WILDFIRE

WILDFIRE

~~~

BLURB

An unfortunate incident in a university escalates into an all-out war that spreads like wildfire through the country.
On the surface, it seems like a natural glitch, however, there are some supernatural opposing forces at war in this dystopian setting. What is to be the fate of three friends, each from the major tribes of the country, caught in the middle of this war?

~~~

As the glow of dawn lit the base of the Oyo hills, a dark sentinel, heavily clad in a dull armour that reeked of sulphur and ash, hovered above the city.
Powerful, bat-like wings sprung from behind his shoulder blade, beating against the ether, causing him to bob up and down haphazardly. His grotesque form was invisible in the physical plane.

He was Airegin, the dark prince in the air over Nigeria.

Serpentine eyes that glowed an unearthly green colour were fixed on a particular location on the vast tropical terrain.
Moyemi Heritage University, the most prestigious public uni situated in the heart of the largest city of the Giant of Africa.

The malevolent being’s lips twitched in an evil smirk.
His dark minions were ready. All their little mischiefs here and there were strategies that boil down to this present day. The flames of chaos would be kindled, not just on the campus, but on a much larger scale. It would be a wildfire that would consume the entire nation.

Humans, especially these nitwits that dwelled in this part of the globe, were irritating. What the One Up High saw in them was a mystery.
Once they destroyed themselves with their own hands, with a little bit of help from his crew, Airegin was sure the Evil Lord would be so pleased with Him and elevate him to a more worthy cause of destruction.

And as icing on the cake, to spite the One Up High and His meddling Light Sentinels, he had selected the prime candidate that would be a trigger to the whole war.

