Deported

By Maina Ndugo

Mike Njeru Njoroge, a 22-year-old Marketing student from Nairobi, Kenya is living beyond his wildest dreams while studying abroad in North Carolina. His pockets never lack thick wads of dollar bills and he revels in campus parties like a wild party animal.

However, a negative and unexpected turn of events forces him back to Kenya, cutting short his lavish American dream. The broke and desperate deportee decides to grab life by the horns and forge ahead as he tries to put his bitter past behind him, but new obstacles lie ahead. Will he overcome them?

Suspenseful, dramatic and set in two different countries, Deported is a fast paced book that captures the power of friendship and resilience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maina Ndugo
• Release date: Nov 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370790715

Book preview

DEPORTED

By Maina Ndugo

Published At SmashWords

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

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Chapter 1

Mike, I got customers at the Nuthouse who want some of that good stuff. You got some?

What do they need? I have some colors and snow

Awesome man! Come to the Nuthouse, second floor. Hurry bro!

Michael Njeru Njoroge shoved his phone back in to his pocket then reached for the black Sony subwoofer and loosened a couple of screws so that he could take off the back. He took out a small blue round plastic container and some sachets, screwed back the subwoofer and bolted out of his spacious apartment. The Nuthouse was just a block away from Cypress Court, his apartment building located at Emerson Street.

Loud, intoxicated clusters of students milled around the entrance of the Nuthouse. Cigarette and marijuana smoke ascended lazily above the heads of a different group of students near the parking lot. Just a typical Saturday night outside the Nuthouse except the brightness of the full moon against the backdrop of ever changing stellar constellations and occasional meteorites. Mike made his way past them quietly and squeezed through the crowded narrow steps occasionally turning his head to greet a few acquaintances. The grey and narrow corridors were lined with inebriated couples smothering each other with sloppy kisses while others had advanced to second base with their intense groping. The floor was littered with cigarette butts, empty beer bottles and crumpled red party cups spilling swills of cheap beer mixed with discounted spirits. Mike took out his phone and was about to call Paul but was interrupted with a sudden grab on his left shoulder.

Mike! You got the stuff? Paul asked. His whisky laden breath stung Mike's nostrils.

Do I? Mike replied with a mischievous grin.

The Nuthouse was built over twenty years ago to provide accommodation for the staff who worked in the busy upcoming shopping center in Greenway Village. It had four one bedroom flats on each floor and built with red bricks. There were small restaurants, bars and shopping malls targeting the rapidly growing student community and these humble establishments expanded with time and as a result, the campus town stretched its boundaries wider. The rising demand for student accommodation made the Nuthouse's owner to rent out apartments exclusively to students. Unlike the nearby apartment buildings, the Nuthouse had the prestige of hosting some of the most memorable campus parties whose history was passed down from one generation of University of North Carolina Wilmington’s freshmen to the other.

They squeezed their way through the shadowy cramped corridor and Paul took a left to a quieter side of the corridor. They stopped at door 11A and Paul pushed the door open. Mike's eyes swept all over the living room filled with pretty ladies in short, tight dressess gyrating to Kelly Rowland's Motivation while their male companions held on tightly to their slender waists. It wasn't as teeming as the staircase and corridors and there was a pleasant aura of maturity and sanity in this gathering unlike the ratchet hooligans throwing up in the corridor and staircase.

Don't just stand there, let's grab some drinks as we wait for her Paul said and Mike followed him towards a large table near the large window next to a small bunch sitting on large blue velvet pillows lazily blowing thick strawberry flavored sheesha.

This is the jackpot! Paul roared and his semi open blood shot eyes instantly rejuvenated. They both counted eight bottles of Grey Goose lined up in front of the other liquor. The drunken duo agreed that the heavenly vodka deserves every fiber of its prestige. Behind the vodka stood a diverse cluster of Johnny Walker, Smirnoff and Tequila. Who wouldn't kill to be here?

Mike took a half full bottle of Grey Goose and poured some into a red party cups then mixed with some green lime and walked away with the bottle in his left hand while he sipped from the party cup. He walked to the sheesha pot and took a few hits then turned his attention towards the lovely blonde in a black and white dress on his right. She constantly giggled and choked on the scented smoke whenever Mike leaned close and whispered in her ear. He leaned in closer towards her neck letting her perfume fill his nostrils as he exhaled softly behind her left earlobe and her soft, elegant and warm neck.

