ABIGAIL.

I took what I thought was my last breath. Unfortunately, it was not. There were to be more excruciating, laborious attempts to draw in air into my fatigued frame. As I hung naked on the cross, the pains in my arms and feet overtook every ounce of shame. The people jeered and booed. Those closest threw spittle. The Chief Priests ranted, shaking their fists angrily at the person who appeared the sole subject of today's execution. A rabbi named Jesus. I was nailed to his right. On his left hung Timaeus, my best friend.

"Zadok."

The distinct, sonorous voice floated to my ears amidst the noisy crowd. On seeing her, I felt my heart tear into a million shreds.

"Abigail!" I screamed. "I did this for you."

I could see the sorrow in her face. She nodded in assent, all the while placing her right hand on her stomach. My face furrowed in confusion until suddenly, it hit me. She was pregnant! My eyes widened in surprise and I knew I had my answer when she smiled. I was not dying in vain after all.

I met Abigail through an act of fate, a brush with death. The last son of the High Priest, I had grown up to subtly rebel against my father and my priestly brothers. Lacking any form of maternal love, I had charted a new path for myself, to their chagrin and proceeded to become one of the finest cloth merchants in Jerusalem. Timaeus, my childhood friend was my business companion. Together, we journeyed the winding road connecting Jerusalem to Jericho, an opulent town on the plains of the Jordan river. Jericho was well known for its aristocratic taste and I purchased the finest silk and linen there. Done with business, we make our way back to Jerusalem and sell for a huge profit. The road was dangerous and stories of bandits abound but somehow, we never encountered them.

One day, I made the journey alone because Timaeus was sick. I had passed the Judean desert and neared a sharp bend when some men appeared, armed with clubs. I made to turn the donkey but more men came out from the shadows. Dragging me down from my donkey, the stripped me of my clothes and money and battered me with clubs. I was left for dead in a pool of my own blood. A priest came along, full-bearded, cone-shaped turban and all, peered down at me and quietly walked away. A Levite soon appeared, dressed in his white twined tunic and also walked away. I had given up hope when I heard a donkey bray in the distance. A man in velvet robes approached and touched me. Discovering I was alive, he brought wine and bandages and dressed my wounds. He mounted me on his donkey and took me to an inn.

"My name is Ashur. I am from Samaria," the man in velvet robes said, after the inn-keeper had  given me a place to rest.

"Zadok," I said with difficulty. "Thank you. May Yahweh...bless you."

He smiled. "You will stay here till you make full recovery. I gave the inn-keeper some money. I will give him the balance when I return from my journey."

I was awoken the next morning by a lovely voice, singing the praises of Yahweh.

"You are awake," she said, looking at me.

I nodded, still stunned by her beauty and serenaded by her voice.

"I am Abigail, Ashur's sister. He sent me to check up on you. I brought you breakfast."

She sang while I ate. We talked till late in the afternoon, when she begged to take her leave.

She was back the next day. And the day after. We discussed everything from the strained Judeo-Samaritan relationship to the right place of worship.

"It is on Mount Gerizim," she said, in mock defiance.

"Of course, you know it is in the Temple in Jerusalem," I insisted, laughing.

"Or in your hearts," Ashur said. He had returned from his journey. "Yahweh lives in our hearts. Jews and Samaritans alike."

I admired the way he reasoned. His travels had definitely made him wiser.

I left the inn and went back to Jerusalem. Everyone had been searching for me and were happy at my return. I narrated my ordeal to them. When I reached the part of being rescued by a Samaritan, my father entered his room. It was signal that he had heard enough. Timeaus, on the other hand, had not. So, I gave him every detail about Abigail and how enamored I have become of her. He patted me on the back.

"I hear Samaritan women are the kindest and sweetest of them all," he said, grinning.

I nodded. I had experienced it first-hand.

I continued to visit Abigail, often in the company of Timaeus. Her father was furious when he found out and forbade me from ever setting foot in his house. We subsequently met at her brother's place. Ashur was in support but incapacitated.

"I am getting married soon," I announced to my family one evening, after dinner.

My father looked up from his seat and smiled. "This is the only reasonable thing you have said in a long while. Who is the girl?"

I took a long pause and looked round the table. My four brothers had stopped eating and were waiting with bated breath.

"Abigail...She is from...um...Samaria." The words were coming out as if glued to my tongue.

My father banged his fist on the table. "Never!" he bellowed.

He rose and entered his room. My brothers followed suit.

I sat alone, stunned by the venom in my father's voice and the coldness of my brothers.

"Zadok, this is becoming hard. This morning, my father threatened to disown me," Abigail said, amidst sobs.

I wiped the tears from her eyes. "They cannot stop us. If Yahweh is for us, who can be against us?"

She brightened up. "No one." 

We sang together thereafter.

I knew I needed a plan. Timeaus came up with a seemingly brilliant idea. The only solution would be to run away with Abigail. To a far away land, beyond the Euphrates.

"We will need money. Plenty of it," I said, lost in thought. "And I lost all my savings to those brigands."

"Ask Ashur," he said.

I shook my head. "You think he would finance the abduction of his sister? I don't want to stretch his kindness."

"We will find a way,"he said.

Two days later, as I rose from evening prayers with my brothers, Timaeus called me aside. He was sounding excited.

"We will take some of the temple ornaments. They are made of pure gold and will fetch a huge amount of money to finance your journey," he said.

I dragged him into my room and shut the door. "Have you gone mad? You want us to steal from the temple? To steal from God?"

"It is not necessarily stealing. It is financing a just cause. A labour of love. If Jews were allowed to marry Samaritans this would have been unnecessary. Just think about it."

I spent the whole night thinking about what Timaeus said. I felt betrayed by my family, especially my father. This may be the only way to get at him.

The next morning, we planned our move. That night, disguised as Levites, we entered the temple through its main gate, near the western wall. The golden eagle hanging on the gate was a symbol of Roman protection. We entered the outer area and quickly ascended the stairs into the main temple, my legs softening like jelly with each step. My heart raced, occasionally calmed by the beatific vision of Abigail's face. The pillars were imposing. The roof was adorned with cedar, curiously graven. The entire temple was vacated. We approached the embroidered curtain separating the 'Holy of Holies'. I darted my eyes across the entire breath of the temple. Not a soul. Timaeus parted the curtain and entered. My heart skipped several beats. We have crossed the red line. I joined him. Unfurling a bag, we packed as many golden ornaments as we could find. 

We made to leave when the unthinkable happened. A golden lampstand fell and clattered on the ground. Timaeus and I froze, our pupils dilated in horror. Just then, we heard a voice. "Who, in the Lord's name, is in there?"

My face went pale. It was my father. We heard a door close and footsteps approach. In that instant, we bolted, leaving the bag behind. I collided into a figure as I lifted the curtain and we both fell. I made to stand but he was holding me tightly.

"Zadok!" Timaeus called out, looking behind. I cursed under my breath.

"Zadok?" my captor echoed. "My Zadok?"

I knew it was all over and stopped kicking. Moments later, some guards came in with Timaeus.

"We saw this man running away."

"Bind them," Father said. "Assemble the Sanhendrin."

The trial was swift and the penalty, simple. Death. It had been clear to me as soon as we crossed that curtain. Inwardly, I cursed the day I was born. I cursed Timaeus. I cursed my Father and my wimpy brothers. But news of what we did had been overshadowed by another news. Jesus the Nazarene, the famous Rabbi, had been arrested. I have heard Father voice his resentment of the man. I have overheard him plot with other priests and scribes on how to lay traps for him. They wanted him dead and did not pretend about it. We were told he was dragged to Pilate, then to Herod and back to Pilate. That was before we were made to carry our crosses up to Golgotha.

"Zadok! You caused all this!" Timaeus shouted, his voice laden with anguish. "You should have left that Samaritan girl alone."

I felt very sorry for him. He had been a trusted friend. I should not have dragged him into my affair.

"I heard you saved others," Timaeus said to the Rabbi. "Save yourself and save us! Fake king."

"Have you entirely lost respect for God, Timaeus? Can't you see that this man did not deserve  this punishment, quite unlike us?"

Timaeus sneered.

I turned to the Rabbi. "Lord, remember me when you get to your kingdom."

He turned to look at me. Love effused from his eyes. "Truly I tell you, today you shall be with me in paradise."

In that instant, I felt peace. I took one last look at the crowd. Father was at the foot of the cross, complete with his ephod and flat-topped turban, shouting obscenities. My brothers stood behind him, shaking their heads. She stood a bit far removed, her purple scarf blowing in the wind. I look at her face again and with every strength in me, tried to return her smile. As I made my voyage to the distant lands, only one memory accompanied me. 

Abigail.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015. Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.

TRAPPED...Part 23.

"Ten million naira! Where on earth will I get that amount of money?" Old Major said, hands on his head. "Chai! I am finished."

