Hawra and the president, Femi, and the two guards were on the boat when Agu, Ayodele, and Anthony emerged from the water. All but Ayodele looked shell-shocked, and none said a thing as Adaora was pulled onto the boat, naked, half fish and half human. Hawra fanned Adaora’s fin, and each burst of air was like a thousand needles against her scaly flesh. But soon the scales of her fin grew transparent and began to flake away, revealing her brown human legs.
“Can you imagine?” Hawra whispered over and over as she helped Adaora pick the peeling scales from her flesh. All the men had turned their backs to give Adaora some privacy.
“I can imagine anything,” Adaora murmured.
Hawra leaned close to Adaora, smiling. “I spoke to a giant swordfish,” she whispered. “I heard its voice in my head.”
“What did it say?” Adaora asked, glad to focus on something other than removing her scales. She peeled away a large swatch. It left a patch of fishy-smelling slime on her skin.
“It spoke like a member of that group Greenpeace!”
Adaora laughed, her body aching. “Was it enormous? With spines coming out of its back?”
Hawra nodded.
“That swordfish hates us,” Adaora said.
There was an extra army uniform in a compartment on the boat. After Adaora had slipped into the garments, Hawra helped her to her feet. She was shaky. Air didn’t hold her the way water did.
The president was talking on Femi’s mobile phone. “Have the set ready for when we arrive,” he said. “And make sure I have a change of clothes.”
“Us too,” one of the guards added.
The president nodded. “And, and, bring two army uniforms. Pressed. Crisp. I’m not having these two guys leave my side, even while I am on camera. These guys have kept me alive, o!”
Still leaning on Hawra, Adaora stepped up to Agu, Anthony, and Ayodele. They’d been quietly discussing something, but she didn’t want to know what. “Is there a plan?” she asked instead.
“We’re going to Tin Can Island,” Agu said. “Trust me, it’s the easiest, safest port to use to get ourselves, and the president, back to land. We need a place that’s safe from the monsters.”
Tin Can Island, a mostly industrial area and one of Lagos’s main cargo ports, took its name from the biscuit tins used to transport mail to and from the island by strong swimmers, who would ferry them to and from passing ships. Vessels couldn’t dock at the island as it had no natural harbor or wharf—only a small creek, whose waters were far shallower than the open waters where the alien ship rested. And because of that, Agu reasoned, if there were beasts there, they wouldn’t be nearly as huge as the ones in the deep.
* * * *
They heard the gunshots long before they arrived at the island. A mobile phone in Femi’s pocket went off. “Your phone, Mr. President,” Femi said, frowning and handing it to the president. The president grabbed it. “What is going on?” he shouted.
He listened and frowned.
He turned to his guards with wide eyes, and then to Agu. “Ssss, sss!” he said, waving a hand at Agu. “Stop the boat! Femi, give me your camera.”
Agu brought them to a halt, as Femi handed it to the president. The president continued to hold the phone to his ear as he fumbled with the camera. “There’s something—”
More gunshots rang out from the island.
“What’s going on?” Adaora shouted. She squinted, barely able to make out a large group of men waiting at the dock. Bang bang bang! She could see a man firing. At the water. Beside the shooter, several men seemed to be trying to drag something out of the water. No, Adaora realized. Someone.
“Please,” Adaora said to the president. “Give me the camera!”
“Why?” the president asked, frowning as he continued fiddling with it. “What do you—”
“Just let me have it!” She snatched it from him and held it up to Femi. “Make it zoom in.”
When he handed it back to her, she held it up. She focused on the men. There was something in the water . . . and it was trying to drag a man under. Then two red tentacles shot out of the water. One smashed a window of the black car behind them, and the other slapped at one of the men. He fell back. Adaora could have sworn she saw blood spatter. More men began shooting into the water.
“Shit!” she screamed, nearly dropping the camera.
The president grabbed it from her just as Femi’s phone buzzed.
