prinsbinky Oluremi Zainab

Lara woke up in a strange bed, in a strange country, covered in cuts and a pool of sweat mingled with stains of blood. She woke up to the sound of gunshots that confused the hell out of her and had her scrambling out of bed in a lame attempt to escape through the window. However, her attempt was thwarted and made impossible when she realized the room she was in was several floors above the ground. She also realized she had no memory of who she was, why she was there, and why there were gunshots at her tail. All she knew was she had to protect herself somehow and get the hell out of there. She was unprepared for the fluid moves she used to disarm her opponents or the passport she found that had several stamps of places she traveled to, places she had no recollection of but which revealed her adventurous nature. Finding out later she was a secret agent betrayed by the government she worked for, and her adventurous nature wasn't orchestrated or fueled by fun or restlessness but a burning need for vengeance against those who murdered her parents rocked her sanity and filled her with a determination to continue her wandering quest to uncover the truth and mete out justice, even if it meant the wanderlust for truth would be a neverending one that might take her to the end of the world and back, and would be filled with perils. She wouldn't stop her quest for retribution.

Приключения Всех возростов. © Copyright ©️ 2024-05-01 by O.J Zainab

#betrayal # #questforjustice #thewanderlust #lossofmemories #gunshots
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The wanderlust of a secret agent

She woke up to the sounds of gunshots, her body soaked in a pool of sweat mingled with stains of blood. She was injured; there were tiny cuts on her flesh that had been dressed by someone, but she couldn't for the life of her recall how she got injured or how she got here. Who was she? And why was she hearing gunshots? Swiftly she jumped out of bed, her first instinct to shield herself, thankful her motor skills weren't impaired by her injuries beyond the aches she felt within her. She looked down at herself and noticed she was dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, which was fine by her. She needed to move now and find something to defend herself with because the gunshots were getting closer and her intuition told her whoever was out there was after her.

Taking a sweep of her surroundings, she noticed she was in an executive room with a full-length window that was currently open with its curtains parted to allow in the sun's rays. She could hear some noises normally found in a bustling city or town; sounds of beeping cars and honking motorbikes, chatters of bypassers, passengers, and marketers trying to seduce buyers to patronize their goods. The sounds that traveled to her ears attested to the fact that she must be smack-dab in a busy town, probably in a hotel or guest house. She wasn't so sure, and couldn't ponder over it now as her life was in perils and she had no freaking idea why.

She rushed towards the window, thinking it was her ticket out of the apartment but threw the notion out of her head when she realized she was several feet above ground and jumping would mean a certain death. Her confused panicked gaze flew frantically around the street below and noticed a parade was in procession. She took note of the colorful procession and nothing seemed familiar. Not the streets, the shapes of the buildings, or even the people and their style of dressing. Everything looked strange, and she felt like a fish out of the water. The fright and desperation of a lost chick couldn't compete with the emotions clawing at her insides and threatening to make her a quivering mess vulnerable to the danger lurking close. She was better than this! Stronger than she looked! And she refused to be anyone's victim.

With that solemn thought, she felt a switch within her that turned her movements mechanical and calculated. Turning away from the window, she threw the shutters closed cloaking the room in darkness which would weaken the threat hellbent on taking her out. Hiding behind the door, she waited with bated breath for the threat to descend. And boy, was she not disappointed. Right before her sight, two bulky men entered the room with their guns pointed out and ready, and she took a deep breath and turned tai-chi on them. Her hands and legs became alien to her as they shot out with such precision with right hooks and uppercuts followed swiftly by spinning kicks that disarmed the men and had them crashing hard on the tiled floor. They were out cold in seconds which left her breathless and stunned.

Who the hell was she? She questioned silently but had no time to dwell on it. The men lying unconscious at her feet might not be the only ones hunting her, more might be at their tail. She needed to get the hell out of there, but first, she needed to glean as much information as she could from the place. Quickly, she frisked them for any information that might be handy but came up empty. They were clean and had no items on them but a tiny little black phone.
Weird. Who uses this kind of phone these days? And dressing in all black, were they imitating men in black or something? She knew trying to make light of things wouldn't erase the problem at hand. She was in a deep fix, and was like a mouse thrown in a pit of cobra snakes; open prey to any predator hungry enough to take a bite at her.

She was a freaking mess and was a sitting duck with no memories for guidance. But she would change that, she would turn the table somehow because she was nobody's sitting duck. She must solve the mystery surrounding her now. She must discover the truth about her existence, solve the mystery of the passport, and recover her memories. Fueled by that thought she swept the room she woke up in and came up empty, then she vacated the room, taking cautious steps that led to a small living space sparsely decorated and an open kitchen. There was another closed door to her left that caught her attention and she moved towards that but halted her movements when she noticed a young nurse lying in a pool of her blood, and a young man shot dead in the head; the shocked look in his eyes was heartbreaking and depicted the fact that death had snuck up on him.

