I Am Lion

By Mambo Banda II

He dreams of death, he has skills of destruction, and he doesn’t remember who he is. Was he a monster or savior?

He calls himself Lion because he is a man with no past or identity, and he roams the streets of Pathos City living like an animal. Strange things have been happening to Lion, he’s been having dreams of being a killer and he has suddenly developed skills that make him a very dangerous person. Then there’s the small fortune he has just received from an unknown donor, and soon Lion realizes he has always been different from the people he has lived with on the streets. When Lion tries to find answers he accidentally meets Penelope, the daughter of the city’s most powerful crime boss. Penelope swears she knows Lion, and just before Penelope reveals what she knows Penelope‘s nearly assassinated, but Lion saves her and it nearly costs him his life. Lion finds himself bleeding to death and alone in a dark alley, but he refuses to give up on his past. Half broken and with the odds against him Lion moves forward even though the truth could kill him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mambo Banda II
• Release date: Sep 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310205507

Mambo Banda II

Mambo Banda II comes from a humble background, he has been writing for over 10 years. He has a bachelor of science, during the day he is a serial entrepreneur, businessman and author. He is fascinated by people and the inner workings of society; he uses fiction to explore these areas, and he uses his experience in life to ground his stories in reality.

Book preview

Lost

The moon cast a fatigued radiance, making it difficult to see anything. It was absolutely silent with the exception of a seething noise in the background, relenting and unending. Different smells filled the air, but one scent dominated, the smell of rotting mangos. Dawn approached and slowly relieved the night of its duty. The darkness began to vanish, slowly revealing the true nature of the place. The seething background sound continued even after the night faded away.

Moister and wetness covered the ground in patches, grass grew in other parts but an overpowering grey soil overshadowed everything else. A significant amount of garbage littered the place, low-level buildings and structures surrounded the area. People were scarce at that hour but it didn’t take long for the place to become lively with people engaging in daily activates.

High piles of garbage occupied one area; rotting mangos dotted the grass. It was a trading zone with multiple markets scattered throughout the place.

Shacks made from old polyester roofing that functioned as housing for the homeless blended into the environment. One distinct shack attracted curiosity; it’s pentagon shape and several dissected tires placed on the roof made it look unique.

The owner of the unique shack slept solemnly until the early hours of the morning. He slept face down on an old mattress covered in stains and holes. He snored quietly and shivered every so often in reaction to his dreams. He slept topless and wore an old pair of blue faded denim jeans that reached his shins. His body was toned and hard, his nails short but uneven due to being bitten crudely by teeth. His sleeping position and hair partially concealed his face. The dreadlocks hang of his scalp lazily while weaving with every movement he made. The musty beard that covered his face shook as he snored, occasionally he turned his head left or right subconsciously. An old red and brown carpet covered the hard grey ground of the shack, the final result uneven in places due to the uneven ground below. Different trinkets salvaged over time occupied the room.

He slowly drifted back to consciousness, his body began to move, he slowly lifted himself of the mattress and turned in order to seat with his legs out. He looked like he was in his late thirties but the beard made him look slightly older. He had a flat round and wide nose and lips that seemed proportionate to his face. His eyes were average in size and were a deep dark brown.

He tilted his head back and yawned wildly with his arms stretched out, and then he got up and stepped outside. He climbed on to a stool next to the shack. With an old rusty cup in hand he retrieved water from a cut tire on the roof of his shack. He swiftly poured the water over his head, and washed his face and ears with his other hand. He retreated back into his shack where he searched for something to wear in a dirty pile. Eventually he found a stained tattered white shirt.

He reached in to his pocket and searched it, but he couldn’t feel anything, a look of dismay appeared on his face before he sat down.

He stared soullessly at the walls of the shack for several minutes before two apparitions that haunted him daily appeared. The first hallucination took the form of a little boy in his early teens and the second one an aging man in his late sixties.

Little Boy slowly floated to the floor to intercept the man’s gaze; the man looked back unnerved by the spectacle. What do you want, can’t you see you’re not welcome. the man said.

Still hopeless as usual— Old Man stepped around the seated man. You’ve lost it haven’t you?

The man looked up. Shut up.

Little Boy cleared his throat. You shouldn’t aggravate him; it never helps. Old man shrugged his shoulders. You’ve lost your wallet and you’re upset, but you have to go look for it.

The man looked at the boy and then stood up and violently rushed out the shack while shouting loudly at his apparitions. Outside his neighbors calmly stared at him in shock, his odd behavior alarmed them.

One of the neighbors moved closer. Rasta what is your problem, who are you talking to?

