ETERNITY BEFORE TIME

CHAPTER 1

PHILOSOPHER'S DIARY

Everything comes in dreams. There is nothing about us that isn't the product of a dream and it is either our dream or someone else's dream of us. Dreams are fickle in perception but by every means bearers of the infrastructures of realities untold. We all love sweet dreams and in fact many times call them fantasies. To ridicule their significance yes, because the significance of a dream is what makes us afraid. We don't have to sleep for dreams to find us; they reside in the voids of time and waylay us when we are most vulnerable. The eventuality of whether they are good or bad wouldn't matter whatsoever and irrespective of that unflinching apprehension of whether they do or do not come to pass we remain in fear but rely on hope all the days of our mortal lives.

My dream was the reality. It was my past. The one that eluded my eyes and I didn't come to find it again until I was seven years old. That time my first seizure scathed the perfection of my infallible health records. I saw a happy couple. They were on the road. It was a familiar but old road. They were Mr. and Mrs. Akintunde. I never got to see them in the present reality but the woman in my dream was the most beautiful lady my eyes had seen.

They were on Ilesha-Akure road, but their purpose wasn't clear to me. The journey appeared to be going fine but suddenly got disturbed the moment a trailer truck tried to overtake a tanker on the opposite lane as it was a two-lane expressway with surface markings. The vehicles occupied the road on both lanes and were relentless about giving each other the right of way. Mr. Akintunde was caught unawares and ran into them at the angle of the highway curve. He maneuvered the wheels in order to prevent being run over by the trailer and succeeded. The vehicles were gone but then he had to battle hard to put the wheels back on the road. That time it got completely out of control. The Volkswagen somersaulted away from the highway shoulder and into the forest by the roadside; a flora of green vegetation that flourished with beauty and danger—but the car kept moving and traveled deep into the forest as it struck trees and rocks. It descended into oblivion from the road and stopped. That time I got the chance to closely examine the effect of the cause.

Mr. Akintunde met instant death but not Mrs. Akintunde. There was a bit of life that burned within, but she was covered in her own blood. She took some time to regain consciousness and when she did turn to her left-hand side to check on her husband, he wasn't safe at all. It paled her to discover it was now his lifeless body that sat next to her. Tears roll down her cheeks. She was weak and couldn't speak aloud but was able to crawl out of the ruins. It was after she got out and lay supine that I noticed she was with child.

I wouldn't know how long but it was certain that the child within her had no share in her death wish. She was in pain, but more travail came her way as she started to feel the imminence of her moment. Her cervix dilated with a cracking sound and that time she knew she had to let the child out. Her struggles were unspeakable, her cry was agonizing. She clenched to the soil as her veins trembled, there was a rush of adrenaline in her muscles and in great distress she delivered her baby. There was little strength left in her to see her future—it was a boy—and that caused her to smile in her agony. She had no strength to sever the umbilical cord. Her awareness petered out momentarily as she breathed her last with the baby lying on her bosom. Time passed quickly but it wasn't until the evening of the following day that the child was discovered. Late Mr. and Mrs. Akintunde were recovered from the scene while the baby was moved to a nursing home in Ilesha after being examined at the Wesley hospital. Many showed sympathy yet none was deep enough to comprehend the situation.

I narrated the dream to my Grandmother as I was admonished to say the things I saw after the seizure was gone. I was allergic to sea foods and prohibited from eating them under Grandmother's directive. That day before the seizure, I got curios and like any common venturesome juvenile, I had difficulty believing life was fickle.

Grandmother resided in Ibadan like my Parents. She was a widow who was left some fortunes by her loving husband, fortunes which afforded her the luxury to change her residence from the state capital of Ondo to the city of Ibadan when she was in the evening of her prime and pressures from her late husband's family became too much to bear. She raised my father to become a lawyer and never for once stopped dwelling on his intelligence and courage. She made it known to me that she had enemies, and there was a granduncle who quarreled with her over a matter concerning land dispute. She claimed to have desisted after the demise of my father and relinquished the property bequeathed to her to her diabolic in-law. It was after I heard her side of the story that I realized the connection between her accounts and the events of October the 19th, 1976. That was the day I was born, and Mr. and Mrs. Akintunde were my parents. I was raised by my grandmother and in the acknowledgment of her strength of character I was nurtured. I was the beacon of light in her times of misfortune and she didn't keep that hidden away from me until she passed away in the year 2010.

