“It’s all right,” he said. “I can’t fully control it, but I can control it some, and see, I’m still alive.”
She stood up. “I knew your father’s death was hard on you, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”
“What?”
“Nnamdi, making up fantasies to work through your problems will not bring him back,” she slowly said.
Nnamdi stood up. “Chioma, I didn’t make any of that up! I’m not that good a liar or a storyteller.”
“You’re just missing your father,” she insisted. “It’s normal.”
Nnamdi felt his temper flare burning hot and he stepped up to her, clenching his fists. “I’m TELLING the truth!” he harshly whispered.
However, this time, Chioma didn’t get scared or cry. She waved a dismissive hand at him and made to go inside.
Instead of increased rage and violence, Nnamdi felt his temper instantly fizzle out. He looked at her questioningly, but her back was to him as she went inside.
“Get it together, man,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the bracelet.”
Senseless
“TO KILL THE snake, you cut off its head.” That’s what Nnamdi’s mother had said. For Kaleria, the Chief of Chiefs was the snake’s head. After being the Man for four weeks, Nnamdi finally felt he truly understood the root of the proverb. He had taken down two of Kaleria’s worst criminals and beaten one into hiding (for Three Days’ Journey hadn’t been seen since Nnamdi had beaten him up that first night as the Man), but they were not the root of Kaleria’s corruption problem. The Chief of Chiefs was that root. With the Chief of Chiefs still in power, Kaleria’s crime ring would stay strong no matter what he did. Many nights after talking to Chioma, Nnamdi was lying in bed, rolling these thoughts around in his head, when he heard a voice.
“Please! This is my greatest possession!” the voice angrily pleaded. A man’s voice. And he was sobbing. Nnamdi sat bolt upright, straining to hear the voice again. He turned to his bedroom window when he heard the gentle sobbing. He could even sense the direction from which it was coming as well as the distance. Nnamdi jumped out of bed. The path outside his window that ran past the garden was empty. The voice was in his head. Someone was in trouble; the Man had a task. He looked at his X-Men pencil case, inside which was the Ikenga, quiet and potent with strange power.
“Okay,” Nnamdi whispered excitedly to himself. “I can do this!”
He slipped on his gym shoes, jeans, and a T-shirt, being careful not to make too much noise. His mother was a heavy sleeper, but if he banged on anything, she’d come and check on him. He opened his window and gently slipped out. Then he opened the gate a crack and took off down the road. As he ran, he could feel his pulse quicken and deepen. He gave in to it. Then he willed it. He felt his footsteps grow heavier, his legs longer. He ran faster. Judging from the intensity of the pleading, he had to hurry.
He ran for over a mile and there, on the dark and deserted road, he saw them. A white shiny BMW had stopped in the middle of the road and three men stood in front of the headlights. Two of the men wore expensive suits. The other man wore shabby rags and Nnamdi could smell him from where he stood—a mixture of feces, sweat, and hair oil. The man in the rags, who was gently swaying, held the two well-dressed men at gunpoint.
For a moment, Nnamdi just stood there, feeling unsteady as his mind processed it all. This was Never Die, the man who had robbed his mother weeks ago. Nnamdi balled his fists.
“You be idiot?” Never Die growled. “You no see dis gun? GIVE ME DE KEYS!”
One of the men had the keys. They jiggled in his shaky hand. “This c-c-c-car, na my graduation presen—”
“Give me de keys here, abi you wan mek I blow your head?!” Never Die screamed. If this had been Three Days’ Journey, the car thief, he’d never have allowed the men to exit the car with the keys. He’d have shoved the men out and made off with the car in a matter of seconds. Never Die wasn’t as crafty.
Nnamdi was a shadow in the street and none of the men noticed him until he was practically on top of Never Die. The two men scrambled back as Nnamdi wrenched the gun from Never Die’s hand and threw it aside. Never Die was squirmy and he managed to get free of Nnamdi’s grasp for a moment. He pulled a switchblade from his tattered pocket and held it in front of him.
“The Man!” Never Die shrieked, looking him up and down with wild eyes.
Nnamdi’s mind was on autopilot. He would subdue Never Die and make sure he was jailed, as Never Die should have been when he robbed and humiliated his mother weeks ago. He ran at Never Die and Never Die ran at him.
Never Die was a strong man and Nnamdi found himself starting to panic as the two grasped at each other’s shoulders and arms. Nnamdi landed a punch, but Never Die came right back at him. There was a moment where Nnamdi had Never Die’s arms, but then he twisted and got loose. Oh no! Nnamdi thought just before Never Die slashed him across the chest with his switchblade.
The pain was sharp and hot. Nnamdi roared and shoved Never Die back. He looked down at himself and only saw shadow, but he could feel wetness. Tears ran down his face. Mama Go-Slow had been brutal but she hadn’t stabbed him. Am I going to die? he wondered. At the same time, crazed fury flooded his system. He bared his teeth, his rage fueled by the pain.
“Come on,” Never Die taunted with a nervous laugh, taking a step back. “Give me reason to kill you.”
Nnamdi slapped the knife from Never Die’s hand and headbutted him. Never Die went down like a sack of yams. Then Nnamdi was on him, punching and slapping and kicking. Tears flew from his eyes as he beat Never Die. Memories of his humiliated and terrified mother fueled him, as did the hot sting of his stab wound. Nnamdi heard the sound of the car starting and screeching off. He’d saved the two men, but he didn’t stop punching Never Die.
“Please!” Never Die wept. “Stop, o!”
Nnamdi didn’t stop. He punched Never Die in the jaw. Then he punched him in the jaw again. He kicked him in the side. Daddy was a failure, Nnamdi thought, slapping Never Die one last time. And now I am, too. Never Die lay there, unmoving, his nose bleeding, his face swelling, his legs in a strange position. Nnamdi stood up, tall and shadowy. A hulking monster. But in his mind, he came back to himself, his thoughts clearing, the anger draining away. He blinked. He stared into the darkness, seeing the result of his actions clearly. Was Never Die dead? Had he killed him?
Nnamdi threw his head back. “YAAAAAAHHHHH!” he screamed. He turned and ran off.
Stuck
“OH MY GOD,” Nnamdi whispered over and over as he made his way home. He still felt heavy and strong and his head was throbbing as if it were full of exploding stones. The night air was hot, pressing at his head. He was sweating. Or was that blood he felt dribbling down his belly? Did I kill him? I might have killed him, he thought. He made his way home only because his feet took him in that direction. A scrawny dog trotted out of an alley, took one look at him, whimpered, and scurried away.