The man looked at his neighbors without a hint of embarrassment and responded harshly. How many times have I told you my name isn’t Rasta, it’s Lion, just because I’ve got dreads it doesn’t mean I’m a Rastafarian. You’re the one who needs to watch himself, this is my home I can do what I want. Lion said.

How can you call yourself Lion— The neighbor took several steps back. That’s not a real name.

I am Lion, and that is that, if you don’t like it then move, and if I hear any more nonsense from you, I’ll break you.

The neighbor promptly ended the conversation and quickly disappeared into his own shack. Lion scoured the surroundings for his wallet; he sifted through dirt and garbage hoping to find something while Little Boy and Old Man disappeared. Lion retraced his steps but no amount of concentration helped. He made his way back to his shack, but before entering he closed the door and walked over to his neighbors shack and knocked loudly on the door, his neighbor rushed out.

The man stared at Lion, he didn’t look happy. What do you want now, are you trying to provoke me?

Lion looked at the man impatiently; he studied him for a few seconds. Have you seen my wallet, it’s brown and tanned in the sides with letter S.S branded onto it.

I haven’t seen your wallet.

How did I get home last night?

Some guy dropped you off, you looked drunk, he told me a guy called Marcelo told him to escort you home.

That doesn’t make sense. Lion returned to his shack.

In the horizon the sky began to change as orange hues and shades transformed the blue canvas into something beautiful. The sun sunk into the clouds like a cookie into water as it slowly began to descend into the horizon. The other clouds created a hazed spectacle for the eyes as the sunset invaded the heavens. Lion sat alone on a hill overlooking the city below.

Lion slowly made his way down the hill back to his shack. The rough ground and the approaching darkness made it difficult to see the surroundings

As Lion entered his little home he stopped and turned around and took a few steps forward before seating on the ground. Buzzing pylons created ambient background sounds. Other dwellers made their final preparations for the evening, most of them did not move at night in fear of the curfew.

Approaching Footsteps grabbed Lions attention, as he turned his head he saw a man standing behind him, startled, he quickly jumped to his feet.

Who are you and what do you want? Lion said.

The man’s clothing indicated he didn’t belong in the area, The man wore a black fedora, white shirt with a petticoat and a brown leather jacket. In his right hand he held a silver briefcase. Lion couldn’t make out his face clearly because the stranger tilted his head downward.

If you’re here to mess with me I’m not in the mood. Lion said.

The man did not respond; instead he reached into his pocket with his left hand and pulled out a wallet which he handed to Lion. My wallet! Lion jubilantly exclaimed as he grabbed it from the man’s hand. He inspected it to gauge its authenticity. Before Lion could say anything the man reached into his pocket and pulled an envelope out and handed it to Lion. Lion took it reluctantly not sure what to make of it. The man remained quiet and placed the suitcase at Lions feet before he promptly walked away without giving Lion a chance to reply.

Lion stared and walked around the mysterious package left at his feet, he looked into the night but he couldn’t see the man. Lion picked up the briefcase and retreated into his shack. He put it in a corner, and then he placed the wallet and the envelope on top of it. Lion threw himself to the floor without changing and quickly fell asleep.

Light seeped through the cracks in the shack trying to find a target in the dingy darkness of the derelict abode. Midday approached; the outside buzzed with activity and chatter but Lion still embraced his bed. Yesterdays search for his lost wallet had drained him of all his energy. An awkward smell not normally present filled the room. Lion had slept in the same cloths he wore the previous day, they did not compliment the atmosphere. The bad ventilation in the shack didn’t help the situation either, but Lion accustomed to the smell slept without a care in his little house.

That day a few children had been playing outside in front of Lion’s shack trying to get his attention, they didn’t know if Lion was around. The noise they made failed to attract his attention. After no one responded to their loitering tactics they decided to try something else, they each picked up stones and began stoning Lion’s shack. The impact of the rocks made loud echoing sounds and within moments Lion awoke.

A rattled and angry Lion started to make his way outside, he rushed through the front door, but before he could get a good look at the culprits they retreated into the distance with their backs turned to him. It took Lion a few seconds to piece together what had happened, he scanned the area and noticed his neighbors’ watching him. He didn’t even bother making a scene; instead he retreated into his house.

Lion grabbed the briefcase he received the previous day in one hand and the wallet and envelope in the other. He sat back down on the mattress and placed the briefcase face down in front of him. He ripped the envelope open, grabbed the note inside and tossed the crumpled envelope behind him, the note said:

To the new owner of the briefcase,

You may question my intentions regarding the contents of the suitcase, but I assure you that nothing sinister is at play.