For one moment, I wished it were one huge prank. That Dan was alive and well, safe, and acting his own part of a script. But Dan does not play pranks. And the cold, deep baritone on the other end of the line, certainly was not joking. He sounded very polished, but his meanness can be felt miles away amidst his good English. This was really happening.

He had given three clear, concise instructions. Get ten million naira before forty-eight hours. Send Bola to bring it to a later-to-be-disclosed location. Never involve the Police. We had looked on dazed. At the background, we could hear Dan screaming.

"What are you doing to my son?" Old Major had asked.

"Nothing serious. Just some morning exercise."

What we  heard sounded like someone was punching Dan. There was intermittent laughter. He repeated his instructions and the line went dead.

"I have only two shops in Alaba. Even if I sell the shops with their contents and this house, I am not even sure of raising five million naira. And that will take at least a week!" Old Major said, shaking his head.

"Papa, we will find a way," I said, holding his shoulders.

Bola sat quietly in a corner, brooding. Chiemeka and Añuli were seated on the sofa, staring into space.

"Let's call the Police...that detective," Bola said.

I shot her a glance, then looked at Old Major.

"What other options do we have? Eh?"she continued, looking around the room."How can we raise ten million in forty-eight hours?"

The room was silent. After a while, I spoke up.

"But you heard the man clearly. Never involve the Police..."

"He was just bluffing. Which kidnapper will tell you to involve the police? Eh? Don't the Police catch some of them and rescue their victims?"

I looked at Old Major again, wanting him to say something.

"I will call Sergeant Okoli," he said, picking up his phone from the centre table. I gave an exasperated sigh.

"Hello, Officer...Good morning. It was a kidnap...No, they contacted us...ten million in forty-eight hours...Ok. Come quick, quick."

The Sergeant listened with rapt attention as Old Major narrated what transpired, stopping occasionally to make some notes in a small, black notebook.

"What are we going to do?"Old Major asked him.

"We are going to play along," he said, looking around the room. "It is important we realize how crucial this is. If they get any whiff that you have involved the Police, then I am afraid for your son. There has been some recent kidnap cases and they sound like the same group."

"What about the money?" Old Major asked.

"Don't worry. I will take care of everything from here," Sergeant Okoli said. He turned to Bola. "I will be back with a team of officers in the evening to prepare you...walk you through the entire process."

Bola nodded, visibly terrified.

"We have barely twenty-four hours left. You have to try your best to stay calm," Sergeant Okoli said to Bola, as I entered the living room. I had gone home the previous evening to freshen up and drop instructions with my student tailors. I had not been to my shop in over a week. The living room was filled with persons, some plain-clothed policemen, Chiemeka, Añuli, Mike and Old Major.

"I can't do this," Bola blurted out, sobbing.

"You can," Sergeant Okoli said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't you want to see your hubby again? Uh?"

She nodded, amidst sobs. 

"Good. Let's go over the routine again." He motioned to another officer who adjusted some wires on Bola's body.

"Remember, we will be hearing everything. And we will sweep in and remove you from the place at the slightest signal of danger. But you have to remain calm, ok?"

Bola nodded, still shaking like a leaf.

They spent the whole evening rehearsing the routine till Bola mastered it.

"I think we are done for the day," the Sergeant said, glancing at the clock. It was 9.45pm. "We will be back very early in the morning."

"Thanks very much, Officer," Old Major said, escorting them to the door.

I turned to Mike. "Pastor, is it morally right to pay ransom to kidnappers?" He looked up, scratched his head and closed the bible he was reading.

"Well, let's see. In the scripture, Christ was given as a ransom...for all of us..."

"You are missing the point," Bola interjected.

"No, wait. Remember where the scripture said to give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God? If the kidnappers are demanding a ransom..."

"Stella, if anyone is holding your loved one, you should give anything to have them back," Chiemeka said, stamping her foot. I nodded in agreement.

By 8.00am, the Sergeant and his team arrived, armed to the teeth. Bola was dressed up, the wires strategically placed, hidden from plain sight. They went through the routine again.

"I am not entering there empty-handed, am I?  These guys are expecting money," Bola said. There was panic in her voice.

"Don't worry," Sergeant Okoli said. "We have two bags in the van, containing some counterfeit money to the tune of that amount. There is no way they would know the difference at sight."

Bola nodded and they went over the routine again.

At exactly 9.00am, Old Major's phone rang. The Sergeant motioned him to pick it and put it on loud speaker.

"Hello, Sir...Good morning, Sir...I have your money..."Old Major began, his voice shaking.

The voice we heard next was stern. "Mr. Fabian Olisa, what was the third instruction I gave you?"

A gasp escaped Old Major's lips. "You said...never to involve the Police...Sir."

"And what have you done?" He gave a mirthless laugh. "Major, I have my eyes on you. An hour ago, three police vans entered your compound. You just killed your son. His blood is on your hands."

"No, please Sir, let me explain..." 

The line went dead.

Old Major sank into a sofa, shaking in grief. Bola tore out all the wires and gave a large howl. Sergeant Okoli stood transfixed. I had my hands on my head, totally confused.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Bola said, sobbing.

"Sharrap!" I bellowed, fuming. "You were the one that suggested we involve the police. Now, see."

The Sergeant glared at me and went outside to discuss with the other policemen.

"Daniel nwanne m o!" Añuli screamed, amidst tears. I moved over to console her.

"We are going back to re-strategize," Sergeant Okoli said, as he returned. "I believe we will come up with a way to rescue your son."

An hour after the policemen left, Abdul entered the living room, carrying a small box wrapped in brown paper.

"Oga, someone leave this for gate. The pesin knock, as I come outside, I no see anybody. Na only this thing I see. And e carry your name."

Old Major collected the box from him and set it on the centre table. The surface had 'To Mr. Fabian Olisa' handwritten on it. He looked around, our faces betraying our curiosity. He proceeded to tear off the brown paper covering.

Underneath was a small box, the kind that contain wrist watches. He opened it.

"Jesus Christ!" he shouted, squirming in disgust. We all drew back, our emotions caving in at once. Lying at the centre of the box was a human finger, the bloodied end representing where it was severed from the hand.

"Dan's ring finger!" Bola screamed, slumping to the ground. "They've cut Dan's ring finger!"

I took one last look at the bloody, severed digit and felt hot tears coursing down my cheeks. Evil has climbed new heights.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015. Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.

TRAPPED...Part 22.

"No, no, that is not him."

I tried hard to suppress the flood of nausea rising in me. Something about the sick, pungent smell of the embalming fluid, made me feel woozy. My eyes stung, the formed tears blurring my vision. I wiped them with the back of my hand.

The mortician, a bald, short, good-natured man, noticing my discomfort, headed for the door.

"I am sorry, that is all we've got."

I nodded and took one last sweeping look at the room. It was more spacious than the others but also poorly lit and crammed full of dead bodies. The fortunate ones lay naked on the slabs. The rest lay on the floor. The smell of the embalming fluid hung in the air like a thick curtain. The dead silence in the room was punctured by our departing footsteps.

A gust of fresh air hit my nostrils as we emerged outside. I took a lungful and tried to dispel the images of the countless, naked male bodies I just saw.

"Any luck?" Sergeant Okoli asked. He was seated on the wooden bench in front of the morgue, the third one we had visited that day.

I shook my head.

The mortician cleared his throat. I fetched my purse and handed him a crisp five hundred naira note. "Thank you very much."

He beamed. "No problem, Mah. I pray that you find him alive."

I nodded in agreement, trying to force a smile. Sergeant Okoli rose.

My phone rang. It was Old Major.

"Good evening, Papa. Any news?"

"Stella nwa m. We have searched all the hospitals in Amuwo-Odofin and Festac area. Nothing. Including the morgues." His voice was laddened with grief.

"We will keep looking, Papa. Just stay strong. We will find him. How is Bola holding up?"

"Ahhh! She has been crying all day. The wedding is supposed to hold tomorrow, you know. We are driving back to the house. I think I have seen enough hospitals and dead bodies for one day."

"Okay. I will come over to the house."

I entered the front seat of the Police van. The Sergeant was at the wheels.

"Thanks a lot for today," I said.

He shrugged. "I was just doing my duty."

We approached the hospital gate. He fumbled his breast pocket and fetched a tally which he returned to the grinning security man. The car turned onto the road and soon joined the long line of other cars moving very slowly.

"Kai! Traffic o! Where are you headed?" he asked.

"I am going to Amuwo-Odofin but I will make a stop at Oshodi to check on my daughter. This traffic is gradually building up o!"

"Yeah. It is almost five o'clock. Many people are leaving their offices for their homes. And thanks to the traffic, some will not get home till 10pm."

I chuckled. "That's Lagos for you. Which side do you stay?"

"Festac. 5th Avenue. How old is your daughter?"

"Five."

"How are you related to the missing person, Dan?"

I scratched my head. "Well...we used to date."

"Oh. I see."

We drove in silence for some time. I dialled Dan's number one more time. It was still switched off.

"His wedding is tomorrow, right?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "It seems someone does not want this wedding to hold."

