The Last Call II

Adigun grew up to be a handsome young man. He had no knowledge of the legacy that shadowed his family. He was not cut out to be a farmer so he started a small delivery business in Ibadan, navigating the chaotic streets on his okada, delivering packages to clients with no questions asked.

One evening, Adigun received a strange delivery request. A package wrapped in a cloth with strange symbols and a note that read:

"Deliver exactly at midnight. Do not look back."

He felt the package was strange but he had never believed in superstitions. Besides, he was in the business to make money, and he had made far stranger deliveries.

Before midnight, he rode off on his okada. It was midnight when he arrived at the destination—a rundown house at the outskirts of the city. The compound was dead silent and a single dim light bulb hung above the front door. He knocked. No response. 

Suddenly his phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

"Leave the package. Go Now."

Adigun shrugged, placed the package down and turned to leave, but the door creaked open. He turned. A bony hand reached out and pulled the package inside, followed by a whisper — a voice—soft, heavy with something ancient:

"The bloodline returns."

Adigun froze as an unsettling feeling clawed at his chest. The voice sounded familiar, though he couldn't place it. His phone buzzed again, and he looked at the new message.

He glared at his phone, confused. It was a picture. Of him. But it wasn’t just his face staring back at him. The face looked older, rougher, a mirror image of his father with hollow eyes. The realization hit him like a hard slap to the face. 

"The price of defiance has not been paid."

The shrill voice called. The air grew heavy, pressing down on him. The dark shadows of the night stretched, as if reaching for him. His legs felt like lead, his vision blurred and Adigun lost his grip on his phone. It crashed to the floor as he stumbled backwards.

The door closed with a final thud, and the shadows around him seemed to grow darker, thicker. The whisper lingered in his ears: "The bloodline returns."

He staggered away from the door, trying to catch his breath, but a strange pull kept him rooted to the spot. His heart pounded, and his thoughts raced. What did this all mean? His mind flashed to his childhood—his parents' strange deaths, the odd feeling of being watched. He had dismissed it as superstition, but now… everything made sense.

Adigun forced his legs to move and he stumbled back to his okada, trying to shake off the dread creeping up his spine. As he revved the engine, he felt something—like a presence—overshadowing him. He glanced around. The street was empty, but the air felt heavy, as if something was watching.

He rushed home like a man being pursued by spirits. He entered his home seeking the peace he was used to but, everything felt different. The air was thick with a strange, oppressive energy. It was as if his very surroundings were closing in on him.