 
CHAPTER 1

The almost endless journey came to an end. Part of the sun disappeared behind the horizon and birds began to birds began to migrate in droves. Sunday Bassey fell asleep in the back seat of the vehicle after enduring a nine and a half hour journey.

The vehicle was a relic which refused to break down. The air conditioning system packed up long ago although the engine still remained as good as new. This used to be his father's favorite property before luck smiled on him and he purchased two luxury cars.

Sunday was travelling for the first time in his life. He was born into an extended family, and grew up in Lagos. His uncle, Eke, a burly man sat in the front seat with the driver. When they drew closer to their destination, he turned to tap Sunday hard on his hand. Sunday jerked as if woken from a nightmare. His uncle gave him a stern look which spoke more than words. Eke was twelve years younger than Sunday's father. Sunday's father was also responsible for Eke's upkeep when their parents could not go any further.

Sunday arrived at his new school, Hope of St. John's College in Rivers State. The journey took longer than necessary because of the inexperienced driver and the rough terrain. Most times Eke scolded the driver at the slightest mistake or he resolved into cursing and swearing. Apart from the state of the car, the bad road and the weather, Eke made the journey longer than twenty four hours. Whenever he did not swear, scold or curse, he took booze of alcohol.

Sunday felt great relief when the journey came to an end. On the school gate was inscribed, "Hope of St. John's College 1894". One of the three security men stationed at the gate came out from his post and inspected the vehicle. He saw Sunday dressed in green check shirt and green shorts. He gave the driver a gate pass and ushered them in.

They drove down, along a paved road canopied with large trees all the way to the Administrative Block. They saw bats flying along the trees and heard the hooting owls and chirping crickets. The cloud became moisture laden and the leaves of the trees made rustling sounds. It appeared the trees spoke to each other. They were more than a hundred years old and may be they had been around during the Continental drift. They had grown roots reaching the core of the earth.

Sunday began to feel like a lost soul, more like a stranger in another man's territory. He didn't know how to explain what he felt. It wasn't a pleasant emotion but a despondent feeling. His heart raced hard. He tried to close his eyes to dispel his fear.

After a minute of driving, they came to a final stop at the Admin Block. For the short period they drove, not a soul was seen on their way. The Admin Block, built similarly to a Cathedral had a modern car park by its side. The driver parked in the parking lot and they alighted. They did a little bit of stretching and snapping of joints. Eke brought out a lighter and a cigar and then saw a notice on the wall, "DO NOT SMOKE". He swore and returned his lighter and cigar.

"You have to wait here let me see what can be done," he said.

Sunday nodded. Eke stood up and walked into the Admin building. Sunday sat close to his luggage in deep thought while the driver sat next to him.

"You are beginning to feel homesick," the driver said.

"Is that what it's called?"

"Yes. I use to experience it before, but now everywhere is like home to me."

"Lucky you," Sunday said but he turned away from him and went into thinking. Sunday learnt to find solace in himself. He understood his disposition better than anyone else. His detachment often offended close friends.

His uncle came out in the company of a middle age man with protruding stomach who chewed bitter kola on his way. He wore slippers and dragged his feet as if they were too heavy to move.

"Hey," Eke said in a brusque tone, "there's someone important you should meet"

Sunday stood up and bowed to greet the man.

"Young boy, how are you today?" the man said revealing sets of discolored teeth as he smiled.

"Fine, thank you sir," Sunday said but his expression betrayed his words. He didn't want to look at the man's fat oily face.

"You have no choice than to be fine," his uncle said. "He's going to be your house master. I'm sure you don't know what that is...."

"Eke, you have not changed that much. You are still the same old guy I knew back in the days," the man said and chuckled. "Why are we standing here...let's have a sit inside," he said. He showed them the way into the Admin block. Most of the doors were locked. A few sturdy looking security men patrolled the corridor. They sat on a long pew along the hallway.

"Young boy, lest I forget I don't even know ya name. You can call me Mr. Wilcox, I am a friend to this man you call ya uncle," Wilcox spoke in a thick accent characteristic of the Easterners. He and Eke had known themselves for more than twenty years, way back in secondary school. They enrolled at the Defense Academy the same year before conscripted into the Army. Eke was a bright and diligent soldier until he got involved in a row with a superior officer which led to a fisticuff. Although Eke won the fight, he got court-martialed and was dismissed just after five years service which also included a stint in the Liberian Civil war. Wilcox resigned to serve his community.

"I am Sunday, sir."

"A very interesting name," Wilcox said. He brought a piece of kola and threw into his mouth. "You mind some," he said offering to his guests.

"You know I'm not a kola person," Eke, Sunday's uncle said. "If you don't have whisky, then forget it."

"You know I have stopped drinking a long time ago, even though I still have other vices." He chuckled. "A man must have at least one of the three vices: alcohols, smoking and...." He looked at Sunday and the driver and hesitated. "There are some things I am not permitted to say, but I'm sure you know what I'm passing across."

"Of course I know. You're still as randy as ever," Eke said and smiled. They laughed out loud.

The sky grew darker than before. A flash of lightening appeared in the sky followed by a shattering thunder. The wind grew stronger sweeping dust and dirt. The shrubs swayed to and fro, the waste bin by the entrance fell on the ground and the dirt scattered all over the surface.

"The rain has been very terrible...we need to find a shelter," Wilcox said getting up from the seat. "Come over to my place."

They stood up and scurried into the parking lot trying to avoid splash of rain water the strong wind blew their way. Another lightening flashed and then, thunder. The driver opened the front seat and pulled out the knobs to the other doors. They jumped into the vehicle and slammed the door behind them.

"It's always like this when it rains," Mr. Wilcox said looking through the window. Darkness covered the sky and the rain made visibility poor. The trees and shrubs appeared to wobble when viewed through the window. The driver turned on the ignition and revved the engine. "My house is not far from here. I'll direct you," Wilcox said.

The driver reversed and made a U-turn. He put on the headlamp to the fullest. The car wipers worked overtime, wiping off fusillade of rain drops beating the windscreen. The sound of the drops intensified as they hit the metal roof of the vehicle.

"Is the world coming to an end or what? "Eke raised his voice to say but he could hardly hear himself speak.

"Welcome to Aluu town, welcome to River State...it doesn't get better than this," Wilcox said. "Please slow down and take the second turning."

Eke swore under his breath. He slotted in an audio cassette into the stereo before he remembered it had gone bad. The vehicle was given to an auto electrician to work on, but he ended up damaging the audio player. Eke began to detest the car. In fact he already disliked it before the trip. It was all about performance but no luxury. He once joked about the vehicle being best for conveying livestock or farm products and not humans. But presently he meant what he said.

They drove along a tapered tarred road surrounded by clusters of trees, shrubs, creeping plants and elephant grasses as tall as humans. The road looked empty of life. Even as the light shone, one could still not see if anything lurking beyond.

"Slow down and turn there," Wilcox said pointing to a compound whose fence had a blend of white and reddish brown. Spirogyra grew freely spreading across its surface. The driver hooted and waited for a response. The gateman came out with an umbrella and opened the rickety gates. The driver shifted the gear and drove carefully as if on egg shells. Darkness covered the vicinity but the powerful beam of light provided by the vehicle was enough for visibility. The driver found an old dilapidated shade constructed with wood and rusty aluminum roofing sheet where he brought the vehicle to a final halt.

Mr. Wilcox opened the door and hopped out of the vehicle. Water splashed as he thrusts his foot into the pool. "Wait here a minute..." he shouted. "Please leave your light on...let me see road to put on the generator." He scrambled behind the building fiddling with some tools.

"Oh, what on earth is he trying to do?' Eke said hitting the dashboard. "He knows we are coming today..." he wriggled in the car and hissed. Eke wanted to jump out but could not do so. It wasn't advisable to, when he couldn't even locate his feet how much more finding his way around.

Not up to five minutes, Wilcox came out with an umbrella and a flashlight. He searched for two concrete blocks and placed them in the pool of water, one beneath the car and the other close to the door step. They would need to maneuver their way into the house without dipping their legs into the pool of water or get drenched in the rain. Wilcox opened the door to the car and handed the driver the umbrella. He directed him to step on the stone. When the driver was done, the umbrella was handed over to Eke. Finally, Sunday's luggage was taken out from the trunk and he scaled the pool of water.

They entered into the house through the kitchen. Kerosene lantern was used to provide light just enough to keep one from stumbling. He led them into the sitting room which had a candle light and a lantern. It was brighter compared to the kitchen but pale and gloomy. They sat on the sofa while the luggage was taken into one of the rooms.

The three guests sat on clammy, stained sofa observing the house. They saw charcoal stains on the wall resulting from the use of kerosene stove. The cardboard ceiling was green from mildew and spirogyra. The little they saw from the dim light spoke volume. The appearance had little to do with privation, but more of disorderliness.

Wilcox came out sweating profusely and breathing heavily. "Gentle men, make yourselves feel at home," he said. He sat on the couch next to them and sank into it.

"I'm very sorry about...the light...you know how things work over here...any way, your military instincts will guide you," Wilcox said wiping his forehead with his sleeves. "The power plant that serves the school went bad after a rat ate up a wire."

Eke sat up and hissed. He unbuttoned his shirt and fanned himself with his hanky.

"I perceive you will be hungry...let me prepare..."

"Forget about it for now," Eke said. "We may sleep quite early."

Wilcox stood up and opened the windows a little bit to let in some cool breeze. "You see, I am just managing this place. This is not where I hope to die and be buried," he said with a chuckled.

"No need for further explanation, we understand," Eke said. He sat on the tip of the couch to avoid getting stained. He also feared bedbugs and suspected they were present in large numbers. He looked at the ceiling and saw water sipping through it. He bowed his head not knowing the right words to say.

"It's funny how a little rat could sabotage a whole generating plant supplying this school," Eke said with a sardonic smile. "What about your tiny 3KVA generator? Was it a rat or a cockroach?"

Sunday giggled. He dared not laugh aloud in his uncle's presence. The driver had to fight the urge to do same. Even though their relationship with Eke wasn't cordial in any way, Sunday's giggle turned into a laugh. Wilcox smiled to hide his embarrassment

"It sounds funny, but listen," Wilcox said in quiet tone. "The rat was sent by a witch to cause damage to the plant. I'm quite aware that you are all ignorant about witchcraft because you've never experienced it before."

"I know you as a superstitious man years ago, it would rather be a surprise if you change," Eke said.

"This is very much different," Wilcox said chewing his bitter kola. It's a habit he picked up in old age.

The rain subsided after half an hour. Wilcox opened the window completely and drew the curtains apart. A rush of fresh air blew into the sitting room. It was invigorating as well as tender. Sunday and the driver fell asleep.

Wilcox called Eke to the dining area. They sat opposite each other with a thick mahogany table separating them. Wilcox looked into Eke's face with those bloodspot eyes of his. Eke was taken aback by the macabre sight of Wilcox. His appearance and mood changed to some extent. His bloody eyes turned dim and ghostly like those of a corpse. The partial light created an indistinct silhouette which had the resemblance of a gnome. But as the light wavered, Wilcox face became clearer. Eke became stiff as he held his breath.

"Why do have to bring your nephew to this school?"

Eke stuttered and raised his eyebrow. Wilcox voice sounded tremulous and as low as a whisper. After the rain ceased and everywhere became still—cold and quiet—except for the hoot of an owl, loud enough as if it stood by the door. The kerosene light from the lamp grew weak and the candle light flickered until it went off.

"What...do you...mean by that?"

"I told you not to come at all. I knew what I was saying when I asked you not to...there's so much that goes in here that I wouldn't want your nephew to experience. Of course we try to brand the institution as one of the best in the country, but we know the deep secrets."

Eke shrugged like it didn't matter. "There's nothing life threatening in it," he said. "He needs a different environment."

"But not this place at all, you wouldn't understand. What about his father, your brother?"

"He's been very sick," Eke said with a wave of hand. "He's been bedridden like a weak vegetable for some months now. All he does is to eat and shit, he doesn't even make decision—it's so pathetic. And no one knows what will happen to him next."

Wilcox gazed into his eyes without flinching as if in search for something new. "Do you love your brother? I mean your nephew's father?"

