AfroSFv2

by Ivor W Hartmann

  Seven police officers had turned up at Chileka to investigate the church murders. Now, before everyone’s eyes, that number went down to five. Two men jumped from the roof of the police vehicle and landed behind two officers. Two necks snapped and the two officers fell, dead. Galvanised into action, the villagers scattered. Everyone ran, not looking back. Everyone, that is, except the police officers and Sir Gregory.

  Ignoring the shocked police officers, Sir Gregory grabbed the nearest officer’s handgun and fired. The first man was hit in the abdomen and was dead as he fell, holding his belly. Sir Gregory fired again and the bullet went through the second man’s shoulder. He kept coming.

  Sir Gregory gave the police his final orders. “Get in the car and go get help. I will handle him. Go!”

  Father Fletcher felt very weak, physically and spiritually. He had run from church today, a place where he and many others praised the Lord. Not once, but twice. Father Fletcher was not young and could not remember the last time he exercised. Had God abandoned them? Maybe He had chosen not to act, not to save those people, Father Fletcher thought, as he slowed down to a quick walk. Well, everything happens for a reason.

  “Move!”

  Father Fletcher did not even bother turning around. He knew Sir Gregory’s voice and the urgency in it made him start running again, although he was only a few metres away from the house.

  “We must get home, quickly!” Sir Gregory had caught up with him.

  They found Nina and Mavuto standing in front of the house, brother holding sister. Nina was trembling violently. A young man lay in front of them, dead, with a knife in his stomach. Father Fletcher stopped dead in his tracks.

  Sir Gregory went straight to his children. “We will talk about what happened later. But right now, we need to get inside the house. Where’s Joel?” Nina simply pointed a shaky finger at the house. “Good. Inside. Hurry!”

  They went inside the house and, finding Joel, went straight into Sir Gregory’s bedroom. Father Fletcher was the one who noticed the blood on Nina’s hands, but it was Joel who saw the bright light and heard the faint buzzing first. Before he could say anything, Sir Gregory pressed something and the ground beneath them began to move.

  Chilinde Barracks, Lilongwe City

  “Well, Detective,” began Colonel Banda after his lieutenant had made the necessary introductions. “Did you learn anything useful from our prisoner?”

  “Not really, sir. Most of what she said did not make sense. She talked about herself as a predator. It is almost as if she likes what she did because that is what she is supposed to be doing.” Onani paused for a few seconds before continuing. “She says she is going to love hunting me.”

  “I doubt she will do any more hunting anytime soon,” said the colonel. He was thoughtful for a moment and when he spoke again, there were deep furrows across his dark-brown forehead. “This is very disappointing. I was hoping for more. But, we will make her talk. We need to contain this situation. Every piece of intel is vital.”

  “Well, she did say one more thing, sir. She said if I wanted to know more, I should ask him,” said Onani, nodding towards Lieutenant Phiri, who stood impassively.

  “I see,” replied the colonel emotionlessly. “Well, that’ll be all, Detective. I must commend you for your bravery today. I’ll assign a sergeant to escort you off the barracks.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Onani protested, annoyed by the manner in which he was being dismissed, “this is also a police investigation. Now, I need to know exactly what is going on and I feel like there is something you are not telling me.”

  “With all due respect, Detective,” The colonel emphasised each word, mimicking the detective, his tone harsh, “I have more important things to deal with than play cop-informant right now. Already there have been other massacres in Chileka and a few other areas. I hardly have time to...”

  He never got to finish. Onani had already rushed out of the door.

  Chileka, Blantyre district

  “What the hell is this place?” said Mavuto

  “Watch your language, child!” Sir Gregory then turned from his eldest son to his other two children. Joel was by his sister’s side, frightened. Nina said nothing, still in shock, holding her little brother’s hand. Everyone was looking at Sir Gregory as if they had never seen him before in their lives.

  The room was almost the same size as Sir Gregory’s bedroom but the similarities ended there. This room had a blue light almost like the daytime sky. A large red button was installed on the wall by the bottom of the stairs from where they descended. In the middle of the room were four round chairs. At one end of the room was a bed, at the other, a closet that looked like a locked safe. Sir Gregory pressed the red button. The slit in the floor which had allowed them to go down into the room from the bedroom immediately closed.

  “Dad, what is this?” Nina finally asked, her voice hardly obscuring the shock—the fact that she had just killed someone temporarily forgotten.

  Sir Gregory was calm. “I built this a long time ago, when you were all quite young. I kept hoping we would never have to use it.”

  “You built this?” Mavuto’s voice rose in pitch. “You built all of this? Did our mother even know what you were hiding beneath her bedroom?”

  Sir Gregory was looking at Nina as he spoke. “Yes, she knew. There was nothing about me that your mother did not know. As a matter of fact, we both agreed on this.”

  Nina was still a bit dazed by it all. “You say you both agreed to it, but what did you build it for? How could you and Mother possibly know that this was going to happen? How could you have known?”

