CHAPTER 2;THE COMMANDANT'S EYE
911 Words
Aisha didn’t sleep.
How could she? At 2:17am her dead sister texted her. At 3am she found a brand new NYSC tag with her sister’s name on her doorstep.
2026 batch. Her sister died in 2024.
By 6am parade, Aisha’s eyes were red. Her roommate, Blessing, touched her shoulder.
“Girl, you look like ghost. What happened?”
“Nothing,” Aisha lied. But her hands shook holding her mug of pap.
The Camp Commandant walked past during parade. Lieutenant Colonel Danjuma. Tall. Early 40s. Face like stone.
His eyes stopped on Aisha for 2 seconds too long.
Then he looked away. Like she was nothing.
But Aisha remembered the photo Blessing showed her last night. Camp photo, 2022. Her sister was standing right beside this same Commandant. Smiling. Arm almost touching his.
Her sister never did NYSC. She died before graduation.
So why was she in a camp uniform?
After parade, Aisha made a decision. She couldn’t wait 3 days. She had to ask him.
The Commandant’s office was in the admin block. “No students allowed” was written on the door.
Aisha knocked anyway.
“Enter,” a deep voice said.
She pushed the door open. The office smelled like leather and old files. Lieutenant Colonel Danjuma sat behind a big desk, signing papers. He didn’t look up.
“Yes?”
“Sir... permission to speak, sir.”
Now he looked up. Those same eyes from parade. Cold. Assessing.
“You’re the corper from Lagos. Aisha Bello.” It wasn’t a question.
Aisha’s mouth went dry. “Yes sir. How did you—”
“I know all my corpers,” he said. But his pen stopped moving. “What do you want?”
Aisha pulled out her phone. Her thumb hovered over the w******p message. The one from her sister’s number.
“Sir, do you know Halima Bello?”
The pen snapped in his hand. Ink bled across the paper.
For 1 second, his mask cracked. Shock. Then guilt. Then anger.
“Who told you that name?” His voice was low. Dangerous.
“My sister, sir. She—”
“She’s dead,” he cut her off. He stood up. Tall. Too tall. “Drowned in 2024. Case closed. Don’t bring up names that don’t concern you, Corper Bello.”
Aisha took a step back. “But sir, she texted me last night. From her number. She said don’t trust anyone in this camp—”
The lights flickered. Once. Twice.
Lieutenant Colonel Danjuma was around the desk in 2 steps. He grabbed her phone from her hand.
“Give me that,” he said.
He scrolled. His face went pale when he saw the message. The same 7 words. The same number.
“This is impossible,” he whispered. Then louder: “This is impossible!”
He threw the phone on the desk. “You’re lying. Phones can be cloned. Numbers can be faked. Stop this nonsense before I send you to mami market for punishment.”
“But sir, the NYSC tag—”
“WHAT TAG?!” he shouted. The whole office went quiet.
Aisha pulled the brand new NYSC tag from her pocket. Halima Bello. 2026 Batch A.
The Commandant stared at it. His hands started shaking.
“No...” He sank back into his chair. “No, no, no. I buried her myself. I saw the body.”
Aisha’s blood ran cold. “You buried her? Sir, you were there?”
He didn’t answer. He just kept staring at the tag like it was a ghost.
Then his desk phone rang. Loud. Old. The sound made both of them jump.
He answered. Listened.
His face changed. From shock to fear.
He hung up. Slowly. Then looked at Aisha.
“You need to leave camp. Now,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “Pack your things. I’ll sign your relocation letter. Any camp you want. Except this one.”
“Sir, but my sister—”
“THREE DAYS!” he exploded. “She gave you three days, didn’t she? You don’t have three days, Aisha. You have tonight.”
The lights went out completely.
Darkness.
In the black, Aisha heard footsteps. Coming from the corner of the office. Heavy boots.
Not the Commandant’s. He was still behind the desk.
The footsteps stopped right in front of her.
A cold breath touched her ear. A whisper:
“Day 1.”
Then the lights came back on.
The office was empty.
Lieutenant Colonel Danjuma was gone. His chair was pushed back. The NYSC tag was gone from Aisha’s hand.
On the desk, written in fresh ink, were 4 words:
_“Trust no one. Run.”_
Aisha opened her palm. Empty. The NYSC tag was gone, just like it vanished from her hand in the Commandant’s office when the lights went out.
Aisha ran out of the office in fear and immediately ran to her room
But when she looked down at her bunk, the tag was back. Lying on her wrapper. Same tag. HALIMA BELLO. 2026A. Plastic still shiny, ink still fresh.
It wasn’t in her hand. It was back. Like it teleported.
Aisha picked it up with shaking fingers. Either the tag was following her... or there were more than one. And if there were more than one, who was printing them?
Then 2:17am came. Aisha was already sitting up, back against the wall, phone in both hands...
......
- Writer
