“The evil men do lives after them”
University of Calabar
14th July 2000
14th July 2000
The sun
was slowly and gracefully setting, casting its shadow from the western horizon.
But, as if prompted to counter the beautiful soft radiation of the sun, a humid
air that clung on the immediate atmosphere tried to make the scenery appear
slightly morbid. The surrounding bush did the least, to add a little glamour to
the already soured atmosphere around the University of Calabar. The sight of
the footpath ahead made the hairs on his body to stand. His nerves were pricked
as he made his way through it. The footpath was a shortcut linking the major
road and the hostel he was heading to. It continued further to the Qua Ibo
River behind the hostel.
The heavy forest that surrounded the river extended on both
sides of the footpath, like a medieval castle fortress. As he turned from the
road into the footpath, a strange feeling instantly came over him. He felt as
if something was pulling him back. One part of him urged him to go back, while
the other nudged him on. Surprisingly, it was the later that he obeyed, as he
was not in the mood to pay serious attention to any distracting inner
voice.
But, the premonition refused to vanish. Nothing he did to
reassure himself could help him to overcome that feeling. He abhorred using the
footpath, as it was always lonely, making it a perfect place for an ambush
especially; in a notorious institution like his. Though sometimes, taking the
footpath becomes necessary, just as in the instant case. But whenever such
occasion arises, he usually takes a dash on the ‘less- than-two hundred meter’
footpath.
The number of times he had used the path could be counted. What
frightens him most about the path was not the thick forest around it, but its
meandering nature, which impedes visibility. This, he was always conscious of,
and each time he went through that path his heartbeat increased.
The strange feelings he had earlier experienced returned with
intensity. It was no longer imaginary but, real. In the past three years since
he had been using this path, he had never experienced anything near what he was
presently experiencing.
The
feeling of danger hung over his head, like the sword of Damocles. His instinct
told him that he was being watched. He was the more irritated that he could not
identify the exact spot from where he was being watched. He felt the weapon on
his waist, and was momentarily pleased.
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Suddenly,
he realized that the gun he had was not fully loaded; fear gripped him, and he
quickened his steps.
Suddenly,
he realized that the gun he had was not fully loaded; fear gripped him, and he
quickened his steps.
The hostel was about one hundred and twenty meters away.
Whenever he decided to go through this path he always had on him a fully loaded
gun. But, today of all days, he had foolishly come out with an almost empty
.380 Beretta pistol – with only three bullets left.
He cursed himself for being so stupid and careless!
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