video began making its rounds online of a 20-year-old Aarin Gianna Kasin. This video, captured by an onlooker, reveals a typical case of a hit-and-run. Ms. Kasin, whom the police believe to be the daughter of the infamous Nigeria drug lord, was found dead at the scene, and was said to have been rundown by what the witness described as a reckless driver. The driver, who’s yet to be identified by the authorities, was seen driving away after an unidentified black Venza approached the scene. Although the police are still investigating the incident, and haven’t identified the hit-and-run driver, the Las Vegas bureau of investigation has reason to believe the murder was linked to her father. Please stay tuned as more reports are coming your way.

The room was warm, yet Diallo felt sweat breaking on his brows. His heart was beating anxiously. He was visibly shaking with the remote in his hands. He didn’t know what scared him more:

being on the news, or the fact that the girl he’d killed is the daughter of an infamous drug lord.

The next day, he felt what little was left of his energy ebb away at the news of Mr. Kasin’s arrival into the country. It was reported as a mere rumor floating around the internet, but Diallo knew better. If Mr. Kasin had indeed arrived in Nigeria, then he understood the purpose of his visit. It was only a matter of time before they closed in.

Barely a week after the report of Mr. Kasin’s alleged arrival, there was another report of a body found floating in one of the local rivers in the city. The victim was identified as the onlooker who’d earlier captured the video of Aarin Kasin and provided the police with the most vivid description of her murder. Until his death, he was the most reliable witness the police had.

The police didn’t think his murder had anything to do with Aarin’s death, but Diallo could easily guess that he might have been approached by Mr. Kasin, or his hired killers, for information on the driver that did his daughter in. They wanted something the police didn’t already know, something that could help them track the driver. And since he couldn’t give them what they wanted, they had him killed and tossed into the river.

Diallo knew it was only a matter of time before they found him. He needed to be rid of anything that could link him to that night. He started by taking his car down to a scrapyard to get it torn apart and sold as scrap, since he couldn’t exactly sell it whole. It would easily get recognized and linked back to him. Ever since that incident, Diallo had harbored a slight but irrational phobia of cars.

It felt like there was another life waiting to be taken as soon as he got behind the wheel again.

In that week, Diallo moved out of his apartment to live on the outskirts of town where no one would recognize him. He even considered getting surgery done to change his appearance, but dismissed the thought since he was confident that he wouldn’t be found. That confidence was torn apart a few days later after a scarily detailed drawing of him was released by the Lagos state profiling department. Following the release of his image, an arrest warrant was issued by the Lagos state police department.

###

Diallo’s heart never exactly went out to Aarin, especially after he’d found out what she was.

He felt absolutely sure that he’d prevented what could have been a high-profile murder from happening that night at Kryxtal lounge. And what did he get? The police and some hired killers chasing him for nearly two years. Of course, he’d earlier suspected that Emma wasn’t her real name, but that didn’t matter then.

Diallo’s mind boggled. He couldn’t help but wonder what his life could have been like if he hadn’t met her. It was that meeting two years ago that’s led to this very moment.

The sun hid behind a cloud as he kept falling, as if it didn’t want to witness his final moments.

As Diallo was nearing the fifth floor, he caught sight of several police vehicles that’d been packed outside that building. The emergency vehicle lights graced the afternoon with the colors of blue and red.

He wasn’t sure what was going on, but a sinking feeling began to form in his stomach at the thought that he might have made a huge mistake.

###

“Mr. Diallo, this is the police!” came the voice over the megaphone.

“We’ve got you completely surrounded. Come out of the building with your hands up, and we promise you won’t be harmed!”

They waited for a full minute. Nothing happened.

The man who made the announcement nudged his head to the others, a silent signal to tear down the building and force him out. Five uniformed men came out of an SUV and sauntered cautiously towards the building. They had their weapons drawn. Reaching the door, they fired upon it, knocked it down with heavy boots and stormed in.

The scene was switched back to the studio, where a journalist was on standby to give the report.

Earlier this morning, the Lagos state police stormed the residence of Mr. Diallo, the suspected murderer of Ms. Aarin Gianna Kasin, but couldn’t find the suspect. 
One of his neighbors who agreed to speak to us said the suspect had moved out of his apartment over a week ago. But the investigation is still ongoing. Please stay tuned for more reports. 

Diallo fought down his panic as he watched the late afternoon news. Despite the cold, he could feel sweat in his gloves and on his forehead. He felt his heart pounding. The authorities had already found his old apartment. They were closing in on him much faster than he’d anticipated.

He stood in front of the large mirror glued to the wall, disappointed at what he’d been reduced to. A mere criminal. He worked hard to keep his breathing under control, running his hand through his hair. He could never get used to being a fugitive. Nobody could.

He picked up his phone to call someone. It’s time to continue with that surgery.

###

Diallo struggled to collect his wits as the warm scent of death filled his nostrils and made him uneasy. His nerves grew ever tauter no matter how much he tried to remain calm and accept what seemed like an inevitable fate. He was besieged by a throbbing headache.

It had something to do with what the security guard had said earlier.

Sir, whatever you do, do not leave your office… I repeat, do not leave your office!

Some heavily armed men just entered the building.

There was something else he said.

Sir, your wife, and daughter…

He felt his throat catch. He neither has a wife nor a daughter. Only a few meters from the ground, he remembered the name the security guard had called him.

Mr. Eric!

But his name wasn’t Eric.

After he underwent plastic surgery almost two years ago which gave him a new face, he took up a new name. Tony Ganiru. That’s how he’d manage to stay undetected by the police and gang that wanted him dead.

Approaching his last seconds, he remembered who Mr. Eric was—the bank cashier that’d been attending to him some minutes before the security guard dashed into the room.

Mr. Eric had left his office to grab some important document.

And in his last moment, Diallo finally understood why there were many police vehicles parked outside the building. Those men that’d broken in weren’t after him. There was a bank robbery in progress.

All thoughts in his head vanished, having been overtaken by one dominant one.

Would God count this as suicide?