Die and Turn

The death of Martin Obi was the talk of the town, and it trended beyond his funeral day. Few days later, after the funeral, there were rumors that he had dug his way out from his grave as a new being – an alien being.

Top military men led by Lieutenant Abba surveyed the scene. They were accompanied by the German scientist Dr. Henshaw.

"He was shot in the head," Lieutenant Abba said. "Folks say they saw a strange creature emerge from his grave and headed into town. It looked like a monster, and so they ran away."

Dr. Henshaw was busy searching for samples in which DNA can be extracted from.

"You said he was shot?" Dr. Henshaw asked.

"Yeah he was shot in the head," replied the Lieutenant.

"Tell me more about the shooter." Henshaw demanded.

"The shooter was the studio manager. They said he had gone for a cancer test and appeared saw that he was positive. So he was mad. Apparently, no one knew he had a gun. First, he shot the weirdo, then he opened fire on the security men, but as the men retaliated, he was shot dead."

"Can you take me to his grave?" Dr. Henshaw asked.

"Sure," replied the lieutenant, and he ordered his men to get back into the trucks.

When they arrived at the shooter's grave, they saw an empty grave with an empty casket.

"This is worse than I thought!" Dr. Henshaw grieved, and his eyes dilated with fear and suspicion.

"Is everything okay, doc?" The lieutenant asked.

"The seeds Martin was talking about; it multiply so quickly when the host is dead and decaying. That means we are slowly being invaded by these aliens. This is war."

The lieutenant cocked his gun in readiness for whatever alarm the doctor had raised. He ordered his men to keep a close watch for strange movements. Dr. Henshaw further clarified himself about what he said.

"This war is not guns and bullets. It is a biological war. A battle within us all. We battle against these alien seeds – multiplying and taking over our biological makeup. Our immune systems are the Arnold Schwarzenegger of this critical war. Are they going to win? So I think the major reason why it takes time for us to turn fully when we are alive is because of our immune system. It's not giving up on the fight so easily. But after a person dies, the alien seed have full control. Growing and taking over the person's biological makeup. This is their strategy."

"Bloody fish heads. They've waited for ages to come up with this wack strategy!"

Dr. Henshaw stooped to collect a gel-like substance from the ground.

"Hopefully, with this, we can find out more about their biological makeup and use that knowledge as an advantage."

The days went by, and the law finally caught up with professor Nwafor. He was held in police custody in Abuja for further interrogation. The place was well guarded by police officers and watch dogs. The officers was instructed not to convey information about his cancer treatment center to him.

The center, however, was taken over by the center for disease control. And while he remained in police custody, the CDC tried to use his template to create more cancer drugs. All to no avail because the professor refused to give answers on how the medicines were made – even after several types of torture he was exposed to.

As long as they remained ignorant, professor Nwafor was partially happy in detention. All he had to do was to spend his time reading newspapers while he waited for the humans to end. Those newspapers were carefully selected by the officers in order to steer some information away from him. But this did not frustrate the officers as much as his blatant rejection of food. They've been instructed to keep him alive, but how he was able to that without food or sleep was baffling to the police.

However, folks have started transforming, and this was without the help of their death or decay. One could see shops, churches, football games, radio and television stations shutting down because they were running out of workers.

The only surviving TV station in the country at that time was the NTV. They embarked on a deceptive mission to get words out of professor Nwafor's mouth by creating a new documentary dedicated to the professor. So they interviewed him from his detention. and this quickly became a global broadcast.

Professor Nwafor sat on a chair with his hands resting on a table. At the other side of the table was a journalist, a lady on a pink suit. Then the police officers stationed on each corner of the room. The professor hardly took his eyes off the stack of newspapers that littered in front of him on the table. He kept reading the pages one after the other like a lazy nerd. He then became bored at some point, and he yawned in front of the cameras. Then he adjusted his collar and started talking.