9th April 2015 was yet another day of rigor for me while I walked the corridors of the hospital. The gigantic ancient medical college in my place of work that was recently renovated and reviewed for improved humanitarian services—what else was I supposed to think? It was a hospital and not a veterinary and yes it was reviewed so that one could say the services are now a little more humane. The sadistic unschooled nurses that meddled their way in—and will reprimand you severely for bed-wetting on your sickbed while they are fully aware that urinary dysfunction was part of the symptoms of your ailment—were fired and officially banned from any form of humanitarian service. Nevertheless, in order to survive and earn a living rendition of services to humans is inevitable but then not in medical field. I was at the hospital to oversee the chemotherapy of my sweet little girl, and only daughter Eniola.

Eniola was my beautiful daughter and just like her mother in character and candor, they were my source of strength. I loved them unconditionally as they were the embers that embellished my soul with a passion for life—they were my divine responsibility. Doctor Agbaje claimed to have diagnosed early the malignant cells that propagated themselves in her blood; she was only seven years old and it was two months after the day she passed out during her school Physical and Health Education Practice. "There is a chance of survival and in little time all will be well. It is Acute Lypmhoblastic Leukemia. That's not something that cannot be cured." The doctor said. That time my daughter seemed to be doing very fine and with less aggressive symptoms that disagreed with the disturbing medical reports. It felt like there was no need for emergency.

She looked like any regular kid you would come across in the quarters but wasn't permitted to be them as her condition emerged with a long list of dos and don'ts that cut across every aspect of her infant life. There were exercises she could never take and there were foods she would never taste. It paled me to accept the fact that her life had suddenly been cut short from the exuberance of juvenility—she could never enjoy what it felt like to play silly pranks, get caught, horse around with other kids, play in the rain, pick fights and more—such desirable childhood caprices worth having and while adulthood isn't fun but series of prosaic vituperious cycles with routines orchestrated to drain our every essence into the pockets of the aristocrats—I couldn't but see it that way. The doctor mentioned the necessity of a surgery—a bone marrow transplant—in prospect. He didn't press on the issue enough, but I was on my toes to gather as many savings I could to prepare for the worst.

Her condition was the sum of my fears, my heart cry and if there was someone in charge, anyone at all, then such must surely be ignorant of how special Eniola is to humanity if given the chance of a normal healthy life. My Christian faith didn't stop asking me "why should I worry?" She was still breathing and not bedridden that time. The concept of God being fair became a contention within me and I couldn't help but think if God is indeed a merciful Father as we were taught. He isn't obviously equally loving as we were made to believe and maybe the Great and Mighty, the Ancient one, the never changing epitome of Grace and totality of Divinity with the plan of an expected end for all was only but a misnomer and vague invidious myth.

I could only imagine myself as a writer who wants to make a good story and how else am I supposed to achieve that without adapting a few unfortunate characters in my story, favoring some and deliberately inflicting on others gruesome happenstances, that's just how to make a good story and really doesn't sound stranger than the life we live here on earth in my perspective. I believe one of such unfortunate victims in the thirst for a meaningful divine story is my daughter Eniola, even then her mother preferred to call her Helen.

I couldn't help but wonder about the frailness of human life, our everyday struggle to preserve it, our battle for wealth, power, fame, love, acceptance and freedom, substantial vicissitudes of life that stray into the void the moment death comes knocking at the door. I haven't seen death. The closest I came was in my sleep and at a time when I was ill—even as a juvenile.

My picture of the end was gloom, irreversibility, unusual calm with fading lights and unspeakable darkness altogether collapsing into a singularity called the afterlife. Christianity spoke fondly about the fires in the lakes of hell; a dark place in paradox with unquenchable flames that should burn through eternity—for the wicked, and the inconceivable reality of a divine community that flourishes in white and gold. It was later in life that I got to know that hell and heaven altogether were conjectures, even more a matter of perspective.

The thought of sense in religion and belief systems baffled me in my early twenties, that time I was young and miserable. I got a little older and things began to flourish in ways I could hardly explain. My wife taught me how to once again lead a life of piety the way my grandmother reared me, but then my grandmother was no more, and my daughter's condition was getting worse—I had every reason to drown in misery. My routine practices of basic church activities and the fellowships were the only things that stood in the way of apostasy—I had lost significant faith, yet in my entire life I've belonged to no other community. I have known no other convincingly enough to become an apostate but despite it all my wife remained fervent to the point of vigils and mountains.