Eke paused for a moment, he bowed his head and hissed. His eyes constricted and he rolled up his fist. He grabbed hold of Wilcox shirt and pulled him. "What... are you getting at?" He said under gritting teeth but he let go of him after he saw Sunday and the driver move.

"From your response, you don't need to tell me the answer," Wilcox said.

There was silence and tension between them. They looked into each other eyes without backing down.

"I don't have to be cross examined by you. This is the school for my nephew and that's final," Eke said.

"From the look of things..."

At an instance, a loud piercing shout erupted from inside the room. Stunned and frightened Sunday woke up from sleep and sprang to his feet. Eke made a sharp turn and gasped at what he saw. Someone or something clobbered the door with two blows that brought it down. A man—or a beast—more like half man half beast emerged with fetters of iron round his waist and feet which were broken.

It was the most horrifying creature they had ever seen. It had furs and wings folded at its back. It was over 7 feet tall and it possessed the strength of a stallion or perhaps a matured ape. It had no weapon or a sledge hammer but two massive fists twice normal. Wilcox anticipating his action raised his hand and spoke a word at it.

The seething beast man became less agitated. His breath like flush of heat wave from an oven subsided. With deep red eyes and fangs sticking out of his mouth, he stared into the eyes of Eke. Eke cringed standing behind Wilcox holding him tight and looking away from the beast. Sunday and the driver froze. They hid behind the chair even though it could not shield them. The beast drooled watching the strangers quiver. Wilcox spoke quietly and slowly repeating words which didn't make any sense. The beast turned away with slouched shoulder like a child denied candy. They watched him leave for the room angry and disappointed.

"Just a minute," Wilcox said to his guests as he left for the room. The next thing they heard were sounds of wire lashing the surface of a flesh and the cry of a hyena followed. "I told you never to come out...why did you scare my visitors...huh?" More lashes of wires and the cry continued. When Wilcox came out he was drenched in his own sweat.

The visitors held themselves together. Their lips trembled but words wouldn't come out. The lantern went off and thick darkness like the abyss covered the room. They heard the soft howl of a wolf from a distance. The windows to the room shut by themselves and the curtains on their own accord were closed. Wilcox switched on his flash light.

"I'm very sorry for what has happened...it's a long story," Wilcox said. The three guests held on tight to themselves in spite of the light.

"...blood of Jesus...what....what are....you?" Eke stuttered to say.

"I have...to go back to Lagos. I didn't bargain for this," the driver said. "I have been experiencing hell..."

"Enough," Wilcox said. "Whatever you see here and whatever I'm going to tell you should not leave this room." His statement sounded more like a warning than a threat. They no longer saw him as a kola nut chewing drab he appeared to be. There was something deep and dark about him which they never saw or perceived.

"You never told me you had a monster in your house," Eke said still trembling on both feet. "It's a very long sad story, I'll be glad if you would hear me. Please follow me," Wilcox said walking through the broken down door inspecting the cracks on the hinges.

They hesitated. Wilcox acted as if nothing happened, and they feared for their lives. They found themselves a place far from their home and in the middle of the night. Outside was obviously quiet and their next door neighbors were owls, snakes and toads.

"Come with me, I'll show you somewhere safe to sleep."
CHAPTER 2

He led them into a room reserved for visitors. They walked pass the bedroom where the beast was laid. The door was broken down. A chain with a padlock was used to tie the beast to the burglary proof. When it saw them, it growled like a wolf.

The guest room was far neater compared to the sitting room. The bed was dressed with pristine bed spreads and the room smelt of fresh lavender. Wilcox sat on a chair by the bedside and the visitors sat at the edge of the bed.

"Listen, we are not going to spend the night here," Eke said.

"May I explain to you the consequences of your refusal?" Wilcox replied and went on without receiving an answer. "I would be conservative with the truth if I tell you that the night outside is dangerous—it is rather dreadful—very dreadful."

"So we are trapped in this... hell hole?"

"Technically speaking, yes, unfortunately it is worse outside than inside," Wilcox mumbled showing little concern.

"I have to go back home... I have to go back home," Sunday whined from behind. He ranted and began to kick into the air.

"Be silent," his uncle roared at him. He didn't mean to sound harsh but he had to be in control.

"This whole vicinity is heavily haunted by spirits," Wilcox began. "We see the dead coming out of the earth and sometimes we come across women, children or men playing and singing. You see, we have great reverence for the dead because they help us do the thing we cannot do. But strangers must be careful."

"You bastard," Eke retorted. "Why did you ask us to come to your house...?" He said. His voice got louder.

"For that I apologize. Things went out of hands. I never knew this would happen the way it did. But it's not entirely my fault."

"Medicine after death," Eke said puffing out hot breath.

"No one is dead—at least not yet. If you would just listen to what I have to tell you, it would go well."

Eke kept calm.

"This place is under a curse. It used to be battlefield where many people lost their lives and were buried. From time to time, the spirits of these dead people reveal themselves in the most unusual manner. Forget that the name is Hope of St. John's college, it would be rather apt to call it school of Lucifer."

"Jesus Christ..." Sunday shouted. He wasn't aware his voice was loud.

"Yes, I mean school of Lucifer. An evil cloud hovers around the premises of this school; every student is being monitored without his or her knowledge. We have become used to darkness and we observe our curfew, both students and staffs. Once its 10 pm, everywhere becomes dark and no one is seen outside. On Friday, the curfew is brought to nine. During this period, the spirits keep watch over us—over every single person. So we are diligent not to err. Those who did err have never been the same again."

Silence like they've never experience overshadowed them. The shadow of Wilcox casted on the wall resembled the beast which raged at them. The battery of the torch grew dim and it seemed the light would go off anytime.

"I would have to leave you all to have a nice rest."

"Hey, you need to do something about your monster," Eke said.

"I will. I would be spending the night in his room," Wilcox said and got up from the chair to drop the flashlight on the floor. "Once its 10 pm, the light will go off on its own. When this happens, do not panic. Just be patient, say a few words of prayer and sleep."

Wilcox left them. They kept their eyes on the light and muttered some words of prayers so it won't die.

A glittering green eyed object peered through the window. Its pupils narrowed into a convex lens which looked more nefarious than the beast they saw. Eke held tight on to the pillow and grabbed Sunday by his arms which he would never do under normal circumstances. The driver lay at the other end of the bed and Sunday in between them. They did not know what to expect—whether another monster lurking around but this time no one to rescue them from it. Fortunately for them, a burglary proof separated them from whatever it was which stared at them.

Then, they heard quiet hoots. Soft and quiet like those of a predator trying to mimic the sound of a prey. It was an owl, the size of a cat. Sunday recited the book of Psalms under his breadth while covering his face. The owl stopped hooting. Out of curiosity, they looked through the window and saw two pairs of spherical torch light eyes gazing at them. Sunday turned and looked away. He realized it was not just one, but two pairs of spherical eyes.

He couldn't sleep. None of them could sleep. As for his uncle he had one eye open. The owls left but their presence lingered. They did not entirely leave but changed location, standing by the head of the bed spreading their wings. The owls were in the bedroom by their side, staring at them with fiendish eyeballs.

Not a sound was made. Sunday could still feel those pairs of eyes stabbing him. When he tried to shout, he discovered he was paralyzed from neck down. It was even more difficult for them to scream or call for help. But by consistently speaking the psalms, the deathly aura began to fade into oblivion.

At a point they all fell asleep—although not deeply. Someone knocked at the door and they jumped up from their bed. The door opened and a lad, barely fifteen years old, lanky and ruddy haired walked into the room. Eke's eyes were wide open and were both red and weary. The lad blushed and took a step back when he saw the look on their faces, most of all Eke's face.

"Good...mor...ning," he said. "My father said he wants to see you."

Eke sighed. He stretched his hands and yawned. "Thank God its day break. Tell him we are coming," he said.

They took turn to wash their mouths and faces. Looking at his image in the mirror, Sunday noticed he had lost some weight. His skin looked pale and his eyes sunken.

They went to the sitting room and the dining table was set with choice delicacy. Wilcox sat at the owner's seat and beckoned to his guests. His son sat by his right hand sand. "Come and fellowship with us," he said.

Eke took a seat furthest from Wilcox, Sunday and the driver also sat far away from them.

"Can someone pray for the meal?" Wilcox said.

"I don't think I have any appetite," Eke said at once. Though he was usually grumpy, he just could not stand the sight of the house. "Well, I don't know about them but I have already had my fill of yester night's events."

Wilcox smiled. "I wouldn't blame you at all. Sometimes, things we never plan for happen."

"You never planned for what happened or you never planned that we would discover what is hidden in your closet?"

Wilcox bowed his head in grief. His son looked perturbed and tapped his father. "There are certain things we should never pray to know. Ignorance could be bliss," Wilcox said.

"I use to think I know you. But now, I don't know who you are. Who should I be more scared of, your monster or the one who can tame the monster?"

Tears flowed from Wilcox's son's eyes. His father saw it and hugged his son. For a minute the guests watched the display of emotion and didn't know what to feel.

"You need some explanations. My son here, Douglas is indeed a very sensitive boy. He is my only child and I'm proud of him. But he has a disability no one knows about. He has been suffering from this ailment in the last four years." Wilcox paused to regain his composure. It seemed he would break down and cry but he didn't.

"He is the monster you saw last night," Wilcox said at last

"Jesus Christ!!" Eke shouted and stood up. Sunday and the driver almost fell off their chairs.

"You mean to say, he's a monster boy..." the driver exclaimed.

"He's not a monster, you fool. Now sit down," Wilcox said aloud. The driver sat down but reluctantly did so. He stared at the lad in amazement.

"You mean to tell me that...he is the monster?" Eke said.

"Yes, he is. And you know why he's suffering this ailment?" Wilcox said but Eke became frightened. "His mother is the reason for his ailment. She's a witch. She actually sold his destiny in exchange for her soul. She was asked to choose three options: to run mad, to suffer an issue of blood or her son becomes a beast. As selfish as she was, she chose the last option."

"Where is she at the moment?"

"She's dead. She died in her sleep," Wilcox replied under his breath. He tried as much as possible to hold back his grief.

"I don't know what to say," Eke said.

"My son wishes to apologize for last night. He had no control over his action."

"We forgive him."

"He can vaguely remember what happened last night. He saw it as a dream. His actions at night are usually seen as dreams."

"This is a severe case of demon possession," Eke said as he shook his head.

"Yes, it is. The funny part is that, you are the only ones aware of this. I expect this to remain a secret," Wilcox said.

They looked at the table set before them but the plates were not opened. Eke smote his chin with his fingers. Sunday and the driver took their eyes away from Wilcox and his son.

"My son goes to school in the daytime like every normal student. No one would ever suspects he's harboring a demon. This demon only manifests itself once its ten p.m."

"I see..."

"We have to suffer a lot of pain and agony because of his condition. If people get to know about this, we'll be stigmatized. Whatever he is, has become a part of him just as you have people with different skin types or physical appearances—some albinos, some are dwarfs, others midgets and the likes. Please see him as one of those."

"What a nice comparison," Eke said clapping his hands. "I...don't know what to say about this. No one would know that your...innocent looking boy has a monster dwelling in him—at least not from us."

Sunday looked at his uncle through the corner of his eyes. He tried to signal him to be mild with his words. His uncle was someone who freely dished out vitriolic attack at the slightest opportunity. He had a foul temperament and an obnoxious character. Douglas bowed his head and his eyes turned watery as he sobbed quietly.

"If anyone should be blamed let it be me. My son has nothing to do with this."

Eke took a deep breath and exhaled. He watched the grandfather's clock hanging on the wall which wasn't noticed before. It was quite conspicuous in day time. He watched the pendulum oscillate and he relapsed into a trance-like stare.

"It's been a difficult time for us," Eke said softly. "Is there...no solution to this...?"

"If there was, we would have found it."

Eke looked at the plate and contemplated whether to open it or not. He took his eyes off the food and relapsed into another blank stare at the pendulum.

"Please eat," Wilcox said forcing a smile. "You would enjoy our special delicacy of cassava bread and fried guinea fowl eggs."

"Ordinary tea would do for me. I don't know about them," Eke said with eyes still fixated on the clock.

"Water would do for me," Sunday said.