Now, let the games begin.
He spread his leathery wings and, with a thought, vanished.

~~~

With a heavy thud that resounded through the hall, Bisi Alege, an undergraduate in the department of Dramatic Arts, crumpled to the floor. She hit her plastic chair and sent it toppling down with her.

Bisi lay motionless on the ground, her right arm twisted at an unnatural angle.

Her colleagues who had been standing around her raised an alarm. The entire class of 100+ students bored-to-death students, who were fanning themselves with their handouts to reduce the scourge of the sweltering heat, turned to the back to have a glimpse of the ruckus that had been made.

“Will you keep your dirty mouths shut? If you want to disrupt my class then walk out the door, and risk a zero for your semester test!” a paunchy man on the wooden podium barked.

The man was their History and Culture (HAC101) lecturer and a real pain in the ass. He’d asked them all to remain standing as they’d arrived five minutes late to his class because there was a big distance between this lecture hall and where they’d had their previous lecture.

The course was a mandatory one for all year one students. Many chose to ‘stab’ it because it was a waste of time to just watch the man shouting and trying to act strict instead of teaching. But the thing was, the man’s brain could spark at times and he’d just do an impromptu test that would have a major effect on their GP.

“Sir,” Isioma, Bisi’s best friend, who had already slid down and placed Bisi’s head on her lap, cried in panic, “My friend fainted and needs help. Her breathing is shallow and her temperature has spiked.”

The other students murmured worriedly like bees. The lecturer harshly hushed the class to silence with his Medusa glare. Everyone knew the HAC101 lecturer was a full-blown sadist, but no one knew the degree of his inhumaneness had made him so unfeeling even to another person’s predicament.

“Then, carry her out!” he ordered coldly, “And stop disturbing my class!”

Idris, another friend of Bisi’s, carried her in his arms. He’d lived most of his life in the north, helping his father’s groundnut business and was accustomed to carrying heavy loads.
It was a good thing Bisi had worn a trouser that prevented her thighs from being on public display.

As they, the whole team of about ten concerned friends who cared for Bisi, hurried to the door, the lecturer shouted. They froze.

“Hey, hey, hey! Where are you all going? Oooo! So you think you all can use this as an avenue to leave my class, abi? Never! This is my domain and you do what I say. Only one person leaves with the sick lady. And that’s final!”

Isioma huffed, on the verge of angry tears, hissed and urged the crew on.
As they left, she could hear the bossy voice of the man asking all the students to write their names in an attendance he’d just begun passing around. To hell with his attendance, she thought.

They plodded to the exit of the class and trotted out to the main street as fast as they could.
Isioma kept crying and praying under her breath.

“Bisi, please be fine. Oh God, let her be fine.”

Just as they got to the unusually bare street, they simultaneously were hit with the realisation that the transportation association on campus had protested due to the government lifting of petrol price subsidy. That was why there was no bus, taxi or motorcycle in sight.
Even if any happened to miraculously appear against all odds, there was a high chance that the driver would take advantage of their desperation and haste to extort them of their limited funds.

“It’s pointless to stand here waiting. We have to get going!” Idris said, his hands burning under the weight of the unconscious Bisi he was carrying.

As they all ran, Isioma’s mind replayed what had happened that morning. She lived in the same hostel, Benique Hall, as Bisi, but in separate rooms.

Yesternight, Bisi had insisted on doing a vigil to cover up her reading material. She didn’t eat last night.
Isioma was aware of her friend’s allergies to some foods. Which was why Bisi had chosen to ditch the cafeteria’s meals. And she wasn’t good or keen at cooking.
Isioma had volunteered to cook noodles for her friend, but Bisi had refused, saying she was sick of that staple fast food already. And so, despite her insistence, Bisi had taken only half a loaf of bread and drank lots of coffee. Isioma was happy to eat all the pineapple slices she’d bought intending to share it with her friend.

Isioma blamed herself. She was a terrible friend. Why hadn’t she forced Bisi to eat something substantial, especially since she knew how weak her friend’s health was?

After what seemed like an eternity, the hurrying bunch finally arrived at the university’s infirmary.

Bored-looking nurses lounged at the reception desk. One was filing her nail and chewing bubble gum. The other was watching a comedy on her phone and cackling like she was high on laughing gas.

Isioma knew the drill. The university infirmary nurses were renowned for their crankiness and irritability. Now wasn’t the time for their drama. Please.

“Ma!” Isioma wheezed as she slammed her hands on the desk to grab their attention. “There’s an emergency! My friend collapsed in the class and we’ve rushed her here!”

She pointed to the bench where Idris had already laid Bisi’s limp body. From the alarmed look on his face, it was easy to tell that Bisi’s breathing was getting shallower and more laboured.

“Okay. Is she with her health care card?” the first nurse asked, looking at her with blank eyes.

“No. No, ma! We came over as soon as she fainted. I know she has her card in her bag but we forgot it in our haste.”

“Well, then, I’m sorry but we can do nothing.”

“What? My friend is dying and you say you can do nothing!” Isioma was on the verge of screaming. “What kind of people are these? We’re talking about human life here.”

“Yes, I know. But that’s the procedure.”

“Besides, Nurse Emily,” the first nurse said—Isioma hated her nonchalant tone with passion already—”Have you told them that the doctors are on strike? We cannot do anything except set a line for her and give her bed rest.”

“What?” Isioma whisper-shouted in exasperation.

At that moment, Bisi’s body suddenly stiffened where she was lying on the bench. She began twitching and trashing. The students around her began to shout in panic. Some, especially Idris, tried to hold her down to keep her from hurting herself.

Bisi’s eye rolled to the back of her head. Traces of foam began to bubble from the corners of her mouth.

“No, please! I beg you. Someone do something. She’s the only friend I have!” Isioma cried, her mind reeling.

The nicer nurse, the one called Nurse Emily, sighed and got up.

“Bring her here.”

After the nurse gave her a shot to calm her down, they managed to place her on a trolley bed. The nurse wheeled her into the Emergency Room while the second nurse tried to contact a doctor.

~~~

Tod, a Light Sentinel, stood at the entrance of the ER where Bisi had been whisked into.

He watched with narrowed eyes as a host of dark sentinels whispered discouragements to the nurses, telling them they could not break professional protocol and go ahead to administer treatment to Bisi.