What you find in the suit case is yours to keep, you can use it however you want. I hope it helps you find what you want most in the world.

I will be in touch.

Yours Sincerely,

Anonymous

Lion reread the letter several times searching for any clues to who may have sent him the package at his feet.

Lion turned his attention to the briefcase, he picked it up and scrutinized it in the hope of finding a clue to what awaited him inside. Finally he mustered the courage to open his new possession, he did it slowly. He carefully pulled back the two locking pings and a resonating click filled the room. Lion slowly began to open the case, and his heart pounded louder until he saw what was inside the case. He quickly closed the briefcase and then stormed outside where he surveyed the area to ensure there were no people secretly watching him. After that he collected big rocks which he placed in front of the door to block any unwanted visitors, and then he rushed back to the briefcase and opened it again.

Lion’s pupils grew larger; a smile graced his face, his yellow teeth also smiled with him. Lion reached down with his left hand and stroked the money, he felt the tops of the notes and their every detail, and it became undeniable to him that what he saw was very real, the brief case was full of money.

Chapter 2

La Familia

Midday brought with it a light breeze that gently caressed the pale grass in the stadium, the grass moved in unison as the wind charged through. Event planners of the highest caliber were preparing the perfect venue, the only thing that could have gotten in their way was the weather, but that turned out well.

Men and women in uniforms busily toiled away getting the place ready for the eminent arrival of their guests. At their helm one woman orchestrated everyone with efficiency, everyone called her Dona Sharon. She stood elegantly on a podium watching everyone, she had a book tucked under her left arm, she wore a red dress with black heels and pair on aviator sun glasses. Her ebony skin tone lit up beautifully in the afternoon light.

Timothy and Paul transported equipment from their trucks into the stadium, they were half distracted by what they saw.

Timothy placed the speaker set he carried in his hands on the ground near the main stage. He looked at Paul. I know that woman, I’ve seen her before, but I just don’t know where.

Oh, you mean her— Paul pointed his finger at Dona Sharon. She’s Milton Kings ex wife; I see her on the television.

That’s right, she’s a King. This must be an important event if she’s hosting it. Timothy helped Paul with what he was carrying. The two of them paused for a moment and took it all in. Do you think we’re going to see a bunch of famous people?

Paul laughed lightly and started walking away. Come on we’ve got a lot more stuff to unload.

They walked past several tables and chairs spanning half the stadium; they were expecting a sizable group of people from within in the city and the neighboring island. Timothy and Paul walked out the stadium to a parking area where their trucks and a few others were parked. Their job was simple, they transported the necessary equipment needed to a destination.

Once they had offloaded the contents of their trucks Timothy and Paul joined their colleagues in a small seating area, they weren’t going anywhere, they were booked for the day.

Alex, Philip and Jack welcomed Timothy and Paul.

Wow, this is something, I don’t think I’ve seen anything this big up close. Jack said.

Philip reached into a cooler and retrieved to cold drinks and passed them to Timothy and Paul. Ya man, this is big, I swear it gets bigger every year.

This happens every year? Paul said

Ya, man. It’s a family gathering of sorts. This is my second one. Philip said.

Alex leaned forward. You all know this is some serious mafia shit, right? Why go to all this trouble for a family event, I mean you’ve all heard the stories and rumors.

I had my suspicions when I saw Dona Sharon pull up in her car, the only reason she’s even famous is because she milks her affiliation with the Kings. Jack said.

Infamy and notoriety. Paul said. My dad used to tell me stories about the Kings. It was before Milton King; back then his father was always in the papers fighting a case in court, and the majority of the time it was about murder. Paul took a quick sip. Milton used his father’s infamy and notoriety to turn his roots into a legitimate business.

Alex waved his finger in the air. I don’t buy that nonsense; even the shadiest people in my hood respect that guy, you don’t get that type of respect by being a nice.

I’m telling you Milton King’s a good guy. Paul said.

Jack laughed. Well, Gangster or businessman, he’s the richest man in Pathos City.

Philip and Jack bumped fists. Now you’re speaking my language. Philip said. Let’s talk digits. Where do you think all that money comes from.

Definitely an illegal caper. Alex said.

Seriously? Philip said.

I heard they own half the land in Pathos city. Jack said. Now that’s some serious real estate.

That’s not what I heard; I know a King owns shares in the company I’m working for. Their money comes from logistics and transportation. I’m telling you the money in this industry is mind boggling.

Well, we can all agree on one thing— Timothy said. It takes a certain level of ruthlessness to reach such heights.

Everyone agreed with Timothy’s summary of