“What is going on?” the president shouted into the phone.
“There’s something in the water, attacking them,” Adaora said.
“Oh Jesu Christi,” one of the guards moaned. “Will we never get out of this infested water?”
“We will, cousin, we will,” the other guard said.
“Are you people stupid? Stay away from the water!” the president shouted into his phone. There were tears in his wild eyes.
“I think it’s some sort of octopus or squid,” Adaora said.
“Chale, those things are smart,” Anthony said. Adaora had been thinking the same thing. Cephalopods were the smartest invertebrates on earth. One that was alien-enhanced . . . Those men didn’t stand a chance.
“Ten men? You let it . . . oh my God.” The president sat down on the floor of the boat, the phone pressed to his ear. “Oh my God. Okay . . . yes, save them.”
The boat started moving. The president turned to Agu. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not letting more soldiers die,” Agu said. “I’m getting us close enough for me to swim to them.”
“Why’d they station themselves right in front of the water?” the president moaned. Hawra sat beside him, her arm around his shoulder. “It got ten of them before they realized what was happening.”
“I will go, too,” Anthony said.
Adaora hesitated. Agu had super strength, Anthony had his rhythm. But she could levitate, walk on water, and protect herself with a force field. If she got into the water, would she grow her fin back?
“It will kill you both,” Ayodele said. “I will go.”
Again, she jumped into the water before anyone could protest. Agu pushed the boat faster. He had a bad feeling about what was going to happen. When no one argued, it was clear that he wasn’t the only one who felt it.
Finally they were close enough that they could see what was happening perfectly. There was a body floating in the water. Some soldiers were behind a black car, firing wildly. Others were standing on the dock at the edge of the creek, screaming and shooting. As they drew into view, some yelled at them; a few frantically waved them away.
When the boat was less than ten yards away from the island, a deep moan came from beneath the water. And then it surfaced. The monster was a bundle of slimy red tentacles, ridged with horrible black, bony spokes. The tentacle ball tumbled and rolled on the surface of the water and then parted to reveal an enormous, gaping, pink, parrotlike beak. Adaora had to tense every part of her body to keep herself from screaming. The creature’s beak snapped open and shut. And then it plunged back beneath the water and disappeared.
All was silent as they stared at where the monster had been and now was not. They waited, but it didn’t return. The water rippled gently, and then was still. The soldiers on land slowly stood back from the edge of the dock. The others emerged from behind the car.
Adaora leaned over the side of the boat. “What did she . . . ?”
“Ayodele!” Agu called.
The boat bumped softly against the dock, and everyone jumped off except Adaora, Anthony, and Agu. They leaned over the side, looking into the water. Femi jogged toward the soldiers, who were also watching the water. He was taking pictures as he approached, saying, “Gentlemen! Hello! Excuse me, can I ask you some questions? I am with the press. . . .”
“This way, Mr. President,” one of the soldiers said, leading the president to
the black car. “Sorry about the window.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the president said, clasping Hawra’s hand as they walked. “We saw everything.”
“What of the others?” Hawra said, looking back.
“They’re coming,” the president replied.
“No, they’re not.” Hawra pulled her hand away.
Adaora knew the creature was gone. Had it eaten Ayodele and thus been satisfied? Adaora whipped around, her head pounding. Too much. Too fast. There she was. Ayodele was pulling herself onto the far side of the dock, a hundred feet away. Right in front of the soldiers. Adaora felt relief flood her body. Then she saw one of the soldiers roughly grab Ayodele by the arm and yank her onto the concrete, bring his huge booted foot back, and, with all his might, kick her squarely in the side.
Adaora could hear the meaty sound of the boot smashing into Ayodele’s flesh even from where she was. The man kicked Ayodele again, another man joining him. He smashed at her face with the butt of his AK-47, and Ayodele’s head flew back to smack against the concrete, her nose spraying red blood. Adaora jumped off the boat. Everything went silent as all the blood rushed to Adaora’s head. What was she seeing? Why was Ayodele letting it happen?
