MYSTERY BEHIND THE HALLWAY
Chapter 5: Ifeanyi's Last Login
The sun had barely set over the OAU campus, but the shadows creeping across the walls of A-Block seemed deeper than usual. Dara sat at her desk, her laptop open, hands trembling slightly as she typed. The last 72 hours had unraveled her peace of mind, replaced with a dreadful sense of purpose. She wasn't just studying anymore—she was investigating, haunted by silence, time, and a hallway that never quite stayed still.
Zainab was out that evening, leaving Dara alone in the room. It wasn't something she normally feared. But tonight, the walls felt closer. She double-checked that the door was bolted and pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders, more for comfort than warmth.
She opened a private tab, eyes flitting nervously to the window. The trees rustled as the wind danced between their branches. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked twice and fell silent. She typed slowly: OAU student portal login.
Then she sent a quick message on WhatsApp:
DARA: "Are you ready?"
Within seconds, the reply came.
UCHE: "Log me in. I'll take over from there."
She gave him her credentials—her dummy account created just for this task. Uche was the kind of person who could break into your Gmail with only your phone number and favorite color. He didn't like rules much, and the hallway's mystery was exactly the kind of puzzle that intrigued him.
Within a minute, her screen flickered, and Uche's cursor began moving.
"Alright," he typed in the notepad. "I'm in. Let's find Ifeanyi Nnaji."
The portal's backend was a labyrinth—each department had its own server, and Microbiology's was archaic, like it hadn't been updated since 2005. They searched through student records, filtering with his matric number.
"Gotcha," Uche typed again.
Dara leaned closer. Ifeanyi Nnaji's profile popped up: 400-level, last registered semester—Rain Semester. GPA 4.68. Typical Ifeanyi—brilliant and mysterious.
But then they saw it.
Practical Schedule: ANA 204 – MIDNIGHT PRACTICAL – Date: March 13, 11:59 PM
Dara's breath caught.
That was the night he disappeared.
She scrolled further. The entry was unusual—it had no instructor listed, no course code, no grading parameters. Just the name of the lab, ANA 204, and the timestamp. Uche pinged her with a shocked emoji.
"This isn't on the general timetable. It's not even tied to a real course. What the hell is ANA 204?"
Dara's fingers trembled. ANA stood for Anatomy block. ANA 204 was an old dissection lab that had been locked off years ago. Rumors swirled that it was used during the early 90s for postgraduate medical experiments. But no one used it anymore—or so she'd been told.
She quickly messaged one of the lecturers she trusted: Dr. Ajibola, a woman in her late fifties who'd always given Dara a listening ear.
DARA: "Ma, pls quick question: is ANA 204 still in use?"
Minutes passed.
DR. AJIBOLA: "ANA 204? That's been locked for years. We moved all practicals to ANA 108 and 110."
Dara stared at the message. Cold realization crept down her spine.
If the lab was locked… why was Ifeanyi scheduled there?
Uche was still navigating the system. "Wait," he typed again. "There's more. Multiple students had 'Midnight Practical' entries. Look—every two years, same date range, always in March, always ANA 204."
They compiled a list:
March 2013 – Ezinne Obiora
March 2015 – Tunde Adebajo
March 2017 – Amaka Iwuagwu
March 2019 – Kola Yusuf
March 2021 – Ifeanyi Nnaji
Dara couldn't believe what she was seeing. She clicked on each name. The pattern was unmistakable. Each of these students had no graduation records. Each had reportedly dropped out or "left for personal reasons."
Ghost students.
"They're wiping them out," Uche typed.
The words chilled her. She tried to breathe, but her chest felt tight. She remembered the story the old lab assistant had told her the day before—that every few years, someone vanished.
Now they had proof. Digital ghosts left behind in the portal, erased from everything else.
Dara turned on her phone's recorder. She wanted a copy of the session, just in case. She also took screenshots, emailing them to a backup account she'd created under a fake name.
She wasn't sure who—or what—was behind this. But she now knew that Ifeanyi hadn't just vanished. He'd been summoned.
Hours passed. The time on her laptop read 2:11 AM. Zainab still hadn't returned. Dara's stomach churned, unsure if it was fear or hunger.
She heard a soft knock at the door. She froze.
Knock.
Again.
Soft. Measured. Not the kind of knock a friend would give.
She muted her laptop and reached for her torchlight. Her heart thudded. She tiptoed to the door.
"Zainab?" she whispered.
Silence.
Then: tap… tap… tap. Three knocks, perfectly spaced. No footsteps.
Dara didn't open the door. She waited, holding her breath. The knocking stopped.
When she checked the hallway through the peephole, no one was there. Just the flickering bulb at the end of the corridor.
She backed away from the door, shaking.
Later that morning, she met Uche behind the SUB complex, where students often gathered under the large mango tree. He wore a hoodie pulled low over his face, clearly rattled.
"They're watching," he said, not as a theory but as fact. "After I finished the deep trace on Ifeanyi's timetable, my VPN crashed. I couldn't log back in. Then I got this message."
He showed her. An anonymous email:
Subject: Cease Access
Body: "ANA 204 is not your concern. Let it rest, or you'll follow."
No name. No sender. No trace.
"They're in the system," he said. "And they don't want us poking around."
Dara closed her eyes. A name kept ringing in her ears—ANA 204.
That's where she needed to go. But getting in would require more than bravery.
It would require a key.
And someone who knew what waited behind the door.
End of Chapter 5