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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - hostel, taxi, Bishop Shanahan hospital, Nsukka, Honda Hala, University, daughter, gun, hospital.

Njideka came out of class and headed back to the hostel. She was feeling tired, so she decided to return to the hostel to get some rest. She veered off the main street, turning onto the narrower, flower-lined street that led to her hostel when she sighted the same young man who had accosted her about a week back. He had jumped onto the street abruptly, surprising her. “Are you ready to take the thing that you are supposed to drop in Chinagorom’s food?” he asked. He had his hands in his pockets. “I want nothing to do with that. She has been a very kind and fun roommate. How am I supposed to harm someone I barely know, especially when they have been kind to me?”

“Then, you want to be harmed, right?” he asked her. “If that is your will, then go ahead and do it. I know you have your gun there, and my heart is pounding, but not even that will make me take part in anything that will harm anyone. Yes, we are poor, but not even the thought of being paid a huge sum of money will make me agree to do that. I am afraid; I want nothing to do with your plan. Please leave me out of it and stop badgering me.” He stared at her quizzically, pondering her answer. “You are not afraid of dying, right? I will show you what a gun can do to you,” he said, shoving his overall coat aside. His gun which was sitting in an old ragged holster on his waist was revealed. Njideka felt her heart beating faster. She looked around, hoping someone would come to her rescue. Her palms began to sweat profusely. She thought of shouting, but she was experiencing a mental block.

The young man held his gun in his right hand as he stood right in front of her. She could not take her eyes off the gun. Then, she closed her eyes shaking profusely. “God, I consign my life and soul into your hands,” she said quietly as tears began to creep down her face from the corner of her eyes. Bam!!!! He slapped her across the face with his left hand. She fell backwards, opening her eyes. She was somewhat relieved, despite the stinging pain that was racing through her face. At least, I am still alive, she thought to herself. “Take this!” he ordered her, stretching forth his hand with a folded brown paper in it. Njideka shook her head. Bam! He slapped her yet again, sending her down on her knees.

“Beat me all you can, slap me all you want, if you decide to shoot me, that is up to you, but nothing will make me harm another human being. I was raised to love and care for others and nothing will make me deviate from those values. Chinagorom has done nothing wrong to me and even if she did, I would not be willing to harm her life.” “I can see that you care very much about her, right? Remember, doing this would have been less harming. I will shoot her myself over the next few days, and when that happens, just remember that her blood is on your hands. If you do this, then I’d not have to shoot her.” “I still will not do it,” Njideka said adamantly.

He kicked her in the stomach, sending her sprawling on the ground. Then, he sighted a few guys walking towards them. He fled behind the hedge of flowers and disappeared as fast as he had appeared. “Are you okay?” The group of boys asked Njideka when they got closer. She had struggled to her feet. “Please take me to a hospital,” she said. Kindly, they helped her to her feet and one of them quickly scampered around looking for a campus taxi. Minutes later, they hurled her into a taxi and took her to hospital. Before the doctors and nurses began to treat her, she insisted on making a call.

“Chinagorom, please could you come to see me at Bishop Shanahan hospital,” she said over the phone. “What happened? Are you alright?” Chinagorom asked. “I will be fine. Just come over please, I need to see you right away.” “Chikere is arriving this afternoon, but I will text him to come over there when he arrives. He knows his way around Nsukka. I will be on my way.” Chinagorom quickly shot a text to Chikere, jumped into a pair of blue jeans and a white top. She slid into a pair of flat brown shoes, grabbed her purse and left. She hailed a taxi and instructed the driver to take her to Bishop Shanahan hospital.

“So what happened? What is going on? Did you boyfriend beat you? Kingsley does not look like that kind of guy,” Chinagorom quizzed Njideka. “It is not Kinsley. He is on his way here.” Then, she went ahead and narrated her first and second experience with the gun-slinging young man. “What? It has to be Dubem. After all these years he still won’t let me be? No, I can’t have him torment my life anymore. What does this young man look like?” Njideka described the young man. “Hmmm! That does not sound like Dubem; he is well into his forties.” “Who is Dubem?”

Briefly, Chinagorom narrated her experience with Dubem to her. “No, this person is in his twenties for sure,” Njideka insisted. “Maybe he has hired someone to come after you,” she remarked. Chinagorom quickly got on the phone and rang up her parents who called the police to report the matter immediately. Shortly afterwards, they were on their way to Nsukka. Her father was driving furiously to the University town. “I cannot have this idiot torment my daughter again!” he yelled as he drove. “Please keep your eyes on the road, my love. When we get there, we will make sure the police get him this time. He has to be put behind bars!” her mother answered with a worried look on her face.

Chikere got off a taxi in front of Eni Njoku Hall. He wanted to drop his bags off in his friend’s room where he would be staying during his visit before dashing to Bishop Shanahan hospital. He paid the taxi driver, picked up his bags and walked towards Eni Njoku Hall. As the taxi driver pulled away, an old Honda Hala pulled in right behind the taxi. A hand stuck out of the back of the Honda Hala and released gunshots. Kakakaka!!! It happened so fast. The driver of the Honda Hala sped off. Chikere dropped to the ground as blood gushed out of his back.

“Somebody help!!! A girl who was hiding behind a mango tree shouted. Some students ran away while some ran towards the scene. The Honda Hala sped towards staff quarters, disappearing quickly from the scene. A student whose Toyota Camry was parked on the curb helped lift Chikere into his car. He sped off to Bishop Shanahan hospital while some other students notified campus security of the incident.

“He must be a cultist!” some students said. “I wonder how many people he may have killed elsewhere. Why would anyone just shoot him like?” Rumors swirled around campus about Chikere. Chinagorom was in the lobby waiting for her parents to arrive when she saw Chikere being lifted off a Honda Hala towards the theater. Befuddled, she raced towards the limp body that was being hurriedly whisked to the theater. “Chikere!!!” She shouted, throwing herself at the stretcher, but a male nurse grabbed hold of her and restrained her. “Please calm down. We need to attend to him as quickly as possible,” he explained. “Is he still alive?” She asked as indescribable pain pierced through her veins.

“Yes he is, but we don’t know for how long. We received a call minutes ago that a young man had been shot at the University. The surgeons are waiting to work on him right away.” She followed them to the theater, crying her soul weary until the doors to the theater slammed shot. She stood by the door for some time before returning to Njideka. Through a maze of tears, she narrated the events of the past half an hour to Njideka. “What? It has to be him. It has got to be the young man I was telling you about,” Njideka remarked. “But how does he know Chikere?” asked Chinagorom. “How did he know I was your roommate?” “You are right. He has done his homework. God, please don’t let my Chikere die,” Chinagorom prayed.

“My daughter, I am so glad to see you,” her mother said hugging her on their arrival. “I have spoken to the chief inspector of police in Enugu State. He has directed the Nsukka police unit to hunt this daredevil down,” Chinagorom’s father explained, managing to keep a rein over his exploding emotions. Njideka’s parents were on their way to Nsukka too. “Chikere will be alright,” he added, consoling Chinagorom. “It has been over two hours since he went in for surgery, daddy, and we have yet to hear anything. I am terrified. Why again? Why me?” Chinagorom cried.



Written by:
Victor Chinoo

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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - hostel, taxi, Bishop Shanahan hospital, Nsukka, Honda Hala, University, daughter, gun, hospital.
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