When the nurses and their unseen parasites left, Tod slid into the ER and watched over her, his wings a canopy over her bed. She was totally under now and no other treatment had been given to help her.

If it was time to bring her home, he’d be honoured to take her. Even though it was aggravating that he had received no instruction from the One Up High as to whether to intervene, Tod was honoured to be her guardian.

Bisi was a warrior and an intercessor for the renewal of her broken land. Now, she would be crowned for her patience.

He heard a signal from his superior and tuned in to the frequency of the captain’s voice.

“We’re taking her on a brief tour to see what shall be in the end. The people of this land need to be given one last warning. You shall accompany her before her release.”

Tod’s lip stretched slightly in a small smile and nodded. Now, that was a much more worthy task to carry out than just standing here, doing nothing.

~~~

It had been six hours. So far, no doctor had shown up. Isioma had called all the people she knew: Bisi’s family members, her other roommates and the fellowship brethren.

Isioma had also posted on all her social handles that her friend was in critical condition and needed prayers. Tons of her over 100k+ followers had begun responding. Yes, there were perks to being a social media activist and influencer.

It was her passion, which explained why she’d chosen Law as her first choice. Too bad she’d been tossed to the Department of Social Psychology even though she had passed the cut-off mark for Law.

The two nurses who they’d met on duty had left since their shift was over. A new set of nurses showed up, who were completely oblivious and indifferent to who Bisi was and what was happening to her. Based on the silent message they’d been projecting, they were just puppets in the system; it wasn’t their fault.

It was when Isioma could bear it no longer that she remembered that she had an indirect connection to the Dean of student affairs. How could she have forgotten?

After close to an hour of making calls back and forth, a reluctant doctor sauntered in and took up Bisi’s file. He announced that her case was critical—she needed emergency surgery—and referred her to the State’s General Hospital.

The ambulance was delayed because due to the petrol scarcity. They had to rush her through the choking traffic and terrible potholes on the road. The general hospital was crowded but somehow they managed to line her up for a spare Operating Room.

The doctors began their work in haste. It was evident that Bisi was hanging on to dear life with a thread.

“Isi, maybe you should go get some food and rest. You look hungry and exhausted,” Idris said to Isioma. They were both in the waiting room while the volunteer surgeons worked on Bisi. Idris knew if he watched Isioma take another frantic pace through the breadth of the waiting room, his resolve to be calm would break.

She stopped in her track, and gave him a deathly glare that said, ‘Do I look like I’m leaving here without getting answers?’

“Look, I know you’re worried. I am too. But I believe Bisi will be just fine. She’s being taken care of.”

“I’m scared, Idris. She’s frail and might not make it. What will I do then?”

Idris gulped and shook his head to assure himself nothing that bad would happen. He knew his world would be shattered if anything happened to Bisi.
He was in love with her but he’d been doing his best to suppress it. Since the day she’d smilingly helped his confused self with his course registration, she’d been the only girl in his heart.

There were many reasons why he knew they could never end up together. She was a strong Christian; he was a Muslim by birth—not that he took the whole religion thing seriously. She was from the Yoruba tribe; he was from Jos.
He also suspected that the reason for her frail state of health was that she was a sickler. His was an AS genotype, meaning they were incompatible. Besides, his parents had done their duty years earlier to secure him an eligible damsel through betrothal. It was the way and culture of their tribe. Then, he’d been in JSS1 and the girl was in primary school.

As much as he kept reminding himself that Bisi was not the one for him, each time he looked at her and saw her infectious joy and zeal despite her condition, he saw a woman whose value could not be measured.

He wanted to protect her from the cruelty of the world. He wanted to make her safe. But all he was reduced to doing was love her from a distance, not certain if she even felt anything for him too.

“Bisi is a good girl. She never for once ceased to pray that Nigeria will be better. She had faith in a better Nigeria. And she even said she’d never be like others who were happy to ‘japa’ from this country. Look what it’s cost her now,” Isioma said, breaking down in a fresh round of tears.

“Her dream is to influence people through the movies she’ll act in and produce that there can be a better, God-governed Nigeria. She has to scale through this.”

Two doctors in blue came out with stoic faces.

“Who are the parents of Miss Bisi Alege?” the lead surgeon asked, scanning the scanty waiting room.

“They’re not here yet,” Isioma said, hurrying to them, Idris in her wake. “They’re on their way.”

“Oh! Then I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything.”

Isioma frowned, heart thudding as different possibilities ran through her mind.
As the lead surgeon turned to leave and attend to other duties, she grabbed his coat, stopping him, and look at him through teary eyes.

“Doctor! See, I am her closest friend. I’m practically her blood sister. Tell me she’s alright or else I might die from apprehension.”

The surgeon looked from the worried-faced Idris to Isioma. He wanted to tell the guy to take Isioma away from him but he had a change of heart when he looked at her and saw her desperation.

He let out a whoosh of air.

“Well, I’m sorry. We did our best, but, we lost her.”

All Isioma could hear was a distant ringing sound as she stood frozen.

