Short Story: Three

By Eniola Olatunji

May 28, 1990

He was shocked. 36/100! That meant a carryover! Yes, the lecturer failed him because that was not his real score. Two months prior, an incident unfolded during his class. The lecturer cited a wrong statistic. Jide, unaware of any harm, respectfully corrected him. The lecturer, however, took offense. Eventually, Jide went to apologize to the lecturer and the lecturer forgave him. Or so he thought.

Gazing at the dismal score, Jide felt his sweat profusely. His future hinged on becoming the top graduating student. The reward was a direct job offer at St. Peterson Hospital, considered Nigeria's finest. Unlike other institutions that offered meager salaries and poor working conditions, St. Peterson stood apart. Upon employment, a doctor received official housing and half a million Naira as a salary. Yet, securing a job there was a formidable challenge. One of their employment procedures was picking the best graduating medical student across all public universities in Nigeria. To attain this job, Jide had relentlessly pursued the BGS prize with unwavering determination. And now, when he was just a semester away from his dream, Prof. Atunbotan was about to ruin him.
Inconceivable! He couldn't let it stand. A colleague of his, Bash, had faced a similar situation and managed to have his grades corrected. Jide sought out Bash for advice.

"You have to intimidate him. The threat of harm will force him to yield," advised Bash. Jide was taken aback. So all he needed to do was threaten the lecturer. It was something within his capability. Despite his brilliance, Jide wasn't a saint. He had always used his imposing physique to dominate others, a trait that persisted into adulthood.

"Thank you," Jide replied and left.

July 15, 1990

JIDE GAINED ENTRY into the lecturer’s residence with ease. His mission: find the lecturer.
"What are you doing in my house?" a stern voice demanded from behind. Jide turned, dagger in hand, intending to intimidate the man. However, threatening a sixty-year-old with a heart condition proved disastrous. The sight of the dagger caused the lecturer to collapse.
"What have you done?!"
Jide turned once more, only to face a woman with a child who bore a striking resemblance to the lecturer. The woman was already reaching for her phone to call the police.
Believe it or not, Jide eliminated a family that night.

Seven Months Later
The police investigation yielded no culprit, leading to the case's closure. Jide was plagued by remorse for three months. However, when his final year results were released and he discovered that despite the "C," he was still the best graduating student, his joy overshadowed his guilt. He resumed life as if nothing had happened. Then one day he went to the market. A man clad in a white overall, ringing a bell approached him. 
“Arakunrin (young man)”, the man said, pointing at Jide.
“Three people you took. Three will also be taken from you.”

PRESENT DAY
"Dr. Professor Olajide Babalola" was prominently displayed on a door at St. Peterson's Hospital. Inside his office, every possible award for a gynecologist adorned the walls.
Yet, amidst these accolades, a man wept. Dr. Jide himself. Despite twenty-five years of marriage, his home remained childless. Neither he nor his wife had any medical issues. Privately, he had engaged in extramarital affairs to test if other women could conceive by him, but to no avail. It was a bitter irony—a gynecologist facing infertility.
A knock on his door interrupted his sorrow. The person entered—a dispatch rider delivering a package from his wife. Upon opening it, Dr. Jide discovered a pregnancy scan revealing twin babies in the womb. Overwhelmed, he cried tears of joy. That day, he was the happiest man alive.

SINCE HIS WIFE'S PREGNANCY, Dr Jide had taken a break from work and dedicated his time to taking excellent care of her. On this particular day, he visited the market. While buying vegetables, someone uttered, "Three people you took. Three will also be taken from you." Jide swiftly turned to identify the speaker, his anxiety palpable. Although it was the dry harmattan season, Dr Jide was drenched in sweat.
He wasn't foolish. Over thirty years ago, he had taken three lives. Now, the three most precious lives to him were his wife and unborn twins. Karma had returned.

EVERY REPUTABLE prophet in the country was “employed” to pray for his wife. He had clerics from across different religions interceding for her safe delivery. He sent his wife abroad, as if to stay far away from evil. He believed that since the incident had occurred in Nigeria, no evil could befall her if she was in America.  The day arrived for his wife's delivery. Within an hour, she gave birth. Dr. Jide couldn't contain his joy. 
His painstaking efforts had borne fruit. Perhaps he had been forgiven by divine forces. Maybe the vengeful spirit couldn’t reach his wife abroad. Maybe. Sadly, his assumptions were tragically mistaken.

AN ACCIDENT had occurred earlier in the day. A family was involved in an accident where the husband called 911 but they arrived late. The entire family died and only the man survived. Feeling betrayed, he took a gun and entered the nearest hospital. Straight to the maternity ward he went, opening fire on new mothers and their infants. Dr  Jide’s wife and twins were amongst the casualties. 

Where the gods could not strike via poor medical care, they had struck with gun violence. Either way, they had struck. 30 years later, their patched throats had finally been satisfied. This did not mean the prayers offered weren’t answered. Remember, the prayers were for safe delivery. Nothing was said about post-delivery.