Chapter 56: Karma Visits

Now they had been murdered, erased, and it appeared as though someone had snatched the very life out of him and tossed it into a yawning ocean, leaving him deathly empty, emptier than he had ever been in his life. And what could he do now other to to surrender to the reality of his certain death and accept his deserved comeuppance? But no! Goddamn! He was Danger Boy, and yes, that old brown fire still burned somewhere inside him. Yes, he had lost. Yes, he would die. But he would not go without a mad fight. He didn't sacrifice a lot over the years to be defeated like this now. Heck!

He sprang to his feet and moved swiftly like a bull that had gone berserk towards his living room, pistol aimed high, straight ahead, ready to shoot.

"Coward!" he spat, angry tears streaking his face, "show yourself, you bloody motherfucker!"

He moved about the house, searching every room, the kitchen, and even the bathrooms and toilets, breathing loudly with the resolve of a man who wasn't scared of death.

Being one hundred percent certain of death takes away the fear of death and brings either courage or resignation. But in Leonardo's case it was courage, it was bravery, one that could take on ten men.

"Face me like a fucking man, you fucking bastard!"

He moved again, searching everywhere he had just searched, knocking things over, slamming his knuckles crazily against the wall.

"Coward!"

He reached for his large Plasma TV and hurled it to the ground in one insane move, destroying it. What was an inaminate property when his real, breathing family had just been murdered?

"Come face me now, damn you!"

The rage shook him, almost choking him. He was completely out of his mind now. Convinced that there was no killer in the house, he rushed outside and his eyes darted about his compound, checking every corner, every space, behind the building and even under his car. Exasperated, he traipsed back in the house. The shooter had gone.

"No, no, no, no, no!" he wept as he entered his bedroom and saw the amount of blood that had flowed from Zoe's head. And then he began to wail loudly.

"I'm so sorry, babe," he said, holding her in his arms on the ground, his tears dropping down her bloodied face, "you don't deserve this. I'm terribly sorry."

He remembered, quite depressingly, how Zoe had stuck with him over the years. He knew she had lied when she told him thirty minutes ago that she had never loved him. He knew how much Zoe adored him, how much she was devoted to him, and how she had been faithful. He didn't know what she saw in him that made her love him like that. Perhaps it was because they had the same proclivities and enjoyed the same vanities. Perhaps it was because they both connected deeply with each other more than anyone else. Leonardo understood why she had reacted in the way she did before she was shot. Hell hath no fear like a woman scorned. He knew she had felt bitter that he had raped someone. Yes, he knew she didn't expect fidelity from him but rape was something utterly different. It was gross. It was humiliating for her. It most have shattered her to know that the husband she had stuck with for over 10 years had committed such crime, with his face published in newspapers as a rapist. That must have sent her over the edge and he was just too insensitive to her pain. Worse, he didn't even care to apologize; instead he pointed a gun at her face.

"I'm so sorry," he said, weeping loudly.

He lifted her body to the bed and covered her with the duvet after looking at her face for a long time. Lying lifeless was the best friend he had ever had, and she had died because of him. As far as he knew, that bed would be her grave until someone found her body, because he would run away from this state in the next few minutes.

"I'm sorry, darling," he again, crying like a child. "I brought this upon you. Please forgive me."

He knew he had to act fast. If the killer wasn't around anymore, that meant only one thing: He still had hope of escaping. But why had the killer gone away like that without doing anything to him? What was all that about? Did the killer not know that he would run away? Oh, no. Mathew knew that if anyone could find him in that little village in Akure, they could as well find him anywhere else. No, not true! They wouldn't be able to find him ever again. He would travel to the north, as far as Katsina or Sokoto. He could even run to Benin Republic or Cameroun or even Niger Republic and continue his travel plan to Dubai from there. They would never catch him again. This was his chance. The shooter had made a huge mistake to let him go. Leonardo caught himself smiling at these thoughts, much to his chagrin.

He quickly put on a black T-shirt and a pair of denim jeans. He had to leave now, right now. Who could tell if the shooter was hiding behind his walls outside, waiting for him to fall to the bait? Leonardo shook his head. Whatever the case, it was far more dangerous to remain here. He would take his chance.

He had gotten to the door, set to leave before he decided to give his dead children one last look.

Kneeling in front of them, with fresh acidic tears blinding him, he wept with untold anguish and sorrow.

"What a horrible dad I was to both you!" he lamented. "Please forgive me, my darlings, your daddy is worse than the devil!"

He stood up and threw his hand up in frustration. "Oh God, why am I such a despicable human being!" And then he wept some more, his heart filled with piercing regrets.

He was set to leave when he heard a soft rapping on the living room door. Damn! They were here again.

Leonardo pulled out his gun tucked at his clutch inside his trousers. Danger bells were ringing in his mind now. This is kill or be killed.

Slowly, he moved with his back on the wall, just like in the movies, edging carefully towards the door with both hands holding the gun upwards at his face. And then something happened.