Book title: *FRICTION*
Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Author: Chukwuka Edoziuno.

Dedication
I dedicate this book to God for the cerebro and fast fingers.
And to you, the reason I'm doing all of this. You are my muse.
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Hello.
You can call me Ify because you probably can't pronounce my full name properly. I don't believe in luck or coincidence or anything like that. Things don't just happen to people randomly. If it can't be explained logically, then it's not possible. You can't wake up one morning and be a genius. Intelligence comes with consistent hard work and practice, as it has been with me.

Also, I believe that plans and goals have a lasting effect on how your life will go. I believe that if you want to go far in life, a plan would make your journey easier, so I plan out every single part of my life. And where I am is based on the decisions I've made in the past, not from an abstract concept known as DESTINY. 

But that was what I believed until I had a nasty accident that changed my view about life completely. Now I understand that life doesn't always go according to plan. My story will convince you of that fact.

 -Ifeanyichukwukaifeanyimadu Nwachukwu

See? I told you that my name is hard to pronounce.
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*© 2017 ctbboy_1 [Chukwuka Edoziuno] All Rights Reserved.*

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or by other electronic or mechanical methods without prior notice and written permission of the owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, or events are the products of the author's imagination. Places involved are in actual existence. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Do enjoy the book.
Chapter one coming up.
New updates may come in 1 or 2 days time. Or less, based on logistics. �

#friction

Following

CHAPTER ONE

Ify looked at his wristwatch and sighed as he drank from his bottle. He had exactly an hour to get to Victoria Island, and he was caught up in the worst traffic jam he had ever seen. He got off the public transport, which was at a standstill, and stretched his long legs, already used to the curious eyes of the other commuters in the bus. The middle of the Third Mainland Bridge was twelve cars away, and Ify wondered bitterly why his day had to go on like this.

First, he over slept, and then he almost tripped in the bathroom, and now, this. It was almost noon, as the sun was climbing to the middle of the sky. Then the bus' engine started, but Ify didn't bother rushing back in, as he had done earlier. He sighed and followed the bus as it moved a few inches forward and stopped again. He got back in and laid his head on the headrest.

"I can't take this anymore. I have fifty-four minutes to get to VI, and I've not gotten anywhere," he lamented to the man beside him whom he had met earlier.

The man replied, "be patient, son. You will surely get to your destination, whether there's a heavy traffic or not."
Ify sighed and got off the bus again.
Running across the bridge was a crazy idea that popped up in his mind, but with less than fifty-five minutes to get to his destination, he started to consider the idea. He turned to his acquaintance.

"I'm going to run as far as I can towards the Island," he said.

The man looked at him like he had gone crazy. "Are you mad? Don't you know how long the bridge is?"

Ify smiled and replied, "I know sir, but staying here isn't doing me any favour."

The man shrugged. "Okay, be careful. Traffic may start to move at any time, so do not forget to use the pedestrian walkway. Be smart, OK?" The man said, after realising that he couldn't convince the teenager otherwise.

Ify nodded and asked the driver for a refund of his transport fare, but the driver cursed him, much to his amazement. Ify frowned and looked at his 'friend' helplessly. The older man decided to ask the driver on his behalf. The frustrated, sweaty driver flung the money at Ify, grumbling that he was lucky that his helper was elderly. Ify thanked the man again as the driver started the engine.

The sun blazed down on Ify as he looked at his wristwatch again. Fifty minutes left. He bid his acquaintance goodbye and crossed to the walkway. He stooped to tighten his shoelace, looking out for the water vendors who were making use of the opportunity to sell bottled water to the sun-scorched commuters. He purchased two bottles from a lady and consumed one immediately.
He sighed, refreshed by the cold water. Just what I needed, he thought, disposing the bottle.
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The Third Mainland Bridge was 11.8 kilometres long, and cars travel at 130 miles per hour with lots of space in between them. Ify had always loved being on the bridge, and he used to have the dream of being a Formula One driver, racing close to two hundred laps at speeds reaching 231 miles per hour, feeling the wind rush against his helmet as the engine screams against his ears.
But as he grew up, he discovered that his dream would be put on hold as there were no Grand Prix events in Lagos. So, he decided to join his school's athletic team while he was in primary school.
Of course, he got popular, and as he progressed to junior high, he was the one who always came at the last place at every race.
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Ify's chest heaved as he jogged at the side of the bridge. Sweat on his forehead had found a trail down and were heading towards his eyes, but he wiped them off and increased his pace. He was grateful that he had his Nike AirMax sneakers on as they made his running easier. His eyes darted to his wristwatch and switched it to its pedometer function.

