Nnamdi’s vision went black for a moment. When it returned, he was still seeing red. His heart was slamming in his chest.
“I took that glass apple myself and smashed it to pieces on the ground.” She laughed hard.
Nnamdi’s angry eyes fell on her blocky shoes and then on her smug, smirking face. Her smirk turned to a grin as she brought back her shoe and kicked Nnamdi hard in the side. Nnamdi moaned. Whether he was the Man or not, he felt every inch of the kick. He tried with all his might to get up, fight back. She kicked him in the gut again. “I said, stay down.”
She kicked him again and again and again, laughing. “The Man, indeed,” she said. Kick! “What does it turn you into?” Kick! “A ghost?” Kick! “A masked man?” Kick! “You’re just a little boy. You will never be mightier than me.” Kick!
Nnamdi could barely breathe, the pain was so terrible. Stars bounced and exploded before his eyes and then the world started to go black again. He was slipping into unconsciousness. Slipping. Slipping.
BANG!
He was jarred alert by the loud sound of the gunshot. There was a flash of yellow-white light. A pain in his chest. Then another BANG! More pain, this coming from his neck. He was in his father’s office. He was his father on the day he was shot. Daddy was shot in the neck, too, Nnamdi realized. He was falling. He saw his mother’s face glowing like the rising sun. He saw his own face, bathed in sunshine. Then he saw Kaleria, clean and brilliant.
Nnamdi shut his eyes, a sob deep in his chest. “Daddy,” he whispered. “I won’t let you down.”
“Nnamdi,” he heard his father say. Nnamdi opened his eyes. He’d just felt his father’s pain from when he was shot. Shot twice. Now he felt his own pain from Mama Go-Slow’s beating. Realization, understanding, and fresh rage rippled through him like an electric shock. “No!” he shouted, feeling every one of his powerful strange muscles flex. He fought his way to his feet, despite the fact that she tried to press him back down. Who was she? She may have been powerful, but his father had come from death and given him an Ikenga. An Ikenga from a father who had vowed to do good. An Ikenga given with love, hope, and dreams. He was protected. Nnamdi had forgotten. Now he remembered. He had a task to do.
When Nnamdi stood up tall, so very tall, the smug smile dropped from Mama Go-Slow’s face. Nnamdi’s mind was clear now and he locked eyes with her. “Come on,” Nnamdi growled. “Try something else on me.” She contemplated him for another moment and reached into her pockets. When she brought her hands out, they were covered in something that looked like sparkling blue glitter. However, when she looked up at Nnamdi, she froze.
“I’m waiting,” Nnamdi growled. “Come on.”
She paused. Then she turned and ran. Nnamdi was faster. He snatched the collar of her dress.
“What kind of man are you?” she shouted, exaggeratedly struggling and groaning. The glittery stuff flew and then fled from her hands like terrified flies. “Is this how you treat your elders?!”
“When they are criminals, yes,” Nnamdi said, dragging her to one of the cars. “And I am not a man. I’m a boy!” He was glad to see the door was open. He could still feel the pain from her beating and it cleared his head and kept sympathy away. He shoved her into the car and then walked around it, breaking the latches so that she couldn’t escape.
When he was done, he gazed in at her. She gazed back and frowned. “You play with fire, boy,” she said, cocking her head. No longer looking so helpless. “Juju takes as much as it gives. No matter who takes it.”
“You are done,” was all Nnamdi said. “If you try to get out, I will know and I will come and smash you more than you smashed me, I swear it.” As he walked away, he felt anything but triumphant. He felt like crying.
* * *
Nnamdi waited nearby, hiding behind a car and watching. Mama Go-Slow sat angrily, looking out the window the entire time. Not once did she try to get out. Like a snake, Nnamdi thought as he watched. She’s so smart that she even knows when she can’t win. I’ll bet she even knows I’m watching; that’s why she’s not trying to escape. Then he spotted some police coming along and checking cars. He shouted, “Look in that car! Mama Go-Slow is trapped in it!” Nnamdi took off when he saw that the car was surrounded by police, some pointing their guns as two officers worked to open the door.
He was inside Bonny’s car minutes later. He’d changed back before he even stepped inside; it was like the power came when he needed it and left when he didn’t. It took Bonny and his mother nearly a half hour to return. The alone time helped him get his head together and put on an indifferent face. His body ached horribly from the beating. When Bonny and his mother returned to the car, he explained away his dirty clothes by saying he’d gotten knocked down in the rush. He didn’t have to explain his mother’s broken cell phone. He hated lying, but these days he was full of lies. The police had Mama Go-Slow, but her thugs had escaped with their stolen items.
Because neither Bonny nor his mother had any money on them anymore, they simply drove back and spent a quiet evening at home. Neither of them complained when Nnamdi retired early to his room. As he inspected his body in the mirror, he found deep bruises on his sides and some scratches on his arms, chest, and knees. They ached and stung so much that he knew it would be hard to keep them from his mother. Thankfully, this was the extent of it. So his guise as the Man protected him from severe harm. This was good information to know.
Popcorn
Yesterday, after conducting a mass robbery on the evening traffic of Ochulor Street, Ekwedigwe Tumtumbroni Babatunde, better known as Mama Go-Slow, was severely beaten up by the Man right in the middle of the road. Babatunde is 80 years old and says that sometimes she must walk with a cane. “He was like an animal,” Babatunde said. “I’m just an old woman. Was the violence necessary?” She had to be carried to her jail cell, where a doctor was brought in to see to her injuries.
“The woman is mentally unstable,” the doctor who saw to her said. “The Man beat her black and blue and then shoved and locked her in a car on a suffocatingly hot evening. He should be ashamed of himself!”
Although the Man is responsible for the capture of the infamous Mama Go-Slow, police officials, including the chief of police, continue to stress that the Man is a menace to society. “He is a serious threat to the well-being of Kaleria,” Chief Ojini Okimba said. “We are doing all we can, but I suggest that, until we apprehend him, Kaleria citizens should avoid being out after dark and keep their doors locked and secure.” The reward for the Man’s capture or information about his identity or whereabouts has been raised to 7 million naira.
Nnamdi angrily crumpled the paper up as he walked to school. His muscles still ached from yesterday’s thrashing. He couldn’t quite bend his left arm because of a bruise there. Unnecessary violence, indeed.