"You want to know what I think? Well, I think humans are fucked. Those cancer drugs? Those are bullshit – the drugs won't cure your disease; it will only keep you human, and this is just for two weeks, or maybe more if you are lucky. So, it's either you take the drugs and live a healthy life for at least a few days or weeks, or you choose not to take the drugs and die with your cancer. Either way, we win, and you lose. Anyway, your death is no big deal to me, or to my alien friends. In fact, it is indeed a win for us if all humans die to complete this remarkable evolution. Or do you think I don't know how you're using my work to do your useless experiments again. You are trying so hard to recreate my legacy. You will all fail. My alien friends had this all perfectly planned even before your fathers were born. Yes, I was in their spaceship for two days, making good negotiations, and that was when I knew that this mission was way older than your ancestors. You see, I could have abandoned everything there at the explosion in Bukumbusa island. I could have counted it as all as loss and moved on, but then an invitation came from space; assuring me of a way to make success and become famous. They made me famous; they believed in me. They showed me how my past research have been all successful, but you humans don't appreciate it. How can I reject their offer; they want the same things as I do – to become the face of planet Earth and famous. To create a legacy worthy of remembrance by generations to come."

"Who's going to remember you if you wipe away all humans from the surface of the Earth?" The journalist asked.

"Am not talking about a future for you humans, I'm talking about leaving a legacy for my alien friends because they are the future. You see, when I asked the aliens if they can make me popular, they said 'yes'. So, they gave me a gift. The gift is a 'thank you' gift for being the man who helped to free their babies from the protein coat that covered them. Quite humbling I must say; to see these aliens grateful for my help. Something I never saw from you humans. It was indeed a sight for sore eyes. Everything the aliens do is always perfect. The gift they offered to me was an answer to a disease that have ravaged humanity for years. It was indeed the key to become famous, and I grabbed it with my two bare hands."

The professor attempted to stand from his chair, but the officers forced him to sit.

"What else do you want from me you morons?" He yelled. "I have done exactly what you asked me to do. I have told you everything. The battle for the survival of humanity is lost forever."

"One more question professor Nwafor," the journalist said. "How was the drugs made?"

Professor Nwafor cleared his throat, and then he laughed because of the journalist.

"That expression on your face, I know what it means," he said. "It means eagerness to get something from someone. You want to get important information from me about a question that's been asked a thousand times by your soldiers, and even by your president. I always gave them the same answer, 'me'. Yet, they seemed not to understand."

His eyes glanced sheepishly one after the other at the different cameras. "Those drugs that you swallowed, they weren't made from your feeble elements. They were made from my own alien babies." He smiled, and he glared at the journalist, who felt uneasy on her cushion chair.

"Are you alright there young lady?" He asked.

"I am fine professor, please continue," she replied, and she was trying so hard to act professional.

"You see, when we acquired the alien seeds by electromagnetic radiation, each seed could trigger a genetic mutation which made cells to grow faster than normal. So, we all had cancer, and the cancer was to kill us all. But when the seed gets in contact with another seed which is older, the younger seed dies. So, I injected you with my alien babies, which is a much older seed – that was the gift I was telling you about, and then, the older seed will need perhaps days or weeks to properly integrate itself. At that point, the abnormal cell growth will stop because the younger seed had already encountered the older seed, and therefore it died. But after the integration period, my old seed will trigger the abnormal cells' growth once again, and this time it will be ten times faster than that of the younger seed. The point is, my offspring taking over your genetic makeup is what healed your cancer. So, you need to subsequently inject yourselves every two weeks with older seeds to remain alive and human. Okay, can I go to my room now?"

He was quickly handcuffed by a police officer, and he was held tightly. Then he was dragged to his detention shell, and he was locked and guarded.

What professor Nwafor said sent panic around the world. Everyone began to make plans on how to survive.

Dr. Mustafa was at the airport. He was setting out to book a flight and fly into Europe. Many people also had their hopes hung around moving to Europe. They were optimistic about their chances of survival in Europe more than anywhere else. Dr. Mustafa had to wait on a queue for hours before he finally met one of the cashiers. A mammoth crowd had inflicted so much work on the cashiers behind the counter.

"Munich, Germany," he said.

"I am sorry Sir, but all flights heading to Germany is now on hold by the German embassy. In fact, only flights to African countries are working presently Sir."

Her reply sparked a sharp provocation from Dr. Mustafa.

"Are you telling me that all these people are travelling to African countries only?" He asked.

"Egypt, Tunisia, North Africa," she replied. "They can get there, and perhaps go through the Atlantic Ocean into Europe."

"Travelling by boat to Italy? Is that not illegal?"

"There are no more illegal migration," the cashier replied. "Just get to your destination; no one cares."

Dr. Mustafa left the airport with a sad countenance. He had nightmares in the past about living in Africa in the midst of an ugly apocalypse. His career was also in utter shambles. Nobody was going to school any longer. Some of his colleagues had turned into aliens already, and he was among the ones that are still human.