It struck me immediately what he might be thinking.

"No, Officer. He has been a great friend and I would never wish him harm."

"Who said anything about harm?" He shot me a strange look and pulled the car over.

"Let me make something clear to you, Stella. I have watched you closely since this investigation. The fact that you are highly motivated to find Dan could mean one of two things. You may genuinely want him back. Or you may be covering your tracks. I would love to believe the former. But make no mistakes, until we get any important lead in this case, you are still a key suspect."

I felt my leg buckle under me. His last statement broke my heart.

"Just take me home."

I looked out of the window as he drove, a deep pain gnawing at my heart. We soon entered my street. The van stopped in front of my house. I came down, slamming the door behind me.

"Should I wait for you?" he asked.

"Don't!" I hurried into compound and ran up the stairs.

"Mummy!"

Victory welcomed me with a warm embrace as soon as Nkechi opened the door.

I hugged her little frame and carried her up in the air. She yelled in excitement. "I missed you, Vicky darling. Have you eaten?"

She nodded, smiling.

"Any progress? Is he back?" Nkechi asked.

I shook my head. "Tomorrow is the wedding."

"There will be no wedding. Except a miracle happens."

"I will be going over to Old Major's place. Just came to check on you and Vicky. Thanks for everything."

"Oya, go and change those clothes. And eat something."

I set Vicky down on the bed and went to the bathroom. It felt good to be home again.

The look on Abdul's face told me nothing has changed. I noticed the police van parked beside the red Volvo. The living room was full. Sergeant Okoli was seated with Old Major on one sofa. Dan's two sisters, Chiemeka and Añuli were in the room. Añuli held Bola who was whimpering in a corner. Chiemeka was discussing with her husband, Mike, a pastor. I greeted them as I entered, dropped my phone on the centre table and sat quietly in a corner.

The Sergeant rose to leave. "Like I said earlier, keep all lines open and notify me if you get any calls." Old Major saw him off to the door.

We sat quietly, all eyes fixed on the centre table. Six phones laid close to each other. None rang. 

"Chai! I am finished!" Bola exclaimed, ushering a fresh round of tears.

I went to console her. "Babe, he will return. I nugo?"

"When?" she asked, looking at me. I swallowed hard. "How do I tell all the invited guests that there will be no wedding?"

"Of course, there will be a wedding," Mike said, rising to his feet. "God is about to do a big miracle." He lifted his bible and broke into worship song. We all joined in.

We prayed all night. As the cock crows signalled the dawn of a new day, our weary eyelids were heavy with sleep. Our sore voices chorused the last rounds of the 'Amen'. I sank into the sofa, exhausted and slept off. I had a dream of Dan, in a well-tailored black suit, rousing me from sleep. I opened my eyes. It was Chiemeka, offering me a steaming plate of rice. My face fell flat.

"What is the time?" I asked, setting the plate down on a stool.

"8.30 am," she said.

I looked around. Bola and Añuli were up, staring disinterestedly at their plates of food. Old Major was still sleeping. Pastor Mike was gone.

The aroma from the jollof rice wafted into my nostrils triggering more rumblings in my stomach. We did not eat dinner the previous night and spent a great deal of energy disturbing heaven. I took two spoonfuls. It tasted good.

Old Major roused from his sleep, opened his eyes, looked at the clock and shook his head.

"Good morning, Papa," we chorused.

He merely nodded and entered his room.

We ate in silence, occasionally stealing glances at the wall clock and staring at the phones on the centre table.

As soon as the clock struck 9.00am, Bola gave a loud cry.

"There goes my wedding!"

I rushed to her side. Just then, we heard a phone ring. Old Major's phone. For an instant, we stood transfixed, eyes on the centre table, wondering if we heard right. It continued ringing. Old Major ran into the living room and picked it.

"Hello...Oh, Dan." His face brightened up. "My son where have you been? We have been looking for you..."

Bola snatched the phone from his ears. "Daniel!" she screamed. "Why did you do this to me?" Suddenly, her countenance changed. She punched some buttons and dropped the phone on the centre table.

"Mr. Fabian Olisa, I have your son, Daniel." 

The voice was deep and cold. "Now, that you have confirmed that he is alive, listen very carefully and do exactly as I say. Otherwise, we will send him to you in pieces."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. We listened as he spoke, our face contorted in worry. When he was done, the line went dead. I looked at Bola, the fresh tears on her face betraying the horror of the moment. Hugging Old Major tightly, my dam of emotions blew open. I cried.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015. Follow me on Twitter @dr_alams.

JUDAS...Part 10.

"Jude, what are you planning to do with your life?"

It was the second day in a row that Mum had asked me that question. Tessy had gone back to school and I was left at home with her. I had thought long and hard but came up with nothing.

"Do you still want to be a priest?"

I glared at her. "I could not even remember ever wanting to be one. I am glad they expelled me."

She shook her head. "You know Cynthia would be going to medical school. I would have loved you to follow suit. Your late Dad would have wanted that." Her voice faltered.

I let out a sigh. " I don't think I was cut out to be a doctor. I would be bored to death."

She smacked my head. "Look at who is talking! Confused boy."

I laughed.

Later that evening, I dialed Cynthia. I could hear the baby crying at the background.

"Nanny, what's up?"

She laughed. "Na your namesake o! My mum took him for immunization today. He has refused to stop crying. How are you?"

"Well, you know. Awake most of the time. Recently started thinking of what to do with my life."

I heard her chuckle. "You think it is funny?"

"No," she said, apologetically. "Not at all. What was your occupation in Judea, in your past life?"

I scratched my head. "Buying and selling. Fishes mostly. But I also sold anything that gave me a tidy profit."

"Hmmm. Then, I will suggest you do something that is money-related. Business. Accountancy. Economics. You seem to come alive anytime money is mentioned."

"Chai!" I said, laughing. "And you die anytime money is mentioned, abi? Continue."

"Na true I talk nau! Anyway, I will come over tomorrow. I have missed your madness."

"I missed you too." I heard her breath slow down on the other end of the line. My heart raced, pausing momentarily when the line went dead. I clutched the phone as I lay down on the bed thinking of what Cynthia said. Counting money seemed more fun than touching bodies.

"Judas." 

I looked up. It was John, the beloved apostle, beckoning on me. We were seated in a clearing under the shade of a sycamore tree, resting. John had been discussing with the Master. I stood up and approached them.

"My time is close at hand," the Messias began, looking at me intently. "We are going up to Jerusalem for the passover. It is already evening and we are going to pass through that Samaritan village." He pointed at the distance.

"I need you to go with James and John ahead of us and prepare a place for the night."

I nodded and set out with the brothers.

"What happened on that mountain last week?" I asked them, as we walked. "I noticed you have been behaving strangely since then, Simon inclusive."

They exchanged glances but said nothing. I shook my head.

We entered the Samaritan village before dusk. We asked for the village head and were led to him. We introduced ourselves. His eyes lit up.

"I have heard so much about your Master and his dazzling miracles. It would be an honour to host him here."

A small crowd had gathered in his courtyard.

"How long would he be staying?" he asked as we stepped outside.

"Just a night," I said. "He would be leaving for Jerusalem at dawn for the Passover."

He frowned. "Jerusalem?" He spat out in disgust. "Mount Gerizim is the rightful place of worship. Not your temple in Jerusalem."

The crowd chorused in agreement. He turned to them.

"Should we allow Jews going to Jerusalem to pass the night here?"

"No!" they shouted.

He turned to us. "You heard them. Tell your Master to go through another route."

We left the courtyard, disappointed. James fumed in anger.

"Ingrates! Just last week, we healed all their sick. I will call down fire from heaven to consume them..."

His statement was interrupted by shrieks coming from behind us. We turned. The courtyard and the adjacent buildings were on fire. People scrambled for the door. A burly man emerged, his burning robes gathering more flames as he ran. After a short distance he fell, the flames engulfing him. He gave a blood-curdling cry.

"Jude!"

I sat up, panting heavily. I was drenched in sweat. Mum was at the door, a curious look on her face.

"You were tossing and turning in your sleep. What is wrong?"

I shook my head. "Another bad dream."

She folded her hands across her chest and approached the bed. "What was it about?"

"Burning Samaritans. It was horrible."

"Tufiakwa! God forbid." She snapped her fingers. "Any recognized faces, names?"

I shook my head. "Everything happened so fast."

"Nwa m, don't worry." She rubbed my head. "The God of Mama Cynthia will not allow this happen. Oya, come and eat."

I followed her downstairs for dinner.

The next morning, I met her at the door on her way to court.

"Are you going driving today?" she asked.

I nodded. "I would be entering the main road again today. To build my confidence."

"Ok o. Be very careful. Take the Corolla. On no account should you remove the 'learner' sign on the car."

I nodded again, looking away. I had removed the sign two days ago and Mum was furious when she found out. I saw her off to the garage and walked  back to the house.

An hour later, Cynthia came. We ate breakfast together.

"I had another dream last night," I said, sipping the hot tea.