"Me too," the driver seconded.

Wilcox couldn't hide his displeasure. They served themselves while Douglas bit a thin slice of bread but found it tough to swallow. Sunday sipped a cup of water and his eyes met with Douglas.

"We'll be off to Lagos any time from now," Eke announced.

"I would love to come with you...too," Sunday said.

"No. You stay in school," Eke snarled and stood up from the dining seat while adjusting his shirt. "I would have to go...thanks for the hospitality," he said leaving Wilcox speechless but looking intently at his son. Eke headed for the room and Sunday hurried after him.

"Please... I can't remain here...take me back home," Sunday cried following Eke.

The driver came along and took the car keys. "I'm ready to leave," he said.

"I have to go," Sunday insisted. He put his luggage together.

In less than five minutes, they had everything sorted out and were set leave. Wilcox walked in wearing a long face. His son stood behind him sulking, eaten up with guilt.

"I don't blame you for acting the way ya acting," Wilcox said in a quiet remorseful tone. "My son is suffering too much for his age.... I wish he could be helped."

Sunday wanted to weep but his uncle kept a stoic look. The event of the previous night was still fresh in his memory.

"It's a pity I can't help him since I'm not a Sharman. I wish I could do something to help," Eke said walking away. Wilcox and his son gave way. Eke stopped and turned to say, "We're not enemies and never will be." He stretched his arm offering a handshake. "This is beyond what I can handle."

Sunday and the driver assisted in carrying the luggage. Wilcox went ahead and opened the front door to the sitting room.

"What happens to your nephew?" Wilcox said. "School is already in session."

Eke stopped for a while and considered. "He can lodge in the hostel can't he?"

"He would need clearance which can't be done today," Wilcox said. "Today is Sunday unfortunately, work begins on Monday."

"We'll look for another option," Eke said. He walked briskly to the vehicle packed by the side of the house. The driver moved ahead, entering into the pool of water and assisted Sunday with his luggage. He turned the ignition while Eke waited for the vehicle to get out of the pool. The engine did not start.

He tried severally but the engine only made sounds but did not start. Eke started swearing and cursing. "Don't tell me this car has developed a fault cos whether we like it or not, we're Lagos bound."

"I think it's the battery," the driver said.

"Get out of there," Eke said stomping into the pool of water to the driver's seat. He turned on the ignition but it refused to start. After several minutes of struggle, he gave up and stepped into the water more livid than before.

"I have a battery you can use to start the car," Wilcox suggested. He went onto his weather beaten station wagon car which he parked by a corner close to the fence. He opened the bonnet and loosened the battery from its terminal. He brought along with him two thick wires. The bonnet of the Rover was opened and Wilcox attached the wires to the battery terminals and asked the driver to turn on the ignition.

The car only made sounds but did not start. He tried it some more times but the engine did not rev. The driver came out disappointed. Eke swore and kicked the ground.

"The kick start has a problem," Wilcox said. "The nearest place you can find a mechanic that handles your type of car is two miles away."

"This can't be happening to us," Eke said pacing. Sunday sat by the stairs and wrapped his arms round his knees. Douglas sat close to him trying to offer help.

"I am sorry for what has happened, but if you don't mind I would want to leave for Sunday service," Wilcox said after fixing the battery back to his car. "I suggest you come with us."

"Are we going to spend another night here?" Eke said almost hysterically.

"I'll send the gateman to get a mechanic for you, but you can join us." Wilcox turned the ignition and the engine made a rattling noise as it started. Black fumes came out from the exhaust when he revved the engine. "This car has served me for twenty years now, you remember don't you?" The engine made a lot of noise and emitted toxic fume as he stepped on the throttle. He shifted the gear, reversing the car from the tight corner.

"Come in," he said. They looked at each other. Staying alone in the house waiting for the mechanic was not an option they would consider. Eke took to the front seat while Batife and the driver were seated at the back.

CHAPTER 3

They drove through the same route they followed the previous night, observing the trees and tall grasses, squirrels running across the road, troops of monkeys somersaulting and varieties of colorful birds. Flowers glowed at the rising sun.

After driving some distance further, they came across the first habitable house which had been covered with grasses and shrubs. Looking carefully, they could see through the gate a man harvesting tubers of yam from his garden. He had a stunted mongrel barking into the air as if it had seen a ghost.

The vehicle didn't go beyond gear three and any attempt to make it move faster, resulted into a loud cough like a locomotive engine. No one spoke a word except looking at the picturesque landscape. They drove pass the administrative block which still looked deserted just like a haunted building. Far ahead was a group of young boys, all dressed in white from head to toe moving in a straight line. When they reached a certain junction, they took to their right.

When Wilcox also reached the junction, he turned to the left and stopped by a chapel, three storeys tall with a large cross above its entrance. The students, both male and female trooped into the building in their hundreds. A grey-haired bespectacled woman stood by the entrance waggling her flexible cane. Wilcox and his guest alighted from the vehicle and shut the door behind them.

"I don't think you expect me to sit with those children," Eke said.

"They are harmless," Wilcox said with a snort. Sunday breathe hard seeing the crowd of students and the fierce teacher. He had a phobia for cane or any form of corporal punishment.

Wilcox and his son walked briskly at the forefront while Eke considered whether to stay back or join them. Sunday quivered as he followed but turned to see his uncle standing by the car scratching his palms. After Wilcox and his son entered the chapel, the teacher at the gate raised her cane across the door denying Sunday entry. Wilcox stopped and turned to meet the lady teacher threatening with her cane.

"He's not dressed in white," she said as Wilcox tried to intervene on Sunday's behalf.

"He isn't aware of the protocol," Wilcox said in muted tone.

"I don't like it when rules are not adhered to. Students must keep to instruction without looking for excuses."

Out of the blues Eke emerged at the door and confronted the teacher, "He's a new student—

Wilcox raised his arm to stop him, "I'll handle this."

"He's a new a new student, I asked him to join us," Wilcox said to the teacher.

"A policy is supposed to be a policy. No student dressed in any other attire or uniform is allowed into the chapel. The rules were given to each parent –

"This is absurd," Eke said and wanted to force his way in. Wilcox held him from making a scene. He led Eke and Sunday away from the chapel and met with the lady alone. He spoke quietly to her but she spoke forcing words through her pursed lips. After some words of persuasion she left the door and Wilcox beckoned to them in.

Walking down the aisle, eyes gawked at them especially Sunday who wore a different uniform. Wilcox and his son sat within the first three rows reserved for staffs but the usher who was a staff directed Sunday and Eke to the extreme where late comers sit. The students muttered sounds and giggled when they turned their heads to get a last glimpse of them. Eke trudged hard on the floor with his boot like shoes leading the way. He sat at the edge of the last bench, leaning against the wall and folding his arms.

The service started and the congregation got to their feet with their hymn books. Each and every one of them had a hymn book—not just any type, but the one recommended by the school authority. Sunday and the driver stood up, but couldn't share with anyone because they were isolated. They perceived an unwritten code against sharing; everyone held his/her hymn like a ticket to Heaven. Eke did not stand. He only attends church services on special occasions, but there was nothing special about today except the horror of the previous night. He was coaxed into church against his better judgment.

The students sang two hymns, "Songs of praise the angels sang," And "Take my life and let it be." There were students on the podium who played the violin, organ and drum set while a member of the staff stood as the music conductor. After the rendition, the students had their seat. The hall remained quiet for close to a minute as the students waited for the arrival of the speaker.

On the first row, one of the staffs stood up and started to the podium. Sunday's mouth was wide open when he saw Wilcox mounting the stage with a thick leather bible under his arm.

"Good morning students," Wilcox said. Sunday was itchy on his seat. All he could think about was the man who tamed his monster son, the kola stained teeth and the filthy house. The most amazing was that he did not only go to church but he stood on the altar to preach. The students listened with rapt attention.

"We're taking our bible reading from Ephesians chapter six verse one to three," he said. The old lady teacher who refused Sunday entry stood up and took the mic to read. When she began reading, her high pitch voice echoed throughout the hall. She did not look at her bible but read offhand making emphasis on certain words. When she was done, she took her seat and crossed her legs.

"In this verse of scripture, students are admonished to obey their parents. Your parents are not only the biological, but also your guardians, teachers and those ahead of you..."

"This monster even preaches...the devil in sheep clothing," Eke said under his breath. He couldn't take his eyes away from Wilcox while watching him put on a godly façade. Eke gave a long sigh and rose to his feet. Wilcox paused the moment he saw Eke moving towards the aisle—closer to him, strutting and causing distraction. He knew what Eke was capable of doing. He had a violent past—he had beaten up a police officer to stupor during an argument. He wasn't a trouble maker, but he welcomed trouble with open arms. When he reached the front, he turned to the door and walked out. After the interruption, Wilcox resumed from where he stopped.

His homily was a bunch of advice parents give to their erring children. He did it so well so no one would believe he ever harbored anything evil in his house. Wilcox played the part of a negotiator better than a preacher.

"Now students," he began on a different note. His voice changed into a firmer and more incisive tone.

"It has come to our knowledge about the happenings around this premise. No one will desecrate the sanctity of this institution. We've heard rumors that demons have taken over this institution. For the records, there are no demons here, this is a holy land," he spoke raising his voice. "We are going to punish whosoever is found dragging the image of this school into the mud. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," the students said in unison.

"It has also come to our knowledge that there is a group of miscreants who call themselves exorcists. They've been disturbing the peace and sanctity of this school, binding and casting out perceived demons into the bottomless pit. I want them to identify themselves," he said.

The students looked at each other and muttered. They shuffled their feet on the ground.

"Be silent," Wilcox said sternly. He did not sound like the pacifist he was a few minutes ago but a seething bull.

"There are five exorcists and they are all seated here," he said again.

The students did not respond. They tried to avoid his eyes which looked red and dangerous.

"Stand up to your feet," he said. The students complied but did so jittery, hiding behind one other.

"Turn and face the opposite direction."

They did as told by the Wilcox. Sunday could see terror written on their faces. The driver had never been so perturbed before, he tapped Sunday to get his attention, "what do you...think he wants to do?"

"...I can only imagine," he said.

The principal who wore white clerical gown and a blue cassock rose to his feet. He took slow steady steps watching the back of each student. He stopped at the sixth row and called the name of a certain student, "I can see you, come out."

The frightened student said, "Please...please...don't hurt me." The student stood by the aisle in front of the principal.

The proceeded and after a few rows, he called two students standing side by side. Sunday's eyes met with those of the principal and saw fire flaring out of them. Sunday covered his eyes and fell to the ground.

"Jesus...Christ... what...the hell is wrong?" The driver raised his voice when Sunday fell on the floor. The driver tightened his fist in an attempt to hit the principal but discovered his feet were glued to the ground.

"Instruction must be obeyed," the principal said. He looked at the driver as if to say, "I'll come for you later." Sunday got up to his feet rubbing his eyes.

The driver cowered. The principal looked away from the driver and the driver felt his feet free to move. The principal spotted two other students and brought them out. Sunday saw the faces of the students filled with terror. The principal's garment brushed a certain student and he collapsed and fainted. Faces still backed the hall and they offered silent prayers so he would not stop close to them. The principal walked back to the front and the erring students followed him.

"You can now turn and have your seat," the principal said. One of the staffs rushed to resuscitate the student who fainted. The students sat on their seats hissing and sighing. The principal mounted the podium to address the students, "you have been warned, you have been advised yet a lot of you remain obstinate. Exorcism is highly prohibited in this institution, whether publicly or privately."

"And may I say categorically, apparitions do not exist in our modern day. Stop deceiving yourselves and the naïve ones. What most of you see as demons or ghosts are in fact figments of your dull imagination. We operate only one form of worship here so if you have any contrary opinion, you have to lay it aside as long as you wish to remain in this school."

"Now tell your friends who did not make it to the assembly that their punishment will be severe. Tomorrow's assembly will be held here as usual except otherwise stated." When he finished speaking he said to the five students, "follow me." He got down from the podium and the students were led to the school bus. The principal entered into his car and zoomed off.

The air was tensed. The students in the hall looked through the window to see what would happen to their colleagues but the vehicles were out of sight. The old lady stood up to the podium and spoke, "be silent everyone."

