The Witness of Usehjiki

It was a three-hour drive from Kuwin’s home in Emami to Mba in rural Izecha. Kuwin couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think of anything but the explosion that they’d heard, many blocks away from the house. He’d asked Enechi to go back and see if people needed help but Enechi didn’t budge. They had to get to Mba as quickly as possible and going back would only slow their already late journey.

Facebook was swarming with videos of people trying to aid his compound as church members called out for him. Many of them thought he’d been in the explosion but some of his building mates mentioned that he wasn’t even in the compound when it happened.

Kuwin didn’t know what to reply or what to say. His phone was blowing up with people who wanted to talk but his head was empty. Even when he tried to think of Bible verses of support, he kept coming up with nothing.

Soon, the place was swarming with reporters as word spread that the Prime Minister’s cousin had been there. Kuwin’s mana called. His siblings, cousins. His phone was blowing up in his hand and he couldn’t deal.

“KUWIN, JESUS,” Mana shouted into the phone.

“I’m alive. I wasn’t there.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you as soon as I find out, Mana. I have to go.”

He cut the call and fell back into the seat as Enechi watched him, sideways.

“I thought it was a sin to lie,” Enechi said.

“I wasn’t actually there.”

“Truth on a technicality? Oh, Pastor, it almost seems like you’re as human as the rest of us.”

Kuwin closed his eyes and turned away because he felt like vomiting.

___

When they got to Mba, Enechi’s family home was a large compound surrounded by forests and a twenty-foot-high gate. The house was five minutes away from the gate and the building, itself, was four stories high and three times the width of Kuwin’s apartment building.

The walls were faint green, and the roof was dark brown with edges, pillars, and settings to match.

Inside the house was even more impressive with huge chandeliers and golden settings and mirrored doors. Kuwin had grown up in a comfortable home, but even he had to admit that this was a bit excessive.

“Make yourself at home,” Enechi said, taking off his jacket as a young woman dressed in a white and grey maid’s uniform appeared with a bottle of water for him.

With nothing to do but wait for the others to reach Mba, Kuwin roamed the house, looking at family photos and assessing their wine sets and every room available to him, as a guest.

Just as the sun was coming up, Kuwin was roused by the arrival of Ahimad and Osa.

“Good morning,” Ahimad said as he ushered in the woman, who was unconscious and strapped to a gurney. Both her hands were bandaged. Her bruised face was tended to and plastered but there was a huge bump on her forehead.

“What happened to her?” Kuwin asked, rushing to the gurney.

“The witness killed her sisters and she saw the whole thing,” Ahimad said, shaken and jittery.

“My goodness,” Kuwin exclaimed.

“She wouldn’t let me look at her injuries, so I had to sedate her. She has a lot of broken bones. A lot of it, first aid wouldn’t help.”

As he spoke, they followed the gurney into a room with a very high ceiling and a crowd of shelves and shelves and shelves filled with books. When they got to the center of the room, Enechi was sitting on a table, surrounded by open books with a bright, reading lamp, just above his head.

“Wow,” Kuwin said, looking around in awe. “What is all this?” He assessed the row of shelves closest to him and realized that those weren’t books. They were stone tablets on some shelves, while some had wooden tablets, encased in plastic to keep them safe. He pulled one out and saw markings. This was written in Jiki script. Usehjiki hadn’t officially adopted the alphabet until only eighty years ago, so it made sense that their history was in Jiki script.

“This is the Izeh Custody. A repository of all Usehjiki’s history and knowledge,” Enechi said with pride. “The moment we locked the witness up in 1518, Usehjiki couldn’t rely on oral tradition anymore. We had to come up with a way to remember.” He looked up at the books around. “This is our recorded history. This is our witness, so to speak.”

“Wonderful,” Kuwin said as Osa coughed and woke up.

Ahimad rushed to her side and unstrapped her from the gurney as she sat up.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, squinting as if her head still hurt. “My sisters… oh god…” she cried, slipping off the bed.

Kuwin held her up, lifting her back onto the gurney. She didn’t resist. It didn’t seem like she could. Her arms were weak and when he tried to adjust her knee, she cringed so hard that he let go of it.

“I tried to get you guys out of there but the witness-” Ahimad said.

“You ran away,” she said, her voice laced with venomous rage. “Like a coward. Instead of trying to fight-”

“We wouldn’t have to fight anyone if you and your family had left the witness alone,” Enechi stated, taking off his glasses and straightening up.

“They did all that to save me. They wanted to keep me alive and now they’re dead.”

“Don’t let their deaths be for nothing,” Ahimad said.

Osa spat at his feet.

“You didn’t need all of us,” she said, shrugging out from Kuwin’s hold as she got to her feet again. “You got me because of your stupid ritual, and you left my sisters to die so that they would slow down the witness. Do you think I’m a fool?” she laughed. “I don’t care about your stupid ritual. Frankly, I hope the witness finds you all and tears you to pieces.”

As she limped towards the door, Enechi pressed a button on the table and the doors buzzed with gates, peeling out from the wall and slamming shut.

“I’m sorry but you can’t go.”

Osa turned around and looked at Enechi.

“Do you think your gates can stop me?”

Kuwin didn’t realize what was happening until he saw the gun in Ahimad’s hand. By the time Kuwin moved to stop him, Ahimad had already fired.

However, instead of hearing the painful sound of a bullet, it was a tiny wisp. When Kuwin looked at Osa, she staggered back as a small, yellow dart pierced her neck.

“I’m going to…” she said, breathily. “I’m going to ki-” She slumped forward, fell on the ground, and passed out.

Kuwin ran to her and turned her over, pulling the dart out as he flung it away.

“Why would you do that?” he asked.

Ahimad rolled the gurney over to where Kuwin and Osa were and knelt to pick the woman up.

“She said ‘no’,” Enechi said as if that was enough explanation.

“Yes, Enechi,” Kuwin replied, reluctantly shifting out of Ahimad’s way. “The general idea is that when people say ‘no’, it’s supposed to mean ‘no’.”

“I disagree. She doesn’t have to be a part of the ritual. Her entire family is gone, and I can understand that her zeal to live has died with them, but that doesn’t mean that she won’t be useful to us.”

Ahimad strapped Osa back on the gurney and headed for the door as Enechi opened it from his table.

“If you don’t need her or her blood to make the new witness, then why do you need her at all?” Kuwin asked.

“We need a witness.”

Kuwin frowned up at the two other men.

“And you thought stabbing her with a syringe was the best way to go? Becoming a witness means immortality and agility and strength and wisdom, according to you. Why wouldn’t you just tell her that? Why wouldn’t anyone want to be immortal and wise?”

“Because, my dear pastor,” Enechi said, still at the table. “Being a witness is only the beginning. We need a witness to get our good luck back. And to get our good luck back, the witness must be locked up. For good.”

The dread within him grew tenfold as he looked into Enechi’s eyes.

“You-you want to lock her up?” Kuwin asked, unable to keep the horror from chilling his bones, his spirit, and everything within him.

“Don’t look so shocked, Pastor,” Enechi said, returning to his reading. “You’re locking her up too.”