She almost choked on her bread. "What? I thought they have stopped."

I shook my head.

"What was this one about?" 

I narrated the dream to her. She stood up and picked her phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked, surprised.

"Calling the Enugu State Fire Service. They need to be warned."

I watched her pace the room as she awaited a response from the other end.

"Hello, is this the Fire Service? Ok, good. I am calling about a fire... No...It has not happened yet, but may happen today...No, I am not crazy. What do you mean?... You don't understand me? Oh...Wait. You are calling me an arsonist? Hello...Hello..." She threw up her hand in defeat.

"No one would believe you," I said.

She was still shaking her head. "He hung up on me. He was even insinuating that I was planning to burn a place down. Could you imagine that?"

"I just pray nothing happens," I said. "I need to go driving and clear my head. Do you want to come with me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Is that a question? Seriously?"

I lunged forward to tickle her ribs. She ran out of the house, laughing.

I steered the Corolla expertly down the street and onto the main road.

I made sure to stay at the right side of the road. Driving an automatic vehicle seemed quite easy. The car's stereo blasted Naija hip-hop music as Cynthia nodded to the beats.

"Where are we going?" she asked, as we passed a traffic light.

"Nowhere in particular. Everywhere. Just driving around."

"I hope you have enough fuel."

"Sure." The fuel tank was half-full and that, by my calculation, was enough. We made a right turn and entered Agbani Road. I pressed harder on the throttle. The car accelerated. Cynthia tapped me. I slowed down.

"What is happening up there?" she asked, pointing ahead.

"Where?" I asked, following her hand.

At the middle of the road, a bus was making a hasty U-turn. The persons standing by appeared to be shouting. I looked further ahead to see the cause of the panic. A petrol tanker was approaching the turning bus at top speed, swerving from side to side.

"That tanker is moving too fast," I said, alarmed.

"It is headed in our direction. The way it is swerving, I doubt if the driver has it under control," Cynthia said, her voice filled with concern.

What happened next was shocking. The tanker rammed into the bus and swerved, landing on its side. It skidded for some time, and stopped three vehicles away. I had brought the car to a screeching halt and held the steering wheel, paralyzed with fear. I made to reverse the car but another vehicle was blocking my rear. In an instant, the tanker's lids opened and a near-colourless fluid gushed forth spilling on everything nearby. It showered on the Corolla's windscreen and roof. For a moment, I wished it were water. But I knew better. Even the car's air conditioning could not suppress the choking, nauseating smell. Petrol.

I turned in time to see the blood drain from Cynthia's face. Hell was here.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

JUDAS...Part 9.

The cold blast from the car's air-conditioning unit quickly dried the sweat gathering on my brow. I peered into Mama Cynthia's face again to be certain for the upteenth time and gave an exasperated sigh. The face and the voice were unmistakable. She was the woman in the dream. I was seated to her left, occasionally bearing the weight of her protruding abdomen as she writhed from side to side in the back seat, whimpering endlessly. This good woman? To die? I shook my head in agony as I suppressed the urge to scream.

"Monica die ya, inugo? Bear the pain," Mum said from the steering wheel.

"Madam, it has been long nau. I have forgotten how painful it used to be." She hit Cynthia on the arm. "Na you put me for this wahala. Every time 'I need a sibling' 'Mummy, born baby'. As if to say e dey easy."

Cynthia smiled, tapping me. "At least, I don't get to be an only child again."

Tessy chuckled in the front seat.

I looked away and fought back the tears that had gathered in my eyes. The bright street lights provided little comfort.

"Why aren't we taking her to Dad's hospital, her hospital?" Tessy asked.

"Dad was an Orthopaedic Surgeon. She needs an Obstetrician," Mum said, slowing down at a traffic light.

The Land Cruiser took a right turn and slowed as we approached the hospital gate. Mum honked twice. A security man in blue uniform appeared and opened the gate. We drove in. A nurse approached us.

"She is in labour," Mum told her, pointing at Mama Cynthia.

The nurse went in and returned with a wheelchair. We helped Mama Cynthia into it.

I sat at the reception with Tessy while Mama Cynthia, Mum and Cynthia entered the doctor's office.

"Women dey try o!" Tessy said, looking at me. "Later, una go come de claim superior." She playfully slapped the back of my head. I shook my head and looked away.

"Jude, you've been silent. What's the matter?"

I wanted to tell her about Mama Cynthia, but could not find the words.

"Is it about the dream?"

I nodded.

"You said you saw a woman?"

I nodded again. "The woman..."

Just then, Cynthia stormed out of the doctor's office. I stood up, alarmed. She was crying

"What is wrong?" I asked.

She shook her head. I held her and we led her outside.

"I just found out my Mum had three earlier miscarriages. She told the doctor inside," she said, amidst sobs. 

"I remember one incident clearly. She came back very happy and told me we were going to have another baby. I was mad with joy and proceeded to split my toys in half. I waited and waited. There was no baby. Instead, she became very, very sad. She and my dad quarelled often over it but I never understood."

I placed my arms around her shoulders and wiped off her tears with my hands. "You should be glad that in some hours, you will have a sibling. Brother or sister? Choose one."

She tried to force a smile. "Brother, any time."

"Jude had another dream."

I shot Tessy a reprimanding look, but it was already late.

"When?" Cynthia asked, removing my arm from her shoulders. "I thought they had stopped."

"They stopped. Until this evening."

"This evening?" Cynthia asked. "Tell me about it."

I paused for a moment unsure of how to start. "I saw a woman in an ocean of blood. She called on me to save her. I tried. The blood was slippery. She drowned."

Cynthia stared at me in horror. "A woman? Did you hear her name? Or maybe recognize her face?"

I nodded.

"You recognized her?" Tessy asked, surprised.

I nodded again, my lips quivering.

"Who?" they asked, fear and curiosity etched on their faces.

I looked to the ground, inwardly cursing myself for drifting to sleep that evening.

Cynthia held my hand. "Jude. Tell me who you saw. Maybe we could still prevent this."

"Your mum...I saw your mum."

The rustling of the leaves of a nearby tree punctuated the awkward silence that followed.

"What?" Cynthia asked in disbelief. "How could you be so sure?"

Tears flowed freely from her eyes. I blinked hard.

Just then, Mum appeared at the doorway.

"I was looking for you and Tessy." She looked at Cynthia and then at me. "What is wrong?"

"Mama Cynthia was the woman Jude saw in the dream this evening," Tessy said.

"The devil is a liar!" Mum shouted. "Mba nu!" She turned to me, the burning question in her eyes. I nodded.

She stomped her feet on the ground. "Enough is enough! We must do something. Anything!"

We rushed inside. A young, bespectacled doctor met us.

"Doctor," Mum began, "That patient we brought...Her life may be in danger."

The doctor looked at us, bewildered. "How exactly, Madam?"

"She may be in danger of death, Sir," Mum said, looking at me.

The doctor smiled. He selected a folder from the pile he was holding.

"Her vital signs are good,"he said, flipping through it. "The baby is fine as well. Labour is progressing normally and should likely be over in six hours. I don't understand the panic."

Cynthia looked at me, teary-eyed. I looked at Mum. Mum shrugged.

"If you say so, Doctor. But just keep an eye on her."

He adjusted his spectacles. "That's what I do best, Madam."

He led us to the waiting room and left to attend to another patient.

The night wore on, uneventfully. Cynthia, however, was restless. I paced the corridors with her. Mum and Tessy were praying at one end.

"Tell me the dream again. Don't miss any details..."

"Ahn ahn Cynth! I have told you ten times already."

Just then, her phone rang. "Hello, Daddy... Eh, she is fine...The labour is going well...Jude, his mother and sister are here. They have been very helpful...Okay. Let me take the phone to her..."

She entered the labour room to give her mother the phone.

She came out after some time and tucked the phone away in her denim's pocket. She grabbed my hand.

"Promise me nothing would happen to my mother."

I took her in my arms and patted her back. "I pray nothing happens."

We strolled into the waiting room and sat down watching the hands of the clock move.

"Judas. Bring me the foal."

Thomas touched me. "The Master is talking to you."

It was days to the Passover and we had just returned from Bethany and were about to go up into Jerusalem.

I looked at the Messias. He beckoned on me, his right hand outstretched. I went to unfasten the unridden donkey from the tree and led it by the halter to the Master.

I removed my robe and placed it on the donkey's bare back and handed the halter to the Master. He mounted it.

"Hossana to the Son of David!" I shouted and the other apostles followed suit.

Just then, the donkey brayed. The bray turned into piercing cries.

"Jude!" I opened my eyes, startled. Cynthia was standing, nudging me. "Wake up! My mother has delivered! A baby boy!"

I stood up quickly and ran with her towards the labour room. I could hear the cries of the baby.

The nurse rushed out of labour room and ran towards the doctor's office. She ran back with a packet of some drugs.

Cynthia and I exchanged surprised glances. Mum and Tessy ran towards the door of the labour room.