Anthony was already off the boat and running toward the men. Adaora ran after him, Agu behind her.
“Stop!” he shouted, waving his hands about. “STOP IT!”
But they didn’t stop anything. Ayodele did not get up, nor did she do anything to protect herself. It all happened in seconds. There were five soldiers now, all dressed in green-brown-and-black fatigues with black shiny boots and dull black guns. These men rained blows on every part of Ayodele’s body with their boots, the butts of their guns, their fists.
“Winch, I kill you!” a man growled as he punched Ayodele in the face.
“Kill am!” another man shrieked as he kicked.
Her white dress was splotched with spreading patches of red as they stamped on her torso, chest, legs, and arms. They crushed bone and mashed muscle and organs. One man brought his foot down squarely on her exposed neck.
Bang! The gunshot tore open Ayodele’s side.
Another man smashed his gun into her lolling head.
Anthony had stopped, yards from the chaos, swaying on his feet. Even as she ran, Adaora could feel everything around her being pulled toward Anthony.
“Anthony, don’t!” Adaora shouted as she ran up behind him. “DON’T DO IT!”
“Why?” Anthony asked calmly.
“No more killing,” she said, panting. She turned to Agu behind her. He had murder on his face. “No killing! They don’t know what they are doing, they don’t know what she is, they are confused. . . .” She was confused, too. What was she saying? She shook her head at both Agu and Anthony. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Let me,” she said, and ran to the mob of soldiers surrounding Ayodele.
She didn’t hesitate. Adaora plunged into the melee and began to shove aside the men beating Ayodele. Someone kicked at Ayodele but missed, landing on Adaora instead. Ignoring the pain, Adaora fell to her knees and threw her arms around the limp Ayodele. Then she flexed what was hers.
It felt like staticky heat bursting from her back and washing over her, and then toward the soldiers, shoving them all away. When they tried to press forward against it, the force repelled them, sending them flying back.
Adaora grasped Ayodele tightly, pressing her face to the alien woman’s neck. She could feel Ayodele’s warm blood seeping into her clothes. She could smell its coppery scent, mixed with sea water and urine. Ayodele was breathing in raspy gulps.
Why? Adaora thought. Why why why? Why was Ayodele bleeding? Why was she not changing? Why had she allowed them to beat her? Why had they beaten her? She continued to hold them back, as she pressed Ayodele’s broken body into her own.
“Witchcraft,” one of the men grunted.
Bang!
One of the soldiers must have fired at her. The noise was deafening, but Adaora felt no bullet. Just before the soldier could fire again, Agu ran up and punched the man so hard that he flew across the concrete, nearly tumbling into the deadly water.
Adaora brought her face close to Ayodele’s. She held the alien woman’s wide gaze. So different from the woman she had seen first on the beach less than two days ago. She’d experienced so much humanity in so little time.
“I saw you first. It started with you,” Ayodele whispered. “My people sent me for a reason. I’ve known all along. . . .” Blood dribbled from her lips and Adaora shuddered. “Your people. They wanted to use me, kidnap me, kill me. . . .”
“I’m sorry,” Adaora said. “We’re better than that.”
“The Elders sent me,” Ayodele whispered. “We are a collective. Every part of us, every tiny universe within us is conscious. I am we, I am me. . . .” She coughed up more blood.
“But why . . . ?”
“You people need help on the outside but also within,” she said. “I will go within. . . . Adaora . . . let go of me . . . cover your ears.”
“Why?”
“Trust me.”
“Ayodele, please.”
“You’ll all be a bit . . . alien.”
Slowly, Adaora laid Ayodele on the ground. Then she looked up. Everything around her was slightly tinted periwinkle, the same color her fin had been. It must have been the effect of her force field. The soldiers were staring and staring, their guns raised, fists clenched. She could see Anthony and Agu not far behind the men.
