C1 I Explode a Church

I know, I know. That sounds really bad. Who blows up a church for crying out loud? But I assure you, I am neither a spy nor am I an ISIS terrorist. Like most horrible things that has ever happened to me, it was a complete accident. Still, considering everything that happened after though, blowing up a church was just the tip of the iceberg.

It all started the day I was attacked by a crazed rhinoceros.

The day began as usual, with me waking up in a straitjacket. I suppose this is a good time to explain that I live in a mental facility in the outskirts of Onitsha. Of course, the caretakers don’t call it a mental facility. That would be bad for business. Instead, it goes by the name of St. Gregory’s Home for Troubled Youngsters; troubled here meaning crazy.

I opened my eyes to find the ugly face of Matron Ada scowling down at me. She was in charge of the whole thing, but that didn’t stop her from taking a personal approach with her ‘wards’. She was as thin as a broomstick, with a pair of bejewelled Harry Potter glasses on her drawn, unattractive face. Today, she was dressed in a short, clinical gown that exposed more of her legs than I cared to see.

“You overslept,” she croaked. “Get up. Breakfast is almost over.”

I said nothing and simply shook my restrained body.

“Oh,” she said, noticing the problem. Muttering a curse about people who refused to do the jobs they were being paid for, she went to work. Getting out of the straitjacket, taking a bath and putting on the generic white clothes everyone was given here took the better part of an hour. By then Matron Ada was long gone, probably off to look for another inmate to torture with her presence. I emerged from my room and nodded to the security guard standing beside it. As usual, the man ignored me.

My room was at the end of a long hall. Like the rest of the building, the hall was as white as snow and the fluorescent bulbs glaring down from the ceiling only helped to make the hall seem longer than it was. I passed the closed rooms of my fellow dorm mates, the security guards beside them glaring at me as I passed. The hall opened out to the courtyard, which was a large field of grass that existed solely to hold a couple of ixora and hibiscus plants. Directly opposite the dorms, the library, the refectory and the medical centre spread out in a gentle arc. The tall spire of our church poked out from behind the medical centre, like some strange tumour.

My attention though, was on the refectory, where the rest of the inmates were spilling out. Heart sinking, I walked towards them anyway. Looks like it’s a no-breakfast day.

“Amobi, hey Amobi,” someone yelled. I looked at the culprit and despite my hunger, I felt my face break into a relieved smile.

“Here, I saved you some bread,” Kosi said, thrusting a chunk of the facility’s flaky bread into my hands.

“Thanks,” I said, devouring the whole thing in three bites. “You're a lifesaver.”

“I try,” she replied, smirking. I just shook my head and smiled at her. Kosi was tall, reaching enough of a height that I had to look up a bit whenever I spoke to her. Her skin was the colour of dark chocolate and her eyes were a honey brown. Her hair was shaved at the sides, then the rest braided with crimson coloured braids. A combination that made her look quite stunning. The effect though, was often ruined by the scowl on her face, like she was thinking of pulverizing a rock with her bare hands. Like me, she was dressed in immaculate white jeans, over which she wore an equally blinding t-shirt.

Now you might be wondering, “What's with all the white?” and you wouldn’t be wrong for thinking that it’s weird. They made us wear white all the time because it was supposed to be soothing and calming. Considering the actions of some of the inmates though, that idea didn’t work.

“Where’s I.K?” I asked, looking around. We were all alone in the courtyard, the rest of the inmates having gone to either their dorms or the library. A few were no doubt in the church, speaking with the resident priest.

“I don’t know,” Kosi replied, straightening her braids. “I didn’t see him in the refectory. You don’t think he overslept too, do you?”

“Not with Matron Ada on patrol. She’s the one that woke me up.” I frowned. “When in doubt, search the library.”

Kosi sighed and joined me as we went in search of our lost friend. As we walked towards the library, the huge gates that had swayed my father into bringing me here came into view. Not for the first time, I toyed with the idea of running towards it and escaping. They were even open, as if daring me to try.

“Amobi? Amobi!” Kosi snapped impatiently. “Were you even listening to me?”

“Sorry,” I muttered, coming out of it. “I was just imagining getting out of here that’s all.”

“So that’s more important than what your best friend is telling you?” Kosi asked, an eyebrow raised. “Well, what are you waiting for then? The gates are right there. It should be easy too. All you have to do is defeat the guards that have gone through intense and rigorous training to make your escape. Easy as pie.”

