Ebuka sat on the cold, dusty floor of the abandoned storehouse, his back against the wall. His younger brother, Chukwuma, was huddled beside him, sobbing uncontrollably, his head resting on Ebuka’s lap.
The gunshot reverberated through the night, causing Atutu to panic, but before he could react, Ebuka crept up behind him and slammed the stick into his neck. Atutu crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
“Make we just go, hin don fuck up, make we go.” Atutu had clearly had enough, they had been under the sun for the whole day and even now as the sun was setting they had only drank one sachet of water each.
Mama Oyinbo, still brushing her teeth, walked to the edge of the pavement, noticing the two men sleeping on the ground. Without hesitation, she kicked them awake.
The children gathered around the dazed and disoriented Father Christmas, who was now sitting on the floor, struggling to make sense of what was happening.
“The one that they will bring to your school is the real Father Christmas.” Ebuka thought, “If the one they bring to your school is not then it is one of Father Christmas’s assistants, you can still kidnap that one.”
Chukwuma nodded solemnly, not a hint of doubt clouding his youthful face. "So how do I get Father Christmas to give Daddy that kind of money?" he asked, his voice filled with determination.
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