"We always warn you students to behave properly. There is absolutely nothing that goes on here without our knowledge. Eyes are everywhere watching every step you take....we call the senior prefect to give us the closing prayer," she said.

A tall thickset teenager sitting amongst the instrumentalist got up to the stage. The students bowed their head and he said a one sentence prayer. They all chorused, "Amen."

CHAPTER 4

They took the matching song as they proceeded out of the hall row by row, starting from right to left. The staffs on duty held canes to ensure no student defaulted. After the students left, Sunday and the driver were the only ones remaining apart from the staffs on duty. Sunday felt awkward following the steps of the students ahead of him. The driver walked behind him.

When they reached the door, Wilcox called Sunday aside to the front row. They waited for all the staffs to leave one after the other. There were three people in the hall, Wilcox, the old lady and Sunday.

"You may have a seat," Wilcox said.

"And where is your uncle? I presume," the lady said in a brusque tone.

"...I don't know—

"I don't expect you to know. He doesn't look responsible and I don't want to assume whose gene he took it from."

Sunday bent his head looking at the floor.

"His uncle...is a unique specie," Wilcox said in admiration and contempt. "I can't even tell where he comes from."

She stared at him. "Why did you choose to come to this school?" she said.

"...my father said I should come here."

"And why did he say so?"

"Because...bec...—

"You don't start a sentence with because."

Sunday breathe hard. He tried to look straight into those pair of eyes that refused to blink or take a break. He didn't plan for an impromptu interrogation.

The driver lingered around the chapel, keeping a watchful eye. He didn't go too far when Eke, stepped through the door and saw them conversing with Sunday. He strolled in with his head raised high and swinging arms with ease. He sat next to Sunday to face the teachers. His presence exuded a strong smell of cigar and mint. The lady broke off her gaze.

"We're just getting to know your nephew," she said to Eke putting up a plastic smile.

"Go ahead," Eke said reclining on the pew and folding his arm. Wilcox stared at him with mouth slightly opened.

"We just want to know why your son chose this school amongst others."

"The school was chosen for him," his uncle said with breath reeking of cigar and mint.

"You may call me Mrs. Okoye and you are?"

Mrs. Okoye was one of the most senior teachers and later promoted to the vice principal. She's been teaching for the past 30 years. She had her first and second degrees in chemistry and organic chemistry respectively. She stopped teaching after she got promoted.

"Eke. Call me Eke," he said.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Eke," she said. "There's nothing much to say except getting to know your nephew."

"Thank you very much," Eke said and rose to his feet. He gave Sunday a stern look which said, "Come with me." Sunday stood up and bowed his head, "good morning," he said. He hesitated. He watched the teachers, seeking their response.

"You may go for now," Wilcox said even after Eke had left the chapel.

Eke sat on the bonnet and produced a brand new cigar from his breast pocket. He brought out a lighter and lit the cigar hanging in between his lips. He took a deep drag and exhaled a lung full of smoke rising into the air like cloud. He checked his wrist watch and swore when he realized time had far gone.

Sunday leaned on the car looking at the chapel behind him with dreamy eyes. His shirt vibrated from the thumbing of his heart. The lady teacher didn't appear welcoming in any way. It all looked like a setup. At last, he saw Wilcox coming out of the chapel, and the lady, Mrs. Okoye with him. Mrs. Okoye squinted when she saw Eke sitting on the bonnet, crossing his legs and puffing out smoke through his nostrils like a chimney. Her eyes turned red and she began to breathe heavily. She took brisk short steps on the sharp heels of her shoes to meet Eke leaving Wilcox behind. Her shoes made crackling sounds which could be heard from afar.

"Sir," she said forcing herself not to burst into psychotic rage. "Smoking is highly prohibited here. Could you be kind... enough to put it off," she said under clamped teeth.

Eke took one more deep drag looking at the sky and exhaled. He put off the cigar and returned it into his breast pocket. She had rolled her fist into a ball and looked at him intently. Wilcox came from behind and said, "He's not aware of the rules guiding this school."

"Thank you," Eke said to Wilcox. "Please can we leave now? I don't want to be beaten here."

The lady swallowed hard and turned back, walking the same way she did when she came.

Wilcox shook his head when he watched Eke fold his arms and crossed his legs.

Wilcox hit the top of the car roof and said, "....why did you do that?" He kept his voice low.

"Come on, I'm getting bored of this place. You know who I am so why are you surprise?"

Eke stood to his feet and took to the front door. Wilcox opened the door with the car key, and opened all other doors. Sunday and the driver entered.

"What about your son?" Eke said.

"He followed one of the staffs home."

Wilcox turned on the engine and shifted the gear. The car jerked and gave off lots of black soot before it moved.

Sunday rested his back on the seat and closed his eyes. He was more than relieved to leave the chapel which didn't portray any sign of godliness. He had an urge to open his eyes and when he did, he saw a bald headed vulture from the mirror standing on the roof of the chapel looking at them. He turned immediately but didn't see it again—there was not even a sign it stood there in the first place.

CHAPTER 5

They arrived home after a few minutes drive. The gate man opened the gate before Wilcox pressed the horn. They drove into the compound to meet a short stout man dressed in oil stained blue coverall standing by the door. Wilcox stepped on the break for Sunday and his uncle to alight. He later packed in the tight corner he reserved for himself.

The short man approached Wilcox and they exchanged pleasantries like long lost friends. They walked to the veranda by the entrance to the house.

"There is nothing wrong with this car as far as I'm concerned," he said and handed the keys to Wilcox.

"I'm glad to know," Eke interjected.

The driver frowned. "But... we tried to start it several times. What went wrong?"

"Well," the mechanic shrugged, "it started the moment I turned the ignition. I took it for a test drive and it is good."

"How much is your charge?" Eke said as he put his hands into his pocket.

"Five hundred naira will do," he said.

Eke counted five crisp hundred naira notes and handed to him. "You can have this," he said. Wilcox gave the keys to the driver. The driver opened the car door and slotted the key into the ignition. The moment he turned the key, the engine started. He pressed the throttle harder and the engine revved.

"We should be heading home any moment from now," Eke said with a wide grin across his face and a deep sigh.

"...it's not going to be safe. It's some minutes to one p.m," Wilcox said.

The mechanic waved at them with a huge smile and said, "Okay, I will be seeing you another time." They didn't look his way as he walked through the gate.

Wilcox took a deep breath of exasperation and hissed watching Eke preparing to leave. Wilcox wasn't the angry type but he had been worn out over the past few hours.

"I won't be able to drive at night...I have problem with my sight," the driver said.

Eke's smile was wiped out in an instance. He tightened his lips and snarled, "What the hell is wrong with your fucking eyeballs...Uh?" He took two steps to the driver and squeezed his shoulders tight.

"You got to fix those eyes of yours; we can't stay here any minute longer for Christ sake...can't you see?" He realized he was shaking the driver vigorously. He needed to shake in some sense into his head. He tried to convince him with more of aggression than logic.

The driver let himself out of Eke's grip. "I didn't bargain for this either... everything didn't go as planned but you can't blame me. I don't see well in the night."

Eke swore and kicked the floor several times with his boot letting out all the rage he had left. After the kicking and swearing episode, he became calm. He turned to look at Wilcox who stared at the scene, short of words and then to Sunday who had been quiet.

"Spending the night here is not an option I would consider....your son....you know what your son can do."

"I know how to tame him. I swear with my life, nothing will happen to you," Wilcox said.

Eke silently went into the house with his head bowed. Wilcox followed after him. The driver was left alone with Sunday.

"You know what," the driver whispered to Sunday. "Nothing is wrong with my sight. Your uncle is very selfish to leave you here alone. I don't think its right."

"Thank you," Sunday said. He sat on the pavement, scribbling on the floor with his fingers. The driver sat closer to him.

"Don't be afraid," the driver said and rubbed Sunday on his head.

Breakfast was served on the dining table. It was the same food comprising of bread and eggs they refused to eat earlier on. Douglas had put it on fire to make it warm and the aroma was all over the sitting room. Eke stared at the meal set before him. He made the sign of the cross and with his eyes closed he prayed. His lips moved without uttering sounds. Sunday also closed his eyes and offered quiet prayers.

When they opened their eyes, they watched each other to see who would make the first move. Wilcox and his son had gone into the room leaving them in the dining.

Eke stretched his hands and sliced the loaf of bread set before him. He passed it over to Sunday and the driver. They took their share and returned what remained. They took a bite and chewed slowly. It didn't taste bad after all. Sunday took another bite and munched faster than before. His hunger looked more unforgiving than his initial fear. He cleared the content in his plate and took another slice of bread. His uncle seemed to relish the meal, but he paused to watch the way Sunday swallowed his.

They enjoyed the period of electricity as they watched some old movies and reminisced on the past—escapades and first love; about life and death. Wilcox had a wine cellar at the extreme part of his house which he built. It was large enough to be converted into room or a kitchen. He built racks where he put bottles of wine. There were over two hundred varieties of wine and strong drink.

Wilcox led Eke into the large basement. Eke had never seen any large collection of wine in his life.

"Choose any bottle you like," Wilcox said.

Eke looked all around him and saw bottles lining up in rows and columns from the bottom to the top. He started salivating. Wilcox had all shades of red, white wine, various bottle shapes and different alcohol content. They were all vintage wine. "I...thought you don't drink," Eke said.

"Not very often, I like collecting bottles. My father passed some of them to me," Wilcox replied. "The oldest wine here is thirty years old, but the average age is ten."

Eke took two bottles of hot drink, the ones with the highest alcohol content. "You sure know what I like," he said.

They shared wine amongst themselves, except Sunday and Douglas. Eke took large gulps as well as the driver. For the first time, Eke was jovial. He competed with the driver who could gulp the most glasses of drink at a go. Wilcox took a few glasses and was already inebriated. Eke and the driver went on until 4 p.m.

They slept off while Sunday and Douglas were still awake. The power ceased and darkness crept in. The room grew still and quiet. Douglas and Sunday were both awake.

"I knew what happened last night, I saw it in my dream," Douglas said to Sunday. 'My father also confirmed it."

Sunday observed Douglas for any similarity with the beast he saw the night before and the real person. "It was...the scariest day in my life," Sunday said.

"I'm sorry but I can't guarantee it won't happen again."

Sunday looked into his hazel eyes which only reflected light. Douglas also appeared frail and his shoulders dropped whenever he walked. There was nothing frightening in his looks. He had a kind of frailty that attracts bully.

"I'm a sickle cell patient, but people mistake me for a weakling," Douglas said.

Sunday stared at him.

"Tell me more about your dreams," Sunday said.

Douglas closed his eyes trying to recall his buried thoughts. "No one knows what I'm about to tell you. Promise to me with an oath you won't tell anyone."

"I've never sworn before... my religion forbids me," Sunday said.

"Well...." Douglas said with a shrugged of shoulders. "There was a senior student in S.S.3, who was fond of picking up on me because my father is the house master. I was exempted from all strenuous activities because of my health condition but he felt they were being partial. The senior usually made fun of me or called me names, wimp, sissy and the likes. One day, when I visited the hostel, he called me aside and said, 'here comes the wimp.' He placed a bucket of water on my head and asked me to squat with it. I couldn't squat...I couldn't breathe...my legs shook under the weight. Then I fell to the ground." Douglas paused and sobbed.

"He poured a bucket of water on me and cursed my mother." Tears rolled down from his eyes as his voice became heavy.

"I went home sad and told my father what happened. He didn't say anything to me but he asked me to go to sleep. That night I turned into the beast you saw. All what I saw in my dream happened in reality. I left the house with the permission of my father. I flew in the sky like a bird and perched on the roof top of the male hostel. It was past twelve mid night and the hostel was firmly locked. I broke the padlock and opened the gate then summoned his soul out of his body. He sleep walked out of his bed, climbing down the stairs and coming outside. What happened next...was terrible. I flew down and used my claws to pierce his neck. I clawed him from the top of his head to his feet but he did not die immediately. Someone saw what was going on but it was not clear because it was deep in the night."

"When morning came, he was already dead. No one knew what happened. The only eye witness was a junior student who isn't very intelligent. No one believed him when he said he saw a large flying creature tearing him. The school authority knew about it but lied to cover up. They said he committed suicide."