“Sarcasm is not good on you,” I said and in response, she stuck out her tongue at me. I would have said something on that, but the library was looming before us and the Matron in charge was already glaring at us. It was well known that breaking the silence in the library was a capital offence, punishable by death through scrubbing the toilets for a week.

Rows and rows of shelves stacked with books of every colour welcomed us. Most were on deeply boring topics like neuroscience and whatnot, but a quite few were gigantic encyclopaedias and textbooks. Kosi made a face when she saw a thin, wisp of a girl struggling to lift one of them. We rounded a corner and come upon the reading area which was just a couple of benches shoved carelessly against each other to make room for even more books.

Just as I’d guessed, I.K was ensconced on one of the benches, bent over an enormous book. He looked up warily at our approach, then smiled when he saw us.

“Amobi, Kosi,” he said. “How’d you find me?”

“Where else would you be on a Saturday morning?” I asked rhetorically. I stole a glance at the tome in his hands. “What's that?”

“Just a short treatise on mythology,” I.K replied casually. “It’s actually fascinating.”

“Short?” Kosi asked, picking up the book and dropped it experimentally. It landed with a dull thud.

“Don’t do that!” I.K hissed, scooping up his precious book. He placed it reverently on the shelf and frowned at us.

“You missed breakfast,” I said. “Again. You can't continue like this.”

“But Amobi,” he complained. “You know how I feel about being around other people…”

“You still have to eat,” Kosi chimed in. “Our parents may have sent us here to forget about us, but that doesn't mean we have to forget ourselves too.”

I nodded in agreement, frowning down at him.

I.K – his real name was Ikem, but we just called him I.K for short – had always been skinny, but now he was almost waifish. The resemblance wasn’t helped at all by his short height. His ribs were visible through his clothes, and his normally dark skin was slowly turning an alarming shade of grey. At the word, ‘parents’ I.K shrunk even further.

"They visited me just now," he whispered, glancing around as if his parents might be hiding behind the shelves.

"Oh," I said in sympathy. No wonder he'd fled to the library, his safe place. "What did they say?"

"The usual," I.K shrugged. "You know how the Matron is." His voice turned shrill. "Don't worry yourself sir; the boy is making tremendous progress. No, no ma. Of course, he is eating regularly. Our food is top notch."

Kosi and I giggled into our hands, our shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. "That's enough," she gasped, but I.K was on a role.

"His episodes have occurred only once since he came here," I.K went on, pretending to mask a simpering smile with his hand. "Yes, yes, he has only a few friends, but that's to be expected. I'm sure you wouldn't want him to mix with the..." A shudder. "Wrong sort."

Kosi snorted but I just couldn't help myself, and I laughed out loud. Then a security guard brushed past us and it turned into a high pitched scream. I clapped my hands against my mouth but it was too late and the matron in charge of the library materialized next to us.

"What's going on here?" she demanded, her pudgy face contorted in anger. My friends started to come up with an excuse but the guard from earlier had turned and was now looking down at us, a nasty smile on his face.

A thrill of the inexplicable fear I'd felt earlier shot through me when I realized that I recognized this guard. Mr Ohia was legendary at St. Gregory. He was a favourite among the matrons because of his hatred for children and we, in turn, hated him because he went out of his way to make life miserable for us. At almost three meters tall, he was a sight to behold. His arms, which were the size of boa constrictors, bulged with muscles and the grey shirt he insisted on wearing all the time strained helplessly against his massive chest. His eyes were small and watery, and now they were narrowed cruelly at me.

"I'll take it from here," he grunted.

"Oh... okay," said the matron gratefully. He clamped a hand the size of a dinner plate across my shoulders and began to lead me away. I met the eyes of my terrified companions and they seemed to be saying the same thing.

I shook my head sadly at them. I thought the random bursts of emotion had stopped too.

As Mr Ohia led me out of the library and out to the courtyard, kids all around us stopped whatever they were doing to stare at me. Their expressions were all the same. Pity.

The guard let go of me and began to walk, knowing that I would follow. I'll admit, the thought of fleeing did occur to me. But where would I run to? The other guards at the gate would simply hand me back to Mr Ohia and that would just be the excuse he'd need to double whatever punishment he had in mind for me. Nevertheless, I gulped as I trudged dejectedly behind him. I'd heard countless stories about what he did with his victims. I balled my hands into fists. I was so not letting him chop off my fingers.

We went past the library, but instead of heading towards the medical centre where the treatments were dished out, he turned left and started towards the church. I paused for a moment, confused. Was he going to ask me to pray?

