Chapter 69: One Man Down

Frank knew he had to find answers, somehow. He knew he had to get to the bottom of this. He didn't know how, but he knew that he must get to the root of why he could love Jenna only when he thought she was dying or dead. Was it because prior to his death, Jenna had been the one he had loved more than anyone in this world? Frank just could not understand it. He began, quite sorrowfully, to search the place in his heart where the rivers of love had gushed out forty minutes when he talked to Eva, and he found nothing. Nothing but a huge, gaping void. Why was it that those noble emotions came back to him when he thought Jenna had died? He remembered the sympathy he felt for the men near Silverton river just yesterday morning. He remembered how his heart burned with love and concern for Okoli, and how strangely he began to long for human company, seeking to talk to Judith and the other girls. Damn. Did it mean that it was only Jenna's death that could restore his humanity? But Jenna didn't die. Did it mean, then, that just the knowledge of Jenna's death, whether true or not, was enough to make his humanity come back to him? Why was that? What did all this mean?

Something occurred to him now. Jenna didn't die but he was lied to that Jenna was dead and he believed it. That belief alone, even though it was built on what wasn't true, was sufficient to make him a normal person again. It placed him in the glorious state where his superhuman powers were in tact but he could also feel all the noble, lofty things that the next human being could feel. He could love. He could be sympathetic. He could be kind. He could relate to mere mortals in a sane, intelligent way. Damn. Could he find a way to trick his mind now? Since the truth of Jenna's death wasn't important, but what he believed, could he trick his mind and make himself believe that Jenna was dead. But how would that be possible?

At that moment, Frank lost every interest in executing any more murders. He just wanted to vanish and appear in his mansion in Port Harcourt and think the enigma that was Jenna's life over. Surely, her life was linked to his. But how? Frank knew he had to find answers—and fast. So be began to will himself to vanish.

Just then…

The men—having ignored the banging on the door as they stood and watched Frank's body, enjoying their conquest—became incredibly weary now. They noticed that Frank's wounds had started healing again.

"Open the door now!" a policeman bellowed from outside.

But the thugs did not budge. Intoxicated by the victory they thought they had now, they were unwilling to let anyone spoil this moment or share the glory with them.

"He has started healing," one of the thugs said.

"No surprise," another one said.

"But he's not breathing."

"I think he's dead."

"Dead? Then why are his wounds healing?"

"Guys, are you all crazy? Have you forgotten that this man is a spirit?"

"You lie! He's not a spirit. He has flesh and blood like the rest of us. He's human! Just someone with strong juju."

The voice kept ringing from outside, and the loud banging continued. "My voice is loud and clear enough. Open this door I'll break it down and shoot all of you in there!"

The thugs looked to one another.

"Should we open the door?" one of them asked.

"Open? Are you crazy? This is our moment!"

"I'm going to open the door now. If we don't do that and the police break in, we're done for."

"Please, comrades," another person said. He had been silent throughout the conversation, fixing a cold, angry stare at Frank's body. "Let me give him one last stab. I didn't come from a lineage of lions for nothing. The way his wounds are healing annoys me profoundly.

"On with it, then. Be fast about it."

There's something about foolishness. It usually starts with being self-assured when there is absolutely nothing to be confident about that. Reality is thwarted this way, and a person begins to do or say things that lack good judgement. Sometimes it due to ignorance, however genuine or willful. This ignorance gives birth to confidence having no foundations, and a person would find themselves going towards a particular direction that they shouldn't be going. No matter how long it takes, foolishness will always get a person to one destination: shame. And in some extreme cases, something more than shame.

Like now.

The guy swaggered foolishly towards Frank, brandishing his bloodied weapon, turning a deaf ear to the noises outside the room. The other men watched him like mannequins, too lost on their path to see the sheer madness of the moment, or the dangers head. For all that the so-called spirit had made them go through, they wanted to watch another weapon pierce that flesh again.

And then it happened, faster than anything they had ever seen. Frank sat bolt upright with the speed of sound—before any of the thugs could even read the situation—and he fired a lethal punch on the guy's neck, blasting it such that the throat bone pieced out through the skin, releasing thick, viscous blood with it. The guy staggered blindly backwards, clutching his bleeding neck as throaty sounds issued out. And then he fell backwards in a heap.

Before the other four men could react appropriately, Frank sprang at them, ripping them apart. He went for their heads, breaking them with punches that couldn't have come from a mere man. Frank moved swiftly among them, so fast that in less than 30 seconds, they were all lying on the ground, dead or dying.

"What's happening in there!" A voice called from outside. Frank knew the police would break in any moment now.

"So much for one day," Frank said to himself. And then he closed his eyes and vanished into the air.

"Boys, break open that door now!" one of the policemen ordered. A lady was lamenting and wailing, refusing to be consoled by anyone.

Four policemen began to hit the door with a heavy piece of wood because the door had been locked him inside. In four attempts, the door gave way and the men rushed inside. Jenna followed them.

"Jesus Christ!" one of the policemen exclaimed, recoiling in shock. There was blood everywhere and seven dead bodies lay on the floor in the living room. Jenna's brain couldn't process what she was looking at. Her eyes swirled and she dropped down.

"She has fainted!" another policemen said.