Efe felt his hold on Edegbe's arm loose and he turned back but was bumped by people unsure of where they were running to. Then he heard the gunshot, and the scream of scared people. He fought the pushing crowd back to find his friend. When he saw him, he was sprawled on the ground, unmoving. Efe felt his heart drop to his stomach, and he hauled the unconscious Edegbe over his shoulder pushing through the crowd and knocking down the people who got in his way. He could still hear more gunshots and smell the fresh smell of blood that seeped from Edegbe and soaked his clothes. He placed a hand on the spot, applying enough pressure as he ran to the car. Why had Edegbe flung his hand away? Did he not have the sense to know when there was danger?
"You had better not died." He got to the car the same time Victor did and the younger man who had not stopped to catch his breath finally did but it was short lived. "Jesus, is he alright?!"
"Get in the car and drive like your life depends on it." How it had gone from the fun to Edegbe unconscious over his shoulder, he did not know, and as he navigated through Google maps in search for the nearest hospital, his hands were shaking beyond his control. He last time he did this, it had been during their journey from Benin, when the woman's child was convulsing. Edegbe had given him the orders, how he was at the receiving end. "Stupid," he cursed, willing his hands to stop shaking. "Foolish." One of his hands still pressed against Edegbe's wound and the warm blood pumped out into his fingers, he panicked.
"Sah, nothing will happen to him, he—"
"Just focus on the road, please focus on the road."
Victor tried, he was still panting, high from the adrenaline and his palm were sweaty. He was scared, he didn't want to but he kept glancing at the rear view mirror. There was too much blood, what if Sah did not survive it? He slapped his face off such thought and increased the gear, driving swiftly to the hospital.
Some nurses quickly brought a stretcher when they saw them. "What happened?" One of them asked.
"We were at the fair, not far from here. People were fighting, everybody was running. Somebody opened fire, he was shot. And he's losing so much blood." He still pressed his hand on the spot, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Do you have a police report?"
Efe's patience was running out. "Somebody is dying and you're asking for a police statement. Where are the doctors here?"
"Sir, we need a police report to be sure he's not a criminal the police shot," the nurse explained.
"Did you not hear what I said?"
"This is a gun case, we can't treat him if we don't have the report."
"Are you stupid?" It was Victor who asked. "See…," he thought of what to say, then started to shout. "Doctors, doctors! Somebody help!"
"Sir, you can't do that here, we have patients who—"
"Doctors! Help! Anybody, somebody is dying." By the time he was done some men in white had arrived. He huffed a breath of relief before murmuring, "All these Hausa people sef."
"What is happening here?" One of them asked, looking displeased by the noise.
Efe immediately explained. "We were at a fair, two men started fighting, and people started running. Somebody opened fire and he was shot. Please, he's losing so much blood, save him, I'll get as many police reports as you want, I—"
"Sah, let me go to the police station and get the report." Victor quickly dashed out of the hospital.
"Prepare the OR," the doctor ordered and they began to push the stretcher. Efe joined them, exerting more pressure on the wound, until they got to the OR and he was prohibited from entering. He sat on the waiting seat and covered his face with his blood stained palm. One moment they we're running away, the next Edegbe was sprawled on the ground. Why had the people started running anyway? Couldn't a more sensible man separate the fight? Who even started the shooting? He slumped on his seat. The only thing he could do now was wait. And hope. Maybe pray.
Few minutes into the operation, one of the nurses rushed out. He jumped to his feet but she raced past him. A second followed her, but instead of going past him, she came to him. "What's your blood type?"
His didn't match with Edegbe, he'd known since they were friends. Fear gripped him. They needed blood and Victor wasn't even around to know if his was compatible. Another nurse rushed out and then Efe knew the situation was dire, he prayed. He was restless, his feet was vibrating beyond his control and he was jerky. He jerked when the nurse told him to calm down, jerked when the first nurse rushed back in with blood, he couldn't calm down even when he wanted to. And because of that, when Victor came back, an hour later, with two police men, he was really angry with the disturbance, especially that they wanted to ask him some questions. One carried a baton and a gun hanging from his hips while the other had a notepad. They introduced themselves, even showed him their IDs but he didn't get their names.
"You have to come with us to the station for questioning," the one with the notepad said, his accent making his words forceful.
"You're delusional if you think I'm going to leave this place," Efe said, borrowing Edegbe style of language. "Did you not ask him when he came to the station?" He pointed to Victor.
"You're the one with blood, you have a better explanation about what happened."
He paused his lips into silence, stubborn.
"See, we're sorry about your friend and it's a good thing you sent somebody to the station. We went to the site as soon as we were told about the gunshot and accessed the situation. Two people died, three, your friend included, were injured and are in the hospital receiving treatment. One child died. You were able to leave the vicinity in the midst of the rowdiness so we want to know how you were able to do so."
"What kind of a question is that? Was I supposed to stay there and die? When something like this happens, your body react naturally to it."
"There have to be an explanation."
Defeated, he sighed. "But I can't come with you to the station."
