Chapter 3: No Escape

I close my door sharp.

I push chair against am, even wedge my old gas cylinder for back. My mind dey flash all the crime gist I hear from mama, all those "shine your eye" warning. If wahala come, e no go easy.

Na walk-up building be this, two flats per floor, main entrance dey ground floor. If dem lock that door, nobody fit comot.

The estate wey I dey no get fire escape. Once dem lock main door, na only window waka remain, but from second floor, if I jump, na orthopedic hospital straight. No be small play. I dey look my small mop stick, dey wonder if e go help at all.

I call 112 sharp-sharp, explain everything. Dispatcher say dem go alert patrol, make I wait.

The voice for phone sound sleepy, but e try calm me. E ask me for my full name, flat number, and tell me make I lock all door, wait for police. For my mind, I dey pray say make real police show, no be wahala on top wahala.

Just as I drop call, 302 message me again: "Police just come my side too. You tell am your own?"

I dey suspect say e dey try track my movement, so I try answer with brain. I no wan show say fear dey catch me.

I pause, reply am with sense: "Na real police be that? Police no dey always move two-two?"

I dey wait, dey watch my phone screen like say I dey play bet9ja live. My mind dey reason if e go catch the bait or just form smart.

302 reply: "No be every time. For notification, one officer dey enough."

E sound confident, but my spirit no dey rest. If na only notification, why the tension for estate?

I freeze. I fit don mis yan?

Maybe I dey overthink, but for this kain time, person no fit trust anybody. I dey wish say I get dog wey go bark or any sign wey go show who pure or who no pure.

302 send another one: "You no see say all the community group chats don lock? Na only real police fit lock am like that."

I check WhatsApp. True, all the official estate groups don quiet.

I open all my chats—estate update, security alert, even small generator hire group—everything don silent. Only the group-buy chat still dey active. My mind dey race.

But the private group-buy chat still dey open.

I dey wonder if na deliberate. E get as e be say na only the wahala group dey open. Maybe na trap.

Just then, my doorbell ring again. Na that same officer.

The knock hard this time. My heart dey beat. I dey look for anything I fit use hold body—spoon, bottle, anything. Fear wan kill me.

As I open, e just vex: "You no go rest? Why you dey call 112 up and down? All call dey come meet me. I don tell you—just stay house, sleep. We get work pass your own."

E voice loud, anger dey show. E point finger for my face, then shift e eyes. E no get patience again. For my mind, I dey reason, na so police dey act when dem really dey work?

E grumble, waka comot again.

As e dey go, e hiss loud. I hear am for corridor, e even stamp boot extra hard. Na wah.

But na 302 next message burst my head: "Police dey confused now. No provoke them. I hear say the body parts for Block A, na the group-buy neighbors collect am by themselves."

My hand cold as I dey read am.

As I read am, my mind just dey race. Collect body part by themselves? Ordinary estate neighbor? Na who dey run this kain madness for Lagos?

Collect am by themselves?

E be like say I dey watch Nollywood film, but this one real. I dey imagine how ordinary people go just turn to ritualist overnight. My skin dey crawl. I dey pray, but words no dey come out.