I couldn't get it out of my head the idea that Christianity was never a practicable religion and judging by those who showily identify themselves as followers of Christ, it is implicative that Christ himself might be on a path predestined to be forever lonely as since the time of his controversial ascension sequel to his bewildering resurrection—men have left the cross in pursuit of their own edification, but then, I could be wrong.

Christians are supposed to edify the reason of the cross and not self. Perhaps the misconception of the early Christians concerning the power of resurrection and its significance played a major role. We'd never know but maybe that was also part of the all-knowing divine plan. After all He gave His only Begotten to askew the foundations of the world order even before the erection of the orthodox structure.

The ideologies that bind the infrastructure of belief systems are highly controversial and intricate and to me the whole concept of belief systems could be make- believe stories assembled out of mischief or share illusion to manipulate our knowledge of the truth and the understanding of life. What if our patriarchs were merely brilliant minds that wanted us to believe in something and scripted it out of their creative minds? It has been said oftentimes that the mortal mind is always hungry for a deity, a rule of law, a subject of reverence to preserve sanity.

It is for the best to remain docile in oblivion than to submerge our beautiful world in the flames of uncultured freedom. I reserve my rights for thinking this way; I am a Doctor of Philosophy. Man is a living, walking God-thirsty creature vulnerable to any means that will mollify his radical appetite for mysteries with answers beyond the spheres of his mortal dimension. Patriarchs of religious movements only did humanity a favor by giving it what to believe as it is often said, 'when you believe in nothing, you will fall for anything.' It is therefore better to fall into the whims of piety and dogma than to be crushed by the claws of liberty and doom. It wasn't on that dreadful basis that I stood to relinquish my faith in God. To me faith was everything, divine and more precious than any accomplishment. It is an asset that should be revered in the times of our lives.

It was never my habit to keep record of events until the need arose at the early stages of my adulthood, inspired by series of bewildering experiences which I could not but scribe on a paper. The one that struck me the most was my closest to having a girlfriend. She had me broken and didn't stop there until after ensuring I was emotionally shattered and physically dispirited. There are always angels but what we cannot predict is the mission they carry; she was quite an angel in beauty and aura at first sight but not all angels are designed to decorate—she was an angel of doom, my angel of doom. If only I saw that coming, I would have gladly avoided it but then it appeared my despair wasn't meant to last for eternity. Her reign of terror began to end the day I met Omotara. Omotara became my wife, the mother of my daughter, my angel of life. She became the most beautiful and the most lovable woman on the planet. It brought to me great delight when I discovered I was the first man in her life, the only man she ever truly knew, loved and reverenced.

Keeping a diary made me feel twitchy but I did, nonetheless. I was that bold and shy, comic and pragmatic, brilliant and reticent Doctor of Philosophy in the prestigious University of Ibadan, married to a seraphic beauty in the form of womankind and with a beautiful daughter. My family and I resided in the city of Ibadan, Oyo State, Nigeria. My antecedent of birth was a mystery, my survival was a myth yet as an orphan reared by my widowed grandmother, I remained the sole survivor of the diabolic murder of Mr. and Mrs. Akintunde Awe. I am Doctor Oladele Akanda Awe, and this is my story.

CHAPTER 2

OMEN

I was back in my office after a lecture with the 300level students of the faculty of arts and was about to sink myself into my cushion for a short rest when the vibration of the phone on my table demanded my attention. I had loads of unread emails in my inbox from a certain strange company called the Ehirod research institute and for quite a remarkable time I got comfortable ignoring their fantasy driven messages. Their approval of the article I published for my thesis initially attracted my attention to them, but little did I know that their obsession with my work was deep-seated than I could ever have imagined. My work on 'If there is no God' was only but wild fantasy coined to earn me my doctorate. It paid off but I wouldn't have imagined anyone could be intoxicated so much to make me feel any sense of reality in such despicable theological conjecture.

Ehirod was a conglomerate with a base in Europe and of high repute in the research category too. I pondered for days about their strange interest in my work. That time I wasn't prepared to go global in my field of studies. I wanted for no cogent reason to keep a low profile but somehow their resilience proliferated into my arrays of interest and more so the moment Eniola's condition pitched a clarion for additional sources of income. I began to give a second thought about their alluring offers.