The doctor came out and called us to a corner.

"Doctor, what is wrong?" Mum asked, her brow furrowed.

"She is bleeding heavily. She has lost a lot of blood already. Her blood group is O-negative and unfortunately, we don't have O-negative blood in our blood bank."

"So, what do we do? Can't she receive from O-positive?" Mum asked, her arms on her head.

"No. O-negative can only receive O-negative blood. You have to search the hospitals around to see if they have."

"Chei! At this time of the night? It is 3 am, Doctor."

"Mr. Udom!" the doctor called out to the lab scientist. "Please, collect their blood samples for grouping and cross-matching." He pointed at us. "We need to work fast!" 

He hurried into the labour room.

We followed Mr. Udom to the lab. I winced as the needle entered my skin, red fluid gradually filling the syringe. In an instant, he was done. He also gave us directions to some hospitals with functioning blood banks.

"Cynthia, stay with your mum. We are going in search of blood. Jude will keep in touch with you on the phone," Mum said as we made for the exit.

We ran to the car and sped off. The first two hospitals had no O-negative blood. 

I dialed Cynthia. From her voice, I knew she was crying.

"They said she is going into shock...still bleeding...the doctor said something about uterine atony...Please, hurry!" Her voice disappeared in trail of sobs.

We rushed to the third hospital.

The nurse walked us to the lab, knocking repeatedly on the door.

A bald, middle-aged man answered, a frown on his face.

"They need O-negative blood," the nurse said.

"Ahn ahn! Nurse Ngozi took the only one we have to the ward about fifteen minutes ago.

We raced to the ward. The blood bag was hanging, its content dripping slowly into the forearm of an emaciated patient. I shook my head in despair.

"You may have to go to UNTH, Ituku-Ozalla. But it will take more than an hour to go and come back. That road is also lonely."

We rushed to the car. Just then the phone rang. Cynthia.

"How is she?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"Still bleeding," she said. "The doctor said you should come back."

"Why? We haven't gotten the blood. We are on our way to UNTH..."

"Jude. You are O-negative. Your blood matched hers."

The screeching tyres brought the Land Cruiser to a standstill. We jumped down, slamming the doors behind us. I ran straight to the lab. Mr. Udom gave me a ball to press and inserted a big needle just above my forearm. Blood flowed through a connecting transparent pipe into a bag. The thumping in my heart outweighed the dizziness in my head.

I closed my eyes. Time seemed to crawl. I felt drained.

"We are done here," Mr. Udom said, after what seemed like a lifetime. He put a ball of cotton wool on the puncture point and told me to press on it. He ran with the blood towards the labour room.

"Jude."

I opened my eyes. The blinding rays of sunshine filtering through the windows greeted me.

"You are still lying here," Cynthia said. She was rocking the baby.

"I must have slept off."

"Oh! You have woken. I didn't want to disturb your sleep,"Mr. Udom said, smiling. "Oya, leave my office!"

Just then, I remembered. "How is your mother?"

Cynthia smiled. "The Lord is the ruler of the entire universe. Life and death are in His hands."

I muttered a silent prayer of gratitude.

"After the transfusion, the bleeding stopped. The doctor said she would still need at least two more pints of blood. But for now, she is out of the woods. I don't know how to thank you."

I smiled weakly.

As we walked out of the lab, Cynthia turned to face me.

"There is something else." She was holding the baby to her chest.

I looked at her, swallowing hard. "What?"

"She named the baby Jude."

I tried to fight back the tears. I could not.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.

JUDAS...Part 8.

I watched them lower the coffin into the ground. Mum broke down in tears.

"Di m oma anaa!" she screamed. "My lovely husband is gone!"

Uncle Obi held her shoulders. I shook my head where I stood, a mixture of emotions coursing through me.

You should have done something, Jude. You failed your Dad. 

"I didn't know," I muttered inaudibly. "I didn't know he would die."

Liar! You saw it. Why didn't you tell him about the dream?

I held my head to shut out the voices. Guilt was eating me alive.

I was called upon to pour sand into his grave, after Mum. My hands trembled as I held the shovel. I felt dizzy as I looked into the grave. The golden casket glistened in the midday sun, few clods of earth scattered on the surface. I angled the shovel and let go. The sound of the lumps of earth landing on the casket rang in my ears. I handed the shovel over to Tessy. She avoided my eyes.

Wailing erupted as two young men started covering the grave with earth. I wondered about Dad. Is he seeing all this? The crowd gathered in his honour? Is he feeling the weight of the six foot of earth being showered upon his casket? Is he aware that his death has torn us all apart? I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned. Cynthia was standing with her heavily pregnant mum. 

"I am sorry for your loss," Mama Cynthia said, wiping her eyes. They were red from crying. "Oga was a great man." 

I nodded in agreement. My eyes shifted to Cynthia. She was dressed in a black gown, her hair rolled into a bun. She was looking at me intently. She shifted her gaze towards the house and then back at me. I understood.

We walked up the stairs to my room in silence. Tessy met us at the passage and glared at me. Her loud hiss trailed us. Cynthia shut the door as we entered.

"The Governor's death is all over the news,"she said.

I looked at her. There was fear in her eyes.

"Jude, you saw these things before they happened. It is no more a coincidence."

"Cynth, do you know how terrible I feel right now? That I saw my father's death but couldn't prevent it?"

I sat down on the chair, wiping the moisture in my nose with the back of my hand. "Maybe God is torturing me for attempting to kill myself."

"God does no such thing!"

"Really? Then explain it for me. Explain the dreams. And the deaths."

She sat on the bed and stared into space.

I felt better as the days passed. For three weeks, there had been no nightmares. The morbid fear I felt before falling asleep was finally overcome. The morning before he left for the States, Uncle Obi entered my room.

"Still reading the Scriptures, huh?" he said, smiling.

"It is the world I feel familiar with. The culture,the  manner of speech, the writings. I always feel drawn to it," I said, rubbing my palm on the leathery back of the book.

Just then, Mum and Tessy entered. I sensed trouble.

"Jude, tell your Mum about your dreams," Uncle Obi said. "I think she deserves to know."

I felt ambushed. Reluctantly, I began narrating the nightmares and the corresponding deaths.

By the time I was done, the room was silent. Mum and Tessy looked at me, stunned. Then, Mum broke into sobs and hugged me.

"Is this the burden you have been carrying?" she said.

Tessy sat unfazed. "You should have said something, done something, anything! If you did, Dad may have still been alive."

I shot her an angry look. "I didn't know, ok? Dad was the first."

Uncle Obi stepped in. "Stop it! You two! What Jude just told us ends in this room." He turned to me. "Have you had any dreams recently?"

I shook my head.

"Ok. Keep taking the drugs. And make sure you tell your mum and I any time you have such dreams."

I nodded. "When does your flight leave?"

"9 pm. In Lagos. My flight from Enugu to Lagos leaves by 4 pm."

I hugged him. "I will miss you. Thanks for everything."

He patted me on the back. "Be strong, boy. You are the man of the house now."

That evening, after we returned from the airport, I felt the strange urge to travel. Somewhere distant, preferably Jerusalem. I laid down on my bed and smiled at the thought.

It suddenly grew dark and cold. I could feel my skin thicken in goose flesh as I looked around. The sounds of roaring waves surrounded me. Lightning flashed across the dark sky followed by resonant claps of thunder. I felt my leg wobble and looked down. I gasped in horror. I was standing on a sea of crimson liquid stretching as far as I could see. The heaven burst their banks and it showered. As the drops hit my face, the warmth and characteristic smell confirmed my fears. Blood.

My whole body shook in fear. I saw the form of a boat close by being tossed by the waves. The shreiks of the panicked men was replied by more claps of thunder.

"Judas, save us!"

I recognized the voice instantly. Peter.

"Where is the Messias?" I shouted over the waves.

"He is sleeping!" Peter shouted back. "Do something fast!"

"Wake him!" I screamed. "Or we would all perish." I made a few steps towards the boat. My feet held.

Just then, I heard a female cry behind me. "Judas, save me!"

The voice sounded familiar. I turned. She was disappearing under the wave. I struggled to grab her hand. It was slippery. I watched in horror as the waves submerged her, her screams, silenced.

"No!" I screamed. But she was gone.

"Jude! Dinner is ready." Tessy was standing at my door. "Why are you sweating like this?"

I could not speak. I ran down the stairs to the living room. Mum was seated at the dining table. She looked at me and stood up quickly.

"Jude, what is wrong?"

"I had another dream. This time, a woman."

"A woman?" Tessy said, coming down the stairs.

"Did you hear her name?" Mum asked, fidgeting.

I shook my head. "But I saw her face. She looked familiar." I scratched my head. "I need to call Uncle Obi."

I rushed upstairs to fetch my phone. I dialled my uncle's number. It was not reachable. I checked the time. 9.15pm. His flight must have left. Just then, my phone rang. It was Cynthia.

