In a Flash

The 16-seater bus stopped suddenly, giving a screeching sound as though the driver had come across a troop of ghosts. At that moment, while trying to hold back a yawn, and looking around me, i noticed the other passengers, stretching and murmuring in their different languages, wondering what had made the driver stop so suddenly. At the park he had seemed fearless; Udeme, as they all called him at the park was tall, dark skinned, and muscular; he worked out I suppose, probably not at the gym, but the south-south; Bayelsa state, has its natural way of building a man. It’s tough out there.
Stepping out of the bus with the other passengers, I craned my neck to see what was going on ahead.
Suddenly there were gunshots. We all ran to the side of the road. Alas, there was a fight between two groups; It was a clash between a cult group and some soldiers. I stood there oblivious of others around me running in different directions, then the horror began; the sight of the blood. A man in his early forties was carried by, his limbs had been shot, he held on tightly to a Bible as if it was his only saving grace, writhing in pain, he cast a long gaze at me as if to say ‘oh you’re next’ i felt a cold rush down my spine. My legs turned to jelly and i fell on my face. I could remember getting into an argument at the park earlier with that man, he had taken my seat and wasn’t sorry about it.
The warm smell of the earth, sharp but defined scent coming from the grass quickly wound its way up my nose, the sound of crying, screaming and children yelling had filled the air. I looked up and saw some men in black and red scarf’s (apparently the cultists) running into the bushes, the solders; the few remaining went into hiding. Udeme yelled ‘if you are on this bus come in now’. Galvanized into action by those words, i remember running with all the energy i had left alongside some others, pushing and shoving our way into the bus. At the highest speed imaginable, Udeme drove, shouting at the top of his voice ‘if i get shot, someone should come and take the wheel’.
I ducked under the seat; badly shaken, staring long at the seat of the man who had been shot. The picture of him being carried away replayed itself in my head in slow motion. The distant cries could be faintly heard. The rest of the journey was quiet and long, we all stared at each other seemingly saying ‘you survived’ just not with words.