The chaplain and his visitors looked up at our approach. The wards melted away silently, but the old priest stood his ground, even though he had a nervous tick in his eye.

"Mr Ohia," he began. "How can I help you?"

"I need to make use of the church." He gestured carelessly towards me. "This one needs to be taught a lesson."

The chaplain glanced down at me. "I... I thought that the medical centre is where... such things are..."

"I've decided that I want to use the church!" the guard growled. "Are you going to stop me?" he added dangerously.

The chaplain's wrinkled face grew more wrinkles as he stammered out a 'no' and stepped aside. His gaze was fixed on me as we passed and the expression on his face was of one watching a dear friend go off to the gallows. I didn't like it at all.

The church wasn't empty when we entered, but it soon was as the mass servers and acolytes took one look at us and fled without a backward glance.

So much for helping the needy.

Mr Ohia's boots echoed throughout the church as he stomped down the aisle. Even in my disturbed state of mind, I was still appreciative of its beauty.

The windows were made of stained glass, and were ornamented with pictures of the twelve disciples. A relief of two cherubs smiled down from each cross-section of pews and occupying the prime position was a massive crucifix. Mr Ohia glared up at it and clenched his hands into fists the size of basketballs.

"So, you thought you could hide from me?" he growled. It took me a moment to realize that he was talking to me.

"What?" I said confused. He turned towards me, and I realized that the growl emanating from him wasn't exactly a growl. It had a bit of a roar and a snort in it too.

"Do not play stupid!" he snapped. " Do you know how long I've searched for you? Did you think that coming here would save you?"

"Look I have no idea what you're talking about. If you're sick I'm sure the medical centre's got some drugs."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Mr Ohia roared and his beady eyes blazed with a red light. His face shortened and his long nose began to grow out into a horn. He dropped to all fours and his shirt and trousers gave way as his body bulged grotesquely. Those glowing eyes locked on me as his transformation completed.

"Die!" screamed the rhino and charged, that wickedly sharp horn aimed at my chest. I leapt out of the way at the last minute and he barrelled past like an escaped locomotive. Some of the pews weren't so lucky and they shattered under his assault. He took some time to turn and I used that chance to assess my options.

There were splintered pieces of wood near my feet and close by was a golden candleholder, none of which would be good weapons against an enraged rhino. I thought of taking off my shirt and flapping it like a bullfighter, but then I realized that my shirt was white and Mr Ohia wasn't a bull.

The rhino snorted and charged and again I dived out of the way only just in time.

"Why won't you stand still so I can kill you?" he complained, sounding genuinely confused.

I turned and ran for the doors, but the thundering footfalls behind me warned that the rhino was catching up. I tried my usual technique, but this time I wasn't so lucky and its horn clipped me as it passed, sending me flying into the barricades.

I groaned and sat up. My ribs were on fire and I was pretty sure I had broken at least one of them. The rhino was snorting, rifling through the spot where I'd been a few moments ago. Of course, I thought, remembering one of the documentaries I'd watched on NatGeo Wild. Rhinos had poor eyesight. They relied on scent and hearing and all the dust in the air was making me hard to track.

I saw my chance and tried to escape, but my legs refused to cooperate and when I forced myself to my feet, a thrill of pain shot through my ankle. Great, I thought deliriously as I screamed. I'd sprained that one too. The rhino turned towards my voice and snorting in triumph, it charged towards me, horn lowered.

Surely this isn't the end, I thought. Surely this is the moment when something happens that will save me.

Ask for help, hissed a voice in my ear. It was so loud I nearly jumped. Ask for help? From whom?

The rhino was getting closer and looking into the agonized face of the crucified Jesus, I thought; God, please help me.

Close enough, said the voice and the sharp smell of ozone filled the air. Then sparks flew and a huge bolt of lightning slammed into the rhino, vaporizing it in one sharp scream of "no!"

Now, said the voice. What do you say?

Thank you? I thought.

You’re welcome, it replied, sounding pleased with itself. Now get up.

My body didn't want to, but after a few minutes of gasps and tearful cursing, I staggered to my feet, staring at the sizzling spot where the rhinoceros had been. The lightning bolt had completely obliterated the roof and front half of the church. In the distance, I could see the figures of the matrons and the security guards running towards me. Only one thought was dancing around in my head and it wasn't about what had happened.

It wasn't even about the weird voice that had spoken in my head.

It was: I really need to pee.