"Jude, my mum's water just broke. I think she is in labour. We need to get her to a hospital." She was talking fast.

"Ok. Cynth. Calm down. I am coming to your house with Mum."

I put on some clothes and ran down the stairs to inform Mum. She fetched her car keys and with Tessy in tow, we left the house.

Cynthia met us at the door. "Aunty, thanks for coming. My dad travelled to the village but will be back by tomorrow."

"No problems, darling,"Mum said, entering the room.

Mama Cynthia was lying on the sofa, groaning.

"Jude, oya come let's help her to the car,"Mum said.

I held her right arm to help her up. She looked at me, forcing a smile.

In that instant, it clicked. My jaw dropped. Mama Cynthia was the woman in the dream.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.

JUDAS...Part 7.

"So, Jude, tell me about those dreams."

I was in the car with Uncle Obi, on our way to make arrangements for the Service of Songs that evening. He had been in the country for a week and assisted Mum in making the burial plans. He slowed the car as we approached a traffic light.

I scratched my head. "Uncle, they are nightmares. More like. And they come true."

"How?" His face tightened. The traffic light turned green. We made a right turn into Ogui road and sped down.

"First, I saw Dad fall off a cliff. He died the next day. Two weeks ago, I saw a rabbi die by crucifixion. The next day, the Pastor that came to pray for us, had an accident on his way back and died. The same man I saw in the dream."

His brow narrowed in confusion. "Don't you think they were mere coincidences, these dreams and the happenings?"

"I would love to think so. But something within tell me they are not. There is this very bad feeling I have during those nightmares. A terrible feeling I can't put into words."

He shook his head slowly, looking straight at the road. "In all my years  as a Psychiatrist, I have never come across a case like yours. There is actually no empirical evidence linking these dreams to these deaths."

I was silent. The events of the previous two weeks had shook me. Tessy had launched a full-scale war on me and called me all sorts of names. She kept noticeable distance from me. I entered the living room one morning. Mum was drawing up a list with her sisters, Aunty Nneka and Oby. Tessy was sitting on the sofa, reading a magazine. She stood up abruptly, as I entered, and made to leave.

"Tessy! Come back here! What is wrong with you? Eh?" Mum hollered.

"I don't want this boy to come near me. I don't want to die yet."

I glared at her. She had been acting that way since Pastor Kola's death. Mum had forbade her to mention my name in connection with the deaths. She resorted to another tactics.

"You know you are being very unreasonable," I said, trying to sound calm.

"Eh! Evil boy!" she said, clapping her hands. "Just dey your lane, i nugo?"

"Mum! I hope you all saw her abuse me, calling me names. I will slap her o!" I shook my hand in anger.

Mum held me where I stood. "Don't mind her, you hear? We will find a way to sort this out. Dad's death hit her so hard..."

I was still furious. "She should get a handle on herself. If she tries that nonsense again! Hmmm..." I turned and stomped up the stairs.

Uncle Obi came in from the States that evening and quickly noticed the tension. I had told him about the dreams on the phone and he brought me a copy of Sigmund Freud's 'Interpretation of Dreams'.

That night, he called Tessy and I into his room.

"You know, I don't understand this fight between you two. I know my brother raised responsible kids. That's why I don't understand this."

His gaze shifted from me to Tessy and back to me. I looked at Tessy. She was looking at the floor. I looked at the ceiling.

"Whatever it is, just drop it. Let this be the last of it. The Isikaro family is passing through a hard time. Don't make it harder."

We nodded and left the room. That was a week ago. Tessy is yet to talk to me.

The car pulled up at a compound. A white duplex stood adjacent to the parking space and the entrance said boldly 'Grace Events.' We sat at the air-conditioned reception. The receptionist dialed the manager, who came down to receive us.

"I got your payment. Dr. Obi Isikaro?" He looked up from his tablet.

"Yes. The Service of Songs is this evening. The burial is tomorrow and continues the next day. You got the address?"

"Sure. We will be there. I heard the State Governor will be coming," the manager said with a smile.

"Yes. He was my late brother's classmate. I was classmates with his younger brother so the families are kinda close."

We got some items from the market before heading home.

"Did Freud's book help?"

I shook my head. "My dreams are different from the ones he described. My dreams feel very real."

The Service of Songs went on smoothly. Tessy and I were clad in white, flanking Mum. During the service, I learnt a lot about the man who I came to call Dad.

"We are all witnesses to the number of lives he touched and his innumerable achievements at the young age of forty-five," the Priest said. "We should all learn to confront our mortality. And live each day like it is our last."

Suddenly, the voice sounded distant. I heard the sound of clinking coins and looked around. I was lying in a courtyard, surrounded by countless pieces of silver. More coins fell. I followed the stream of coins up. Apparently, someone was pouring them from the balcony. I struggled to my feet and made for one of the rooms. I saw a maid carrying a jar of water. I followed her. She was walking fast. I caught hold of her linen cloth. She turned, visibly angry.

"Shlamlek," I greeted. "Please, where is this place?"

"The Governor's court. Are you a Galilean?"

"No. I am from Judea."

"And you don't know the court of the Governor, Pontius Dike?" She shook her head and left.

I stood at the passage confused. Then, I heard footsteps. I ran into the adjacent room. It was dimly lit and had a table and some barrels at one end. I hid behind one of the barrels. A man entered, carrying a tray. He set the tray on a table and rushed to bolt the door. My heart pounded where I crouched. I watched him. On the tray, was a beautiful golden chalice. He fetched wine from a gourd and poured into the cup. He looked around and produced a small bottle from inside his clothes. He poured a little into the chalice and shook it gently. 

The sound of a coin hitting the ground startled me. He stopped abruptly and looked around. My heart skipped a beat. A stupid coin had stuck to my skin and chosen the wrong time to fall off. I watched him with trepidation as he approached the barrels.

"Joses! Where is the wine?" a voice called, from a distance.

He turned quickly, carried the tray and left.

I heaved a sigh of relief and stood up. I kicked the accursed coin angrily and emerged at the hallway, hiding in the shadows. I saw Joses at the end, passing a door, guarded by two Roman soldiers.

I knew I could go no further. It was the Roman Governor's palace and strangers were not allowed. 

The door was open. I saw Joses hand the chalice to the Governor.

"No!" I screamed inwardly. The Governor, raised the cup to his lips and drank. Joses hurriedly left the room. Minutes later, the Governor jerked forward, vomitting blood. The soldiers rushed into the room. Within  a short while, he was still, his head thrown aback in a grotesque fashion. I screamed.

"Jude!" I felt a hand hit me on the thigh. It was Mum. "Stop!"

Everyone was looking at me, including the Priest. Apparently, I had screamed aloud. I hung my head in shame. After the service, Uncle Obi came to where I sat and asked me to come with  him. I followed him into the house. There were people in the living room. I avoided their eyes as we walked up to my room.

"Why were you screaming? Another dream?"

I nodded. "You said the Governor would be coming tomorrow. What is his name?"

"Dr. Emeka Dike. What's the problem?"

"I dreamt about him. We have to call and warn him."

Uncle Obi laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Jude, it was just a dream." His phone rang. He stepped out to answer the call.

Just then, Cynthia entered the room.

"I heard you scream out there. Are you alright?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Another nightmare. We need to warn the Governor."

She looked amused. Then, she realized I was dead serious.

"That's worrying. How are we going to warn him? How are we even going to get close to him? No one will ever believe a dream!" She was pacing the room. I watched her in silence.

Uncle Obi entered the room, his face pale. I knew something was wrong.

"It's too late." His voice harbored a deep sadness.

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"The Governor. I just got off the phone with his younger brother. He died of leukamia an hour ago, in India."

I slumped to the ground, distraught. Cynthia ran to where I sat, holding me. Tears welled up in my eyes. A terrible sense of loss and despair enveloped me. Laying my head on her shoulder, I cried.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.

JUDAS...Part 6.

We waited till evening to take him to the morgue. His death was catastrophic, to say the least. There he was, lying lifeless on the couch, eyes closed. Mum cried inconsolably. The nurses wailed. I sat in a corner, shaking, the nightmare of the previous night replaying in my head. Was I shown his death? Why could I not stop it? 

The news spread like wildfire. People began trooping into the hospital. His patients. Friends. Fellow church members. A group was praying around the couch commanding him to rise. Loud 'Amens' escaped our lips. We waited. He did not stir. Tessy came in three hours later. I had called to tell her an hour after it happened. She rushed to the couch and grabbed Dad's body by the scruff of his collar.

"Daddy nkem! Nwoke oma! Doctor m! I know you are just sleeping. Just wake up, please! It is me, your beloved daughter. Please. Wake up. Wake up..."

Her voice trailed off as she broke down in sobs, hugging the body tightly. It took the combined strength of the doctor and I to pull her away.

"Jude. I am so sorry for your loss."

I turned. It was Cynthia. I felt hot tears escape from my eyes. She hugged me.

"My mum called as soon as it happened," she continued. "His death is a big blow to the whole Enugu. He was well known and well loved."