Suddenly felt a gentle tug on his t-shirt and slowly turned round away from the blonde.

Are you Mike? she asked.

Mike stared back blankly at her then it suddenly hit him that she was the customer Paul had brought him to see. He withdrew him skinny arm from the blonde's shoulder and turned round to face the short pretty lady with a small purple butterfly resting on her long black curly hair.

That's me. What do you need?

She bent her knees and leaned closer to Mike while glancing left and right to confirm no one was listening.

I need some Molly, she said, blinking fretfully.

I'll be back soon, he whispered in the blonde's ear then rose from his pillow.

It was obvious that the customer was a newbie who had never encountered a dealer. Despite his intoxication, Mike couldn't help noticing her fidgeting and her paranoia since she glanced left to right like she was making sure no one was eavesdropping. It made him annoyed because nervous newbies drew unnecessary attention to themselves. He took a huge gulp of fiery vodka from the bottle in his left hand and swung the door open for the slender, chocolate skin lady and followed right behind her as he shut the door.

She was about 5ft 5 just a few inches shorter than Mike who stood at 5ft 7, he also observed she was not wearing heels. He finally pulled out the small blue plastic bottle and took a couple of small round bright red pills with skull and crossbones engraved at the centre.

Ten dollars each. How many do you want?

Five, I guess she whispered as she fumbled her hand in her glossy red clutch.

Two Caucasian lads left the apartment and saw Mike with the curly hair female. The guy in a red Nike hood approached Mike.

Got a lighter?

Mike felt an overwhelming and intense sting suddenly on his neck as the unforgiving and rasping volts of electricity penetrated his neck for about ten seconds. She returned her taser back into the red clutch and stepped aside for the men to carry semi conscious Mike out of the nuthouse.

Hello? Paul grunted

Have you seen Mike? His phone's been off since Sunday and I've just left his place but he isn't there.

Can't you wait until morning to look for him? Paul replied as he yawned

Dude, it's nine a.m. Are you high? Larry mocked.

Later you fool.

Paul's eyebrows instantly shot up in dismay when he glanced at the time on his iPhone. He kicked away his bedding and bolted into the bathroom for a quick cold shower and jumped into the same pair of grey bleached jeans he wore the previous day and threw on a red long sleeved t-shirt that had small skulls intertwined with black gothic roses printed on both sleeves. He tucked his iPad safely in his faded black denim backpack and rushed out to catch up with the new day.

No one seemed to know the whereabouts of Mike since that crazy weekend at the Nuthouse, three days ago. At two p.m, Paul Meadows had a thirty minute lunch break then went to the Market Research 303 class in the Center for Innovation and Entrepreneurship, the newest building in campus. This amazing work of architecture bore the latest features found in modern, technology savvy high end complexes. Its strategic location gave the best view of the appealing rich lawns and an aerial view of students walking, jogging or skating on the concrete maze of the campus paths. The steel door elevators were double the size of an average elevator and it had a touch screen instead of regular buttons inside.

An hour had elapsed since the lecture began and Paul's attention shifted to his missing friend who never missed class. Where could he be? He endured listening to the long sedative lecture on the different theories of market segmentation and a surge of long awaited relief rushed through his veins when the Lecture said See you next week.Paul asked for a ride to Greenway Village from a friend in the previous class. His idea was to go to a couple of pot dealers where Mike frequents and ask whether they had seen him. Two hours later, he returned to his apartment stoned and still clueless.

Chapter 2

This is the last chance I'm offering you...start talking or I’ll call Homeland Security!

The burly, black and incensed detective banged his massive fist on the table. The loud intimidating bang startled Mike but he maintained his calmness and defiance in his eyes while maintaining a stiff upper lip as more threats flowed out the DEA's mouth.

Detective Henry exhaled slowly as he moved closer while rolling up his sleeves exposing a pair of solid, muscular forearms like a real African Popeye on steroid spinach. He unexpectedly grabbed Mike by the collar and Mike noticed the beads of sweat forming on the detective's wide nose then faced away terrified, but the detective's large strong paw seized his head straight.

I ain't playing you skinny scumbag. You can make this easy for yourself or else things will get worse pretty soon. You think this is hell, wait till I hand you over to Homeland. Who supplies you with Cocaine and Ecstasy?

