A Collection of Short Stories

Bankole Banjo
Fourteen Years
But he had made enemies amongst the various fractured confraternities. Only one cult group
mustered enough leverage to take him on. They called themselves the Hyenas.
The rumour mill had it that the Brotherhood of the Hyenas sought to avenge the ridicule their
members had suffered at Alfa Aluta’s hands. From a different campus, they set up a strike
force of six and went after the unionist. One Friday afternoon, as he left the mosque after
juma’at, Alfa Aluta was shot dead. Two quick-fire shots to the chest brought him down.
The riots that disclosed his murder were unprecedented in the University’s history. Property
belonging to suspects were vandalized and or looted. Cars were axed down and set on fire.
The halls thought to be housing the culprits were burnt down. Those believed to be girlfriends
of the cultists were publicly assaulted. Anarchy was set loose to the hilt. To arrest the tension,
the Vice Chancellor announced an indefinite closure of the campus. And everyone went
home.
Days later, it was announced that the 6 suspects had been rounded up across four different
campuses and taken into police custody. Curiously, five of them died while in custody. Only
one escaped. Word got around that he was escorted out of the country by a team of police
officers. It turned out he was the only son of the State’s Commissioner of Police.
It didn’t take long for the Hyenas to gather that it was the boy who ratted them out. The
Brotherhood declared him persona non grata amongst the rank and file of confraternities and
a pledge was made to ensure the renegade paid for the breach of trust with his life.
***
The editor rubbed his eyes with both palms as the familiarity of the story hit home. Slowly,
memories flooded him with astonishing clarity. He got up from the recliner and peered down
the length of the swimming pool. There was no soul in sight.
But he knew he was not alone. He could perceive the foretoken of death, a fetor in the air like
that of decaying rat in a stuffy room.
“Hi, Davo,” a voice came out of the gloom.
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