I had my master's degree in philosophy coupled with my doctorate degree in Nigeria. I never had a cause to deal directly with another but for those in my country; more so I felt comfortable dealing with people I could see face to face, study, predict and understand. Even so I had distant relatives scattered all over the globe, friends who bailed out in search of greener pastures, a few of them were acquaintances, and fewer were contacts. My apprehensions concerning a contract with Ehirod surpassed my anticipations and if my speculations were true, I wouldn't just have to be dealing with strangers over the internet or through voice calls for long, in time I will have to meet them and interact one on one.

I recalled there was a time in the past when I got a form that required my personal details. I attended to it and submitted a scanned copy but that was a long time ago and at a time they seemingly had no lurking intentions but mere goodwill towards my work. It was after that time they began to reveal their ulterior motives. They made it clear they wanted me on contract but while they awaited my response concealed the nature of the contract from me. It looked suspicious and I had to compel a few of my students to carry out a research on the company while I gathered information on my own. Their spectacular patience and tolerance for my lassitude in our dealings eventually overtopped my sense of insecurity. I began to think of every certain strange mystery waiting to be unraveled in my disfavor and needed to be careful to not have my head on a plate in the camp of my enemies but then with my predicament, none of that seemed to matter any more. For Eniola it was a risk worth taking. I hoped their welcoming would find me well, and without any trace of impending doom lurking anywhere.

It was James Dawins that called over the phone. He introduced himself as the consultant assigned to me and wanted to know if my interest in the contract was still in contemplation. He reiterated the disturbing fact that I would be working with them and not for them and convinced me of guaranteed security. He also dwelled on the fact that Ehirod was the leading research company in the globe and elaborated on their science of archeology, around the world exploration for scriptural finds and ancient relics, yet that appeared to me like idling as there is no sense of fun in it. He claimed to be under an oath to be reticent and for that reason couldn't afford to shed more light on the details of the contract. He admitted it was their method to ensure all pending contracts remained confidential and to downplay the efforts of their competitors who could use such vital information to frustrate and eliminate their market advantage. He sounded practical but not totally convincing. He said that he will be visiting the city of Lagos and would be available at the hotel in a few days. He mentioned if my interest in the contract was keen, we could make an appointment for 3PM on a Saturday that was a week and three days from the present day and insisted that he would communicate the name of the hotel a day before the appointment and through a voice call to evaluate my interest and for security reasons.

We said our goodbyes, but I started to wonder again if it wasn't some insidious well-masked 419 coming at me with a trundling force. It was strange to imagine that my article on 'if there is no God' could be that muchsufficiently influential. The publishing over the internet was something I didn't take very seriously; it was only one among many others in my gallery—astonishingly every bit more than that for the strange research institute.

I got home that day and my wife had prepared the table as usual. That time it was eba and fresh egusi soup with two enticing soup saturated beefs. The soup was garnished in a way that made my stomach to meow—I couldn't have asked for more. She ushered me to the bathroom and ignored the slavish appetite which her dessert had aroused to the point of explosion. I managed to concur to her instincts and hurriedly I did.

At the table we discussed about the contract James Dawins offered me, it amused me that she took it rather lightly and encouraged me to go for it. She didn't speak the words directly but made me to admit it would take much more than the savings from our monthly earnings to save the life of our daughter. She made points that were undeniable but then it appeared Iwasn't in her scope of concern at all. The anxiety of Eniola's sickness had bellowed a sepulchral rhythm into our social life and there was a certain forlorn visage that had corrupted my wife's beauty ever since the unpleasant discovery—it became obvious how hard it was for her to put a smile on her face. Our discussion hit deep into her emotions and she couldn't hide her observations as an overwhelming depth of agony engulfed her. I held her close to me and she began to open up. She had noticed a decline in our daughter's state of health and her fear is that our hope was irrelevant to the whims of time. She was in doubt concerning Doctor Agbaje's lackadaisical conclusion. "He is paranoid" she remarked, "I'm afraid by the time we discover the truth it might be too late. Her condition could have gone critical." She sobbed but I succeeded in banishing her fears. It felt like there was no seed of faith in her anymore. I had to convince her that everything will be alright. "The doctor said there is little to worry about" I added in our native tongue, "I think we should hold on to that by faith. Eniola will be healthy again, it is only a matter of time ok" I persuaded.