I pulled her aside. "Did you remember last night when you called? I told you I had a nightmare?"

"Yes?" There was a curious look in her eyes.

"I dreamt that he died. Fell from a cliff, actually."

"What?" She stared at me disbelievingly and looked around to make sure we were out of earshots. "Really?"

I nodded helplessly. "I feel very terrible..."

"Just stay strong, ok?" She held my hands. "It may just be a coincidence."

We returned to the room. She went to sit with Mum and tried consoling her.

By evening, crude reality began to sink in. Dr. Isikaro was gone. He would never wake up. On the way to the morgue, Tessy's voice could still be heard beckoning on Dad to answer her. We entered the compound and pulled up at the drive way. An attendant came to meet us. His face contorted in anguish as soon as he saw the body.

"Dr. Isikaro? I know him! He treated my daughter when she broke her leg. Chai! A very nice man." He shook his head sorrowfully. The doctor supplied him the remaining details he needed. 

I helped them carry the body inside the morgue. The body was heavy. Tessy had latched on. Mum had to pull her hand away.

"He is gone. Let go." The sadness in her voice was heart-wringing.

As we entered the morgue, my heart stopped. In an instant, I was overwhelmed with the strange smell of the place and the sight of so many dead bodies. I felt dizzy.

"What's that smell?" I asked.

"Formalin," the attendant said, guiding us to where to lay the body. "It is used to preserve the dead."

We dropped him on a slab. The room was filled with corpses. Young. Old. Male. Female. All lying stiff. Motionless. Naked.

I quickly excused myself and ran out of the room, in search of fresh air. Once outside, I breathed in lungfuls. The irony of life stared me in the face. At death, we are all equal.

The doctor came out after some time. We entered the ambulance and drove home. A group of persons were waiting at the gate to pay their condolences. A condolence register was opened with Dad's portrait on the table, surrounded with flowers. Two of Mum's sisters came around to stay with us. We attended to the mourners till midnight. I wearily walked up the stairs, opened the door to my room and collapsed into the bed, totally exhausted.

I saw myself in a synagogue. A rabbi was at the bimah reading the Torah scroll. He was different, dark-skinned with grey hairs and white beard. I turned around. Sure, everyone was here. The Messias and the other eleven. I turned to James, the brother of John.

"Who is he?" I pointed at the Rabbi.

"Rabbi Kola," he said, in hushed tones. "A well-respected Rabbi from the West."

The Rabbi finished reading and the Messias was called on. He turned to me.

"Judas, follow me."

I looked at Him, confused.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. I was on a mountain. Three men were being nailed to the cross amidst taunts from the Chief Priests and Pharisees.

"Blasphemers! Renegades!" one Chief Priest, fumed.

The hammering of the nails and their cries were heart-wrenching.

 I looked at the three men closely. I could not recognise the first. The loving eyes of the Messias met mine. He was the second man. The third man was dark-skinned and had grey hairs and white beard. My eyes lit up in recognition. Rabbi Kola!

The crosses were raised. I stood at the foot of the cross watching the Messias breath and His blood drop. After some time, some soldiers came with a big mallet and smashed Rabbi Kola's knees. I winced. His scream pierced the mid-afternoon air.

"Jude!" 

I opened my eyes. It was Tessy.

"You were screaming. Are you alright?" She entered my room and sat down.

I was sweating profusely. "Sorry. Just a horrible dream.  What time is it?"

"8.30 am. Mum said you should come down. One of Dad's friend, a Pastor, came to pray for us."

I washed my face hurriedly and went to the living room. I froze as I entered. Seated on the sofa, holding a big bible was the dark-skinned man with grey hairs and white beard.

"Pastor Kolawole, meet my son, Jude," Mum said as I entered.

I greeted him. He smiled.

"I came to pray for you when you were in coma. I am glad my God rescued you."

Mum's sisters joined in the prayers. Midway into the prayers, Pastor Kolawole began speaking in another familiar language. Aramaic! I opened my eyes to make sure it was not another dream. He was standing there, bible in hand, praising God in a language I happened to understand. A smile broke out on my face. He stopped abruptly and opened his eyes.

"There is evil in this room." His tone was commanding.

Everyone opened their eyes and looked around in fear.

"Brethren," he continued. "There is war! The spirit of death still hovers around this room."

I looked at Mum. There was fear in her eyes.

"Jude, come forth!" 

Every eye in the room rested on me. I stepped forward, slowly.

The Pastor continued. "It was revealed to me that Dr. Isikaro's death was a ransom for yours. And death is not finished."

I felt uneasy and perplexed. Tessy was glaring at me angrily. Mum was looking confused.

"Jude, you need a serious deliverance session. I will go and prepare for it. I will be back next week."

I looked at him, shook my head and went back into my room. How could he say all those things about me? I dialed Cynthia and narrated the incident to her.

"Jude, you shouldn't have stormed out of the prayer like that."

"He was almost accusing me of killing Dad."

"Hmmm. Well, he sounds like a genuine man of God. You said you heard the strange tongue he spoke in during the prayers?"

"Yes. Aramaic. The language we spoke in Judea. I also dreamt about him last night."

"What?" There was shock in her voice. "You mean you saw..." The line went dead. I had ran out if airtime and was in no mood to leave the room.

I stayed in the room all day, reading the Psalms. Around 4pm, a loud bang on my door startled me. I could hear Tessy's angry voice outside.

"You evil boy! Open this door!"

I opened the door only to be greeted with a flurry of slaps. I held my pained cheeks in confusion, wondering what had come over my sister. She attacked me again. Mum drew her away.

"What is wrong with you?" I fumed. "Have gone mad?"

"You killed him!" She was boiling in rage.

"Who?" I asked, surprised.

"Pastor Kolawole. He died in a car accident at Asaba as soon as he left here. You killed him! Evil boy!"

I raised my hands to my head, my mouth gaping. I made to speak. No words came out. Tessy's rants faded into the distance as I sat at the edge of the bed. I was at a complete loss.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.

JUDAS...Part 5.

I stood at the edge of the cliff preparing to jump. An endless chasm lay below, littered with pointed rocks and sparse vegetation. The mere sight sent shudders down my spine. But I had to do this. I could no longer bear their eyes. Those judgemental eyes. The scoofs and 

snide remarks that follow each time I passed. I heard their voices. The other apostles speaking in hushed tones. They seemed to be plotting something. Elsewhere, some young male voices were singing in Latin. I held my head in my hands, screaming for the voices to stop.

"Jude."

I turned. It was Dad, Dr. Isikaro. He was dressed in a white linen cloth, just like the Messias. He was approaching me.

"Come back," he said.

I shook my head, stepping forward. I staggered, struggling to regain balance. The chasm beckoned.

"He who the gods want to kill, they first make mad." His voice was solemn. He was almost at the edge of the cliff, his arms outstretched.

I studied his features closely as he approached. He had a kind face. His hair had strands of white ones. But his eyes harbored pain. 

He reached where I stood, smiled at me and patted me on the back.

"Go home," he said.

I turned from the edge and made to walk away.

"Jude!" It was a shriek. I whirled round to see his head disappearing below. I rushed to the edge but he was gone, a white linen cloth in the distance, receding in the chasm. I screamed in horror.

"Jude!"

I woke up with a start, soaked in my own sweat. Dad was at the door, staring at me.

"Another nightmare?" he asked, looking concerned.

I nodded.

"Did you take your drugs before bed?"

"Yes, I did."

"Ok. Go back to bed. Remember we are going to your seminary tomorrow to see the Rector. Catch some sleep."

I laid down and waited to hear the sound of the door close before sitting up. I knew sleep would not come till morning. I paced the room thinking of what to do. Just then, my phone rang. Cynthia.

"What are you doing awake?" I asked, trying to keep my voice down.

"Studying, of course." She sounded very alert.

"At 2 am?"

"Yeah. It is the period I find very convenient. Everyone is asleep. No disturbance. What aren't you asleep?"

"I had a nightmare which woke me."

"Again?" There was a hint of concern in her voice. "What was it about?"

"Some weird stuff," I said. "We are going to the seminary today."

There was some silence at her end. "How are you taking the expulsion?"

I laughed. "I can't even recall being in that school. So to me, it is pure drama."

She laughed. "So, since you can no longer be a priest, have you decided on what to do with your life?"

"You mean besides marrying you?" Her laughter could be heard from my end of the line. I smiled. "Well, my dad wants me to consider studying Medicine to take over his hospital in the future but I am not interested."

"Well, na you sabi. You can go back to Galilee and be a fisherman."

I rocked back and forth in laughter. "That won't be a bad idea at all."

We chatted briefly about other things. Her parents and siblings. My hospital visits.

"You know, my case keeps baffling the doctors."

"How?" she asked.

"On one hand, they don't want to believe I am Judas. Yet, on the other hand, they cannot explain how I know the things I know like Aramaic, the entire geography of Jerusalem and Judea, the Torah."