Sunday was taken aback. He had mixed reaction—he wanted to sympathize with him but he couldn't comprehend he had shed blood before. The more he looked at Douglas, the more he saw innocence in him. Not a word or a sound was heard between them.

The snoring of the men sounded like whistle of trains at different frequencies. The passage leading to the rooms was still without door after the beast pulled it down.

Sunday hit the men hard until they shook. Still in deep stupor, he shook them harder. "It's night time, anything can happen," he said.

Wilcox jolted to his feet and rubbed his eyes. The clock read a quarter past seven. "Oh my God, time is far spent. You shouldn't be awake," he said to Douglas.

Eke stood up but staggered. He had to support himself using the couch. The driver rolled on the ground in the state of unconsciousness. Wilcox took his son into his room and chained him to the bed. He brought out a bottle of oil and used it to make the sign of the cross on his head and chest. He also used the oil to make the sign of a cross on the wall of the room and the door. He opened the scriptures and read, "when I see the blood, I will pass over you and the plagues will not be on you to destroy..." He closed the book and said, "This is the rituals I carry out every day for protection."

Eke and the driver walked back to the room in stupor. It was 11p.m and everywhere became still. Eke and the driver fell asleep. Sunday had to sleep on the floor to keep away from the alcohol oozing breath. He recited the book of psalms to ward off any demon lurking around the corner.

CHAPTER 6

Sunday took an early morning shower and got dressed in his new crisp school uniform. Eke and the driver on the other hand woke up 9a.m and complained of back ache and body pain. Douglas looked impeccable in his white and maroon school uniform. He wore a mild perfume. Wilcox appeared in a slim cut safari suit which concealed his beer belly a bit better than when he wore only T-shirt. They got into their vehicles and zoomed off.

Sunday, accompanied by his uncle arrived at the admin block which looked deserted days ago to meet crowd of students and guardian/parents going in and coming out of offices. People chatted and laughed out loud, others screamed at the top of their voices. Wilcox led them into the academic block where Sunday was given his admission number and a file was opened on his behalf. Wilcox later took them into his office and gave Sunday sport wears and tools.

Within fifteen minutes, Sunday was done with the registration. He got into the car and they drove off following Wilcox. They followed the same route which led to the chapel, but took the first turn and drove further until they reached the end of the road. A brown three storey building stood some feet away from where the road ended. Male students dressed in white and maroon uniform walked out of the building with their school bags.

"This is the senior boys' hostel," Wilcox said. Sunday brought out his luggage from the vehicle, his bags, buckets, mattress and tools. The porter in charge of the hostel greeted the guests and ushered them in. The porter was a thickset man but of average height. He was in his late fifties, bald headed with unkempt beards. He had a characteristic way of walking due to a deep wound in his right calf which refused to heal. Sometimes it gave out an unusual stench when he exposes it. On this occasion, he wore a bandage over the sore and concealed it with a pair of trousers.

They climbed the first flight of stairs to the first floor of the building. They followed Wilcox down the corridor and passed by the first dormitory with cramped spaces between each double decker bunk.

They went to the next dormitory. At the top of the entrance was written Liberty house in block letters. They walked through the entrance into the box room which linked the main dormitory. There were up to eight double decker beds on either side. Sunday was shown his locker and bed space which was close to the window. From his corner, he had a clear view of the admin block. A door at the end of the hostel led to the toilet and bathroom with broken shower.

Eke walked from one corner of the room to the other observing whatever caught his eyes. The window fittings and fans had never been changed but were in good working condition. It was built over a hundred years ago by the colonialists who settled there. The hostel required minimum maintenance except for painting which was carried out about once in two years, and regular cleaning.

"We've got to travel back to Lagos," Eke said. "But before I go, you owe me some bottles of wine," he said with a grin.

"You can have some but," Wilcox words turned to a whisper. "No one knows I'm drinker, although I'm not like you." He chuckled. "You can't change a leopard's spot."

"Of course, why do you think I walked out when you mounted the stage to preach?" Eke said.

"You are so incorrigible."

They laughed at themselves for a short while.

Wilcox turned and said to Sunday, "Your classes begin now."

Sunday took a drive with Wilcox to the admin block, while he watched his uncle and driver head off in a different direction. He looked at the car until it vanished out of his sight and he wondered when next it will return. He shut his eyes for five seconds and took a deep breath. Wilcox had his focus on the road and never turned back even for a fraction of a second.

On their arrival to the admin block, Wilcox showed Sunday the way to his classroom. The admin block was linked to the class rooms by a long narrow hall way which almost spanned the length of a football field. The hall way also linked other blocks of building--the laboratory, the shopping complex and teachers' offices and terminated at the block of classrooms. Sunday increased his pace to reach the end in good time as he walked alone. The little journey reminded him of the straight and narrow road to Heaven.

When he got to the building, he saw the name of each class inscribed on the wall. He was in junior class 3 B, located on the ground floor and second room. A male teacher was already present in class writing on the board when Sunday walked in. The class had twenty students, eleven boys and nine girls all seated randomly.

"Good morning sir," he greeted the teacher and found an unoccupied seat.

"Don't sit down yet," the teacher said and turned towards the direction of Sunday. He wore thick dark spectacles.

"Tell me why you are late," he said removing the shades covering his eyes.

Sunday screamed when he saw the face of the man. His eyes were covered with thick whitish film much like a lens and didn't blink or show signs of sensitivity. The man in question, although in his mid forties had a walking stick.

"You are a new student, am I right?" he said.

Sunday nodded.

The students seated covered their mouths from laughing.

"Come over here and hold my hands," the man said stretching out his arms.

Sunday drew back. He waved his hands from afar to check his sight. The students encouraged him to do as told. Sunday walked with stealth to get closer and gave his hands to the man. As he held tight onto Sunday's hand, he went into deep thought. The students watched in silence.

"Your problem is that you are too adventurous even though outwardly quiet. You are yet to discover who you really are." He paused and let go of Sunday's hands. He put on his glasses and continued writing on the board. He was the Agric. Science teacher. He became blind twelve years ago when he got attacked by an imp one fateful night during astral travel. He fought back and cast the little demon into the lake of fire. When he returned from the overnight journey, he discovered both eyes were damaged. Fortunately for him, he realized a psychic gift—an inner eye which enables him to see beyond the ordinary.

"We'll be dealing with the practical aspect of agricultural science next week. You need to bring your farm tools to till the soil. I hope that is clear," he said.

"Yes sir," the students said in unison.

The teacher left the class room without using his walking stick for assistance. The class captain followed him with the notes submitted by the students. Sunday sat in the last row in between a boy and a girl. The students were busy rushing to conclude the assignment for the next class. They gathered together in small groups copying each other's work.

The boy sitting next to Sunday joined one of the groups leaving Sunday and the girl together. She drew close to him and said, "good morning."

"Good morning."

"You may call me Amaka," she said offering an enthusiastic handshake.

Sunday shook hands with her. She held unto him longer than he was used to and smiled. "That man you saw is really scary if you just meet him for the first time. I was so afraid when I first saw him, but I'm used to him now. It's not as if he doesn't still make me afraid from time to time but that initial fright I felt is gone."

As much as Sunday wanted to be left alone, he found himself gravitating towards her. Her smile looked genuine. She had a child-like innocence and openness but acted more matured for her appearance.

"He's a blind man," she said. "His own kind of blindness is different. He only sees when he puts on that sunshade or when it is dark at the night. But when he removes his sunshade, he's able to know what someone is thinking about or what he feels. He calls it inner sight."

"Is he possessed?" Sunday said.

"It's deeper than—

"Hey, Gossip," a classmate passing by said to her.

She turned and wanted to pursue him, but he ran too fast for her. Sunday found it quite amusing and for the first time he smiled. He wouldn't be surprised if she truly was a gossip. A male student passed through the open window and sat on the seat facing her. The proximity between them was a few inches. He tried to slip his hands underneath her shirt but she shoved him. "Don't you dare," she said.

Sunday scanned through his book in an attempt to read. He found the class quite rowdy as a lot of shouting was going on. He drew the diagram on the board and began labeling it. Amaka came to sit right next to him. Sunday was almost done when one of his classmates took the duster and wiped off the board.

He got the class angry. Books and plastic bottles were hurled at him. He dodged what he could dodge and ran out of the class laughing. "That's Layeffa, the clown of the class," Amaka said. Layeffa was an inch above 5 feet, the shortest in his class and also a good footballer. He was mischievous and the worst noisemaker.

"He's also very silly sometimes and doesn't know when to stop joking," Amaka continued. "Girls don't really like him cos he's too short and lousy," she said. "But he believes he's the cutest thing in the world."

Sunday grinned. "Can I have your note?" he said.

"Sure, why not?" She brought out her note and handed it over to him. "So what house are you?" she said.

Sunday opened her note from the last topic. "Liberty house," he said.

"Hmm. Liberty house? Don't know why that house was chosen for you. They always come last in every competition," she said with a smirk on her face. "Failure is contagious, you know."

"Didn't know anything about the house," Sunday said while turning the pages of her book.

"You have a pretty long way to go," she said. "This is the third topic we are having this term. You can have my note and return it tomorrow."

"That's kind of you," Sunday replied. The class became noisier so he put the note in his bag.

CHAPTER 7

They had another class and after later the prefect rang the bell for break. The students ran out of their classes and dispersed in various directions. Quite a number of them went to the playground, some to the shops and others running aimlessly. The hallway turned into a heavy human traffic.

There were certain groups of students who wore wrist bands and put on neck ties. They walked as if they owned the school, every other student different from them had to give way. Sunday walked alone to the busy shopping complex. He ordered for a bottle of drink, but as he opened it someone tapped his shoulders.

Sunday turned to see Douglas standing next to him. "What class are you," he said.

"Class 3 B."

Douglas gave way when he saw the group of students coming. They held their heads high as they walked in groups with the alpha male ahead of the pack.

"Who are those?" Sunday said.

"Those are the prefects. They are called the executives by everyone."

Sunday had his eyes on them and marveled. Their appearance was impeccable. They looked like special breed of people, ranking higher than the rest.

"The executives?" Sunday repeated the words as if hearing it for the first time.

"Don't look at them too much," Douglas said and turned to hold Sunday by his arms. They went to a separate corner away from the crowd of passersby.

"I want to become an executive when I am a senior student," Douglas said with watery eyes. "Unfortunately, I can't."

"And why is that?"

"For obvious reasons," he said expecting Sunday to know why. "An executive must have excellent academic performance; he must be good at sporting activities, must not have any bad record and finally he must be a boarder. Day students are not chosen and that automatically disqualifies me."

"I wouldn't mind becoming an executive for a day also," Sunday said.

"Let's walk," Douglas said in a hush and hurried tone. "Don't look back."

"What's...the problem...you're acting strange."

"The principal is here and I don't want to see him."

"I can't...see him."

He put his arm on Sunday's shoulder and spoke quietly. "Act normal; don't put up that frightened look."

They strolled out of the shopping complex amongst the crowd of people. "There's a black bird on the roof top looking this way. It's in your own interest to avoid him whenever possible."

"He changed into a bird?" Sunday quizzed. "Who are you people?"

"You've met him only once but my father told me that two birds visited you people when you spent the night at our home. He is one of them. The second person is Mrs. Okoye. They took the form of an owl and watched you guys. They are the principalities in charge of this environment."

Sunday turned around and looked the bird straight in its eye. Douglas tried to hold him back, "that can't be..."

"Yes it is. Truth is, they've been observing you and your uncle since you two came. But they are not comfortable with you. They think you have a strange aura," Douglas said.

Sunday listened to what Douglas said but he didn't take his eyes from the bird. He stopped and pointed at the bird, "I command you to go blind," Sunday said.

The bird screeched and wobbled as it fell headlong, but before hitting the ground, another bird swooped like an arrow and snatched the falling bird. It happened so fast the students passing by didn't notice what transpired.

"Why did you do that...bloody fool?" Douglas grabbed Sunday by his shirt and pulled him. "You've put me in trouble. He'll know I told you."

"He deserves to die," Sunday said.

Douglas grabbed Sunday and spoke under tightened lips, "you don't know what you treading on. He'll come after you in the day, night or dream." Douglas let go of his arms. "I regret ever speaking to you," he said and walked away.