Ayodele was looking up at her, and for the first time, Adaora could see how badly hurt she really was. Her neck bulged grotesquely, and Adaora could see the white of bone. One of Ayodele’s legs was twisted in an impossible direction, as were both her arms. She had been shot in the abdomen; bright red blood was soaking through her white dress. Her face was swollen and bruised. Her eyes were battered nearly shut.
“Garden eggs. Nothing better.” Ayodele chuckled weakly.
Adaora smiled, remembering how Ayodele had eaten the vegetables raw like candy.
“Close your ears,” Ayodele said, placing a hand on her knee. Adaora put her hands over her ears. She looked across at Anthony and Agu. They did the same and dropped to the ground.
Ayodele mouthed something to Adaora and she understood. “Let go,” Ayodele had said. And Adaora let the force field drop as she squeezed her eyes shut.
GBOOOM!
* * * *
When she felt Ayodele’s hand leave her knee, Adaora opened her eyes. In the space where Ayodele had lain a white mist swirled, as if a fog had rolled in off the water. It had the faint tomatoey scent of . . . garden eggs. As she knelt on the concrete, covered in Ayodele’s blood, Adaora was overcome with a craving for garden eggs. For their crunchy cool fruit, sweet or bitter. “Oh,” Adaora whispered. And instinctively, she knew that this fog was rolling like a great wave over all of Lagos. She could almost see it in her mind. And everyone was inhaling it. Everyone in Lagos was craving garden eggs. Ayodele. What had she done?
She felt hands on her shoulders. “Please,” a man said. “Let me help.” It was one of the soldiers.
“Leave her!” she heard Agu shout.
“Agu, it’s okay, please,” she said.
“Are you all right?” Anthony asked.
She nodded. She could see the soldiers who’d beaten Ayodele standing all around her. She didn’t want to look into their guilty faces.
Ayodele was gone. Ayodele was here. “Lagos will never be the same,” Adaora said.
CHAPTER 52
INFINITE POSSIBILITIES
The president of Nigeria sat in the middle of the backseat of the armored black Mercedes. Already he was writing his speech in his head. Originally, he’d planned to present the one named Ayodele as he gave his speech, but she’d died. He didn’t understand what Adaora had said about inhaling
her essence. That wasn’t important.
Beside him was his second wife, Hawra. She had never been so proud and happy to be in Lagos. Her husband was thinking like a president, but she knew he had to think even more broadly. There were infinite possibilities.
Anthony sat to the president’s right, his cheek pressed to the window. He would go home to Ghana. What had happened was only the beginning. The Elders had plans for him and his country.
Agu and Adaora were squeezed into the passenger seat. Agu held Adaora’s cool hand as he thought it all over. He was a home-wrecker with superhuman strength that came from the Ancestors or the soil or whatever. And he had a new purpose in life—to be a proud soldier for the New Nigeria, whatever that was. When things calmed down, he would go and see his family in Arondizuogu. Hopefully, Adaora would come with him. They wouldn’t stay long because they would certainly be needed in Lagos. But he would make sure they were okay and maybe tell them his story. He touched the cut on his forehead. It had finally stopped bleeding.
Adaora’s mind was blank. Whenever she tried to think, she only saw Ayodele.
One of the soldiers from Tin Can Island drove the vehicle. Over and over, he replayed the memory of his ahoa being pulled into the sea by some sort of giant squid. And then how they’d beaten the woman, and how she’d disappeared. His hands shook as he grasped the wheel.
The other soldiers followed in a second vehicle. They were confused, afraid, and eager to see what would happen next.
How would you have felt?
CHAPTER 53
CASTING BROADLY
The drive was smooth. Many had left Lagos, and those who had stayed were safely in their homes, waiting to see what would happen next. The Area Boys who haunted the streets were waiting for the sun to set, which would be in less than an hour.