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EPISODE NINE

WHEN FIRE RETURNED

The mother fell ill quietly.

Her body weakened, her breaths shorter. Oyoyo stayed close, praying daily that her children would return soon.

One afternoon, a familiar figure stepped into the compound.

Ejoke.

Now a lieutenant.

His uniform fit him perfectly, authority settling naturally on his shoulders. His mother cried when she saw him.

“You came,” she whispered.

“I promised,” he said.

That night, peace returned briefly.

At dawn, screaming shattered it.

Gunshots.

Fire.

Bandits.

Ejoke moved instantly.

Training took over.

He secured his mother and aunt, positioned them safely, then armed himself. From within the house, he observed, calculated, waited.

The first attacker fell silently.

Then another.

And another.

Ten men dropped before they understood what they were facing.

When a second truck arrived, Ejoke moved fast. He flanked them, threw a gr***de, and dove for cover.

The explosion lit the morning sky.

Confusion erupted. Screaming. Retreat.

The bandits fled, firing blindly, afraid of an enemy they could not see.

When silence returned, Ejoke stood still, breathing hard.

For the first time, the past loosened its grip.

He had not run.

And this time, he had won.

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DEAD ON ARRIVAL

CHAPTER TWO

ASHES BEFORE MORNING

The first hand grabbed her arm before she even understood what was happening.

The mother barely had time to turn before rough fingers closed around her wrist and yanked her forward. The room spun. The smell of gunpowder still hung in the air, sharp and bitter, mixing with the familiar scent of tea and bread that now felt like a lie. The men were shouting again—orders barked without mercy, words crashing into each other like stones.

“Leave her!” Ejoke screamed.

His voice tore through the room, raw and desperate. He ran toward his mother, small fists clenched, fear and rage twisting together inside his chest. For a brief second, he believed he could stop them. That belief shattered when Ejiro grabbed him from behind.

“No, Ejoke!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his waist with all the strength her small body could find. “They will kill you!”

He struggled, kicking and reaching, tears burning his eyes as he watched the men drag their mother toward the door. She looked back once. Just once. Her eyes met Ejoke’s, and in them he saw everything—love, fear, apology, and a silent command to live.

Then she was gone.

Outside, the morning had turned ugly.

Fire crackled at the edge of the village. Smoke rose in thick black columns, staining the pale sky. Houses burned. Roofs collapsed. People ran in every direction, their screams swallowed by gunshots and roaring flames. The ground trembled beneath heavy boots and speeding vehicles.

The men shoved her toward a waiting Hilux van, its engine already growling like an impatient beast. She stumbled, nearly falling, but they forced her upright and threw her into the back. The metal floor was cold. The smell of fuel and blood filled her lungs.

The van lurched forward.

As it sped through the torn streets, she counted the turns without meaning to. One. Two. Three. She thought of her husband’s body on the floor. Thought of Ejoke’s scream. Thought of Ejiro’s arms tightening in fear.

Minutes passed. Or seconds. Time refused to behave.

Then she made a choice.

When the van slowed briefly near a bend, she moved.

With everything she had left, she pushed herself toward the open back, ignoring the shouts behind her. The world rushed forward in a blur of smoke and fire. She leapt.

Her body hit the ground hard.

The pain came like lightning—white, blinding, absolute. A sound tore from her throat as her spine shattered beneath her. She rolled once, then lay still, staring at the sky as it burned orange above her. Firelight danced across her vision. Ash drifted down like black snow.

She could not move her legs.

She could barely breathe.

Tears streamed down her face, cutting clean lines through the dirt. Around her, the village screamed. Flames devoured homes. The earth shook with gunfire. And she lay there, broken, alive only enough to feel everything.

Back at the house, Ejoke broke free.

Ejiro’s grip loosened when another explosion shook the walls, and that was all he needed. He ran outside barefoot, heart pounding, ears ringing. He did not know where he was going. He only knew what he had lost.

Near the doorway, leaning against the wall, was his father’s hunting gun.

For a moment, he froze.

The weapon looked too big for him. Too heavy. Too final. But as he picked it up, something inside him hardened. Fear burned away, replaced by a sharp, quiet fire. His hands stopped shaking.

They will pay, he thought.

He stepped into the chaos.

That was when the sirens came.

A distant wail cut through the noise, growing louder by the second. Police trucks burst into the village, tires screaming as they skidded to a halt. Officers poured out, shouting orders, raising rifles. For a brief moment, hope flared across the ruined streets.

The gunmen turned.

Bullets met bullets.

The sound was deafening—automatic fire ripping through walls, glass exploding, bodies dropping. The air filled with smoke and screams. Ejoke dropped to the ground, crawling behind a fallen cart as shots tore through the space above him.

Near the roadside, his mother watched it all from the dirt.

She could not turn her head, but she could see enough. Police officers fell one by one, their bodies jerking under gunfire. Blood soaked into the ground, mixing with ash. The men moved like shadows, fast and ruthless, their laughter cutting through the chaos.

Within minutes, it was over.

The surviving officers dragged their wounded away, retreating under heavy fire. A final burst of gunshots chased them out of the village. The gunmen raised their weapons in the air, shouting victory, their voices full of triumph and cruelty.

Then they left.

Their vehicles disappeared down the road, leaving smoke, fire, and silence behind.

The village was destroyed.

Ejoke remained hidden until the noise faded. The gun slipped from his hands as his strength finally gave out. He did not cry. Not yet. Something inside him had gone quiet, sealed itself away.

On the ground, unable to move, his mother stared at the sky.

Her husband was dead.

Her body was broken.

Her children were alone.

Tears slid into her hair as the fires crackled around her. She did not know if Ejoke and Ejiro were alive. She did not know if she would ever walk again. All she knew was that the world she loved had ended before the sun fully rose.

And somewhere deep inside the smoke and ruin, a promise took shape.

This was not the end.

CHAPTER THREE LOADING............

Story by Solomon M. U. Solomon Mamuzo Umuwe

Chapter one drops by 11am