The Chase

By Peace Nkeiruka Maduako

It began to rain. The cold rain water dripped onto our heads from the leaves of the mango tree we sat under. As we gathered around for warmth, all we could hear in the surrounding bushes was the sound of the heavy rain splattering in the puddles collecting allover the place. I pulled Henry closer to me, I held my tears back and prayed in my heart that the morning would come and it’ll all be a dream. A bad dream—chaos. Suddenly as we shifted from the trickles of water on the ground and scooped the rain water running down our faces, someone stood up and spoke in almost a whisper.

“Praise the Lord.” 

To my surprise a couple of people responded in whispers, “hallelujah.” I sat up. I peered at the face of the fierce preacher. He would defy the rain, defy the fear, defy the war and stand right there! His words did send a certain assurance to our hearts as we listened. I put my head on Henry’s shoulder and I should have slept except that the person set to watch in the bushes came running. 

“We are quite close to the main road, I hear the army van is going to drive by this way in the morning, let’s move on across the farmlands ahead. There’s a boys quarter up ahead somewhere, we’ll all pass the night there,” he advised. We all got up to our feet and took up our bags, mothers swang their infants over their backs and held on. Fathers held closely their tired and sleepy children and Henry took me by the hand real tight. We forged ahead in the night, under the cold rain. One person got out an umbrella and opened it up and four persons ran under it. We came out from under the trees and the rain descended on us with it’s full force, hitting us on our necks and backs as we ducked and ran. The puddles did worse, they had twigs in them that pierced under our feet as we waded the dirty water flowing over the ridges in the farm. If only there were some corn or tuber to pluck or dig up as we went we would have been elated, but when the war began, the markets had closed and everyone hoarded all that they had remaining. The women went to their farms and took everything thieves had failed to steal. Some folks were wise enough to take the last few buses heading West just before the inter-state ban. We stayed behind, Henry and I, we had a wedding to attend—ours. Then just on our honey moon night, the army vans trooped into our town and laid people on the streets—dead. Talking robot machines everywhere, scanning everything for any form of life, saying “scan complete. Proceed.” If you don’t raise the ruling party’s identity card then you go down. Boom. We ran. We got lost. We met others running too, now here we are, wading our way to safety. 

The rain had no mercy, it beat on us like we were in the days of Noah. Our destination seemed farther as we went further. The children among us began to shiver in the rain, I shivered too. Henry held me close. “Well get to shelter soon,” he whispered. I nodded to the comforting lie and we went on. 

***

I washed my legs in the water dripping from the roof of the boys quarter as Henry went to secure us a place for the night. I looked around me at the children hugging their parents and crying from hunger and cold, their parents pulled off their clothes and wrung it before letting them wear them again. I could have taken my clothes off too for wringing if only there weren’t men in our company. There were a couple of resident boys standing together beside a door looking rugged—smoking. I wondered why the watchers thought we could trust those riffraff. The boys quarter was an almost dilapidating structure, condemned to be used by outlaws. I quickly searched through my wet bag for my phone wrapped in a nylon. I tried to turn it on but the battery was dead now. Henry came behind me, “I’ve got you a place, go lie down.” 

“Look, my battery is dead,” I said showing him my phone. 

“Here, take mine, I’ll use another persons torch while we watch.” 

“You watch? No.” 

“I have to, they chose me,” he said holding my hands and looking into my eyes in the dark night lit only by a few torches. I could hear his short breathes, maybe he was scared, but he wasn’t permitted to show it.

“Henry I…” 

“I know,” he said cutting into my words. He drew me in for hug. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t be scared.” 

“But I…” 

“I know,” he cut me short again. Probably didn’t want to listen to my fears, maybe they’d rub off on him. He pushed me towards the door and disappeared into the night. 

***

There were litters of things allover on the dusty floor—mostly cigarette sticks and dry leaves. I should have swept it but we were asked not to sweep to avoid making any noise that would draw attention to our location. I picked what I could and spread out a wrapper on the floor. Using my bag as a pillow I laid down. A woman was dividing bread among her children at the extreme of the room, I watched them. I was hungry, I could have begged her for a little piece but the faces of her hungry children would hunt me forever. I looked away from them. I thought I wouldn’t sleep, Henry wasn’t safe watching for us all in the bush with only a few other men who didn’t really care about him, but maybe it was the fear that made me drift off to sleep quicker than I had anticipated. I woke up severally though, whenever someone walked pass the door were I laid or when the woman lying next to me spoke in her sleep. But I always drifted back to sleep again, I was too tired to be awake. 

Dawn came quite quickly, I was wide awake now and listened to the sound of lizards running around inside the ceiling boards in the room. My eyes slowly traced the mud-red termite patterns on the walls. I thought about my parents, were they safe? I couldn’t call them, the state had blocked the network so our sim cards were practically useless. I worried. Maybe they had taken a bus after the wedding and ran. Maybe Henry and I would soon reunite with them when the army chase ends and peace returns. There was hope, the bright sunlight breaking in through the window told me that.

The door pushed open and someone ran in. I sprang up in fright. The sound of a gunshot sent all of us to our feet. “The army!” Someone shouted. Without been told the mothers flew their children over the windows towards the thick bushes behind the boys quarter and then jumped over themselves. There was confusion everywhere. I ran to jump the window too but then I remembered Henry. “Henry!” I called out as everyone kept skipping over the windows and disappearing into the bushes. I ran back towards the door. I had to get Henry. I could see the watchers running helter-skelter for cover. I didn’t see Henry. As I stood confused, someone grabbed me by the arm and headed back into the room and towards the window. It was the preacher. “No, no. My husband!” I tried to fight him though he was trying to save me. 

“He’s coming…” he said hauling me over the window frame. I had no option than to trust him. Would a preacher lie? I ran with him into the bush. Sounds of gunshots filled the air as we ran. No one was in sight, only tall trees and birds that flew away into the sky at the sound of the gunshots. I tripped over something. The preacher pulled me up. 

“My husband!” I cried again. 

“He’s coming,” he repeated. I looked back, I heard the voices of men, maybe the watchers, they were running behind. I had to believe that Henry was running somewhere in the bushes behind us. I had to believe. The chase was on and so I had to run forward not back. 

We ran for so long I couldn’t tell where we were or where we were going. We burst into a small village, quiet as night—deserted—if anyone was home they were hiding of course. We ran from door to door, knocking, pleading for someone to let us in. No one responded. We jumped over a short mud fence and landed in the backyard of an old house. We hid behind the chicken coop, the preacher holding his hand over his chest and my breath almost lost. The corpse of a dead boy was lying not too far from us, at the backdoor of the house, shot through the temple. Dry blood stains on the stairs, eyes wide open, staring right at me. Stinking. Flies hovering over its open mouth. Gruesome. Could this be the end? Could this be where we die? We heard footsteps approaching, getting nearer and nearer until just beside the fence. We heard a robot beeping. Scanning… “Scan complete. Proceed.”

Peace Nkeiruka Maduako is a Nigerian writer, a fictionist who is often inspired by paintings and art that tell stories in themselves. She has been published on Calla Press, Kalahari Review, SweetycatPress anthologies, Brigitte Poirson Chapbook, SpillWords Press, Screen Crust Magazine, ClayJar Review and more. She resides in Owerri, Imo state and is on Facebook as Peace Nkeiruka.