The alien interbreed had escalated quickly within days, and the government was clueless on what to do next. Dr. Mustafa was not only sad about the alien madness, he was also depressed about the prospect of not seeing his family again. His two wives and children; they were all in Germany, and they are probably receiving the best treatment from the best doctors with proper healthcare facilities. He felt left behind, but he can't do anything to change his situation. The only option for him was to hang himself on a noose, or perhaps think about his next moves.

He stood up from the ledge where he was seated, and he walked laboriously to his car. As the cat engine started, the public addressing system announced that flights into North African countries were temporary suspended due to overcrowding. Dr. Mustafa hissed and drove his car off from the airport and into the road.

He drove long miles away from the city of Enugu, and he was nearing a city called Aba. Then he stopped at a desolate fuel station to fill up his tank. For the first time in Dr. Mustafa's life, the fuel pump was free without price tag. He filled up his tank and drove back into the road. There were cars, trucks, and bikes going to and fro on the same express lane. A man, however, was walking aside the road all alone. He had a big bag hung upon his shoulders. Dr. Mustafa stopped, and he offered him a ride. The man refused, but after many persuasions, he agreed to continue his journey with the Dr. Mustafa.

"So, what's the name," Dr. Mustafa asked.

"Just call me Obi," he replied. "I am the father of the popular Martin Obi. I am sure you must have heard about him?"

"Yes I have heard. Poor lad. I feel sorry for your lost,"

The two continued their conversation, and they found out that they were heading to the same destination.

"What's pushing you to Port Harcourt?" Dr. Mustafa asked.

"A chance to start over in a big city," Obi replied.

"How about your family? Your wife and children?" Dr. Mustafa asked.

Obi took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and he lighted a stick.

"They are all dead." he said. "Martin was my only child, and when he died, his mother became suicidal. They are both dead anyway, and I'm starting over."

"I admire your courage Mr. Obi."

They journeyed through bad roads, and then they arrived in the city of Aba - halfway to their destination. Massive influx of expensive vehicles trooped in on the same road and caused a heavy jam. About a thousand vehicles jammed on the road like a herd of Buffaloes. The security agencies were mobilized to help get the vehicles out of the traffic jam. But things went out of hands when the security officers realized that most of the drivers were aliens. The number of influx was increasing, and it was almost impossible for them to help get the vehicles moving. So, they opened fire sporadically at the moving vehicles, yet the cars kept pushing. Dr. Mustafa had to abandon his car to avoid being hit by the flying bullets. However, Obi was not interested in leaving the car.

"Do you want to die here?" Dr. Mustafa yelled. "You better get your ass down here now."

"Just go. Leave me here to die because this is my destiny. I'll be just like my Martin."

"You'll become a coward if you die here," Dr. Mustafa replied. "I must tell you, Martin won't be proud of a cowardly father. Come on now Obi! Open the damn door and run! Don't be a coward!"

As he was still speaking, rockets flew from the sky. Dr. Mustafa saw the missiles raining down, and he ran for safety as quickly as possible. The rockets landed on the vehicles with a powerful explosion. It burnt the vehicles with both humans and aliens inside. That was one of the series of offense that the federal government launched against the aliens. Many aliens in those vehicles burnt with their hands still on the steering wheel – a sign of extreme loyalty to whatever charms the cars had on them. Dr. Mustafa watched from a far under his cover. Some aliens had their scales burnt to ashes, others blasted into pieces and their scaly bodies littered all over the ground. Dr. Mustafa kept watching; he hoped for Obi to emerge from the fire, but he never did.

After the fire went down, the wind tossed the ashes aimlessly. Dr. Mustafa walked alone into the town. He searched for a place to spend the night until the morning. Luckily for him, a local inn wasn't far away from him, so he paid and took two prostitutes with him into his bedroom. All through the windy night, he was unable to sleep. The two girls laid drunk beside him, but his thoughts were all about his wives and children. He remembered how he used to read bedtime stories to his children; how they used to sleep around him like little cubs. He smiled. Then his thoughts wandered, and he remembered Ebere and the child he abandoned under her care. He realized how foolish he was to have lost everything. He took a pen and a paper to write a letter. The recipient of the letter was Ebere Stella Agu. The subject of the letter was "I am sorry", and written on the top of the envelope. In the morning, he went to one of the few surviving post offices, and there he paid for the letter to be delivered to an address.