Noil and Quito

Noil returned home 15 minutes past 10pm. The atmosphere was quiet, except for the shrill sound of wind moving through the leaves of the mango tree in the middle of the compound. He stood outside briefly, staring blankly into the sky. The familiar smell of the air reminded him he was truly home. Wow. It’s been one score and two years already, he thought. After a while, he sauntered into the hall.

“Preseeee-nt arms!” Lieutenant Colonel Quito, ordered the nighthawk parade as Noil stood, befuddled and unable to fathom what was happening. “Thank you”. He said, sighting the small yellow light above his head.

“You are welcome back home, Uncle Noil.” Raising his eyebrows, he beheld the large army of nighthawks saluting him. “I am Lieutenant Colonel Tuli Quito, grandson of Commander Quito (the late). Please, ready as we first observe a minute silence in honour of our departed relations – for my forebears and for yours before we proceed. Colonel Quito added. Noil scanned the soldiers quickly as the seconds ticked away. “Twenty thousand troops? Wow. How come?” He muttered under his breath.

“May the souls of our departed rest in peace.” The soldiers returned to an at-ease position.

“You are welcome once again. We have been waiting for this momentous reunification. The next activity for the night is introductions. With me tonight are my siblings all who are soldiers of various ranks ranging from Corporal through Colonel. You’ll get familiar with each one of them as the days go by. Together, we are nighthawks of different generations, determined to avenge the death of our forebears.

The drum major struck the chords and the parade adjusted themselves. The look of perplexion on Noil’s face grew from green to red. His throat felt dry as he began to choke.

“Next, we shall present a situational report, outlining the relationship between our two families to you”. A female nighthawk stepped out to read a brief report touching on the number of casualties they have suffered at the hands of Noil’s forebears in the last decade. It also added an account of the number of hospital attendances they have caused members of the household to endure over the period. When the clock struck midnight, the band sang a lullaby whereupon they retired leaving Noil and Quito alone.

Raising his proboscis, Colonel Quito tapped Noil on the arm. Startled, Noil raised his eyelids with all the strength he could gather, revealing a pair of drowsy and receding eyeballs.

“A long time ago, my great grandmother, Mama Quito whispered to me you are quite stubborn with your convictions and that it would only take a heavy storm for you to return home. This kept us praying for a cyclone to afflict your sails. As we prayed, we kept our ears on the ground. Quito whispered.

Noil blinked five times repeatedly.

“Your dad made several attempts on my life and that of my siblings but we prevailed. Because of him, I enlisted in the army and graduated with flying colours. Imbued with guerrilla warfare tactics which I perfected over the years; I was simply too smart for him.

“We’ve been waiting patiently, and when my sources told me what happened to you, I knew your time was up. I am indeed very glad at your sudden return.

A streak of tear fell off Noil’s face.

“Don’t cry. That’ll be all for tonight. You may catch some sleep now.

The following morning, Noil was taken to the Medical Centre of the Recruitment Training School for medical examination. Director of the school, Air Vice Marshall Anopheles Quito (MD) dressed in full military regalia, with a stethoscope around his neck conducted the health examination. Perched on a plank in the ceiling and clutching his chutes, Colonel Quito observed the transfusion exercise with precision, keeping an eye on every move made by the doctor.

First, he checked Noil’s temperature and his heartbeat. They were both stable and he asked Noil to lie on his back on a student mattress. As he lied, the inscriptions in the room caught his attention. First was the ceiling which had the writing “keep steady”. Wondering what that meant, he moved his eyes leftward and saw “Vision statement: “to be the best training institution in the world”. Then, to his right, he saw core values: “Hard training. Discipline.

Doctor Quito fixed an antenna into Noil’s left nostril and drew three pints of blood. He pulled out his proboscis to give Noil a five-minute respite. Next, he inserted his proboscis into Noil’s right earlobe for the next three pints which came in less than ten minutes. The last four pints lasted fifteen minutes.

Noil drifted into a very long sleep immediately after the blood transfusion. When he woke from sleep, Doctor Quito was lying prostrate by the bed. Noil staggered to the kitchen to get a cup of cocoa. Sipping the beverage, he surveyed the entire area, marking points, making notes and mapping out strategies to foil further attacks on his life by Colonel Quito and his forces: The recruits training depot located in the drainage behind the base must be sealed. The uncompleted portion of the ceiling where members of Colonel Quito’s air force had pitched camp must be sealed to stop them from launching sporadic airstrikes and guerrilla onslaughts. Trapdoors would be erected at the two major entry points to the facility. This would serve as barricade against external ground forces. Every room in the entire camp would be illuminated.

He sent a message to Cozben pleading logistical support to carry his mission through. Colonel Quito intercepted the signal and ordered his men to give Noil a mild feel of pepper for a week. They seized his quill and writing materials. Then they held him hostage at the Malaria Bay where new occupants of the house had a taste of real military drill. Subjected to severe biting, Noil’s mouth felt dry and his breath shortened. His lungs struggled under the sordid conditions of the Bay. As he endured the torture, he continued to figure out how to implement the defence strategies he had mapped out quickly in order to take complete hold of the base…