But who were they? She quickly searched them but came up empty. Then she continued towards the other room and opened it slowly, waving the gun she had stolen from one of the culprits out. She sighed in relief when she found the room was empty. Ruffling through the items on the bedside table she found something that looked suspiciously like her passport judging by the image staring back at her. It had stamps of places she couldn't recall ever visiting. She in Istanbul, Rome, Spain, Korea, and Nigeria sounded like a big stretch over the seven seas, quite unbreachable and insane, even to her bewildered mind. She didn't look like the kind that had an adventurous spirit. Besides, what would make her travel to such places in under a year?


But then, the evidence in her hands couldn't lie. She had visited these places for some unknown reasons. But why? Why couldn't she remember anything? Why? She turned the passport over and realized it was the property of the United States of America, meaning that she must be a citizen of America, one of the most powerful countries in the world. She sighed to dispel the cloud of befuddlement playing havoc with her emotions and ransacked the drawers further, just looking for anything that would enlighten or shed light on her predicament. Her search produced nothing, the passport was her only guidance and lead. She shoved it in her jean shorts and grabbed the black jacket slung over the armchair on her way out. It probably would swallow her up as it belonged to a man, probably the dead guy in the living room, but it would conceal the tiny cuts gracing her arms. The cut on her head though couldn't be hidden.

As she hit the bustling street and merged with the festive parade taking place, she noticed how out of place she looked, not only in her movements but how she was dressed. The folks surrounding her were dressed in attires made of straws that shook with each fluid musical step they made and were painted in white stripes and marks that made them look exotic. She suspected from their headdress that she was somewhere in Africa, and the only African stamp in her passport was Nigeria. So she must be in Nigeria, but which state? She had to find out. She needed to get out of the parade and find a newsstand to hunt for information. Something told her that was a good place to start her search for self-discovery.

As much as she enjoyed the celebratory harmony of the festivities, she had bigger worries that needed her undivided attention. She needed to solve the mystery behind her lost memory and the men in black after her life. Falling out of the parade, with a final look at the procession and bright masquerade that was honey to the people dancing around it like buzzing bees, she stepped onto the sidewalk and took a sharp turn that led to a quiet street with fewer people crawling it. She took her time to study the various shops of businesses, just trying to find something that touched a chord within her. There were several boutiques of African wear and jewelry, cafes, a small bar, an Internet cafe, and a mini-mart hosting their businesses but none rang a bell. Finally, she noticed the display of magazines and newspapers on a stand beside the mini-mart run by a short bald man. Drawing closer, she smiled gently at him and decided to fish for information while oggling the news on display.

"Which town is this?" she asked curiously, eyeing the display in front of her.

"Are you lost?" he answered with a question, looking at her with pity.

"Uh... No. The name just keeps escaping me."

"Oh, I understand! It sounds strange to you right?"


"This is Lekki, a town in Lagos."


"Yes!" he affirmed, watching her with a worried look. "Are you lost? I can help you if you're?"

"Oh no, I'm good," she turned him down, then thought better of it. "On second thought, I need your help... Uh... Uh, can you give me your latest newspaper? I don't have any money to pay you though."

"Oh don't worry about it. Here, you can have this. It's on the house. And take this too, it's not much but might help you get around till you find what you're looking for," the man said in a cryptic voice as he fished out some money from his pocket and handed it to her. She was touched and overwhelmed by his kindness. Involuntarily, her eyes clouded with tears and she thanked him profusely before accepting his gifts and turning away to go find a safe place to read the news. She must not isolate herself and blend in with the crowd to prevent any foe from easily finding her and taking her out. So she decided to use the cafe as a shield, she had money now and could afford to order a cup of coffee. She needed to stay alert, and a boost of caffeine might be of help. Soon, she would have to find a way to earn a living or risk dying of starvation before her foes do the job.

God, where was she going to stay? She couldn't return to the apartment, nor roam all day and night. The streets might not be safe at night, especially for a stranger like herself. So, she needed to come up with a plan, and quickly before sunset.

Sighing woefully, she pushed through the sliding doors of the cafe and found a corner away from the window to perch. Then she ordered the coffee and thanked the fine waiter when he placed her drink before her. Taking a long sip, she swallowed with relish and sat back to read the newspaper. Diving into the news, she took her time to read the news that meant nothing to her, taking more sips of her drink and savoring the rich flavor. Quietly, she assimilated the information written from page to page, until she reached a news that rocked her world. The news was about the mysterious deaths of foreign agents on the shore of Nigeria, Lekki to be precise. The impact of the news had tidbits of her recent past flashing through her mind. Sitting rooted in shock, she hissed in pain as flashes of memories hit her mind repeatedly like sunbeams on the skin.