~~~

“Breaking news! Bandits have ravaged the southern community of Ilesha, killing twenty people and causing property damage of over 5 million naira in worth.
Their reason for such remains unknown…”

The governor stared blankly at the TV for a minute. His fingers rapped on his large, burgundy office desk. Why would his little repertoire be punctuated by more bad news? To hell with their headache! If they didn’t know how to protect themselves, at least he wasn’t God.
He hissed and changed the channel.

A young and attractive female reporter’s face came on the screen. In the background were protesting students. The scene piqued his interest. The governor frowned and listened.

“About an hour ago, pandemonium broke out in Moyemi Heritage University. About one thousand angry students have taken to the road as you can see. They are effectively blocking the Main Highway that links Moyemi Road, Oyo, to the Obayion Airport, bringing traffic to a standstill.

“We have gotten statements from some of the zealots of this protest. One Bisi Alege, an undergraduate of the department of Dramatic Arts, lost her life because, according to the aggrieved students, she was not quickly attended to due to some accumulating factors. The students are demanding to see the governor himself. They have so far refused to listen to any representative of the school authority.

“This is Owodunni Shewa of Hourly Account News, speaking live from Moyemi Heritage University, Central Oyo.”

What rubbish was this? The governor bellowed for his personal assistant.

“What’s this mess I see? Call the military and clear off these pesky menaces from my road. I have to be in Abuja before noon.”

“Right away, sir,” the bald P.A. in glasses said and scurried out of the office.

~~~

Isioma’s eyes were red. She’d cried for hours but couldn’t still believe that her only friend was gone.

Being an influencer on campus, she’d pulled enough crowd of raging comrades who were tired of the state of things.

It was time for a big change. And it was they, the youths and leaders of tomorrow, who would begin that radical change. If gentle pleas wouldn’t suffice for the school management and the Nigerian government at large, then, they’d do it the hard bitter way.

Enough was enough!

Isioma had to do something to numb her pain and guilt. She refused to accept that she was blaming herself or revenge-thirsty. Bisi’s death had only poured petrol on the embers of her radical nature.

~~~

Mewling demons flew like bats over the gathering, fueling the hate and anger of the students.

