Chapter 71：Sickness or accident?

I heard him take a deep breath. "To be honest bro, before today, I knew nothing of it. The closest I have had of a spirit husband and wife was when I visited my late dad in the mortuary".

"I'm sorry" I consoled him, "Sickness or accident?"

"Accident" he responded coldly.

"Sorry. I know what it means to lose a father"

"I guess yours is gone too?"

"Yeah, that's why I moved to Lagos"

"Sickness or accident?" he returned my question.

My heart sank, I broke down crying and screaming as uncontrollable tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Alex!" daddy called out almost in a painful whisper and began coughing afterwards.

"Sir!" I responded in tears.

"Come sit beside me and stop crying" He paused trying to catch his breath.

I quickly wiped the dripping tears off my cheeks in anticipation of what he would say. He stretched out his right hand from underneath the bed sheet calling out on me. I went closer and took his hands, it was warm and sweaty. A repelling smell of rotten human flesh filled my nostrils. I could not cover my nose for that will hurt him, so I inhaled the increasing smell, my stomach twisted and my heart bled.

His eyes were cold when he said his last words "A-l-e-x, care…" Then suddenly his grip tightened and his breathing rate increased. He began fidgeting like someone with epilepsy and turned sideways. White substances began pumping out from his mouth. The fidgeting intensified as the substances turned red. I sat beside him unable to do anything other to call on the name of the Lord and begged him to bring my back. But only moments after his pupil reappeared before it finally shut close and he became motionless.

"A brief one" I murmured shaking off the memory of that day.

"Sorry. Death is just a transition to a better place."

"You wanted to tell about your visit to a mortuary" I returned us to the main topic, talking about the death of my father only stirs up memories I buried in a really deep place. It is better to hear someone's own story for a change, and see the loss of a father through his eyes.

"Before I exit the car and made my way to join them at the bible door of the dead room. I took my grief and bottled it up so tight none could escape" Silas began with his voice laced with sorrow.

"Can you really hold back if daddy was lying dead inside?" I asked myself approaching the door where Amuwa – the mortuary attendant knocking. Which was really strange and it got me puzzled.

"Why knock on the door? They have died, they can't hear you" I thought within. After the third knock, Amuwa turned behind to face us and said

"We have to knock first, informing them of our presence in order not to disturb anything going on in there. It seemed "Why?" was written on our long faces. So he continued "Some of them can be having an argument, some fighting and others making love."

I studied his face for a few seconds and to my greatest surprise, I found no evidence of humour. He was not joking and that put the fear of God in me. Facing the door, he shouted in Igbo "We are coming inside oh!" then pushed the door open and slowly, taking our time, we followed.

The strong smell of ammonia mixed with the odour of flesh and blood welcomed us. The peppery sensation filled our nose and affected our eyes. The feel of death was present in the atmosphere. Inside was as sizzling as a car left under the sun for hours.

Bodies were arranged on the bare floor, side by side on a row; all naked as God created them both men and women. Some were dried and pale looking, those of them have been there for over a year. The recently deceased ones were still fresh looking but now dark and swollen.

Close to the door, Amuwa tapped one of the male bodies and said "What are you doing here? This is not where I left you yesterday?"

Morgan my younger brother stared at me and I returned the stare. Quickly, we pulled away from the body and got close to each other than holding hands. Slowly we followed Amuwa, walking in-between corpse and sometimes even crossing over them. I and Morgan were needed to identify the body of my father so he can be prep for buried, if not I had seen, heard and taken enough. I wanted to run away from the horror and death outside for fresh air.

Amuwa got to another body; it was an advance woman and said after tapping her twice "So you have been in a fight with that lady again?" To show us the lady, he gestured to the opposite direction with his head and nose, and then continued "That lady on the second row, just after that man with pot belle"

"That one?" Morgan asked pointing his index finger at the woman.

Quickly, Amuwa knocked down his hand and rebuked him saying "You don't point in here! They hate it." We all responded by looking away.

When everyone had turned their gaze, mine was still fixed on the lady who supposedly was resting from a severe fight. Her hair was scattered and her body filled with finger marks; all evidence of someone who truly just got out from a struggle. I was still staring when suddenly she opened her eyes and gave me an evil stare.

"Jesus!" I exclaimed and jumped in fright as instantly, my skin was engulfed in horripilation.

"Be careful, watch your steps" Amuwa warned, thinking I stepped on a body.

I couldn't bring myself to tell them what I witnessed for they will think me crazy or depressed.