Seeing that he didn't have much time, he wondered if he was ever going to make it in time. He had to meet this appointment or his mother would kill him. She had advised him to set out earlier, but he had given excuses, and here he was, running like hell.
Other people started to alight from their buses and were filing onto the walkway. These guys will slow me down, he reasoned and crossed to the highway which was lined with stationary vehicles. He moved swiftly, dodging cars and trucks. He looked at his wristwatch.

The next forty minutes will have to be worth my stress, he thought as he wiped his forehead wearily.
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The crowd yelled loudly as the names of the male finalists for the 400-metre race were announced over the large speakers. Ify jumped up and down under the large marquee as he awaited his name. As soon as it was called, he rushed out and waved to the crowd, and they cheered even louder as his number was pasted on his vest. His grin was still on his face as the marksman counted down.

On your marks!

He was glad to be through with high school and all its issues, and he was definitely going to win his final race, regardless of his past history.

Get set!

Then something crossed his mind. The last time he had run the four hundred, he had a contraction in his legs when he was approaching 350 metres, which caused him to lose the race. He brushed the thought aside as he tried to control his breath.

The gun fired.

Time seemed to slow down as all the athletes pushed their feet against the starting blocks. In a second, they took off the starting line and Ify was ahead of the others. He could hear the crowd cheering loudly as they approached two hundred metres. Ify felt the adrenaline rush and his speed started to increase. Images from his fall came into his mind, but he forced himself to brush them off and tried to focus on his race.

They approached 300 metres.

He grinned as he looked behind his shoulder. That vision wasn't going to happen again as the finish line came into view. He was obviously going to win this race and graduate in flying colours. He stole a glance behind him and saw the guy in second place catching up. He focused his eyes on the line and waited for the moment he would break history and cross it first. It was already a few yards away, and he spread his arms wide and extended his chest to break the ribbon at the finish line.

Suddenly, he felt that same feeling - that dreadful pain that attacked him as he approached the line in his last race. The next thing he knew, his legs went numb and he felt his head hit the ground.

He heard the crowd scream in amazement as his contenders whizzed past him. Pain shot through his head as he closed his eyes.

Then everything went blank.

The paramedics on standby rushed to him and placed him on a stretcher as the ambulance pulled onto the track. The names of the first three winners echoed out of the speakers and the announcer wished Ify well.
And the crowd didn't stop screaming.
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He shuddered as he brushed the ugly incident off his mind and kept running. The traffic was even more congested up ahead, and it was a bit harder to navigate through. Twenty minutes had passed and Ify had exhausted all the bottles he had purchased.

Seventeen minutes left.

He laughed out loud as he saw the end of the bridge a few metres away. He decided to stop for a break as soon as he reached a blue Kia Optima on the slow lane at the left side of the bridge.

Huh, he thought to himself. I guess it's not compulsory that I get an injury whenever I go long distances. The car was three cars away, but he didn't slow down, deciding to extend his stop a few metres more. He saw the plate number of the blue car as he approached it.

Just then, the driver's door opened.
Ify saw it at the last moment and tried to swerve, but it was too late.

Heads turned as he crashed into the door. The driver shrieked as the door came off its hinges. Ify's vision went dark as he felt the glass shatter against his chest. As he was passing out, he heard a feminine voice screaming as his head hit the hard, tarred road.

Then everything went blank. Again.

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Thank you very much for reading. Did you like it? Please let me know! And please do not forget to vote up.
Updates comin' up.
Love you plenty.