₦airaland Forum

Love is power, or something like that - A. Igoni Barret

Americana - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Fine Boys - Eghosa Imaseun

What Sunny Saw in the Flames - Nnedi Okorafor

Farad - Emmanuel Iduma

I Do Not Come To You By Chance - Tricia Nwaubani

Dear Life - Alice Munroe

Excuse Me - Victor Ehikhameanor

Among others

Author- EKUS

Disclaimer
This is wholly a work of fiction. The names, characters and events are for the realisation of the author’s purpose and, where they bear semblance to real people, are mere coincidence.


EYES

I can see the blood in your eyes – Lil Wayne


There comes moment in our lives when we begin to realise that our deeds carry consequences. For some of us we learn it very early in life. For others, the lessons dawns in the twilight of our years.

For Sheyman, he belonged to the latter.

Of course his real name was not Sheyman. He was born Tanimola Oluwaseyi. But Tanimola Oluwaseyi died ten years ago. And since the dead don’t rise, Sheyman had no reason to revisit the past.

But as always, the unburied past never gives up the chase.

***
Through pain and silent prayer, Justina Oyem stumbled across a broad, deserted road. Her memories were foggy – a silhouette of reality. Blurred images. Feverish visions. She knew she had little time on her hands, before she would require another fix.

Like most junkies, she knew all about pain. And also about the desperation caused by pain. No one needed to remind her of what she was capable of doing if she could not get a fix. But stumbling across this broad, deserted road, Justina’s mission was not to find the next fix. Though she had already calculated that by the time she would be through with her mission, the next fix would have been available

Currently, she was highly drugged. She needed the boost. It made her capable of anything.

Even murder. Cold-blood.

***

Victoria Island, Lagos, Nigeria.

Most of us don’t understand the complexities of the world that we are in. For most of us, every morning, we wake up, brush our teeth, hit the shower, grab some breakfast, set for work or school, relax in the evening, laugh, cry, and die. Most of us never fully grab the intricate patterns that make the universe function. Or do we?

Anyways, Sheyman was not like most of us. He was a man who understood the world. A man who understood that good and evil was simply an illusion – the perfect distraction to keep mortal men from attaining the everlasting gifts of heaven. Sheyman was not like most men. He was not a moral man. From his days in the University, he had specialised in raping young girls and removing their eyes with a spoon.
The trick was simple – no sight, no confession.

But he was also not an immoral man. Every Sunday, he went to church. Decked in lavish suits, he prayed to God and sought his merciful face.

Only good men pray. At least according to Sheyman.

There was also one thing about Sheyman. He was looking for something. And that was what led him to the quiet, modern part of Victoria Island.

***

Fully drugged. No control. Complete rage. Total annihilation.
Her memories were becoming foggier. But Justina Oyem was a woman who knew what she wanted. And better, she knew how to get it.
The broad, deserted street seemed to stretch into eternity. But she kept shifting her feet. She kept dragging her slender frame along.

She kept her perseverance.

Two years ago, Justina had been a beautiful young woman working in one of Nigeria’s finest banks. Smart as hell, she had graduated with First Class honours in Physics from the University of Lagos.

On the broad, deserted street, the sun was setting, hiding away. The night would soon be alerted by the sun’s departure. And darkness would move in.

Completely worn out, she decided she needed a break before continuing her. She stumbled over to the wall of a house beside the road, and rested her back on it. She drew in sharp intakes of air. She knew time was ticking.Her blood was beginning to coagulate.

Time for a fix?

Not yet. But very soon. She needed to move. She lifted herself off the wall. Now, as she continued on the broad deserted streets of Odeku, Darkness was king.

***

Our Lady of Perpetual Help Catholic Church rose high against the darkened sky, like a Godzilla. Bathed in the translucence of the moon, its looming magnificence cut a crystal presence on the serene street of Musa Yar’Adua of Victoria Island. Sheyman nosed his Toyota Camry into the parking lot of the building.

Tonight, the church was empty. Definitely, Sheyman had not travelled all the way from the deserts of Egypt to meet a cathedral brimming with people. This was the kind of scene he most craved – quietude and the dearth of men. After a decade, Sheyman had learnt that the best deeds – good or evil – were done in absolute secrecy.

He slipped out of the Camry and set for the broad staircase that led to the entrance of the monumental cathedral. Walking on the grounds of the empty car park, the broad steps still ahead, Sheyman started to recite his plan in his head. His source had assured him that what he was looking for was here. And his source was very reliable. As reliable as death.

The broad steps ahead were illuminated by tall lamp posts that stood at the edges of the cathedral’s entrance. And when Sheyman finally reached the first step, the lights started to flicker – going on and off – creating a ghostly illusion – alternating between darkness and light.

Revelling in this powerful effect of his own abilities, Sheyman powered up the stairs. Reaching the landing, he flung open the wide doors.
A wave of heat hit him squarely in the face as he stepped into the large cathedral. And he knew that the time had come.
The time had come for him to become like God.