I advanced to Eniola's room the moment I left her mother. It felt glad to see her sleeping peacefully; the sound of her breath was calm and the way it looked I had to believe hope was far from lost. I advanced to feel her body temperature and it was normal. I landed a gentle kiss on her forehead. I grew very fond of Eniola and will do everything in my power to make sure she stays with me. I withdrew myself from her but then my wife approached by the doorstep. The sight of her reawakened my affections. I moved in an instant to embrace her too. We admired our daughter together for a little time and headed to our room for a quiet night rest.

A peaceful night rest is a fine reward for any tedious day. My desperation to enjoy my night collapsed into a fashion I had never imagined. The accounts of my dream made it quite unclear to define the validity of peace even so I was certain the beginning thereof didn't bring the kind of pleasure I would have appreciated but mystery.

It was in the company of some winged beings that I found myself. I was without wings, nevertheless their faces were so bright, and I couldn't behold them, and they were like the morning sun. I felt within myself that something was taken from me, something priceless and resourceful. A significant part of me relinquished bynecessity and they didn't have to be hostile, they were warm and by every means I could relate, and it was my Grace.

City brandished with pure lights and founded on soils of un-describable flints; being bounded in comprehension by the parochialism of mundane etymology such that there was little about the things I saw with my own eyes that I could utter in words.

I was led to the end of the city and to the feet of a certain fall. I understood it was expedient to leave the upper world where I was for an inferior dwelling alien to my kind. I caused myself to fall freely outside the influence of the beings and while I fell my body erupted in blue flames. I felt no itch; I felt no pain all I felt was peace. I was like a shooting star and somehow my enlightenment was awakened—I felt ubiquitous. I surrendered my splendor to gravity, and it brought to me the dwelling place of a certain sphere not so brilliant, not so strong.

I fell with apprehension. It wasn't the fear of the unknown, neither was it the fear of gravity. It wasn't the fear of death—I transcended him—but the fear of purpose. The purpose which demanded my descension, and one which must confine me to the boundaries of the Principle. I recalled I did accept to aid a Brother, but for a price, a handsome price too. A Brother and a friend, I left my Grace on his bosom in pursuit of his will; the one I knew long before time was born.

I descended into the solid mass of sphere. She remained rigid and endured the strangeness of my presence in her atmosphere. I meant no harm and so none befell her. I crashed on her surface with a loud thud. She received me grudgingly while I made my presence felt by creating a massive hole in her. The countenance of my appearance was overwhelming and within the hole I forged were thick flames of blue fires. I was dauntless but marveled at the size of the hole that followed my fall. It was about half the size of my country in depth and width. It was a crater.

The blue flames attenuated and just about that time I began to feel a little less vigorous. I inhaled the troublesome air and exhaled for the first time. Respiration was choking but I mastered the balance after a short time of panic and slight struggle. I coughed repeatedly and trudged through the crater. The reality of the ambience felt strange as it lacked the atmospheres of divinity. It was putrid. My strength failed and I stopped moving. It was then that I observed the appearance I had assumed. I was the same Negroid but with a certain glow about my skin. It was beautiful and made me look extraordinary. My hair was ebony black, and I had seven locks hanging down over my shoulder. Then I began to wonder amidst the realness who I am and where I have journeyed to find myself.

My mystery didn't have to wait for too long. It met end when I decided to look up and found around me beings of familiar physique cladded from head to toe in apparels suggestive of war. The only visible part of them was their eyes and they assumed different colors, one individual from another when I observed it. They were gathered around me more so how they got so close I was oblivious. They had a leader and he approached me carefully and with reverence too. Their leader was tall and fit. I was scantily cladded that time and felt cold owing to the absence of my grace and the influence of the Principle but he handed me an overcoat. His warm gestures that time didn't bring any memory and perhapsmy memories were beclouded by the ardor to surmount my distress nevertheless one thing was certain—they were expecting my arrival.

"My Lord, mighty god of all that burn in blue, it is most pleasurable to welcome your arrival" he said. I looked deep into his eyes and saw nothing human about him. That moment I realized that the strange sphere I had made my presence known wasn't stranger than I had thought after all and the beings that were before me were no other than the ones who called themselves the Earthlings.