He released his grip and Mike gingerly rubbed his aching lower jaw then faced away to avoid Detective Henry's eye contact. Mike’s insolent silence made the detective restless and he begun drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. Mike inhaled deeply as he tried to shut out the fear of the immediate consequences that would follow As Detective Henry rose from his seat, Mike braced himself for a devastating blow to his face and lowered his head and closed his eyes tightly.

You think I want to hit you boy? You just booked a one way ticket to hell, said the detective and he walked out of the interrogation room unhappy and frustrated with his failure. A uniformed officer entered the interrogation room and led Mike back to the cells. Another long and noisy night in the cold steel cage for him. The cell reeked of vomit and piss thanks to a group of drunk and disorderly teenagers arrested the previous night. He leaned against the wall of steel bars and let his mind wander around the possibilities of a positive outcome. Maybe they'll just release me since it was just a small amount of drugs. Even if I go to court the judge will treat this as a misdemeanor and hand me community service, he reassured himself.

Hey officer! I'm being robbed, do something!

The short white pudgy man in a grey suit yelled as his assailant, a tall Caucasian whose bloodshot sunken eyes hardly blinked forcefully pushed him into a corner and untied the pricy looking black silk tie from his victim's collar. At around eight P.M, an officer appeared with loaves of white bread and some canned beans. The meal offered a common ground for the detainees to share their stories, each having his turn to speak while others offered their 'well informed and proven advice' on how to get away easy during court trial. Trevor, the tall Caucasian with bloodshot eyes told the rest he got arrested while fleeing from a local jewelry store with his accomplice who was lucky to have jumped over a chain link fence before he did and vanished with the loot. Then there was Martin, the tall black man in black jeans and a red t-shirt, whose thick beard made him appear older than the rest in the cell shared his story. He told them he was an electrician who traveled often and when he returned home from a trip on Saturday afternoon, he found a stranger in bed with his girlfriend. He beat the daylights out of her girlfriend’s illicit lover using his fists and steel wrench to a bloody pulp. The stranger was rushed to hospital in a coma but succumbed to internal cerebral hemorrhage due to the horrific skull fracture sustained.

You can get a two year sentence and parole if you convince the judge that it was manslaughter, the short middle aged man advised.

Shut up! I wouldn't be here if wasn't for that two timing bitch! Martin snapped.

The youngest of the bunch, Kennedy or KK didn't have to share much because Trevor, Martin and Mike were present when the cops hurled him and his intoxicated friends the previous night. What they didn't know was KK and his comrades were arrested for DUI in a rental car while heading to a party.

"You dumb kid! Martin smacked KK's head and the rest burst into laughter.

Everyone turned their attention to the grey suit. Edgar Miles cleared his throat then wiped his forehead uneasily. The cops caught me with a prostitute near The Harp yesterday and I'm a married guy with two daughters, he admitted and hung his head ruefully.

Their attention towards Edgar's story grew and their eyes reflected their unsatisfied curiosity.

Just that, a hooker incident? Trevor asked scornfully then shook his head to show Edgar he wasn't buying his weak lies.

Okay then! Edgar pleaded with his arms raised in surrender.

I didn't know that there was a cop who saw the prostitute enter my car and was following us. I drove near an empty section of the park and it was dark. Suddenly a cop appears at the window and finds us in a compromising situation then orders me out of the car with my hands in the air but I stepped out and punched him, then tried to get back in the car but another cop suddenly appears and points his pistol at me. Game over, he sighed.

Mike told them about how he got set up by a campus security lady at a party near campus. They detained him inside the campus security cell overnight and brought in a detective from Wilmington Police Department at around nine thirty, Sunday morning. The detective interrogated him for three hours but Mike was uncooperative with him however he returned on Monday afternoon for another round of interrogation, afterwards drove back to Wilmington Police Department with Mike. A different and aggressive detective tried cracking him open but Mike's shell was too hard for him so they threw him in the cell. Today, they threatened him with deportation but he still wouldn't budge.

He stretched his neck up they tased my neck, he said pointing towards the red swollen burn.

Where you from, bro? Martin inquired

An African country called Kenya, Mike replied.

They were too exhausted to continue sharing their stories so they called it a night. At ten A.M the following morning, Detective Henry and a white man in a black suit seemingly in his late forties took Mike out of the cell then they proceeded to the interrogation room. He slumped into the chair and the man slammed a folded sheet of white paper on the white wooden table then pushed it towards Mike.