  Father Fletcher, who had not said anything until this point, spoke up. “Now, I am sure your father and mother had their reasons for not telling you about this place. Also, I think there is a reasonable explanation as to why they built this place. If we could all just calm down-”

  Sir Gregory cut him short, “Yes, Father, there is an explanation. Whether my children will find it reasonable, however, is another matter.” He turned to his children. “It is time you all knew the truth. Yes, all of you,” Sir Gregory repeated, when he saw Nina glance nervously at Joel. “I suggest you all sit down.”

  Chilinde Barracks, Lilongwe city

  “You won’t get anywhere in your fCar, Detective,” Lieutenant Phiri called out to Onani, who was getting into an army Land Cruiser. “The military has declared our entire airspace a no-fly zone. Wherever it is you are running to, you won’t get there quickly.”

  “In that case, Lieutenant, may I ask that your man drop me home and not at headquarters? I have something there that can help me.”

  Lieutenant Phiri looked at Onani thoughtfully for a moment. “Of course, Detective. He will drop you off wherever you need to go. And if you find out more, let me know immediately. You have my number. And Detective—good luck.”

  State House, Lilongwe city

  Principal Secretary Maloto had not slept in thirty-six hours. Not because he did not want to. His job required him to stay up until the man he worked for said otherwise. And it looked like President Moto was not ready to release him yet.

  Limbani Maloto had known Herbert Moto long before the latter became president. They attended the same college as undergraduates and had been friends ever since. And many years later Herbert, with a doctorate in economics, had approached his friend about going into politics. Limbani, armed with a masters in public administration, reluctantly said yes. They had built their party from nothing, with Herbert ultimately making it to parliament. Limbani had quit party politics immediately after Herbert was elected to high office, preferring to go back to his old job as a lecturer. But his friend would have none of it. He appointed Limbani principal secretary in the ministry of defence.

  We have come a long way from being silly teenagers drinking cheap, homemade rum, Maloto thought. But nothing could’ve prepared us for this. Absolutely nothing.

  “Excuse me, sir.” One of the president’s aide
s interrupted Maloto from his reverie. “The United States ambassador is meeting the president as we speak. President Moto has asked that you be present.”

  “Nobody told me about this beforehand. When did the ambassador arrive?”

  “He arrived twenty minutes ago, sir, and was shown straight into the president’s office.”

  Maloto spoke, almost to himself. “Probably concerns recent events. Alright, I’m on my way.” He shut the door to his makeshift office at the State House and left for the president’s office. He was only a few feet away when he heard the gunshots.

  Chileka, Blantyre district

  Sir Gregory looked closely at his children. He had always dreaded this moment. He had hoped that it would never come. He suddenly wished Milcah was still alive. He always felt stronger and more confident when she was by his side. She had trusted and believed in him without any reservations. He could certainly have used that during the conversation he was about to have.

  “Thousands of years ago, there was a species called metsu. They had their own planet called Mera, which is approximately the same size as Earth, only in a different galaxy. The metsu were hunters, mostly, but there were also other metsus with different occupations. They had homes, with families. In short, their domestic setup was very much the same as that of humans on Earth. They also kept animals. One of those animals was the guma.

  “The guma was unique because you could hunt it in the wild, but you could also domesticate it. The guma was more intelligent than the other animals on the planet. Not only could it walk like a metsu but it could also be trained to do simple tasks like starting fires and cleaning its surroundings. Because of this, every female metsu wanted a guma at her home.”

  Sir Gregory paused; nobody said a word so he continued. “Now, the metsus usually lived in harmony as muhiris and chemwas; that is, brothers and sisters. But there were confrontations. Most of the females wanted all the gumas captured and then domesticated into slaves. They therefore objected to hunting them down and killing them. This, obviously, did not go down well with the other metsus, especially the males, who loved hunting the gumas.

  “After a while, it was agreed that some of the gumas be taken off planet and left on other planets in different galaxies to repopulate. That would not be a problem since, due to the metsus’ major strides in technology, interstellar travel was quite possible. The gumas left on other planets could be hunted while the ones left on Mera were to be slaves. That way, everyone was happy.

  “The hunters agreed to wait until a planet’s guma population reached a certain number. When this happened, some of the hunters would be selected for travel to that particular planet. Their sole purpose was to hunt the guma, as a way of curbing overpopulation and getting hunting experience.

  “Only one planet in this galaxy was habitable for the gumas, Earth. And it was decided that the hunt could only begin when the population of gumas on earth reached 8 billion. This was because the resources on the planet could only support healthy guma life up to this population threshold. When the guma population had been depleted to a certain point through the hunt, they would then leave the planet.”

  Although Nina had already figured out where the story was going, she still let out a gasp.

  Sir Gregory ignored her and continued. “So, the guma population—or human, as they are called here on Earth—hits 8 billion tomorrow, according to some organisations. Commemorations are even planned, if I recall correctly. Now, I doubt that will happen because tomorrow, the hunt really starts.”

  “If this it true then God help us all.” Father Fletcher’s voice nearly made the children jump. “But Sir Gregory, with all due respect, you cannot expect us to believe such outlandish bits of nonsense! Your story is ridiculous!” An incredulous smile was planted on Father Fletcher’s face.

