Chapter 3: The Ask

The barracks had not changed.

The same faded cream buildings stood beneath rows of old mango trees. Young soldiers hurried across the parade ground with files tucked beneath their arms. Somewhere in the distance, a whistle shrieked, followed by the familiar bark of commands.

Left.

Right.

Left.

For most men, returning to the barracks after deployment felt like returning to routine.

For Emeka, it felt like walking into a place that no longer knew him.

He signed the necessary papers, exchanged brief greetings with officers he had not seen in over a year, and answered the same questions over and over.

"How was the mission?"

"Any injuries?"

"How long is your leave?"

He smiled when expected.

Answered politely.

Kept moving.

No one asked about the storm waiting for him at home.

As he stepped out of the administrative building, the afternoon sun pressed heavily against the concrete courtyard.

"Corporal Obi."

The voice stopped him instantly.

He turned.

Colonel Adio was walking toward him.

Neatly pressed uniform.

Cap tucked beneath one arm.

The same measured confidence that had made men straighten their backs whenever he entered a room.

For a brief moment, instinct took over.

Emeka saluted.

"Good afternoon, sir."

The colonel returned the salute with a small smile.

"Welcome home."

"Thank you, sir."

"I heard your unit performed exceptionally."

"We did our duty."

"I expected nothing less."

There was warmth in the colonel's voice.

Real warmth.

That made what came next even harder.

The colonel rested a hand on Emeka's shoulder.

"I also heard about your brother."

Emeka lowered his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

"A terrible situation."

"It is."

"I've already spoken to the investigating officers."

Emeka looked up.

"If your brother is innocent," the colonel continued, "the truth will come out."

Most people would have found comfort in those words.

Instead...

something inside Emeka tightened.

Because truth did not simply "come out."

People chose whether to speak it.

The colonel studied him for a moment.

"You were in Ogui before your deployment."

"Yes, sir."

"The same night."

"Yes, sir."

A gentle breeze rustled the mango leaves overhead.

Neither man spoke.

Then the colonel asked quietly,

"Did you happen to see anything?"

The question sounded casual.

Almost harmless.

But Emeka felt its weight immediately.

This wasn't an officer asking for information.

This was a man protecting his son.

Images flashed through Emeka's mind.

His mother's swollen eyes.

Adaeze's unborn child.

Chidi sitting alone inside a concrete cell.

Then another memory surfaced.

Bama.

Two years earlier.

An armoured vehicle had erupted into flames after striking an improvised explosive device.

Smoke.

Fire.

Bullets cracking through the air.

Emeka's leg trapped beneath twisted metal.

He had truly believed he was going to die.

Then someone ran into the fire.

Not because he had to.

Because he refused to leave one of his men behind.

Colonel Adio.

Even now, Emeka could still remember the heat on the colonel's face as he dragged him from the burning vehicle.

He had carried Emeka across open ground while insurgents continued firing.

Later, in the field hospital, the colonel had laughed and said,

"You still owe me a bottle of malt."

It had become a joke between them.

A debt that could never truly be repaid.

Standing beneath the mango trees now...

Emeka finally understood something.

Some debts ask too much.

The colonel spoke again.

"You didn't see anything."

It wasn't a question.

It was permission.

Permission to remain silent.

Permission to repay an old debt.

Permission to betray his brother.

Emeka's heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears.

"No, sir."

The words tasted bitter.

"I didn't see anything."

For the first time since approaching him, the colonel smiled fully.

"Good."

His hand squeezed Emeka's shoulder.

"A loyal man is difficult to find these days."

Loyal.

The word struck harder than any insult.

The colonel adjusted his cap.

"Go home."

"Your family needs you."

"Yes, sir."

The colonel walked away without another glance.

Emeka remained where he stood.

The courtyard had become strangely quiet.

Even the soldiers marching across the parade ground seemed far away.

He stared at the place where the colonel's hand had rested.

Moments ago...

it had felt like gratitude.

Now...

it felt like a chain.