The fourth passenger - A story written by vanessahampton for steemiansarena

steemiansarena (44)in #story • 7 years ago (edited)

The Fourth Passenger

“Driver, when this motor go full now?” My elder sister, Faith queried in pidgin English.
Short, stout and louder than a bad battery-operated radio, our driver pushed his chewing stick to one corner of his mouth and leaned down to peer at Faith. For one long, timeless moment, he said nothing, just stared hard at us, his big eyeballs roving from Faith, me, and my junior sister, Hope.

I held my breath, waiting tensely for him to stop staring. I didn't like the look in his eye at all. For the hundredth time, I wondered if I would regret traveling all the way from Lagos to Delta state for a damn wedding. I wasn't even a fan of weddings to begin with. Give me a champions league night with uninterrupted power supply, a working ceiling fan, because watching football and sweating shouldn't be in the same sentence, and I am good.

He forced the door open. “Come down.”

I and Faith looked at each other. Hope leaned forward to meet the driver’s eyes. “Sir? Wetin you mean by come down?”

The driver glared at us. “I no get time for rubbish. I am not going anywhere until this car is full. If you can't wait, get out. Or do you want to pay for the empty seat?”

The change from pidgin to correct English shocked us. I looked beyond his unwashed body, dirty clothes and unsmiling features and saw the light of intelligence in his eyes. I glanced at the front, empty passenger seat and debated silently, if I paid for the seat, we could leave the taxi park to the wedding venue faster. As it was, we were already five minutes late.

_{By Alexas_FotosCCO Creative Commons}

“Don’t do it,” Faith said angrily. “Let him look for a passenger, it serves him right.”

I shook my head. “I did not travel all the way from Lagos for a wedding and still miss it.”

Hope leaned forward. “Driver, please, we’re late. Can’t you pick someone along the road?"

The driver’s eyes flickered from Faith to Hope. With a loud grunt, he banged the door closed, causing Faith to jump in fright.

“Do you want to injure me?” she asked in anger.

Without a reply or a glance at Faith, the driver got in, turned the ignition and the journey began.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Hope smiled at the driver. “Thank you sir.”

Faith grumbled words under her breath that I didn't bother to make out. I couldn't care less.

About ten minutes later, we were on a long stretch of road when our car was flagged down by a beautiful young lady. I tore my eyes from my wristwatch to admire her coltish, long-legged beauty. I barely stifled a sigh. Where was I when the beauty gene was shared?

“Lord, give me that handbag,” Hope breathed.

I laughed. Hope was obsessed with expensive handbags. “It’s too small,” I replied dismissively.

She arched an eyebrow at me. “Don't you know small bags are the rage now?"

I shrugged.

“Your money, please,” the driver called.

Faith handed him our money. I sat back and closed my eyes, savoring the wind tearing through my hair from the windows. I would need to retouch my makeup and brush my hair again but I didn't mind. For me, the fun of traveling was watching the world race past as the wind caressed my features.

“Didn't you hear me?”

My eyes popped open. I stared at Hope in question but she just shrugged.

“Your money,” the driver repeated, punctuating the demand with a glare at the leggy beauty in front.

“I don't have money,” the girl said.

Faith, Hope and I gaped at each other. The driver burst into laughter. “You don't have money and you entered?” He sneered, “is it your long legs I will use to buy fuel?”

I groaned aloud in frustration. A glance at my watch revealed we were more than twenty minutes late. I shouldn't have traveled for this wedding. Jesus. Figures the day I decide to do something out of character, drama follows it.

_{By Dazzle Jam CCO Licence}

“Pull over,” the girl said.

I blinked and leaned forward. “You’re at fault. Beg him.”

She dipped her hand into her dainty handbag and pulled out a daintier gun. My mouth fell open in shock. The onrushing wind thundered past my ears, drowning out the girl’s words. Surely, I wasn't seeing well.

With a practised movement, she aimed the gun at the driver. “Pull over.”

The driver bared his teeth at her. “Goat. You think you can intimidate me with a toy gun?”

Faith gripped my thigh, digging her fingers in so hard, my vision blurred from the pain. “What are we going to do?” she whispered.

I swallowed, wincing at the pain. “Driver, please pull over,” I said in a thready whisper.

The driver waved me off. “Don't be afraid, it's a toy--”

The loud report from the tiny gun, echoed through the car. I flinched, throwing my body across Faith and bringing my hands up to cover my head.

The driver screamed. The car swerved to the left, skidding and jumping across the bumps in the road before jerking to a stop.

My ears continued to ring from the sound of the gun shot. For seconds, or was it minutes? I couldn't hear a thing over the screams of the driver and my ringing ears.

“Jesus, God, father, everyone, forgive me all my sins,” Hope chanted under her breath.

As my senses returned, it was welcomed to reality by the strong, unpleasant smell of urine. I pulled myself from Faith and stared at her legs with it's unmistakable trail of wetness.

“It's not a toy gun,” the girl continued calmly. Our eyes met in the rear view mirror and she raised an eyebrow. “Do you want another demonstration?”

I shook my head mutely.

She nodded. “Get out of the car.”

Hope pushed the door open and fell out in her hurry to get away. Faith grabbed her handbag and pushed her door open, crying silently.

“Leave your things,” the girl ordered sharply.

When we were assembled by the side of the road like rain beaten rats, with the sobbing driver before us, the girl got into the drivers seat and pulled away.

I stared at the car until its headlights disappeared.

I should have listened to my instincts and stayed home.