I walked to the communication hub and as I dialled
Chike’s call code on their high-end video phone, I could feel Bisi’s hostile
eyes burning holes in my back. At least
she is not crying anymore, I thought.
Chike’s face came into view on the large view screen; he
seemed relieved to see me. “what is going on?” I asked.
“Mr. Dotun. Thank God. I can’t talk much. Thinks are
getting crazy out here. Things are worse than I thought. But tell me, the rats,
did you notice any strange thing as you buried them?” Chike was tense, he kept
looking over his shoulders, even though he appeared to be in a sort of enclosed
lab.
“Yes,” I said, somehow knowing what he would say next.
“That means the plague has already reached the mainland
and will soon climb up the food chain. You have to leave Eko now. Please take
my wife with you; force her if you have to.”
I was about to inquire further when the screen went
blank, but not before I saw the door behind Chike burst open and two burly soldier
types enter the room.
***
We left Eko the next morning, way ahead of the mass
exodus and death that turned that beautiful city-state into hell-on-earth, but
not fast enough. By the time we made it to Benin four hours later, the
quarantine was fully in place in Eko. We hoped to cross Benin and make it to
Enugu where Chike’s brother promised safety in the form of a close-knit clan of
hill dwellers, but a hastily set up quarantine zone for people coming in from
Eko negated our plans.
All through the drive, we had kept abreast with
developments. Though the truth was still scanty and bitterly guarded by the Eko
government, Chike had managed to get the story out and the net links were
abuzz.
I worried for a while, when we could not get clearance
to travel further into Chike’s ancestral home where we felt we might find
safety.
In the quarantine camp, which grew by the minute as more
refugees flowed in, we waited two weeks for the second round of test results to
either clear us, or sign our death warrants. My wife and Bisi, more like
sisters now, comforted each other, they both lost family in Eko. Then Bisi
died, not from the scourge, no, I think of heartbreak. Of Chike, we heard
little. Some say he they placed him in a government facility safe from the
plague; others said he tried to help the afflicted and contacted the late stage
of the infection.
Because we left when we did, we managed to cross Ogun
before the militia blocked all exits. From there, only horror tales escaped.
‘Sir...sir,’ an urgent voice intruded on my thoughts, drawing me back to the present.
I look up to see a Guardsman looming over me, blocking
the rainbow hue from the cathedral windows.
‘What?’ I ask, grateful for the intrusion but
wondering what he wanted. The Guardmen were notorious with how harshly they’ve
been treating people since emergency law came into effect last week. Adunni
says it is the tension, they are human after all.
‘Please head to the meeting tent, the result for the
tests are out,’ he say, turning to walk away.
‘Wait,’ I call out, stopping him in mid stride, ‘What
happens now?’
The Guardsman looks at me as if he was pondering how
much to tell me, then he just shrugs and continues on his way.
I stand up from the plastic chair, take
one last look at the Cathedral, and enter the tent to fetch my family.
