Chapter 7: Blood and Shadows

The land don spoil, everywhere dry. As I comot camp, I see say no be only Chief Obiora army don craze. Villages dey fight, kill, pile dead body everywhere. Parents dey exchange pikin to chop, dey cook dem, share soup. Scholars dey peel skin for paper, kill thousand people for one fine paper…

At first, I vex, kill many wicked people, but I see say e no get end—people wey still get sense don reduce. If e continue, when time reach, nothing go remain to repair. I just close eye, rush dey go, day and night.

The ground dey dry crack, no grass. Sky red like palm oil, sun no dey shine normal again. Everywhere I look, spirit dey dance with shadow, pikin cry, old woman dey wail. The smell of burning flesh and sorrow dey everywhere—my heart dey turn stone.

[Rule Three: If you dey for side of the one wey God don choose, na there sure pass. Na only him be hope.]

To find the one wey God don choose, I go Royal City, but everywhere don turn ghost town. Heads dey hang everywhere as lantern. I kill some enemy soldiers wey dey pursue people, save one old man, him tell me say Chief Garba don build Bronze Eagle Tower for New City, carry the Chosen One go there.

“Royal City don finish, dynasty don finish, world don finish…” Old man dey talk, then begin cry:

“Great Teacher! This world no fit save!” Blood dey come out from him eye, skin dey burst, tentacles dey come out. Him sef turn spirit.

I nearly shout “Blood of Jesus!” but my voice die for throat. The old man voice sharp, but the way pain dey twist am, e go make even masquerade pity. I dey almost drop weapon as I see tentacles dey grow for human body—na ogbanje world be this.

“General, look up.” The old man dey smile. I no get choice, I look up. Pikin head dey hang for beam.

“That one na my grandson… General, abeg join am.”

[Rule Two: If person don craze, abeg, no reject anything wey dem ask you.]

I bite teeth, vein dey show for my head, but my hand still dey move, sword dey my neck. Rules dey flash for my mind, but none fit help now.

I dey struggle, tears dey drop for my face—this kain rule na curse, I swear. The urge to join the madness dey strong, but inside my mind, I dey shout my mama name, dey beg God make I see another dawn.

Suddenly, yellow paper for old man pocket begin shine. Yellow paper burn without fire. Possessed old man scream, turn ash quick. I get myself back, look the ash, remember wetin he talk before craze catch am. Great Teacher… Na Prophet Jatau of Yellow Turban?

But no time to think, I rush go New City.

The air dey tight, everywhere get smell of burnt paper and old shrine. As I dey move, Red Hare dey run like wind. For my mind, I dey gather courage, dey pray say the real hope go show for New City.

Sky red like palm oil, sun no dey shine normal again.