Chapter 1

University of Calabar

14th July 2000

Earlier that day, a friend of his had borrowed his fully-loaded Luger and gave him his near empty Beretta. It was understandable as his friend was about to embark on a very dangerous mission. Moreover, he did not anticipate making use of the gun, as he had no intention of going out. He also agreed to what has now turned out to be a very bad arrangement, because of the .38 Colt he had recently acquired from an ex-ECOMOG soldier, who had returned from Liberia.

But the ordeal he was now going through rocked his whole being. Just then, he heard a noise in the front and jumped nervously, but quickly relaxed on realizing it was only a grasscutter making its way across the path. Foolish reflexes! He cursed.

The commercial bike he had boarded from town broke down a couple of meters away from the bush-path, abruptly terminating the ride. The bike man had been so stunned at Akpan’s harsh reaction over the breakdown. The Akawoke man was gripped with fear. The student he had been carrying was huge, and there was this dangerous look about him, that made him suspect he must be one of the Badboys terrorizing the school. As the student started walking away without paying him, he kept his cool, and made no attempt to stop him, even though he was sure he had taken him close to his destination.

Although he had recoiled due to fear, when the Badboy scolded him but as soon as he turned his back on him, he cursed him inwardly. Getting off the bike, the commercial motorcyclist squatted to fix his bike. To his astonishment and anger, he realized the problem was just the plug. He furiously wiped off sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and set to clean the plug. Looking up, he saw the Badboy still walking and almost close to the footpath.

The day had been a bad one. Since morning, he had only managed to make less than three hundred naira as against his initial target of 1500 naira for the day, but the damned plug had shattered his plan. In frustration, he threw the plug hard on the ground, cursing his despicable fate and the wicked, callous, God-forsaken and good-for-nothing student who had been partly responsible for his woes. “Let God judge and reward you!” he muttered, as he fought back tears. Despite his constant struggles, he was incapable of supporting his family of seven.

Slowly, he retrieved the plug, and cleaned it of dirt and sand. He saw the student again, this time moving into the footpath. He’d had several similar bitter experiences with students, that he should have learned his lesson. There was one incident when he was hijacked and detained in a hostel toilet for two days. His offence was that he protested when a male student, whom he had taken round the school for twenty minutes, refused to pay his fare. The student had pretended he was going to pay only to lure him to a spot where the boy and his friends had hidden. He foolishly followed them to the hostel where they confiscated his bike. Since that ugly incident, he had sworn never to transport a male student to the hostel on his bike. But that day, out of desperation, he went against his decision. He was highly infuriated. The anger that boiled within him was indescribable and could be compared with that of the biblical Sampson in his clean-shaven state. He looked up to the sky to ask his Maker why he was suffering and suddenly he noticed a movement.

It was fast! He turned quickly, out of curiosity, to see who it was.

Then he saw him!