Sunday leaned on a pillar bowing his head and watching Douglas leave in anger. He knew he acted on impulse by attacking the bird and he believed it was the best decision he had made so far. He felt he had scored a point although he had certainly offended Douglas.

When Douglas arrived at his class, he sat on the last seat bowing his head on the table. Just a few students were also in class but he preferred to stay aloof. Sunday left the shop and headed for the class to meet with him.

As Sunday walked pass his classroom, Amaka sitting by the window facing the complex watched him. She saw the argument between him and Douglas and noticed their covet activities. When he walked pass, she stood up from her seat and followed him.

Douglas' class, JS 3E was at the extreme. Sunday found him sitting by the window and drew a seat close to him. The students in the class made some noise and chatted away their time. Douglas was all alone until Sunday joined him.

Sunday nudged him on his shoulders, "I don't seem to understand you at all."

"Please I want to be left alone," Douglas said with his head still on the table.

"Come on, this is so strange...everything is so strange in this school. How many more surprises should I expect?"

Douglas raised his head up. "I don't know who is worse between you and your uncle," he said.

"Just leave my uncle out of this."

"You know what? You just made the biggest mistake and whatever happens, you're on your own. I'll also be in trouble because he knows I've spoken secret things to you."

"I'm sorry—

Amaka strolled into the class and all the boys whistled in unison. "Come over here and have a seat," one of them said.

She ignored them and sat next to Sunday. "Hi," she said to him. "I thought you would need my help. Are you in any sort of trouble?" she smiled as she spoke and shifted her gaze.

Douglas snapped and stood up from his seat. "I'll be with you later," he said and left that seat.

Amaka watched him leave and hissed. "Your now friend with the devil boy?" she said. "What's going on between both of you?"

"Why do you call him that?"

"He acts strange. He has no friend in school except you. For some strange reasons, my spirit doesn't agree with him... he is repulsive," she said using her hands to describe what her words could not express. "When he's alone most of the time, he speaks to someone... may be his invisible guardian or so. Anyone who offends him usually gets into trouble."

Sunday sat upright. He had a puzzled look on his face. He shifted uneasy on his seat and smote his temple.

"I'll tell you what, this is an open secret," she said while looking and smiling at Sunday. "This happened a long time ago in junior class 1. We were all in the sport field when two S.S.3 students called him. They noticed he never took part in any activity. He was a queer loner. So they called him into a secluded area and asked him to bring all he had in his pocket. Douglas refused and he got a hot slap on his cheeks. He was carried upside down and all the money was taken from him. He looked at them and snapped his fingers. The two seniors ignored him and left for the field. Not long after, someone threw a javelin and out of nowhere it struck the right shoulder of the senior who struck Douglas," Amaka said.

"Jezz," Sunday exclaimed. "But it served him right," Sunday said.

"That's not all. That night his hands got swollen and filled with pus. He was rushed to the Teaching hospital and we heard that his right hand got amputated. Two weeks later, he died."

Sunday was speechless. He developed goose bumps as he listened to her. "What happened to the second person?"

"That night he slept, he woke up with scratches all over his body. He said that a kind of winged creature appeared to him in his dream and beat him up but anytime the monster or beast was about to strike he wakes up. The dream happened more than once. A time came when he began acting strange. On two occasions he was rescued from jumping down a building. He had once been saved by a friend from getting killed by a truck. There was another instance some bats came to attack him in day time, but one man from nowhere appeared in the scene and drove the bats away. No one has seen the man till today."

"A week later, the parents of the senior came to the school. The father is a pastor and the mother a staunch churchgoer. I don't think anyone told them what happened but they decided to withdraw him from that school and enrolled him into another. He suffered a setback. But after many days of fasting and prayers, he's back again. She sighed after the story."

"What's his name," Sunday said.

"Can't remember now," she replied.

"This is serious...are you sure of what you are saying?"

"I swear on my life," she whispered to him, "Don't tell him what I just told you now. If he asks you anything, tell him that I said I like you."

Sunday nodded. He looked into her eyes and wondered if there was a hint of truth in what she said. Amaka stood up and brushed Sunday's head with her hand, "meet me in class."

Everyone present in the class stared at Sunday and whistled as Amaka walked deliberately slow out of the class. Sunday could not stand the darting eyeballs on him. He stood up and left the class while the boys cheered him on his way out. He met Douglas returning to the class and was stopped.

"Be very careful with that flirt," Douglas said forcefully. "She'll put you in trouble."

They saw a teacher on corridor. Douglas went back to his class and Sunday hurried to the classroom before the teacher got in.

CHAPTER 8

The class came to an end by two in the afternoon. Troops of students marched down to the school gate through the admin block. Several cars were parked at the admin block blowing their horns, waiting for their respective wards. The boarding students, both male and female jogged back to their respective dormitories chased by the prefects.

The more matured and bigger students ran ahead of Sunday. The blistering sun didn't help matter at all as it distorted Sunday's view. He saw a mirage some meters away from him. When he reached the hostel, it disappeared. He stopped for a while to catch his breath.

Sunday received a nudged on his back. "Hey, I've heard a lot about you," the boy who tapped him said while panting.

"Who...how are you?" Sunday said. When he turned, he recognized the person behind him. They were class mates although they had not spoken to each other.

"You can call me Ikenga," he said offering a handshake. Ikenga was tall and skinny. He had a quiet demeanor. He was one of the most brilliant students in his class but not the most attractive. He was very observant and had retentive memory. Due to his academic performance, he gained himself some friends—those who could defend him in the case of conflict and those who could speak on his behalf.

"Run to your dormitory," a lanky executive shouted at the top of his voice, swirling a leather belt in the air and running at the students. The belt landed on the back of a student. Sunday and Ikenga took to their heels.

Sunday did not stop running until he arrived at his hostel, Liberty house. The house was full and busy. One of the bigger students came out from the bathroom with a torn towel wrapped around his waist. He whistled and walked pass Sunday, leering at him. A boy wearing a brown colored brief sat on Sunday's bed reading a novel. Sunday dressed his bed with a white bed sheet before leaving for school. Three students chatted loud and ate together from the same bowl, sharing a spoon. This was the same room which looked peaceful on his first coming. But this time around the influx of busybodies made it appear like a market square.

Sunday got to his corner and met the boy sitting on his bed. The boy didn't stand up but continued reading aloud from the novel, using a finger to scroll each line.

"I would like to sit on my bed," Sunday said.

The boy focused on his novel and read even louder.

Sunday tightened his knuckles and moved closer to him with only an inch of space separating them. The boy dropped his book on the bed and stood up looking at Sunday in his eyes. Sunday was taller and slightly bigger than him.

"If you don't back off from my sight, I will make your stay in this school a living hell," the boy said.

Sunday didn't budge. He lifted his arms but before he could strike, Ikenga came from behind and held him. "Don't do it."

He pulled Sunday into the box room. "What were you trying to do?"

"He's sitting on my bed," Sunday said.

"If you had done anything to him, all the senior boys would have descended upon you and beaten you to stupor. He's three years our senior," Ikenga said.

Sunday became calm and loosened his fist. "That doesn't mean he should act that way."

"Where do you think you are? This definitely is not your father's house. You need some orientation and I hope you don't learn it the hard way. If you love yourself, you better apologize to him."

"Are you serious...?"

Ikenga smiled and placed his arm on his shoulders. "You're just a mongrel... no offense, that's what new students are called. Saliu, that senior sitting on your bed is one person who has the tendency to be nasty despite his size."

Sunday left the box room and met Saliu. This time Saliu lay on Sunday's bed scratching his pubic area. "I'm sorry, you can have my bed if you want," Sunday said, though grudgingly.

"That's ok...you can take your bed, I have mine." Saliu stood up from the bed not without farting and left with his book.

The minute Sunday wanted to seat down, a black bird perched on the window pane. It was a crow, larger than normal but bit smaller than a young cock. It screeched and looked at Sunday with its deep black eyes. Sunday felt dizzy. He couldn't speak as a presence wrapped itself around him, attempting to suck out his life. Sunday screamed, but found it impossible to hear himself. The sun stopped shining and the ambience of hostel changed into a graveyard. The bird transformed into an apparition and sat on his bed.

"Sunday," Ikenga shouted.

Sunday recovered from his trance and realized everyone had gone into frenzy. They scampered to the annex of the dormitory in commotion, "He needs water," "let's take him to the clinic," "call the porter..."

Sunday got there and saw students gathering. He got closer to find Saliu convulsing. A mixture of blood and saliva gushed out from his mouth. Sunday closed his eyes and went into the bathroom to throw up.

Five students lifted Saliu up and took him away. When they reached downstairs, other students got to hear about it and the crowd grew. The executives dispersed the teeming crowds who made a lot of noise.

Sunday walked side by side with Ikenga. "What happened to him," Sunday said.

"After he left your bed, he hadn't taken up to five steps when he fell on the ground and held his chest," Ikenga said.

"What could be the cause...?"

"No one knows. Tomorrow the school authority would deny any wrong."

"I saw a black bird on my window," Sunday said.

"We always see black birds. Many of them are agents of the devil sent to spy on us." Ikenga sat on his bed and pulled off his shirt. "By the way, what's going on between you and Amaka?"

"How do you mean?" Sunday shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"I've seen the way she's been so into you. I heard that she kissed you," Ikenga said and wore a mischievous smile.

Sunday's mouth was agape. "That's a big fat lie...Jezus. I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"She's a very popular flirt but she usually prefers the older boys. There was only one of our mates she really liked, but the love affair didn't last more than a month."

Sunday digested the information. "What do you say about Douglas?"

"Douglas, the son of Wilcox?" Ikenga said. "He's a spooky character I try to avoid," Ikenga said as he lay down on the bed and beckoned Sunday to get closer. "He's demon possessed and his father knows about it; everyone knows about it. It's an open secret."

"It all happened one Sunday morning, when we went to the chapel as usual. There was a Pentecostal preacher not from this state who was supposed to preach. The first thing he did was binding and casting out demons, sending them into the lake of fire that burns with brimstone. He used a bottle of olive oil to smear on the door post and windows."

"Douglas came around late that Sunday. But the moment he arrived in his father's car, he started complaining of body heat. He had to open his shirt. But the closer he got to the chapel, the more intense the heat became. Wilcox persuaded him to get in but he refused. Rather he started manifesting and crying out with a deep husky voice: 'fire fire, fire, leave me alone. He belongs to me. We have lived here for many years you can't chase us out.' He was immediately whisked into the car and driven off. It was like a home video."

"The school authority had to stop the preacher from exorcising demons. From then on, students began exorcising demons and evil spirits. This news got to the authority and they also made a rule that no one should do so whether privately or publicly."

Sunday had to stay closer to Ikenga who spoke quietly.

"...Hope you know that the wall has ears?" Ikenga said as a note of warning. "Many people have made plans, but it leaked out. So my friend, I'm even risking my life by telling you this."

Sunday looked around and through the window. "Are... you trying to say that there are people acting as spies?"

"No. There are ghost, the spirits of the dead who listen to what everyone says."

Sunday went to the opposite bed and sat there thinking.

Darkness covered the face of the sky. It was half past seven and the students assembled around the dining hall waiting for the gate to be opened. Sunday fell asleep in the hostel after much thinking. He refused to touch his bed after what he saw earlier in the day.

When the executive opened the gate to the dining hall, the students rushed in and pushed the gate. The hall was massive, much larger than the chapel. Over two hundred tables were arranged in long rows with benches on either side. There was a door by the right side of the hall relative to the front gate which connected it to the kitchen.

The students sat ten on a table but half of the number was unoccupied. The executives had an exclusive table for themselves. An executive on duty a certain thickset boy, stood up to say the prayers. After the students chorused, "amen," they opened the pot to dish out the food. Hot beans pottage and yam was served. Plate and cutlery sets clinked as the students talked. Some grumbled about the food while others relished it.

Without warning, the hall became quiet. The students standing took to their seats as two members of staff, Mrs. Okoye and Wilcox walked in through the kitchen door. They took slow steps along the aisle. Her stiletto shoes made their trade mark sound with each step she took.

