A NIGHT LIKE OTHER NIGHTS

Chapter 9: When the Road closed

Harry swung the car into a sharp bend at full speed, the tires screeching as the vehicle burst into the bush. Jacy screamed and bent low, her heart pounding. For a moment, she thought her life had ended. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she lay trembling, but her head sprang up again when the car jolted forward, still moving furiously.

Harry glanced in the mirror he had hoped they’d lost the chase, but the car was still behind them. Visible. Relentless. Though a little far off, it was gaining. He burst out of the bush, rejoined the main road, and pressed harder on the accelerator.

Near Agba route which is about three miles ahead, cars began flying past them like gusts of wind. Jacy screamed at every passing vehicle, the air dragging through the windows as if the world itself were rushing backward. Even the bushes outside seemed to be sprinting alongside them.

Then bang! A gunshot cracked the air. Jacy’s head snapped back, but the road was empty. No car in sight. The sound was distant, yet her heart skipped violently. Harry’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, eyes fixed on the road, speeding as though it was his only chance at survival.

Ahead, they spotted an old brown Camry blocking the entrance to Agba route. The driver, a short, heavily built man in a matching senator outfit, with a potbelly that strained against his shirt, wheeled his car suspiciously and stopped across the road. Harry braked hard.

“Hey man, listen up,” the stranger called out. “They’ve blocked Agba route. Find another way if you want to live.”

Harry glared at him, then at Jacy. She tapped his arm urgently. “Wind down!”

He lowered the glass a little, and Jacy leaned out, shouting, “Someone is after us!”

At once, the man abandoned his car and dashed into the bush without another word. Harry and Jacy stared, baffled.

“Harry, Maybe we should...stop, please” Jacy began.

“No,” he cut her off. “That’s suicide.” He slammed the accelerator again, the car leaping forward.

The road turned rough. Harry was forced to lower the speed, the car jolting with every bump. Jacy dared a glance into the mirror. Her breath caught. The car was still behind them, racing at full speed, undeterred by the rough path. It was closing in. She screamed and cried, pounding her fists on her knees.

Harry’s jaw tightened. He yanked the wheel and veered onto a smaller road to the right. Their pursuer shot past, then braked hard, reversed, and swung after them again.

The chase was merciless. At a three-way junction, a massive lorry thundered down from the left. Harry’s eyes flicked once to the oncoming beast. He spun the wheel like a Formula One driver car whipping around. The rear bumper clipped the lorry with a loud crash. Jacy thought they were finished, but their car shot out to the other side, miraculously still alive.

Behind them, the pursuing car wasn’t so lucky. It collided headlong into the lorry with a sickening crash. Jacy’s heart leapt relief flooding her chest. “They’re gone! Harry, they’re gone!”

Harry didn’t answer. He just pressed harder, speeding onto a tiled road that promised safer ground. The lorry and wreckage disappeared from view as Jacy peeped back, tears of relief staining her cheeks.

They were only a few meters from Agba route now. The road was calmer, dotted with passersby and the occasional car. Jacy’s voice broke the silence, soft at first, then swelling like a balm:

“Great is thy faithfulness, great is thy faithfulness,

Morning by morning, new mercies I see,all I have needed thy hands has provided, great is thy faithfulness Lord unto me”

Her voice was angelic, like a choir’s soprano pure, trembling, piercing the heart. Perhaps even like Celine Dion. Harry loved it as he waves his head enjoying the melody. The song gripped him; he wanted to stop the car, to just listen, but he couldn’t.

Jacy sang on, tears streaming, until her own voice choked with emotion. She remembered her school days, when her voice had been called a gift from God. Back in Junior Secondary School 3, she had been made assistant chaplain prefect, chosen because her voice “brought down the spirit.”

Once, when a girl named Oyster was poisoned and lay like a corpse, she had sung until the prayer warriors cried, until Oyster revived. People had said she was chosen by God. But men’s cruelty their lust, their exploitation had long since dimmed her faith. And yet, here in this moment, the song returned, like salvation.

Harry’s eyes stayed locked on the road. Up ahead, a group of policemen had stopped a vehicle, harassing the driver for levy. But as Harry drew closer, Jacy’s heart lurched. Something was wrong.

One of the so called officers shot a man point blank in his car. Jacy’s scream ripped through the air.

“Harry, turn! Turn!” she shouted, clutching his arm.

Her eyes had caught the truth: these were no real policemen. Only one wore uniform, and the rest carried crude AK-47s without any police mark. Around them, people were tied to trees, others forced to kneel on the roadside.

Harry’s instincts kicked in. He twisted the wheel, turning the car sharply away. Immediately, the armed men noticed and opened fire. Bullets whistled past. One shot slammed the ground near the tire, but missed. Harry didn’t flinch, didn’t slow he roared the car forward.

Jacy, terrified beyond reason, slumped low in her seat, pretending to be dead. She screamed until her throat burned, then fell silent, trembling face down.

Suddenly silence. The car stopped. The engine cut. No hum, no roar.

Her heart pounded. She dared to raise her head slowly, breath ragged.

Harry sat stiffly, hands still on the steering wheel, staring ahead like a man frozen in hopelessness.

Jacy turned her gaze forward and froze. Tears filled her eyes as her body trembled.

The car that had been chasing them… was back. Right in front of them. Blockading the road.

The doors creaked open. Is there any hope left?