This piece is purely fictional and in its entirety the writers penned imagination. This work should not be reproduced in any form without the author's authorization.

C. 2017
FilzdEmp.

Prologue.

The man stirred and the nurse's attention was drawn to him. She quickly dashed towards the direction of his bed, almost running. The stirr was very significant as it was the first kind of movement he had made since the day he had arrived on a stretcher. Five days of intensive medical attention had seem furtile until now. Though she didn't know why, she was glad.

With the aptness of a trained medical personnel, she checked out the readings of the beeping machines whose wires were plugged to the man lying on the bed. She scribbled something down on her notepad with an obvious look of satisfaction before returning her attention to the man. He was trying with great effort to straighten up.

" It's fine, Sire. Just try and relax "

The nurse made sure she had attached every softness to her voice. In her few years in this line of work, she had come to understand that recuperating comatosed patients were easily spooked. She placed her palm carefully across his chest, guiding him back to his position. The man did not restrain, he slowly pushed his head back against the pillow and looked into the nurse's face.

A fair, round face with angelic smile dancing around her cheeks. That was as far his sight could see. The white light room was not helping his vision, reflexively, he closed his eyes. Then, he stiffened.

Who was the round-faced girl ? Where was he ? What was he doing lying plugged in a ...... he struggled for the right word until he found it... Hospital ? It must be a sort of hospital. Suddenly, he felt a wave of fear spread over him. Something was not right, he could feel it. He tried furtively to remember who the girl was but struggled with his memory.

" Who are you ? " He asked, almost in a whisper.

" I am your nurse, nurse Isabel. " She replied, her tone softer.

The man had hardly paid attention to her reply. It had just occurred to him that he couldn't remember anything, no memory of anything or anybody. The greatest of all of fears was the frightening fact that he could not remember who he was. He wanted answers, quick and clear answers to what was happening to him but the numbing pain at his heavily bandaged forehead told him this was hardly the time.

He sensed a movement somewhere at the left corner of the room and slowly moved his head in that direction to look. The pains returned back, this time a thousand fold stronger. He whimped in agony before catching a glimpse of the nurse holding a telephone receiver against her ear.

Isabel redialled the number for the umpteenth time, it would ring and no one answered. She was beginning to have a premonition that something had gone wrong, this was unusual. There had never been a time her employer had not pick at just one dial. Suddenly, the explicit words of her employer came to head.

" MAKE SURE HE LIVES AT ALL COST, ISABEL ! "

Chapter 1

University Of Niberia, Enugu. Eastern Niberia.

Prof Dike leafed through the pages of the morning paper, a habit he had cultivated over the past decade. His reading glasses hung loosely at the bridge of his nose as he peered with concentration through it at the open page. He was a professor of political science at the renowned University of Niberia, a topflight university in the country. Known for his doggedness and unreserved radicality, Prof Dike Mbanefu was one of the few known voices that spoke vehemently against the many anomalies in the country, an attribute that has earned him enemies among the political circus in the country.

He was a tall, slightly-built man whose grey beards greatly contradicted his fourty-five years age. It was rumoured that Prof Dike had at one time turned down a national recognition, citing that the government had better normalise the affairs of the state than embarking in such nonprofitable venture of national recognition of individuals. His nonpartisan view could be seen as he had attacked the present government harder than he had done to her predecessor, a feat that earned him followership among the masses.

He flipped to the next page and suddenly flinched to attention. Something had caught his attention. The words were in bold letters : TENSION HIGH AS NNAMANI OBI GOES MISSING !
The news was not too detailed. Someone, referred to as a 'reliable source' had tipped the editor off to the development. The source had challenged the federal government to produce a verifiable proof if they said otherwise. The remaining lines stressed what this development could mean to the country. It could elevate the already tensed situation in the country to a new level.

The Prof closed the paper and ran his fingers through his greying hair in deep thought. That news certainly was not a good one. The aftermath reaction could be grave if it turns out to be true. He let out a sigh as his face folded into a frown.

What on earth was going on in this country ? He had overtly criticised the detaintion of this man by the government as illegal and had even come forward on the national tele to accuse the federal government of not following the democratic rule of law. What could this news mean ? Have they made him 'disappear' for good or...... He didn't know what to think.

Three silent minutes passed by before he convinced himself on what to do. He fumbled for his phone in his pocket, unlocked it and logged in to his twitter handle. Quickly he typed this words :
TRUE NIMO BORN MARCH TO THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE TOMORROW MORNING !
#WHEREISNNAMANI

Few hours later, NIMO indegenes round the country were already in the streets, carrying placades and shouting on top of their voices. Vehicular movement became impossible with the mammoth of people hitting the road. Tomorrow was a long wait.

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