The moment she walked pass each table, the students shriveled. They couldn't lift up their spoons into their mouths. Wilcox walked by her side, but he didn't exude the fear imposing aura she did. They spoke to each other while scanning the hall with eagles' eyes searching for prey. At a certain table, they stopped. The students recoiled and dropped their spoons. Their gaze fell on Ikenga. He could not move from his seat. He felt the hair on his head getting bigger.

"Your new found friend has refused to join you," Mrs. Okoye said.

He trembled and the spoon fell from his hand. She stooped down and whispered to him, "We're watching your movement. "

She left and Wilcox followed but his eyes lingered on Ikenga. They assembled at the center of the hall. Mrs. Okoye used her cane to hit the dining table repeatedly and with much ferocity which caught the attention of everyone.

"There would be a meeting this night with all students in their respective hostels. No one would be left out," she said. After the announcement made, they stormed out and an instant relief fell over hall.

CHAPTER 9

When Sunday opened his eyes and sat up, he saw Saliu sitting on the bed opposite him with his legs crossed and a book in his hands. Saliu was dressed in his green check shirt, tucked in his pair of trousers like every other student. Sunday rubbed his eyes and squinted to get a proper view of him. Sunday did not know what to expect from the person sitting opposite him. The first encounter they had wasn't pleasant.

"Oh, you are awake," Saliu said when he saw Sunday's eyes fully open.

"What...are you now ok?" Sunday got startled. Saliu neither looked happy nor sad but his eyes looked like the eyes of someone under a trance.

"Don't worry about me. I'm doing much better than before." Saliu stretched his arms and twisted his waist to prove his point. "You chose not to sleep on your bed again?"

"Yes...just wanted somewhere different," Sunday said with a deep exhale. Saliu was sort of friendly than Sunday expected.

Saliu smiled at him. "It's not the reason. You are just scared that an evil bird might come after you or something terrible would happen. Well, your instinct is accurate."

"How... do you know?"

"I've been in this school longer than you. I know the tales about this land."

"But...did you hear me talk about it?"

"Not really," Saliu replied. " But I'll advice you to turn your bed the other way. It's a secret."

"How do you know?"

"Stop asking me questions, just listen," Saliu said. "One of the ways you can protect yourself is by the use of your blessed oil. Smear it on your bed, your properties and your body. Avoid walking alone in the dark if you're not covered, in fact walking in the dark should be avoided as much as possible."

"Thanks.... I've seen enough evil since I came here," Sunday said.

Saliu paused and took a long sigh. "There's actually more evil than you can imagine. I hope I'm not going to scare you."

"Go....ahead," Sunday said but he felt his heart racing.

"The eight houses in the hostel have a principality attached to each of them. These are familiar spirits who have come to stay. Liberty house is controlled by a lady known as Halima. Her son was killed along with her and she's out to take vengeance on any man who resembles her killer. She does not like being talked about or gossiped. She's hot tempered and always prepared to spew out her venom. You can resist her by smearing yourself with oil. There's a corner by the bathroom reserved for her. As much as possible, try to avoid any confrontation." Saliu took a breather.

"Wisdom house is controlled by another spirit named, Solomon. Some say this entity is behind the inspiration of 7 books of Solomon. He carries a scepter with him and never fails to smite students who score below sixty percent in any test. He's the father of all esoteric wisdom and knowledge. He appears to students in their dream and asks them the type of wisdom they want. Once a request is made, an unconscious blood covenant seals the deal."

"I....never knew all this," Sunday stuttered.

"I'll talk to you more at length about the remaining six. On a final note, you're not safe in this school premises," Saliu continued. "I advise you not to confront any of these ancient powers. Peace be with you."

Sunday stared at him uncomfortably. "I'm not used to parable."

"Neither am I. Don't expect everything to be written in black and white. Nothing is as straight forward as it seems."

Sunday relapsed into deep thought. "I wish you could be clear to me."

"Ok. Now listen", Saliu began. "Try as much as possible to avoid meeting the principal, Mrs. Okoye or Wilcox. They are known as the evil trinity in the spirit realm. If you offend any one of these, be prepared for trouble. That woman is very evil. She has turned her husband into her slave in the dark world. He has become an imbecile incapable of making decisions. He's under a strong hypnosis which won't wear off until she dies."

Sunday breathe hard. The hairs on his body stood up. Sunday wouldn't have thought about this in his wildest imagination. Saliu spoke with so much conviction as if he was a witness.

"But how do you know this," Sunday said.

"Never mind, I have to go to my room," Saliu said and stood up. He walked normally, not showing the slightest sign of illness.

Sunday rubbed his chin looking into space. He heart thumbed like a drum against his rib cage. The time was a quarter to 8p.m but it looked like mid-night. He reminisced on his days at home, in his little world. What Saliu said frightened him even though he had good intention. Sunday was too scared to get on his feet. His hands and feet trembled. Even though Saliu had gone, his aura lingered.

Soon, he heard rapid footsteps of people running and their discordant voices. The seemingly morbid but serene ambience changed as students thronged in chattering. Ikenga along with another boy showed up in his corner where Sunday slept.

"Hey, there's trouble," Ikenga said dropping his plate on his locker.

"What is he doing here?"Layeffa said, pointing at Sunday.

"There's a meeting we should all attend at the quadrangle down stairs," Ikenga said. "And you must do so now."

The other boys argued about what happened in the dining and paused as soon as an executive showed up with a long stick. "Leave for the quadrangle, now," Sunday hurried down with his colleagues away from the sight of the executive.

The students assembled at the quadrangle and lined up in accordance to their classes from Junior Secondary 3 to Senior Secondary 3. The executives patrolled with a watchful eye on the students. The house masters of each house, Liberty, Wisdom, Love, Truth, Purity, Beauty, Justice and Noble were all present. Wilcox was the boarding master for the male hostel and also house master of Liberty house. He stood on a high platform to address the students.

"We called for an impromptu meeting because of the latest development in the school. Certain issues would be addressed tonight." He paused for a long period of time and his eyes rolled from side to side. "We regret to announce the sudden death of Saliu Danjuma of Liberty house, who passed away on 7: 20p.m. this evening."

The students shrunk back. There were side talks and growing unease. Sunday tried to get a glimpse of the house master. He wanted to ask questions but didn't know how to go about it. He saw Saliu ten minutes ago. He was hale and hearty although he acted strange.

"Be silent," Wilcox said. "He committed suicide." This time, there was even a louder uproar.

"Be quiet," Wilcox said threatening.

"We need to show respect for the dead. If any of you student has a problem, don't fight it alone. We are here representing your parents, and would go to any extent to help you. In our days, suicide was considered a taboo. Why would a youth with bright future decide to end his life? It pains us when we hear such things. This is not the first time its happening but it will definitely be the last."

Wilcox came down from the platform and walked in between the lines formed by the students. "It was discovered that Saliu took large doses of caustic soda which he got from the chemistry lab. Until this day he was a brilliant student, one of the best in science. And all the staffs and teachers mourn his untimely departure. His parents will be informed and there would be a wake keeping to honor him."

"Next on the agenda," he said and went back to the platform. "We've established a law prohibiting students from practicing exorcism. As you've been told, apparitions or what you call demons or evil spirits are nothing other than figment of your imagination. Well, they do exist but not in this realm. Some of you have claimed to have had physical encounter with these so called spirits and it makes me wonder: 'why the fascination with darkness?' You students spend inordinate hours talking about devils and demons and get excited over it. But when it comes to preaching about love and obedience, the true Christian virtue it becomes boring. What's the fascination with darkness? Why do you people think others are plotting against you?"

"The five exorcists have been set free. They have renounced their faith and have decided to follow the way of truth."

"Finally, there will be no abuse of animals. If you happen to see a cat, a bat, a bird or whatever, you don't harm it or speak to it. They have a role to play in our ecosystem. If you offend them, you would be doing wrong because this is their natural habitat. They were here before you and that makes you their guests. You must act as responsible guests."

"All I'm saying has been documented for those who will look for excuses. You should also inform your friends not yet in school."

The house masters took the roll call for their respective houses. Wilcox locked eyes with Sunday longer than usual. Those eyes were not the same eyes Sunday saw two days back.

The houses had no defaulter as all the students were present except those who hadn't resumed. The students were dismissed back to their dormitories.

When Sunday got to his bed space, he flipped his bed the other way and dressed it. All other students in Liberty house got on their bed and closed their eyes. There was no room for discussion as Wilcox followed them from behind. He stopped by Sunday's bedside and stood at akimbo.

"Your action against that bird was despicable, however see me first thing tomorrow morning," Wilcox said.

"I...I....saw it looking at me, I was scared."

"It's no excuse." Wilcox moved close to Sunday and spoke into his ears, "You're beginning to know too much too soon," he said. Sunday didn't believe what he was hearing.

"Listen young man, your honeymoon period is over. You are no more a stranger in this school and as such, you won't be given any special treatment. What is good for the goose is good for the gander. I do not want to hear any incident about you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes.... Sir," Sunday replied in muted speech.

Wilcox left Sunday's corner and came to the centre of the dormitory. "The light goes off the usual time," he said. "The night is meant to be silent because we respect and appreciate it. Under no given circumstance should anyone be found wanting for breaking the rules in this school. A word is enough for the wise," Wilcox concluded.

The hostel was as calm as sea breeze after Wilcox warned the students. He took turned and walked out of the hostel along with the fellow house masters. The students went to bed and not long after, all lights went off. Even the light from their wrist watches and torches were also extinguished. They watched the sky as thick dark clouds rolled over the moon and stars. The hostel and environs turned into a black hole. Sunday had a bottle of oil which he used to smear his face and body. He considered himself lucky Wilcox did not see him flip the mattress. The terrified students could only whisper a few words and remained silent.

They heard gentle footsteps as the windows closed by itself. The voice of a woman and her baby was heard.

"Don't cry, my baby," the mother said. She was Lady Halima. She was the principality in control of Liberty House. As a matter of fact, each and every house had a principality attached to it. Halima was a seamstress who was killed with her baby during an ethnic war. Her father was Fulani and her mother was Igbo. She got married to an Igbo trader and exactly a year later she gave birth to a boy. During the war, her husband was killed just outside their home.

She was devastated by the death of her husband but she was determined to cope with the loss. When the invaders came to her home, she was dragged out of her house, raped and killed. The house was set ablaze. Although dead, she vowed her spirit will revenge.

The baby cried.

"Oh my darling, I will sing you a lullaby," she said and the baby laughed.

"Day time is over night has begun; whispers of darkness to cheer you up.

"Rocking your cradle is what I would do; honey and fresh blood, I give to you." She hummed the song and put him in a rocking cradle.

After the brief silence, the rattling noise of a sewing machine was heard. A force, much more like a presence, suppressed the students making it difficult for them to scream or move their body no matter how hard they tried. Sunday struggled to break free from the force and finally did, but words could not get out of his mouth.

The students were held hostage for close to thirty minutes after which the room became silent. The windows opened and the force holding the students bound wore off. Sunday refused to get down from his bed rather he recited the Psalms as quietly as possible, shivering in the process. The person sharing the bunk with him on the top started snoring. A few others went into deep sleep. It was still dark and quiet but the ghost had gone.

By 5:30 a.m, electricity was restored. The time prefect rang the bell. Sunday got up from his bed, pleased to see light once again. His eyes turned bloodspot from keeping awake throughout the night. For the first time he saw his three corner mates. The one above him had woken up but was still drowsy.

Galadima the executive in charge walked out from his room in baggy pajamas. He was the darkest and tallest person in his house and easy to notice because of the tribal scar on his face. He swirled his leather belt in the air and lashed the back of a student who was still asleep.

"Jump down from your bed, it is morning," he yelled.

All the junior students jumped to their feet and assembled at the centre of the hostel seated on the floor. Some of the most senior students were still asleep but a few dragged their feet to the bathroom. The executives were given so much power to do as they wished. Most of them were brutal and arrogant. Galadima was the most feared executive apart from the senior executive, aka senior prefect. Galadima had the ambition of becoming the senior executive but was dropped last minute because he wasn't considered good looking unlike his colleague.

"We all had a wonderful night even though it was dark. Is there anybody with a contrary view?" He said. He waited for a response and no one raised his hands.

