He dropped to his knees beside Elelliana and placed two fingers gently on her neck, checking for a pulse like he knew what he was doing.
Then he leaned close. “Madam, can you hear me?”
Elelliana’s eyelids fluttered. Her lips moved.
“Help me.”
That was all.
The man’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t waste one more second. He slid one arm under her shoulders, the other under her knees, and lifted her with effort.
She was heavy, and her belly made it harder, but he carried her like she was his own sister.
The crowd gasped.
“See him!” someone hissed. “He wants to use her for ritual!”
Another man shouted, “Put her down! You will regret it!”
The homeless man spun around, breathing hard, sweat forming on his forehead.
“If you people like, follow me,” he snapped. “But if she dies here, it will be on your conscience forever.”
He walked fast, almost running toward the road.
Elelliana’s head rested on his shoulder. Her hand hung weakly around his neck.
The homeless man looked left and right for a taxi. He lifted his voice.
“Taxi, please stop! Emergency!”
A yellow taxi slowed down a little. Then the driver saw the homeless man’s torn clothes and quickly pressed the accelerator.
Another car passed. Another one. A danfo bus even honked as it drove away like it was a joke.
Jerry’s chest rose and fell quickly. His arms began to ache, but he held Elelliana tighter.
He ran again, shouting, waving. “Please help us!”
A man in an SUV rolled down his window and shouted, “No, carry that wahala comot my motor!” Then he drove off.
Jerry’s throat burned. His legs shook. Yet he kept moving.