“Make them thirsty for violence. That way, we can proceed to the next stage of our plan. This land is ours to rule,” Airegin telepathically communicated to his minions.

~~~

The droning sound of the machines in the ER had Idris’s head pounding. How could Bisi be gone so suddenly?

He had to brace up and prepare for when her wailing parents would come to claim her body. He could already picture how hysteric her mother would be when she arrived.

He stared at the pale face of his secret love. An unearthly serenity was there. His heart ached.

“How I wish I could see you one last time and tell you all I’ve been hiding. I love you. Oh, Bisi!” he whispered, tears pouring. He brought her cold and stiff hand to his face and wept.
“Just one more chance to hear her voice,” he said, looking up.

Damn this country! he mused. Things were irreparably shattered. In every sphere, there was a big loophole: The crumbling education system, bad health care, terrorism and insecurity everywhere, and economic meltdown, to name a few.

The doctors had already left. Isioma had left too in a daze of rage about an hour ago. He’d been too shocked to move or even console anyone.

Now, looking up at the TV screen reporting the news, he saw a glimpse of Isioma leading a protest. She looked savage and war-thirsty. She had become a wounded lioness. He hoped this was the beginning of a revolution that would awaken Nigerians to speak up against the selfish and wicked authority that ruled with an iron fist.

He also wanted to join and seek vengeance for the avoidable death of his love, but he had doubts and he was scared. Something about this whole saga was eerie and unnatural.

After having a good cry for some minutes, he wiped his tears and stared numbly at their entwined hands.

He felt something squeeze his hand. No, it was her hand.
Her hand? Corpses don’t squeeze.
Was he hallucinating?

His tear-blotched eyes shot to her face. His eyes widened as he saw her fluttering eyelids. He wanted to scream in a mix of joy and fear but he just sat there, petrified by what was happening.

“Idris!” Bisi called in her weak voice.

“Bi-bisi?” He stuttered. It was too good to be true.

“It’s so glorious up there and so dark down here.”

“You’re awake! You’re alive!” he exclaimed. “Wait, don’t talk. Let me get the doctors…”

He made to leave but she held his hand tight and looked at him through pleading eyes.

“No, don’t worry. I’ll be leaving soon. There’s no way I’ll prefer staying in this hell to the paradise above. The Highest just gave me a chance to warn you. Promise me you’ll tell Isioma and everyone else.”

Tears welled in his eyes. He was in awe. Her God had heard his request. He was grateful, even if this was temporary, even if his desperation had made his mind to be playing silly games in him.

“Bisi, I- I have to tell you something… I-”

“Shhh… I know.” She gave him that angelic smile of hers.
“My heart warms at the knowledge of your affection despite our many differences. But your destiny is here. I’ve fulfilled mine.”
She coughed. Idris patted her.

She continued, “Idris, don’t blame God. Don’t blame the government. That’s not the solution.

“Only if the Kingdom of God is established in Nigeria will things have meaning. This country has rejected Him and chosen her own schemes. Now, the darkness is so thick and is about to swallow up everything, leaving desolation in its wake.”

Her glazed eyes travelled to the TV that was hung up opposite her bed. The duo watched in horror as the live occurrences were broadcast.

Armed soldiers began to drop from armoured tanks and vehicles and began to threaten the students who refused to budge.

The students held hands and kept chanting a chorus. Isioma led, her visage like flint.

Within seconds, the soldiers opened fire and began shooting at the students. Everyone scattered. Screams filled the air.
Bullets poured out of the guns of the government. Innocent citizens fell in a pool of their own blood.

The camera that had been filming shook, distorting the view on screen, as the Hourly Account News crew ran for their lives. Soon, the live broadcast got disconnected.

“It has begun. The dark forces have set their plan in motion. Will saviours arise to stand in the gap and fight for Nigeria?” Bisi said faintly, tears falling down her pale cheeks.

She looked at Idris, “The Highest would have you take up the baton from me. Heed His call. Accept His love for you. It might be that you have been commissioned for such a time as this.

“Also, tell Isi, for she also is to join this cause and will survive, that this war cannot be fought by physical strength or weapons…”

Bisi exhaled. Her spirit departed from her body.

~~~

Tod spread his large wings, ready to escort the spirit of his ward through the pearly gates to meet her true King.

As he took flight, he poured the oil of love and grace on Idris as he’d been instructed by the One Up High.

~~~

Idris’s body shook as soulful tears poured not just from his eyes but also his heart, not knowing where to start.

Maybe he should start by praying to the One Bisi had always intimately called The Highest. A million thoughts ran through his mind.

He opened his mouth and shakily said, “Save us, O Highest One!”