What in the loving name of God was this?

She hurtled forward as another wave pushed through the fog of her mind. She saw herself with a few well-armed agents fighting for their lives in the sea, being gutted down by the very people they trusted and worked for. People who are supposed to have their backs. Tears flowed, thick and heavy as the realization she was being hunted by her people hit home. But why? Why, when she was loyal to them and gave them her best?

She remembered how and why she became an agent. She had witnessed the death of her parents and her life had made a pivotal change, where she had tossed out her quiet life for a life filled with danger, an adventure one only sees in the movies, and a wanderlust fueled by her need for vengeance. She became an agent of the government; the best in her field, and each mission drew her closer to the truth and placed her in different countries. She had automatically developed itchy feet and traveled to foreign lands in search of truth.

This mission in Nigeria was supposed to unveil the face behind the hit on her parents.
Her wanderlust was not caused by restlessness or itchy feet as was known in most cases but was premeditated and governed by her quest for vengeance, and she wouldn't bow out even if it meant traveling all over the world or to the end of it. Although, she hadn't anticipated her actions leading to her near death, or the loss of her memory.

Damn! What was she gonna do now? She couldn't stop her quest and must forge ahead. Everything made perfect sense now. Her ability to fight made sense. And with these revelations comes the need to fish out the slimy double-faced traitors in their government. And God help them all if the whole government was dirty and involved in her parent's death. She would kill them all, starting with the people who took out her team and are after her. She didn't know how, but she would even if she would have to live the rest of her life moving from town to town, city to city, and country to country. She wouldn't stop until she eliminated them all, putting an end to their wickedness. It was a good thing she was good at what she did, had no roots or family whatsoever, and had a wandering adventurous heart to fuel her quest for retribution.

"There you are! I have been worried sick looking for you, especially when I found the mess back in my apartment." The man sat across from her without any invitation. She glared at him.

"Who the hell are you?!" she asked the lean dark-skinned man staring down at her. He was in his late twenties and seemed to have an easy-going air about him, but she wasn't fooled. No one is to be trusted, especially not now, after getting most of her memory back.

"I'm the man who saved your life."


"I pulled you out of the water and nursed you back to health with the help of the nurse who is now dead."

"Y... You're my savior?" she asked surprised, glad to have found another lead.

"And I would be any other thing you want me to be. Consider me your helper."

"But why? Why would you want to help me?"

"I witnessed the brutality that took place, how those agents were shot at. I saw everything but was powerless to do anything. All I could do was try and save any survivor after what they did. And judging by how you were dressed, and the passport with its detailed stamps I found on you, I suspected you were an agent or spy, and you were betrayed by your government. It was an American vessel that shot at you."

"What were you doing out there in the cloak of the night?" she asked dubiously.

"Fishing. I love to fish in the dark. You can trust me, I'm your ally and want to help you."

"Thank you for saving me."

"You're welcome. Tell me, what do you need?"

"I need you to take me to the crime scene for starters," she said with a hard glint entering her eyes. They better watch out. She had discovered herself and was coming for them all. The tiny phone in her pocket would lead her to her foes.
Her quest continues, and she would hunt them down even if that meant not making roots and always hopping from one place to another.

There's no stopping this lady and the fiery wanderlust quest for justice that burns within.

1 мая 2024 г. 16:56 7 Отчет Добавить Подписаться

Об авторе

Oluremi Zainab O.J. Zainab, a young lady from Ghana who is always fascinated by the dreamy world of novels, and would love to give back to the world some joy she got from reading. She gets her inspiration from God, the love & support of family and friends. Shout out to the design owners used for my books.


mA maria Abubakar
An amazing piece!

Dila Atman Dila Atman

Richard E James Ed. D, Ph. D Richard E James Ed. D, Ph. D
I like this story it's very good with excellent scene disruptions. What wonders how a young lady such as yourself was able to write such an action driven story. Your very skilled and fully expect you to be somewhere in the winners circle with it. However, just in case not letting you know that I appreciate this work and you immensely! I'd like to see you write a couple stories about your home, culture, religious influences and what it's like to be a young woman growing up in your country. Hope we can remain friends, Rick

  • Richard E James Ed. D, Ph. D Richard E James Ed. D, Ph. D
    Excellent scene descriptions not disruptions spell check sorry May 01, 2024, 18:30
  • Oluremi Zainab Oluremi Zainab
    Sure we can remain friends, and I will take your advice and someday write something about my country, though I have tried to depict something small of my country in my book 'Stolen Hearts'. Maybe we can collaborate on a book someday too. Thanks again, but don't forget to leave a review ;-) May 01, 2024, 20:21