"We have a mongrel amongst us. Unfortunately, there's no red carpet reception for such individuals." He pointed to Sunday and signaled him to stand up. "Hey mongrel what name were you given at birth?"

"Sunday, Sunday Bassey," Sunday said looking at the hostile face in front of him.

"Like I said earlier on, mongrels don't get special treatment. If you don't learn the simple way, you will learn the hard way. The duty roaster will be drawn out and you will be assigned a function. Fail to do it and you will face my wrath," the prefect said caressing his smooth leather belt.

"I know I've made myself clear on this because I don't like repeating myself. If a word is enough for the wise, why repeat a word? You're indirectly calling yourselves fools and I wouldn't fail to treat you as one."

"We lost some one dear to us. We were told he committed suicide. Well, none of us is a detective and it's not in our place to murmur about it. If you have different opinion, keep it to yourself. Do not even attempt to breathe on it out."

The students nodded. The prefect/executive called the duty roasted and mandated every one copies it. Sunday was assigned a toilet to wash every morning. In addition each junior student was allocated to the most senior students to tend to their needs.

By 7, breakfast was ready. Sunday and one of his corner mate sharing the same bunk but above him met themselves on the same table. He was reticent in an abnormal way and appeared out of touch with the real world. He didn't notice Sunday, even if he did he didn't show it. An older student dished out the food after prayers. Sunday watched the steam coming out of the beans when the student opened the pot. After serving, each student took his plate of food. Sunday's roommate bowed his head and heaped his spoon with beans straight into his mouth. He didn't raise his head or look sideways until he leveled his plate. Those sharing the table shifted away from the student.

The executives on duty patrolled the hall to ensure the students had their cutlery sets. The other sets of executives had special seats reserved from them. The food tasted bland as Sunday put a spoon full in his mouth. This is what he would call a prisoner's food but he had no choice—its either he eats it or goes hungry.

By twenty past 7, the senior prefect rose up from his seat and shared the closing prayers. The students stood up and rushed to the gate. Sunday noticed his corner mate walk with stoop shoulders without blinking. None of the executives spoke to him; he was avoided like a plague.

CHAPTER 10

Sunday and Ikenga headed together for class after the assembly. The principal for unknown reason did not show up to the relief of the students. They passed through the busy admin block and met some day students arriving. They all formed lines and wrote their names on a sheet of paper given to them by one of the executives. They were late comers and certain punishments were reserved for them.

"Have you observed any strange thing?" Sunday said to Ikenga.

"About what... we've got to be careful cos the walls have ears," Ikenga said putting up a straight face.

"I noticed some people in our house acting like aliens. What could be wrong?"

"They used to be exorcists. They were called out by the principal on Sunday morning because they torment demons. They are made into zombies."

"My God!" Sunday said. "What happened...?"

"No one knows...no one should dare ask questions. They were like you...and this is how they ended." Ikenga walked ahead leaving Sunday alone. When Sunday looked up from the hall way to the field, he saw a black crow staring at him. He looked back at it and muttered, "I wish you dead."

The crow responded with a high pitch cry which was heard over a mile away. Everyone got startled and stopped. They had never heard any sound like this in broad day light more similar to the cry of a child than of a bird. The bird wobbled but before it reached the ground, it regained its strength and flapped its wings. Sunday did not expect the reaction he got from the bird. The cry actually shook him to his bones but no one heard what Sunday said.

After Sunday dropped his bag in the class, he visited the male toilet close to the class rooms. His friends talked about the incidence with so much awe. They really had to be careful not to make jest of what happened. They were filled with so much fear and thrill that they found no humor in the paranormal occurrence. Sunday needed sometime to ventilate. After he opened the door to the toilet, he turned to see Douglas force his way in.

"I promise, you will be the next person to die," Douglas said gritting his teeth. "Saliu died because of you and your foolishness. If only you had just listened to me and done the right thing."

"What...am I supposed to do? Allow people to live their lives in –

"Just take a look at this," Douglas said as he took off his shirt. His back and chest were bruised and scared. "It happened because they found out I told you what I wasn't meant to say. I had been warned severely not to be seen with you."

"Who did this to you?"

"My father, he's a very wicked man."

Sunday was short of words when he saw the scars on Douglas body. The scars were long and deep like a demarcation.

"If only you had listened to me. But you wanted it your own way and everyone is in trouble because of it."

"I'm so sorry."

Douglas put on his shirt and tucked in. "Sorry has never solved any problem. I'm off to class."

"Wait... wait," Sunday said and pulled him back.

"What again?"

"I saw Saliu last night, the same time they said he died. He told me to always smear olive oil on my body."

Douglas' jaw dropped as he put both arms on his head. "You saw his ghost," he whispered. "It's not always a very good sign...I have to go now. I wish I could tell you more about it but I have to leave you here." Douglas had one leg out of the door then a thought came to mind. "I need to congratulate you. The principal has one bad eye that's why he couldn't make it for the assembly."

Douglas left before Sunday asked any further question. "The principal's eye," Sunday heard himself say.

Sunday entered his classroom just before the teacher taking them Commerce got in. He lost the ability to concentrate on what the teacher was saying. Apart from the fact that he didn't like the subject, she was five months pregnant and she spoke most of the time while sitting. Amaka who sat next to him brushed his leg with her thighs and blushed whenever they made eye contact. He didn't know the right way to respond. Sunday wrote, but at intervals he dropped his pen on his book and looked forlorn. The image of the stripes on Douglas body, the spirit of Saliu, the ghost curdling her baby last night and the zombies haunted him. Not to mention the conspiracy of silence between everyone involved.

While teaching was going on, Sunday bowed his head on the table and took a nap. The teacher didn't seem to care—she didn't really have the time and patience with the students. She was indifferent most of time, if she was not supervised at all, the students can as well go to hell.

The teacher took a breather the moment two executives walked by the corridor and stood close to the door. One of them was the Liberty house executive, Galadima the same house as Sunday. They walked briskly into the class like soldiers and spoke to her. She nodded and from her gesticulation, she said yes. The executives beckoned to Sunday without saying a word. Sunday stood up but felt his legs giving way.

He followed them, one ahead of him and the other behind. They didn't speak to him as they walked along the hall way. Sunday recited the psalms in whispers and kept his eyes focused. They took him to the admin block and to the office of the principal. Before knocking, the door opened. The principal was seated with folded arms on the table. When they entered into the office, the door closed. Sunday turned to see what stood behind the door but saw nothing.

"You can excuse us," the principal said to the executives. After they left, the door closed behind them and locked on its own accord. Sunday moved to the door and tried to unlock it but it was firmly shut.

"Have you seen my eye?" the principal said. His red swollen right eyeball brought out tears. Sunday recalled the black bird he verbally assaulted the previous day which Douglas warned him against.

Sunday's hair stood up as he felt something cold on his skin. It was an eerie feeling he once experienced as a child when he ran into a deserted compound which had a haunted house. He met an old man there

"What are you doing here?" he said to Sunday.

"Sir....sir...I..." Sunday said. He made great efforts to speak but trembled uncontrollably. His head felt heavy as if hairs suddenly sprouted. He fixated at the old queer man whose space had been intruded. Sunday had his eyes on him for more than a minute until he heard a bark. Sunday looked back to see his dog coming at him but when he turned back again, the old man had gone without trace. Shocked and frightened, he turned around and took to his heels.

This time around, there was nowhere to run or hide. Sunday knew he was dreaming but it was as clear as reality. His complete sense functioned properly. He whispered a prayer. His heart almost ruptured from rapid pounding against his ribcage. He found himself in a cemetery and saw the spirits of the dead rising from the bottomless pit to take him with them. This could have been a nightmare but it was daytime.

"I'm sure you know what you did and you'll pay for it with your soul."

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..." Sunday said a bit louder.

The principal snarled and slammed his palm on the table. "You are treading on dangerous ground. Douglas has told you a lot, but the mistake you make is confronting the ancient powers in existence before you were born. May be you want to end up like one of those exorcists. And that is what will happen to you now."

An apparition in the form of a shadow rose from the floor like a mist and appeared right in front of Sunday. The shadowy creature grew larger and spread out its arms to envelop Sunday. The light went out all around him and he found people lifting him on a stretcher.

Sunday jerked with a gasp for air. His vision became blurred as soon as he woke up.

Amaka spoke to the boy beside her, "something doesn't look right". He nodded and responded in writing: "They have taken his soul from his body."

"How can we help him?" she responded back in writing.

"How is it supposed to be your problem? Who knows what he did."

Sunday wrote gibberish in his book. The teacher noticed an oddity about him but didn't look his way. She had seen things similar to this before and Sunday just only added to the number.

When school was over, the students left the class leaving Sunday alone staring into the black board. His posture did not change after an hour. Douglas walked by the corridor and saw a black bird putting watching Sunday.

Soon, several black birds flew from the thick forest and congregated in the building from the roof top, occupying each classroom. They made various sounds similar to the voices of humans. A few dozen gathered in Sunday's classroom and perched on the seats using their beaks to scrape the wooden surface.

"We should kill him but not now," one of the black birds which represented the principal said.

"Death of students in our custody always breeds suspicion. Saliu's death was a very unfortunate incidence," another bird representing Mrs. Okoye said.

"Douglas has sold out. He should be killed," the principal said.

"No," another bird cried sharply. "He's my only son. Besides that, he has suffered enough because of me."

"Sunday should not be a problem, he can be dealt with," Mrs. Okoye said as she flapped her wings. She flew and held onto his shirt with her talons. She peered into his dim eyes balls. "I can't read them. There's more to him than we know."

"I'll be off but will keep an eye on him," the principal said and flew into the air.

Sunday stood up and left the classroom. Each step he took felt automated. He didn't swing his arms or move his head. When he arrived at the hostel, heads turned as he walked pass them. Even the prefects who saw him refused to get closer. As he climbed the stairs to his house every one gave him way. Two other zombies emerged and followed him to his house.

An unusual silence filled the air when they sat together looking at each other without speaking. A normal student who shared the same bed corner with them had to change base. The students observed quietly and barely whispered to themselves.

"The principal did something to him," Ikenga whispered to Layeffa.

"Walls have ears," Layeffa replied him.

Galadima came out from his room wearing a boxer short and white singlet. He had just done fifty pushups and decided to take a break. Most students were present except a few of his colleagues. As his tradition, he stood at the center and used his palms to hit a locker.

"Attention," he said. "As you can all see, we have another zombie in our midst. Out of six zombies in this school, three comes from our house. This is not a very good sign. Today, I was humiliated in class, and therefore I'm called the chief of zombies. I don't find this convenient at all, so if you don't want to be included as one and bring us shame, then do what is right. As a matter of fact, prayers and any form of religious activities are hereby abolished with immediate effect. In addition to that, zombies are harmless."

The zombies moved separately the rest. Their dining table was set at the extreme part of the hall where no one interfered. More curious eyes watched them from the minimum safest distance as they ate. Some students whispered about them: "What do they think?" "Do they feel or have emotions?"

The senior executive stood up and trotted to the center of the hall. "Attention and stop eating," he said. The hall became quiet and all heads were focused on the speaker.

"I don't want you people to act strangely towards our zombies' counterparts. They are experiencing a mental trauma which hopefully will heal with proper medication, attention and love. Some people have passed through this process and have become better."

"A few things have happened that made tongues to wag, the death of Saliu and the new zombies in our midst. These events are circumstantial and not demonic as some people do claim. Concerning the death of Saliu, the doctor's report said he drank concentrated nitric acid. He committed suicide. Those who are suicide prone would need to undergo some mental evaluation. The school management is willing and ready to support you if only you give them the chance. Enjoy your meal," the senior prefect said and went to his seat.

No sound was heard for a few minutes. The students looked at one another expecting the next person to break the silence.

"That can't be true," one of the students a few rows of bench from the zombies managed to say. That was the closest any one could get refuting the lies. "We've been hearing different stories. I once heard he drank caustic soda and it was later said he drank hydrochloric acid. What do we believe?"

They all whispered and grumbled but none of them was bold enough to refute the story. After the prepared speech given by the senior executive everyone was reluctant to eat. The zombies finished their meal long before the students. They sat still and kept their heads straight at each other.

