WRITTEN BY NZEH UCHE
It was that year; crime had firm standing. The people feared for one another because their livelihood reeked of law-breakers. Putting an end to these crimes was to follow the hierarchy of evil deeds—to cut off the Cobra’s head, before roasting its body.
But this was a problem because the crime Lord had no particular face. No one really knew who he was or what exactly he looked like. The authorities had only two leads on his identity; he had scanty grey hairs and a pointed nose. This was nothing, but something to them.
Innocent citizens with grey hairs and pointed nose went into hiding for their dear lives. The authorities didn’t give a hoot if they had relation to the crime Lord or not. If caught walking at nights, were taken. Many of such features took to hair dyes, some others like me refused. This was pathetic, but it was the authorities’ only hope to catching the crime Lord. They had to do something, anything. And doing that meant going for the jugular.
The menace from the crime Lord was unbearable,—it put shackles right at the neck of the authorities. They, in turn, developed itchy fingers, grabbing any lookalikes.
I was spotted, just two blocks from the hotel I worked. My noon shift had ended very late that day. And as I trekked back home, a vehicle parked in front of me. Armed men alighted and approached where I halted.
I suddenly had a rush. I flashed back to the discussions of two colleges earlier on. One told the other of how a man was executed because of his nose and hair.
I had only one option; to run. So I took to my heels. The armed men chased. My heart ran faster than my legs—I wished I could swap speed.
“Stop or we will shoot.”
Those words fell on deaf ears. Then, I heard a gunshot. The bullet grazed my arm. Either the shooter didn’t have the required accuracy or the shot was meant to make me stop the running. But I refused to stop.
Then I ran towards a very high fence. There was no other route besides climbing over. So, I………to be continued.