"Maybe you are an alien, from Mars." She chuckled.

"I hope one day, when you become a great doctor, you will be able to uncover what really happened to me. Why do you study so hard by the way?"

"You just said it."

"What?"

"To become a great doctor."

I shook my head and wished her luck. Her ambitions amaze me.

A knock on the door woke me up. I had slept off on the seat after Cynthia's call. It was Mum. I greeted her. She looked at me in surprise.

"You are not even dressed yet! Don't you know that we are running late?"

I looked at the clock. 9 am. I showered quickly and dressed up.

Dad was waiting downstairs. We got into his black Landcruiser jeep and headed for the seminary.

The seminary was situated in serene part of the town away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Trees graced the large expanse of land, with the classrooms blocks lined in a row. The office block was behind the classrooms and as we passed, students looked out of their windows and whispers of 'Jude, SP' got to my ears. I figured SP was short for Senior Prefect. We met the Rector in his office. He smiled as he saw us and motioned us to seat. He handed me a letter.

"This is the most painful expulsion letter I have written in my twenty years as Rector. Jude, we wish you well in life."

"Thank you, Sir,"I said, standing to leave. I was indifferent. The drama was over. We left the office as quietly as we came in.

We rode silently to Mum's court. We dropped her off and headed for Dad's hospital. I scrutinized his face as he drove.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes. Just a little headache," he said, forcing a smile.

We soon reached the hospital and as he swerved into the parking lot, I knew something was amiss. The jeep overshot and hit the flagstone.

I looked at Dad and froze. He was slouched on the seat, eyes rolled up, motionless.

"Dad!" I shouted, but got no response.

I screamed for help. The nurses ran to the car with a wheelchair. We unfastened the seatbelt and took him inside the hospital.

There was a flurry of activities in the reception. A doctor was listening for his heartbeat and flashing a small torch into his eyes. I ran outside in panic and dialled Mum. Minutes later, she arrived and ran into the room. 

"What happened?"she asked the doctor. "I was with him not quite long ago."

The doctor was compressing Dad's chest with his interlocked hands.

"He just slumped in the car. We are thinking he had a form of stroke. Was he hypertensive?"

"Yes, but I think he is on antihypertensive drugs."

Dad was still motionless. Minutes later, the doctor stopped. He felt Dad's wrist again.

"No pulse."

He listened to the heart again. "No heartbeat."

He turned to the nurse. "Pupils are already fixed and dilated. Time of death, 11.00 am."

As I stared disbelievingly at the lifeless man before me, the distant chimes of the clock as it struck for the eleventh hour broke my heart.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.

TRAPPED...Part 21.

We paced the room till dawn. As the light of the day filtered in through the windows, we knew we had to do the needful. Entering Old Major's red Volvo, we headed for the nearest Police Station. 

The policemen on night shift were still walking about the expansive building when we arrived. We jumped out of the car as soon as Old Major killed the engine. The policeman at the gate eyed us with suspicion.

"Wetin be the matter?" His left hand reached for his rifle, lying on top of stacks of old cement bags filled with sand.

Old Major said cooly,"My son is missing."

"Oh." He waved us inside, pointing towards the main hall.

The main hall was a sparse room with a wooden counter by the side and some desks at one end. On the wall, there was a large white board detailing the names of the inhabitants of the various cells and the names of the police officers handling their cases. I quickly scrolled down the list for Dan's name. No luck. The windows were still closed and the room was stuffy. I felt beads of perspiration forming on my forehead.

A stern-looking constable was at the central desk, with chewing stick  in his mouth. On sighting us approach, he quickly put it away and straightened his shirt.

"What can I do for you?" He sounded well-educated.

"We came to report a missing person," Old Major said.

The Constable's eyes widened. "Who is this person and how long has he or she been missing?"

Old Major brought out a handerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow.

"The missing person is my son, Dr. Daniel Olisa. He was last seen leaving his place of work, Lagos State University Teaching Hospital, Ikeja, on Saturday morning. He was said to have headed home." 

Old Major placed his hand on Bola's shoulder. 

"His fiancee, here, said he never came home. We have not gotten any calls as to his whereabouts since then. His cellphone rang for a moment and has been switched off since then."

The Constable was listening intently. "Was he driving?"

"Yes. A black Toyota Corolla which he bought a month ago."

The Constable shook his head. He opened the top drawer in his desk and brought out some papers. "Fill this report. We will commence investigations immediately." He looked at us reassuringly. "It could be one of three things. First, that he was involved in an accident." I winced at the thought.

"He could also have been kidnapped,"he continued, facing me. I looked at Old Major. He was staring at the Constable, his face contorted in anguish.

"Third, he may have made an urgent, emergency travel." 

Inwardly, I prayed it should be the case, despite the seeming unlikelihood.

"Was he under any kind of pressure lately? Any strange behaviours?"

We looked at one another and shook our heads. I could not recall Dan behaving strangely.

"His wedding is in five days time," Old Major said, after some time.

"Arghhh!" The Constable was scratching his head. "Very bad timing. Kai!"

He glanced at Bola. She was fidgeting where she stood, a confused look on her face.

"We will try and bring your groom back, okay?"

She nodded.

He told us we had to wait for the District Police Officer. We sat at a bench adjacent to the wall. One of Dan's sisters called to ask where we were.  Bola called her chambers to say that she will not be coming that morning. Just then, there was commotion from inside the cells. A young man was shouting. 

"I am a Barrister, Godammit! You are a very wicked man! You made me sleep over in a Police cell. I will show you!" He was pointed his index finger at a Police Officer who was escorting him out.

"Barrister, you are not above the law. And you no fit do me anything," the officer fired back. "If no be for this man wey just come bail you, I for make sure say you spend another night in the cell." The officer was visibly incensed.

"What impudence! What effontery!" The Barrister was obviously spoiling for a fight.

"You no go respect yourself abi? Yeye man! Person send you to collect rent,  you collect the money, chop am. Come dey lie on top. You no dey shame?"

"Ladipo!" The Constable called the officer to order and asked him to go inside. He obeyed. The Barrister murmured something about insolent bastards and left the station.

"Bad eggs in the profession," Bola said. "Dishonesty will certainly bring disgrace." 

Everyone in the room shook their heads.

Some minutes later, a police patrol Hilux pulled into the compound. There was a flurry of movement outside. I sat up. Two hefty police officers entered the door, dragging with them three young men and a lady, all in handcuffs. One of the young men was bleeding from a thigh wound. The officer in the rear, pushed him mercilessly as he struggled to move with difficulty. The lady was dressed in an orange singlet and combat shorts. Her face was devoid of any emotions. The Constable sat up.

"Armed robbers,"one of the officers said. "They were robbing two buildings in Jagagba street. We were on patrol when we got the call. They had the guts to engage us in a gun-battle," he said with a sneer.

"And the lady?" the Constable asked, sizing her up.

"Na she be their leader o! You need to see her barking orders. We shot one of them dead. This one was lucky the bullet hit only his thigh. E for pierce your skull. Idiot!" He struck the one limping with the butt of his gun. The young man yelled.

I shook my head wondering what could drive a young, beautiful woman into armed robbery. There was a trail of blood from the door to the point where the injured man was standing. He was whimpering in pain.

"Oya, take them inside for questioning. After, lock them up in the cells. Idiots! Na for this cashless economy na im una dey go robbery abi? Devil don catch una!" the Constable bellowed. They were pushed into the adjacent room. 

The DPO arrived some minutes after 8 am. He strode into the room briskly and went straight to his office. The Constable followed him into the office and emerged twenty minutes later. He called us in. The DPO motioned us to sit.

"I have just been briefed on your case. We have three theories: kidnap, accident, or travel. I will assign a detective to your case and will like you to cooperate closely with him. If it is a kidnap, the kidnappers will soon make contact. Inform us as soon as they do so. We will also check the surrounding hospitals and morgues, just in case. If he travelled, he will surely return. But that he travelled is the least likely of the scenarios."

He turned to the Constable. "Assign the case to Sergeant Okoli. Tell him I need results as soon as possible."

We left the office and went to meet with the Sergeant in charge of the case. A jovial, fair-complexioned officer, probably in his mid-thirties, his eyes narrowed in thought as we narrated the events again. He had been briefed earlier by the Constable.

"We will start by searching the emergency rooms of every hospital in Ikeja and every morgue." His sounded determined. "If this is a kidnap, they will make contact, soon. Alert us immediately." We met Dan's sister at the main desk. Old Major briefed her on the progress made.

As we exited the station, I took a casual glance at the hilux parked in the middle of the yard. I froze in horror. Sprawled in the trunk was the bloodied corpse of a young man. The soles of his feet were pale. His face was swollen and disfigured. Some houseflies hovered around the corpse. Lying beside him were some machine guns with bullets scattered in the trunk, most soaked in his blood. I looked away quickly and felt a flood of nausea sweep through me. A young life, wasted. As I spat out in disgust, a bible passage floated into my consciousness: The wages of sin is death.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.