***
The scariest fact about the average human being is that he believes that the consequences of the actions of others do not affect him. He assumes a philosophy that leads him to maintain that he is responsible for only his own actions and not those of his neighbours.
Justina Oyem was not oblivious of this truth. She knew all about consequences and the physics of their effect.

Staggering across a road, she increased her pace. The chill of the night was getting across to her. It was barely 9pm, but she had barely met anybody on the road. It was a Sunday evening, the corporate streets of Victoria Island were barely patrolled. Obviously, they did not know what was happening now. Or the worst – what was going to happen soon.

She had followed the Demon all the way from his house, but when her car broke down just after Obalende, she had decided to walk the remaining distance. She had logical reasons for her actions. Trained as a physicist, Justina Oyem had been grounded in the art of perfect timing.

And tonight, she knew mistakes were something she could barely afford. Everything had to be perfect.

***
He started towards the altar, his hands brushing past the rows of dark brown furniture as he moved. He closed his eyes and savoured the air inside the cathedral which still reeked of the incense which had been used here for the evening mass. He reached the elevated altar and walked behind it. The altar was not his destination.

Beside the altar was a door. He turned the door-knob. It budged. He stepped into a dimly lit hallway. The air here smelt of sulphur. Strong sulphur. He walked down the dimly lit hallway. His source had told him that what he was looking for was just at the end of this hallway. The hallway behind the altar. His source was never wrong.

Soon, he was at the end of the hallway. But there were no doors here. Only solid wall.
He searched the bare wall for some sort of keyhole, or handle, or anything that could assure him there was something behind the walls.
Nothing.

The wall was just a wall. Nothing else.

Behind him, a searchlight focused towards him.

“Who is that?” An angry old Yoruba voice followed the sudden beam. “Who are you?”

Turning back, his arms raised over his face, Sheyman said, “I am here for the girl.”

***

Consequences. The universe feeds on them. As Justina Oyem staggered across another major road, her whole body was beginning to succumb to the pain inside her heart. Her eyes filled with tears. But deep within, she knew this was not the time for emotions. This was the time to act. She could now see the Cathedral ahead, magnificent under the glow of the full moon.

She removed a small device from the pockets of her trousers. On the screen of the device, a dot showed that the Demon was already inside. She winced in pain. If he was already inside the cathedral, all hope could as well be lost. But she still trudged on. Back in school, her favourite Physics professor had once told her when she feared she had flunked her final exams, “Always remember Jay, there is no gain in being a pessimist.”

And truly, tonight, despite the mountain of impossibility before her, what could she gain if she believed she couldn’t win?

***
Sheyman bent down, over the old man he had just slaughtered. Obviously, the old man was a priest in the cathedral. His white cassock was now crimson, soaked in his own blood. His eyes were still opened in shock. Sheyman could still sniff the fear from them. He knelt before the dead priest.

“Father,” he addressed the fresh corps in his kneeling position, “I did not mean to harm you. I only did this to protect you. Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” Removing a spoon from his pocket, he bore into the two sockets of the priest’s eyes, squeezing and drilling with expertise.

After removing the eyes, Sheyman put them in his pockets. A tear dropped from his face. He was genuinely sorry. “God forgive me,” he muttered.

He stood up, and returned back to the end of the hallway. His source could not be wrong. But here it was. Solid wall. Was this the end?

It could not be.

He went back to where the dead priest lay, and retrieved his torch-light. Returning back to the wall, he started to search it for any trace of opening. Time was running out. But Sheyman was sure he was going to find a way soon. Seek and ye shall find. He was seeking already. It was only fair, according to the laws of God, for him to find.

***
Fear is not entirely a bad thing. As Justina ascended the stairs of the Cathedral, her heart pounded. But she was not perturbed by the anxiety that seemed to overwhelm her. She would use that fear and turn it into a weapon. She had seen his Toyota parked in the car park. She had resisted going over to it and deflating its tires or searching its inner sanctums. The Demon was a careful predator. It was better to catch him unawares. And paying attention to the car may just give her away. Who knows whether he has installed some alarm technology on the Camry? She could not tell. So, it was better to continue after him, while making sure that his illusion stayed through.

Illusion.

The Demon thought she was dead. He thought he had killed her two years ago. She reached the Cathedral doors, and discreetly opened it only enough to squeeze her fragile figure through. Inside, she felt better. It was like cold water had been poured all over her body. She did not feel like she needed a fix anymore. Silently, she started down towards the altar.

The demon was close. She could smell the remains of his cologne.

***
The torch was getting dim. He was getting frustrated. Where was the damn entrance into this wall? His source could never be wrong.
Then he heard faint footsteps inside the Cathedral, approaching the door. He turned back as the door at the other end of the hallway swung open.

Lights from inside the cathedral found its way inside the dimly lit hallway. And he could see a figure standing at the door.

A very familiar figure.

“Malik is dead. I brought you here,” the figure announced.

No one knew that the name of his source was Malik. That shocked Sheyman. But what shocked him more was the voice he had just heard.

The last time he heard that voice was two years ago. New York City.

To be continued.