THE SCARS OF DUTY

Shadows Closing In

Chapter 5

Shadows Closing In

The December harmattan had settled over Port Harcourt like a restless spirit, its dry winds stirring dust through the alleys of Diobu. At 17, Dikume felt the city’s pulse quickening, as if it sensed the storm brewing in his life. The joy of the festival a week ago Nimi’s song, their dance, her hand in his still warmed his heart, a fragile light against the weight of his duties. The church scholarship and tutoring job had brought small victories: medicine for Afie’s cough, a notebook for Rhema, shoes for Golden. Even Richard, ever defiant, had lingered at home longer, his sullen nods a faint sign of truce. But the scars of duty never faded. Uncle Tam’s betrayal selling the Ikodi family land to Chief Okoro’s oil-backed scheme hung over Dikume like a blade, and the elders’ letter demanding his return to the village was a constant pressure. Nimi’s love was a lifeline, but Port Harcourt had a way of snatching hope away.

Tonight, Dikume sat on the tenement’s concrete steps, the kerosene lamp casting long shadows. Afie was inside, her cough sharper, her face thinner. Richard was out again, chasing trouble in the streets. Golden pored over the physics textbook Dikume had shared, while Rhema slept, clutching her notebook filled with sketches. The weight of being the first son pressed harder Tam’s silence about the land deal, Chidi’s threats at the festival, Tari’s dangerous offer to join the resistance against Okoro. Dikume’s fingers traced the scholarship letter in his pocket, a reminder of the university dream his father, Matthew, had planted. But dreams felt distant when survival was a daily fight.

A figure emerged from the alley’s shadows Tari, his wiry frame tense, his eyes scanning the darkness. “We need to talk, Dikume,” he said, his voice low, urgent. “Not here.” Tari’s leather bracelet, a memento of his late sister Ebi, glinted in the lamplight, a reminder of his own scars. Dikume hesitated, glancing at the tenement, but Tari’s intensity pulled him along. They slipped through Diobu’s maze, past sleeping stalls and flickering lanterns, to a small, boarded-up shop where Tari’s resistance group met in secret.

Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and whispered plans. A handful of men and ascended the room market traders, a mechanic, a teacher each face etched with defiance. Tari locked the door, his voice steady but urgent. “Okoro’s moving fast on the Ikodi land,” he said. “Your uncle’s deal is just the start. They’re targeting families to keep quiet, and…” He paused, his eyes meeting Dikume’s. “Nimi’s mother is one of them.”

Dikume’s heart lurched. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, his voice sharp. Tari explained: Preye, Nimi’s mother, had taken loans from a local cooperative to keep her tailoring business afloat. The cooperative, Tari revealed, was a front for Okoro, who used debts to pressure families into supporting his land grabs. Preye owed thousands of naira, and Okoro’s men Chidi among them were leaning on her to ensure silence about the Ikodi deal. “They know you’re asking questions,” Tari said. “They’re watching Nimi’s family. If you don’t back off, they’ll come for you both.”

The revelation hit like a fist. Nimi her smile, her song, her belief in him was now tangled in the same corruption that threatened his father’s legacy. Preye, with her aching hands and tireless sewing, was unaware of the trap, her loans a noose tightening around her and Nimi. Dikume’s mind raced: tell Nimi and risk her pulling away, like Ibinabo had, or confront Okoro’s crew, knowing their power could crush his family. The scholarship, the tutoring job, Nimi’s love they were fragile gains, and this secret could shatter them.

Tari leaned closer, his voice a whisper. “We’re planning a move expose the cooperative’s books at their office tomorrow night. It could stop Okoro, save your land. But it’s risky. You in?” Dikume’s stomach churned. Joining meant defying Tam, endangering Afie, Richard, Golden, and Rhema. It meant risking Nimi’s safety. But staying silent betrayed Matthew’s memory, the land he’d died for. The choice was a knife’s edge.

The next night, Dikume’s heart pounded as he approached the cooperative’s office, a squat building near the waterfront, its windows dark but guarded. Tari had given him a role: slip inside with a forged key, find the ledger proving Okoro’s bribes, and get out before the night watchman or worse, Chidi spotted him. Nimi’s face flashed in his mind, her voice from the festival “We’re in this together.” He hadn’t told her about Preye’s loans, the guilt gnawing at him. If he failed tonight, Okoro’s men could target her next.

The office was quiet, the air thick with the smell of diesel and paper. Tari waited outside, ready to signal if trouble came. Dikume’s hands shook as he unlocked the door, his flashlight catching rows of files. He found the ledger names, amounts, Tam’s signature but footsteps echoed outside. His pulse spiked. Chidi’s voice, sharp and familiar, barked orders to a guard. “Check the back. Someone’s here.” Dikume stuffed the ledger under his shirt, his breath shallow, and slipped toward a side window. The guard’s flashlight swept the room, missing him by inches as he climbed out, heart hammering.

Outside, Tari pulled him into an alley, but Chidi’s voice followed, closer now. “Dikume!” he shouted, his silhouette looming with two others. “You think you can play hero?” Tari grabbed Dikume’s arm, dragging him through the maze of Diobu, their footsteps pounding against the dirt. A gunshot cracked the night warning or worse, Dikume didn’t know. They ducked behind a rusted stall, breath ragged, the ledger heavy against his chest. Tari’s eyes were wild but focused. “We’ve got it,” he whispered. “Now we run.”

They reached a safe spot near the riverfront, the polluted water glinting under the moon. Dikume’s hands trembled as he opened the ledger, names and figures blurring through his fear. Preye’s name was there, her debt a chain to Okoro. His heart sank Nimi’s trust, her warmth, could break if she learned he’d kept this from her. The resistance could use the ledger to expose Okoro, maybe save the land, but at what cost? Afie’s cough, Rhema’s sketches, Nimi’s song they were his world, and this choice could shatter it.