CHAPTER 3

DESPERATE MEASURE

Time passed quickly and weeks went by like the movement of a still wind, even so the ticking of the clock was but insufficient to afford panacea to my cancerous misery. Hope proved to be necessary, a distraction and one that had us seated beside our daughter with anticipations that a miracle was about to happen. It was saddening to discover that her deteriorating condition finally seized normalcy from her life, her illness was reportedly exhibiting many symptoms all at once, but we managed to keep hope alive.

I was bitter and all that filled my mind was the thought of the eventuality that there was no emotion in the heavens concerning my supplications. That time I had nothing to look onto but my faith in God unfortunately that seemed to be dangerously failing.

My meeting with James Dawins in Lagos was a success without ardor. We met at the hotel and there he presented before me the documents that contained the conditions of the contract which should take a duration of six months. The conditions included allowances that catered for the health of my daughter and suggested that my wife should be a signatory to my account in order to access required funds. James was quite persuasive with the monetary enticements; he assured I'd be entitled to three thousand British pounds per day for everyday through the six months. That got me thinking what kind of job Ehirod was really into and how easily they generated funds to afford one employee that kind of money. I wanted so much to acknowledge it was an opportunity presented before me to gratify my supplications but couldn't deny the butterflies in my stomach the whole time.

"Mr. Dawins if I may ask, what in your honest opinion qualifies me for this juicy offer you have tabled before me?" I inquired.

"I must let you know that you are a very difficult person to find Doc," he replied. "We don't have many black people with blue eyes around the world, do we?" He chuckled.

"So now you mean it's all about the color of my eyes?" I wondered but he interrupted.

"Doc we read your articles on the university blog and went through all publications on your personal blog. There is a sense of complexity about you Doc, and in a way, I can't quite put my finger on it. Your writings are perfect description of what you are; not many run around with identity of their own these days. My apologies but..."—I interrupted him.

"What exactly do you think I am James?" I tackled.

"You are extraordinary," he betoned.

"I can't still get a single point from all you have said Mr. Dawins. You have not given me a good reason. I am not convinced however I am tempted to accept your offer," I remarked.

"I believe you have yearn all your life for purpose Doc," he thickened his voice, "I barely know you, that's the truth but I think I know enough to believe that this is an offer that will enlighten you" he assured. "Carefully studying the thesis in honor of your doctorate degree, I discovered there is a lot you can offer the world. Your radical pattern of thoughts and edgeless sense of imagination will take you no where near your limits if you choose to remain here, hiding," he remarked. "I'm sorry but your talents require a better clime, the resourceful kind, not here." He paused, "you are a genius Doc," he said and sat back but I struggled to not get carried away. The atmosphere was tense but he was determined to relieve it, "you wanted to know what qualifies you for the offer?" He looked into my eyes, "but I tell you it is very rare to find a man living and breathing anywhere in the globe without a guardian angel," He said and smiled but I felt offended that time. "You are kidding right," I couldn't imagine he'd put up a joke like that.

"No, I'm not," he replied, "your capabilities are undefined Doc and that's why we believe you are the man for the job," he said, and my ears tingled.

"How can you even know that?" I tackled.

"But I do, I mean we actually do," he shrugged and that terrified me.

"I don't think this conversation is getting anywhere."

"Oh, I bet it is," he replied, "carefully consider the responsibilities on your shoulders concerning the health of your daughter."

"Don't you dare bring my daughter into this" I bawled.

"I'm sorry but I intended no offence," he looked sober on the face. "To be fair I thought this conversation would augur very smoothly. We really need you Doc; we are at the brink of a breakthrough that may not happen if you choose to decline. Just six months I promise. You have nothing to lose." He pleaded. I looked into his eyes and they seemed honest. His words that time suppressed my anger. "The contract may however be extended on your terms if you want," he added. I gave a deep thought to the things he said and the way he said them. "How much time do I have to decide?" I eventually made up my mind and that time he gave a sigh of relief.

"I should be returning to the Antarctic base in a few weeks to attend a meeting with my boss but not to worry I can process a South African visa on your behalf if you make up your mind while I'm still around. I will be here for three days. Kindly let me know when you are ready," he handed to me his business card. James looked cheerful enough for a person without malice and expressed such freedom like one independent of clandestine loyalty. I started to believe there was no danger lurking and allowed my anticipations to erase my baseless apprehensions. "I suppose you have made up your mind in agreement to this," he pushed the documents to me, but I gave a second thought before accepting them. "Thank you for your time Doc," he remarked. "It's not necessary that you hand deliver me the documents; you may send scanned copies through an email. Please feel free to fill the forms when you like, nevertheless doing so in a good time may present the opportunity for us to travel together," he anticipated.

