Chidera fell to her knees, crying, holding the bag of gold up.
“Take it! Take the gold! Take everything! Just let me go!”
The leader of the ritualists kicked the bag away.
“We don’t eat gold here,” he said, sharpening his machete. “We need fresh bl00d.”
Chidera screamed. She remembered Gloria. She remembered Junior.
“I am sorry!” she wailed. “God, I am sorry! I k|ll£d my Madam’s son! Please don’t let me die like this!”
The man raised the machete high.
Chidera closed her eyes, waiting for the end.
VROOOOM!
Suddenly, blinding lights cut through the darkness.
WEE-OOO! WEE-OOO!
A Police Patrol Van jumped out of the bush path, sirens blaring.
“POLICE! NO MOVE!”
Gunshots rang out. KPOW! KPOW!
The ritualists dropped their machetes and ran into the thick forest. The driver abandoned his car and fled.
The police officers jumped down, guns ready. They saw Chidera kneeling on the ground, shaking, with the bag of stolen gold beside her.
An officer walked up to her and shone his torch in her face.
“You are lucky, young girl,” he said. “We have been tracking this gang for weeks.”
He looked at the bag. He opened it and saw the gold. He looked back at Chidera.
“But wait… where did a young girl like you get this kind of gold?”
Chidera looked at the officer. She looked at the gold. She looked at the handcuffs on his belt.
She realized she had been saved from death, only to fall into judgment.
*
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