When the first shots shattered the nervous silence of the cold, crispy night, Samantha didn't realize they were gunfire. In fact she practically continued to hack at her pharmacy textbook with her mind on automatic before realizing that students in the library had jumped to their feet in agitation. Still acting like a moron, she slowly packed up her books while the rest screamed for the door amidst books flying in every direction. Two more sharp reports and the sounds of glass shattering added fuel to the pandemonium. Everybody knew what was going on: exam season was in the air and cultists allergic to academics were doing what they know best -- making mayhem.
Samantha started for the exit with her heart hammering violently in her chest. She was terrified to say the least. It was pitch dark outside and the closest female hostel could only be reached by sprinting across an empty square. Which, considering her present predicament, was fool hardy. The cultists would grab her before she even went halfway. And only God knew what they would do to her.
By now the previously jam--packed library had been emptied, except for the books. She was alone and scared senseless. Screams ricocheted of the walls outside as students scampering down the staircase in a mad rush for safety. She knew a lot of people were going to be hurt by the stampede and she didn't want to be among them.
She stood still by the door and tried to calm herself down. Maybe if she just stayed put the danger might pass. Or it might rather find her and devour her on the spot. She wanted to get back to her room. Only her room! She began to move towards the staircase, desperation made her chuck common sense to the four winds. As she reached the landing she suddenly bumped into a tall figure, dressed entirely in black.
"Jesus!" she screamed in terror. She started to back away but long arms encircled her waist and held her tight with the authority of a hangman's noose. Her knees gave away and she sagged. Fear like an ice cold wave washed over her and sapped all the strength from her body. The arms held her up.
"Please..." she pleaded weakly, "Please don't hurt me."
The arms hoisted her upright and her face drew close to her captor's dark, chiseled features. She caught a faint whiff of alcohol and nicotine. Then she stared into the scariest pair of eyes she had ever seen. They were the eyes of a wild animal. Samantha thought she was going to faint.
"I'm not Jesus" the stranger drawled "Maybe you should go further upstairs."
"What?" She asked confused.
"Never mind. Where are you off too?"
"Back to my room" she answered wondering whether this was the customary chitchat before he ripped her cloths off and possibly her heart after he must have had his way with her.
"Tired of reading? Don't blame you. I've reached saturation point myself"
Samantha didn't think he had been reading but she kept her opinions to herself. Anyway she was beginning to think she was in the middle of a very bad dream. And she could not look away from those eyes. They had her frozen on the spot, they way a cobra hypnotizes its prey before striking.
"Don't you know a pretty girl like you should not be outside at this time?"
"I'm very sorry, sir" she gibbered desperately, "I'll never do it again".
Samantha suddenly became aware that his fingers stroking her gently.
"Please don't" she pleaded weakly.
He suddenly laughed. It sounded surprisingly good-natured.
"Let me take you home" he said softly, "If I don't go with you, you'll never reach there safely."
And so he did.
Even though he had an arm round her waist through out, he never did more than stroke her occasionally with detached interest. They met some sinister characters on the way but they greeted him instead of challenging him. Soon they were outside the entrance to Awolowo Hall.
"I'll advice you to read in your room from now on" he said with a smile, "This is not a safe period. Okay?"
"Yes. Thanks"
He bent down suddenly and kissed her full on the lips. Samantha was too shocked to react.
'Nice meeting you" he whispered huskily, "I can't tell you my name for obvious reasons. Maybe one day I will. Bye-bye".
And he was gone.
"Bye" she said to empty air. The dark figure had already receded into the shadows. She shivered violently and staggered into the hall.
***
Michael walked briskly up to the wrought iron gates of the registrars Lodge. It was late evening and the setting sun cast a warm red glow over the houses on the street where the vice chancellor and other top brass of the University of Nigeria resided in comfort. The street was quiet. Apart from the fact that honking of horns was prohibited along the street, no cars moved on the road.
Michael pressed the bell on the wall and waited for response. Ten seconds later a scruffy looking security guard emerged from the guardhouse and peered malevolently at him. Michael wasn't surprised by his frosty reception. Most male students of the University were held in a suspicious light because it was more than likely that any one of them belonged to a secret cult. As for Michael he was the poster child for dyed in the wool cultists.
Clocking nearly seven feet and massively built he did not present a picture of a genteel character. His shaven head and satanic goatee did not help to soften his looks either.
"I am here to see the Registrar" he announced loudly as if the guard was deaf.
"Who are you?" was the curt, rude response.
"Tell him it's the delivery boy".
"What are you delivering?" The guard stared curiously at the package under Michael's arm.
"None of your fucking business, he's expecting me so hurry up".