"Then we have to go outside."
"Is there a particular reason you can't do the questioning here?" He flared.
"This is a hospital, Mr?"
"Efe," he introduced with a disdainful stare.
Nodding, he continued. "This is a hospital, Mr Efe, some patients here might be tensed with our presence."
"Since when do people who have committed no crime become tense in the presence of police officers?"
The officer with the notepad had an angry scowl on his face, he was losing his patience. "See—"
Efe shoved him to the side as the door to Edegbe's operating room slid open.
"The bullet went easily since his shirt was very light and it touched his blood vessels," the doctor started to explain to Efe who had pushed himself to the front so that the doctor could see him first. "He lost a lot of blood, but we removed the bullet, the worse is over, we just have to wait until he regains consciousness."
Efe did not know he was holding his breath, until the doctor finished speaking.
"That means that Sha is alive?" Victor probed, wanting the literal words.
"He's alive. We did our best, now he just have to wake up." He nodded at them and had started to leave when his eyes zeroed on Efe's arm. "Let me see." He grabbed the arm and Efe winched in pain. The doctor stretched his hand for the nurses to place a surgical scissor in and he cut the side of Efe's suit. Victor gaped at the wound. "It looks like you were also shot. Luckily, the bullet did not enter. We have to disinfect it so it doesn't cause an infection."
"See?" Efe gave a pointy look to the officers. "I'm busy for any questioning."
"We'll come back later," one of them said. "And please, cooperate." But it was not a plea, it was an order. He gave a card to one of the nurses. "Call us if anything happens."
Anything that involved running away? Did they really think he would run away? He winched again, the pain more searing, how had he not realized he was shot when it stung so much? The nurse, the one who had insisted he brought a police report, led him to the side. "You should have changed your clothes," she said. "You'll scare the other patients.
"Have they not seen blood before?" He was irritated, irritated that a Muslim woman was telling him a hospital filled with Muslims would be scared of blood when it was so easy for them to resolve to fist exchange and machete carrying, and gun shooting. Efe decided she didn't like the woman, and she was the ugliest Hausa woman he'd ever seen.
"Sah, sorry." Victor was at his side. "Look at these police people acting serious. When I went to the station they were just treating me like mumu, telling me to go here and there. I repeated what happened over fifty times and they still come here asking for another explanation. Imagine?" He paused. "I'm really happy Sah is fine, I've been praying since I was at the police station, I—"
"Victor?" Efe called quietly, gnashing his teeth as the pain sliced through him with the wet swab the nurse was putting on him.
"Sah?"
"Shut up." It was a quiet order, a plea for a needed silence. He knew the man meant well, but what he needed now was not his well wish, it was silence.
"I'll go home and bring clothes for you and Sah. I'll buy food too. What do you want to eat?"
"I don't really have an appetite."
"You need something in your stomach to hold the medicine." The nurse said. She gave him a packet each of pain relief and antibiotics. "Don't allow water get into the wound for the time being."
"When is he going to wake up?"
"I don't know, the doctor removed the bullet, on our side, he's safe. Everything now depends on him."
While he waited for Victor to bring the clothes, he stood overlooking the diaphanous glass where Edegbe, having moved to another room, laid. He looked like any other day when he would be sleeping, except those other days did not have a scalp vein on his hand, blood dripping from the blood bag. It was his second pint since the operation.
…
"Did you hear what happened at the fair yesterday?" Alhaji knocked on the door.
Yasmin had just finished praying when the knock came and she opened the door for him to come in.
"You have a thing for tangerine flavour." He picked one of her air freshener. "I would never have known that tangerine is a thing in deodorants if it weren't for you."
"You we're talking about a fair," she reminded, uninterested in talking about her deodorants.
He smiled and dropped the air freshener on her drawer. "So this fair yesterday, people went of course and a fight broke out. You know how serious a small fight can turn into around here, so people started leaving to save their heads when suddenly, there was a gun fire. The people who started the fight were not the shooters, no body knows the shooter, but two people were killed, three injured and a child died in the stampede."
Yasmin shrugged. "People die everyday."
"But this is on Eid el fitr."
"People died on the day you were born."
"On the day we were born," he corrected.
"It's a good thing we didn't go to this fair."
"Aren't you sympathetic to those who died?"
"I have a lot on my mind to worry about people who die everyday."
He shook his head. "What made you like this?"
"Like this, like how? Do you know how many people die everyday, do you know how gruesome their death is? If you're sympathetic, then go to every family that loses a member and give them your pity."
"You're just so strange."
She rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't you be with your sweetheart?"
"Can't wait to see my back huh? I'm going now."
"What did her father say?" She asked when he started to leave.
"Nothing much."
"Did he push your marriage?"
"He came to see his daughter. I'm going now, my sweetheart is waiting." He hugged her, patting her back softly.
"You can only stay one hour," she said.
He pulled her from his embrace to look at her face. "What?"
"I can only allow you to visit me if you promise to stay one hour."
A smile slowly spread on his lips. "Thank you," he said solemnly. "Thank you."