  Sir Gregory was not smiling. “Whether you believe me or not, Father, is up to you. But God cannot help you. He does not exist. You see, your god did not put you on this planet. We did. I am one of them.”

  State House, Lilongwe city

  “This is rather unexpected, Mr. Ambassador,” began President Moto. “I assume you are here because of what’s been happening recently. I have been in touch with your president at the White House. I’ve just got off the phone with him, actually. It seems all is not well there, either.”

  The ambassador was a short, rather fat, grey-haired man with a receding hairline. “Indeed, Mr. President. It seems this is happening everywhere. But,” the ambassador leaned forward in his chair, “that is not the only reason why I am here.”

  “Then why exactly are you here this evening, Ambassador, if not because of these killings?”

  “Well, it is because of the killings, Mr. President. But I am here because I know why they are happening.”

  Intrigued, President Moto sat up in his chair while the ambassador explained the same story Sir Gregory was telling his children at that same moment. Slowly, the head of state’s features changed from heavy concentration to disbelief to amusement.

  “I know that your country is famed for different conspiracy theories amongst its citizens, Ambassador, but I hardly expect a man of your standing to subscribe to them as well,” said President Moto, barely able to conceal his laughter.

  “I assure you, Mr. President, this is no theory. It is simple truth. All facts. And I would greatly appreciate it if you took this matter seriously.” The ambassador was clearly irritated.

  “Forgive me, Ambassador, but you cannot expect me to believe your story. How do you even know all this? I just spoke to your president a few minutes ago and he did not say anything about this to me.”

  “There are some things that even the White House does not know, Mr. President,” said the ambassador, with a menacing glint in his eye.

  President Moto caught it. And for an unknown reason the ambassador suddenly made him uneasy. “Do you remember what I told you at the state dinner a few days ago, Mr. Ambassador? About not messing around with my country just because we are still a developing nation?”

  “Yes, Mr. President, I remember what you said,” replied the ambassador. “But I assure you, everything I have told you is the truth.”

  “I believe you,” said the president. “What I do not believe is that you are indeed the ambassador. So tell me, who are you?”

  The ambassador looked startled. The president, now standing, went on. “I have not held a state dinner in over six months upon the United States government’s recommendation to cut spending for state residences. So we never had that conversation. But then, the ambassador of the United States to Malawi would know that. So, once again, who are you?”

  The ambassador looked up at the president, a smile slowly forming at the corners of his mouth. “Very clever, Mr. President. I was really beginning to think that I had got away with it. But, it does not matter. As I have said, the hunt starts tomorrow. There is nothing you can do to stop it. No human on this planet can.”

  The door burst open and the president’s aide-de-camp came in with two security officers, guns drawn.

  “I am going to ask you one more time,” President Moto spoke again. “Tell me who you are or my men will fire.”

  The man posing as the ambassador stood firm. “It does not matter who I am. But know this, Mr. President; hunting season is about to begin.” With that, the ambassador literally burst out of his suit.

  President Moto stared in horror at the transformation before him. The man he had thought was the United States ambassador was now was standing bare-chested in front of him. He was no longer the overweight, five-foot five, grey-haired gentleman. He was muscular, six feet tall, with dark, close-cropped hair and big, pointed ears. The torn suit barely covered his body. His mouth now an insane grin, he turned to the three men behind him.

  One of the security men fired first, and missed. The man jumped towards the ceiling, grabbing the chandelier that hung in the centre of the president’s office. Using the chandelier for momentum, he leapt at the three me
n. This time, none of the security personnel missed. The flying creature took a hail of bullets and fell to the ground with a thud, inches from his killers. Still a bit shaken himself, the aide-de-camp rushed to his president. At the same moment, Principal Secretary Maloto rushed in with more security personnel.

  “Sir, are you alright? Are you hurt?” The aide-de-camp carefully examined his boss. Maloto joined him.

  “Mr. President, are you alright? What happened?”

  President Moto said nothing. He looked like he had aged ten years since the last time Maloto had seen him. After a minute or two, he finally spoke, directly to Maloto.

  “Cancel the commemorations. Contact our generals and tell them to put our troops on standby. We may have a war on our hands.”

  8

  Dedza district

  A white 2006 Toyota Corolla sped along the M1, heading towards Blantyre. Onani sat at the steering wheel, Rhythm and Blues playing in the background. The genre always managed to calm him down. Lord knows I need to be calm right now, Onani thought. But it was quite difficult, not only because of what he had seen that day but also because he couldn’t reach Nina.

  It was by accident that he had even spotted her in college. He, a third-year psychology major putting up a poster of a forthcoming freshman’s ball, she, a freshman going to get a copy of the semester timetable. They had started going out two months later.

  Onani adored Nina and she loved him. With no siblings and both parents having died in a car accident years before, she was the closest person to family that he had left. He knew Nina’s brothers and had even met Nina’s father, albeit informally, at her mother’s funeral. They wanted to be a family, officially, but as he drove, he worried that this might not happen now.

  He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, 9pm. A lot had happened in one day. He still did not really know what was going on. The woman captured by the army, the woman he had shot twice and was still alive, had told him nothing concrete. And the murders continued, with Nina a possible victim.