That's your Notice To Appear from the Department of Homeland Security. Your case starts in an hour so get your ass up! The man ordered. Detective Henry watched silently with a smug smile on his face.

The Homeland Security agent cuffed the suspect then pushed him into the backseat of the blue Police Car and sped off towards New Hanover County Courthouse. Mike stood in the docks silently as he waited for the Judge to mention his case. Judge Elizabeth Jakes opened the brown Manila file then faced the suspect briefly. A tall medium complexion black man about 6ft tall, in a grey suit and red tie donning frameless glasses tugged Mike's t-shirt for attention,

I'm George Keller, your defense attorney. I suggest you plead guilty and the judge will let you off on a light sentence and probation since you are a first time offender, he recommended in a deep voice.

The judge cleared her throat before she begun he proceedings, The suspect, Michael Njeru Njorogewas arrested by University of North Carolina campus security for selling narcotics in a nearby students residence on March 23rd 2011. I now open the floor for Prosecution

The prosecutor was a plump, average height and bald Caucasian man seemingly in his mid forties in an expensive blue suit with a white pocket square. He aggressively hammered his points while walking back and forth like a fiery Pentecostal Reverend ministering to a black congregation as he narrated the grim statistics of drug abuse in American colleges and the burden American parents have to endure of having to deal with their helplessly addicted children and shattered dreams. His thick pink hand swept the evidence from his table and walked towards Mike then asked, You think crime pays? The prosecutor waved the stash of cocaine in front of the judge then sneered at the hapless suspect hunched in his seat. How long will America watch its youth, its future leaders and hope degenerate into vegetables? he tossed the stash towards Mike then walked slowly towards the judge America is fed up with these merchants of evil who only care about what's getting into their pockets while the government and parents spend millions of dollars desperately trying to rescue sons and daughters from the grip of unforgiving addictions. Your honor, I am fed up with this menace, schools are fed up parents are fed up and even God himself is fed up! The Prosecutor finished then strode boldly back to his seat.

George presented his case well and asked for leniency for his client because he was a first time offender. The court went on a ten minute recess then the Judge returned from her chambers after everyone else. Judge Elizabeth cleared her throat before she began reading the verdict. A cold trickle of sweat rolled down Mike's right arm as his heartbeat raced with dread and unbearable apprehension.

The court finds the defendant guilty of possession and sale of Schedule two narcotics, specifically 24 grams of cocaine and an ounce of ecstasy hence violating the United State’s Controlled Substances Act, and I hereby find the defendant guilty and issue immediate deportation of the defendant in accordance to the Immigration and Nationality Act, she read the verdict.

No! No! Judge, have mercy on me! Mike cried out, tears flowed down his face.

Do something! Mike yelled in desperation at his defense attorney but he was busy packing documents into his brown leather briefcase.

Sorry man but you need to hire another lawyer if you want to appeal against the court's decision, he replied as he walked away, stomping the last ember of hope Mike held on to. He wept loudly and bitterly as the court officers dragged him out of the courtroom, with indifferent looks on their faces as Mike wailed louder down the corridor. How could life be so cruel? Why did the judge kill his American dream?

The Homeland detective drove Mike back to Wilmington Police Department and Deective Henry gladly hurled Mike back into his cell. He smirked as he shook his head slowly with sadistic satisfaction watching poor Mike bitterly wipe the endless tears streaming down his face.

You're not so tough now huh? The Detective mocked. You ain't shit! Go back to being the dumbest village celebrity in whatever God forsaken country you come from!

Chapter 3

Larry: Dude, let's meet in my room at 11, we need to figure out where Mike is.

Paul: Totally. I went to Eddie's place last night but he's also in the same boat we are in. Have you tried posting on his wall?

Larry: I wrote twice on his wall and sent him a message yesterday. I'll check my Facebook for any response.

Paul: I'll come with Eddie, later bro.

He sent the final text message.

Paul Meadows tapped his iPhone continuously on his forehead, as anxiety loomed over his mind. The best step was heading to the Campus Seurity Offce and then hope for the best. He glanced at the time and switched off his iPad as he walked out of his apartment. As he hurriedly descended the brown oak wood steps, a bulb suddenly lit in his mind and he rushed back to get his skateboard. It took him ten minutes to skate from Purdue Drive to Greenway Avenue and he met Eddie Chinua entering Larry's apartment