The guard attempted to set him ablaze with his bloodshot eyes but when that didn't work he turned around and walked stiffly to the house. Michael waited with the air of a man who was confident he would be received.
The guard returned with a different expression on his face, Michael wondered whether he had swallowed a bee. Maybe he had. After all there were some beautiful flowers growing in the compound.
"Go straight inside" the guard said as he unlocked and opened the gate for him. His tone sounded as if the invitation was drawing quarts of blood from his body.
Michael didn't bother to reply and shouldered past him. He sauntered up the gravel path to the front door and went inside.
The plush living room was empty. The big screen TV was on and tuned to CNN. Michael sat down and watched televised reports of strife around the world until the Registrar came down the staircase and into the living room.
The Registrar was a large balding man with a potbelly of astronomical proportions and a behind of similar dimensions. A thick pair of spectacles perched precariously on his fat, bulbous nose. His casual get-up of T-shirt and shorts showed off his unenviable contours. All these attributes gave him no concern. What he was concerned with was what Michael was carrying.
"Did you bring it?" he asked, unable to keep the eagerness from his voice.
"It's right here."
The registrar settled his bulk into a long-suffering sofa while Michael opened the package and retrieved a photo album from it. He handed it over to him.
The album contained glossy photos of young, beautiful ladies in various stages of undress. Their skimpy attires showed of dangerous curves and smooth, glowing skin. The pictures were so hot that the registrar nearly dropped them as his eyes greedily fed on them.
Michael stood at his shoulder but he wasn't watching the photos. No, he was watching the Registrar's reactions with a mixture of amusement and contempt. The ladies did not interest him.
Finally, the man's roving eyes settled on a particular photo which Michael noticed had the adverse effect of stretching the Registrar's ridiculous pair of boxer shorts to beyond its elastic limit.
He wasn't surprised. Janet normally elicited such response from males and even females. When you saw her, your first impulse was to pin her down and devour her. Dressed in an outrageous bikini she was a perfect picture of sin that no one could resist, not even a Buddhist monk.
"Bring her to me" the man ordered huskily, his large pink tongue darting out to moisten his thick black lips.
"With pleasure".
***
"Samantha!" exclaimed her sister Janet as they hugged each other affectionately, "How nice of you to visit me. Please sit down, I' m about to take my bath."
Samantha obeyed and went to sit on her senior sister's bed. She watched with a mixture of awe and envy as Janet shed her clothes and draped a ridiculously tiny towel that could barely conceal her voluptuous curves around her body.
The soft pink colour of the towel marched the butter mint glow of her skin and accentuated her jet black, shoulder length, real hair. Janet was to put it mildly a goddess. Men gladly worshiped at her feet with dreams of one day tasting her nectar. Men without means that is.
Samantha however was the more severe version of her sister, darker, moodier but no less ravishing. She just didn't know it yet.
Janet was rambling on about some cute guy she met in some lecture hall while her sister was barely listening. Janet was always rambling about cute guys. They were her bread and butter.
Samantha didn't have much interest in men. She did have a few male friends but hardly any were close enough to be intimate. Anyway most boys tendered to avoid her. She radiated a kind of cold hostility that kept them away like a repellant. She liked it that way.
Janet was the opposite. She attracted men like bees to a rose and craved the attention she was getting. But she was too gullible. Samantha felt wiser than her and sometimes felt inclined to protect her. This made her feel older than her senior sister, psychologically she probably was. Janet would never grow up.
Janet was about to exit the room with her steaming bucket of water, shower cap and sponge when Toni, her next door neighbour entered the room. Immediately Samantha tensed up.
Toni was a bit advanced in age with close cropped hair and a firm muscular body. If not for her particularly large hips she would have been mistaken for a man. Her face was plain and masculine with a prominent nose, thin, cruel lips and a square jaw. Her eyes belonged to a fish.
The reason for Samantha's discomfort was because Toni seemed to fancy her. Immediately Tony's cod fish eyes settled on her, the pinched lips bent into what she probably considered a warm smile. Instead a chill ran up Samantha's spine.
"Samantha!" she cooed with hedonistic glee after giving Janet a lingering pat on her supple rear, "How are you today?"
"Hey, leave her alone" warned Janet with a knowing smile as she left the room. Samantha looked helplessly around her for an escape route as Toni made a beeline for her. Next thing she knew, Toni was sitting pressed up against her with a long muscular arm around her shoulder and a hand on her knee.
"Samantha, you look ravishing tonight" Toni whispered huskily, as her eyes bored into hers with hypnotic intensity, "what's the secret?'
"If I told you it wouldn't be a secret anymore, would it?" She replied with a fixed grin, closing her thighs tightly to halt Toni's advancing fingers.
"Oh come on, you can tell me. I want to be pretty like you."
