Always in a hoodie, he would watch from afar like it was a movie.
At times when the sun was high in the sky, he would tell his workers to stop Luta from the work and call for a meal thereafter.
Things worked out well but no one was saying a word.
The guard who came with Luta was constant. The hoodie guy had written to the prison through the help of the fat man, to help keep that exact guard constantly posted with Luta.
After five weeks, one evening, it happened. Luta was busy consoling himself after he had hit the spade mistakenly on his legs. With tear-filled eyes, he watched blood form around his nails.
He could not connect to that moment when he felt like a kid.
It was all gone and he felt a thing or two was wrong with his memories; like his past had been wiped off and a section of his childhood had been taken.
Luta was given a room to stay after work. In that room was nothing fit for a prisoner, who felt there was nothing more to life except shame and death.
There was a bedside fridge filled with all kinds of drinks, a TV, a standing mirror, a bed. The floor was rugged. The walls, graced with designs whose beauty would have been stolen, if left on the streets.
He felt different in there and every weekend, he always wanted to come over to work.
His life had changed, but one thing never happened- he never spoke to his employer. He missed every chance to speak to his new employer; the guy in the hoodie.
The guy in the hoodie was someone familiar to him and he had a lot of questions to ask him, but he just wasn't open to talks.
All the pain he had endured all his life felt like nothing. Everytime he got hurt, it snared his heart, and this made him speak less.
After a month, the man in the hoodie stopped showing up as frequently as he used to.
He wouldn't walk up to Luta for a conversation, neither was Luta ready to have a word with the demon he felt took half of his world away.
Yes, the man in the hoodie must have saved him, but he was sure he killed everyone else.
The first day was cool with little directives.
The old, grey-haired, spooky man, who took charge of instructions was very boring. Overall, Luta's idea of him was a dull, old man.
Luta would sniff and be quick anytime the old got behind him, and whenever it was time for a break, he got back into the little space they had made out for him.
He was in the shower and soon, had the cold water running down his body.
He scrubbed dirt for a while. When he was clean, he watched the bath tub get filled to a limit and immersed himself in it. Taking himself back to his old life, the great moments of his life.
Then it changed! His mental plate had a switch and a new image popped up.
The guy in the hoodie was holding fast to a bag. A chopper had just moved across the rooftop with its long blades rotating uncontrollably, and shaking the peace of the whole atmosphere, generating sounds loud enough to make a baby go deaf forever.
Luta thought the chopper was going to pitch on a rooftop nearby, but that wasn't the case.
The guy in the hoodie pointed at a car parked in the other side of the road. It was dark and late. The street was swampy and the road, muddy. It rained an hour ago and might rain again later in the night.
The guy in the hoodie had brought him to the car, yanked the door open and made him climb in.
They drove in the car for several hours non-stop. No conversation was recorded, neither did any of the streets look familiar.
It was like a journey with no end until the car finally pulled up after a signpost that read, 'Stop! Don't move any further.'
Another sign post declared 'Military Zone! Don't move.'
Luta turned around. The clouds were gathering up and lightning moved across the sky. He clenched to his bag and turned around looking into the eyes of the guy in the hoodie.
Same eyes- brown and compassionate. He knew this person was going out of his way to help him, and he didn't know why. However, he knew he was dangerous and could change his mind to end his life right at the spot.
"Listen to me," the guy in the hoodie said, his breath getting hard as his eyes searched for the very moment to lock a gaze.
"This moment never existed. We never met. We don't look alike. Don't ever come back looking for me, your past life, or anyone who hunted you. You can't win them," he paused to catch a breath then got back on track.
"Even if you see me again, don't act like we have met," he said.
He pulled his hoodie off and compelled Luta to open the car door.
The guy in the hoodie didn't wait a second before he sent his elbow at Luta's side and pushed him out.
He spun the wheels around till the car made a complete turn.
He stopped his movement and yelled,
"The soldiers would be here soon! Tell them, '127AJ.' They will take you to Accra in three days. Contact no one. I will reach you myself," he said.
The guy in the hoodie raised his car engine, spat out and stepped on the accelerator.
Luta looked up, back from his thoughts. The old man was in the bathroom, but he felt nothing wrong.
The man was with a telephone and was stretching out his hands with the receiver.
Luta stepped out of the tub naked. His cold legs created patterns on the floor.
"Hello," he said into the phone, not knowing who the caller was.
No voice came off from the other end.
Luta kept saying. There was no reply. He got tired and dropped the receiver. He said nothing and watched the old man walk out of the bathroom. He heard the door to the room slam close, and wondered how deep he had gone in thoughts.
He returned into the tub, and immersed himself in the water again. His journey back the thought lane began.
The old man walked back into a little room. He moved across the room and stopped at a desk. He dropped the receiver then rolled up his sleeves. He wasn't focused on his environment. het pushed some buttons and lifted the receiver to his ear just as it began to ring.
"You said nothing. Why?" The old man challenged.
"I don't want to endanger him again," the cold voice replied.
"You know he can't remain hidden forever. In no time, they would know he still exists. They would come for him and that's all. Get him ready for his fight. Let him go for them first and take them all by surprise."
"He has a lot to learn then."
The voice was calm from the other end.
"What else does he have to learn? Maybe you should begin with the fact that he lost his memories as a kid, and that you are his twin brother," the old man said.
His breath was deep. When he heard nothing from the other side, he dropped the receiver, hoping that his boss would think things through.