"I hope the fact that I have this doesn't mean you have my hundred percent approvals on the commencement of the contract?" I inquired.

"Not exactly, but I sincerely hope you consider giving us your hundred percent approval" he replied.

"Very good," I remarked, "I can't make this decision on my own, you should understand. I have to discuss with my wife about this." I added.

"Then...it is my hope that she does agree," he said with a smile as I rose to my feet. I didn't say another word, but he advanced to give me a handshake. "Once again thank you for your time Doc," I responded with a courtesy and he led me to the exit.

I drove safely through the streets of the city of Lagos and made it to the expressway in good time. I didn't want to be home late into the hours of the night. The city of Ibadan was only about one hour and forty- five minutes drive to Lagos. I pondered on our conversation and my perception of James through the entire journey. He had good intentions and wanted to help but I suddenly remembered my fear; it was the dream I had, the mysterious dream where I found myself in a strange land amidst the ones who called themselves the Earthlings. It was a compelling experience that failed to repeat itself, but like blood guilt it haunted me from time to time. Then I could only hope the contract had nothing to do with it.

I returned home to my wife and we talked about the proceedings and the conclusion of my meeting with James Dawins. It appeared my fear concerning her reaction to my compliance was unnecessary after all. It was all about the money—the means to ensure our family wasn't torn apart—that was the impression she gave. She made little inquiries about the nature of the job and seemed unperturbed about the details. It was the weight of the remunerations that enthralled her. I was a bit disappointed she got carried away perhaps by her fantasies and the anticipation of a chance to get Enny treated outside the country.

"All they want from you is to decipher some scrolls, abi?" she inquired with a tone garnished in her native accent.

"Yes, I suppose" I replied.

"I hope they won't tell you to come and start going inside water to find lost scrolls o" she added.

"I don't think so my dear" I smiled and poked her, "besides James gave the impression that they have the scrolls ready. They only need my expertise to decipher them."

"And you are sure about the company ọkọ mi?"

"Yes, I double checked and spoke to my friend Biola in London. He confirmed they are genuine. I don't think there is anything to be worried about," I tried to be optimistic.

"Ok and they promised to take care of Eniola," she supposed.

"Absolutely, they will take care of her medical bills" I assured.

"It's ok, I think every opportunity is an added advantage to help Eniola get better," she took a deep breath, "I hope God in his infinite mercy will keep her for us." she was sober, but I cuddled her in my arms.

It baffled me that my wife mentioned nothing about my safety or competence, but I stomached it. Life has been unfair to us however I had no choice but to stay positive. The name Ehirod prior to my acquaintance with James was completely strange and unheard of. I needed to clarify with James I was no professional exegetist, and neither was my degree in symbolism and ancient text profound. He listened to my quibbles but remained resolute—his conviction that I was the man for the job remained unshaken.

There was a hidden agenda, but I had my daughter's life as take. It will even more be intriguing to discover their agenda would offer the world no greater good—but I'm only human. I intended to not back out until I got what I needed from them. It was greater danger for me to succumb to my misgivings as there was something I feared even more; to have Omotara fault me for not making a move when I had the chance to save Eniola from the shadows of death—I couldn't allow that, it will totally destroy me to lose them both. They were my burden, burdens that gave my life meaning. I had reasons to believe if Omotara was in my shoes she wouldn't give it a second thought.

We had to prepare to forgo our fondness for the contract and it wasn't until then that I was required to spend more than a week away from my family since our marriage. The comfort of Omotara's bosom had harbingered my peaceable night rest for so long but that must change; six months away from that appeared impossible—and I had no idea if I could do it. I wasn't sure of what my wife was thinking but for Eniola: she needed a life, she deserved to find happiness and such sacrifice on her behalf is worth giving a try.

I made my decision to commence the contract clear to James. He encouraged me to obtain an international passport and prepare to travel to South Africa. He made it known that South Africa wasn't the destination and sent me a copy of the itinerary. I said my goodbyes to a few friends but most importantly my Family. It was a journey in anticipation to fulfill a promise, earn my wife a living and that which was well deserved.