He burst into tears. I’m not a monster, he thought. I’m Nnamdi Icheteka and I was trying to do the right thing! Everything just got out of control . . . somehow. Chioma held him tightly as he wept. And gently, he laid his head on Chioma’s shoulder and, bit by bit, he felt the anger drain from him like air from a deflating balloon. As his anger retreated, his body shrunk, and the darkness of the Man went away. He changed back to himself. His clothes were filthy and nearly rags.
“When . . . whenever you change into the Man, the shadows around me stretch,” she said. “I didn’t understand before, but I understand it all now. It is just like that day I caught the big blue butterfly in the garden three years ago, when your father’s shadow was so long and mighty. When you change, normal shadows around me look like the super-long shadows you see in the late evening. It doesn’t matter if it’s morning or afternoon! You never want to know what shadows look like at night. It’s scary.” More tears poured from her eyes. “Maybe you do know.” She gazed at him for several moments. “Nnamdi, since you’ve been missing, I’ve been living in constant shadows.”
“It must be because you touched the Ikenga,” Nnamdi said weakly.
“Ikenga?” she asked.
Nnamdi sat up and, for the second time, told Chioma everything. This time she really listened. He would never forget the fascinated look on her face.
* * *
Tap tap tap.
Chioma handed Nnamdi her backpack, where she’d stuffed a change of clothes she’d gotten from her father’s room. “I had a feeling you’d need these. The pants are going to be huge but . . .”
“They’ll be fine,” Nnamdi said. “Thanks.”
“I brought some snacks, too. Some chin chin, groundnuts, and some plantain chips.”
“Okay,” Nnamdi said, looking into the bag of groundnuts. “But why so much?”
“Because we’re not going home yet,” she said. She spoke fast. “Now that I’ve found you here, I know it was all really real and if we don’t do this thing, Kaleria will burn.”
Nnamdi sighed, shoving a handful of groundnuts into his mouth. “What are you talking about?”
“You promise you won’t think I’m crazy?” she asked.
Nnamdi cocked his head and popped more groundnuts into his mouth as he stared hard at Chioma until she laughed. “Fair enough,” she said.
“Just talk,” he said. “We’ve moved beyond crazy.”
“Well, a few days ago, I was coming home from my cousin’s house. It was late evening and the sun was going down, so I was hurrying. I came to the intersection near your house.”
Nnamdi held his breath. Was it the intersection? The one where his father’s ghost had appeared and given him the Ikenga?
“I noticed a man under a streetlight,” she continued. “He was looking at me. I’d have kept going if . . . if he hadn’t looked familiar somehow. The way he stood, his green beret, the way he looked. I thought maybe my eyes were tricking me or it was the weird light of dusk. Sometimes things can look strange. He motioned that I should come to him. I don’t know why I did. When I got close, it was scary, because I still couldn’t quite see his face, no matter how hard I looked. It was like my eyes wouldn’t focus. And things got swimmy, or something. It was hard for me to focus on anything.” She paused, searching Nnamdi’s face.
“Go on,” he said. “Did he say anything?”
“Does this sound—”
“It sounds no weirder than what I’ve been going through, Chioma. What’d he say?”
“I think it was your father,” she blurted.
“I know.”
“How’s that possible?”
“How’s any of this possible, Chioma?”
“You really think it’s because I touched that Ikenga? Ikengas are just supposed to protect houses and stuff.”
“What did he say, Chioma?” Nnamdi insisted.
“He said if you weren’t going to listen, he would tell me. He said it’s quiet and slow for now, but Kaleria is heading toward flames.”
Nnamdi felt a deep icy sensation in the pit of his belly. He’d had the very same dream on the first night he’d changed into the Man. “Did . . . did he say anything about stopping it?” Nnamdi asked.
She nodded. “We have to find a car that’s been stolen. That will lead us toward the problem.”
“But not solve it,” Nnamdi said.
“Yeah. It felt like a riddle,” she said. “All these random hints and details, and it was up to me to figure it out.”
“Why can’t he just be straightforward?” Nnamdi said. “If we need to do something, just say what we need to do.”
“Because maybe we can’t do it unless we truly understand what we’re doing,” Chioma said. “It’s not about the answers to a riddle; it’s about what you learn by solving it.”
“Whatever,” Nnamdi muttered.
“I know which car,” Chioma said. “Your mother’s friend Bonny’s car was stolen two days ago.”
“Had to be Three Days’ Journey,” he said, understanding now that Chioma was several steps ahead of him. “Ah, so we’re going to Tse-Kucha.”
She nodded.
Nnamdi chuckled. “Bonny’s probably dying of sadness. He loves that car like his child.”
The Riskiest, Stupidest, Most Irrational Thing
NNAMDI COULD NOT believe what he was doing. This was the riskiest, stupidest, most irrational thing he’d ever done. “My mother is going to go mad,” Chioma said. Nnamdi wanted to disagree with Chioma. He wanted to tell her that her mother would understand when all was said and done, but he knew that would be a complete lie. They sneaked to the garden, where Chioma said she’d buried some rainy-day money, right at the base of the mango tree. Then Nnamdi had sneaked into his bedroom through his window and gotten some clothes and his savings, which wasn’t much because he’d recently spent most of it on comic books. Surprisingly, his mother was not home. He’d paused, standing in the middle of his room. It had only been a few days, but so much had happened that it felt like years since he’d been in here.
They had just enough for the bus tickets and some extra snacks for later. The bus driver had looked at them strangely when they asked to buy tickets. But as soon as they showed him the money, he turned a blind eye to how young they were. Now Nnamdi and Chioma were sitting on a bus speeding down the highway. Nnamdi was already missing and now, when Chioma did not come home, she would be declared missing, too. Her parents were going to be so worried. But they decided it was best not to leave a note because in it they’d either have to lie or be so vague that everyone would only worry more.
“We’ll find Bonny’s car and then come home as soon as we can,” Nnamdi said again, even though they had already agreed to this before setting off on their journey.
He looked away. The same thing had to be on both of their minds and he didn’t want her to ask it: How are we going to get home? They didn’t have enough money. Would they have to call their parents? We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, he thought. There were more urgent matters at hand.
If it was Three Days’ Journey who took the car, then it was definitely in Tse-Kucha. Nnamdi’s father had been trying to destroy a car-theft ring there for years. Nnamdi’s mother, however, had an interest in Tse-Kucha for a wholly different reason. When Nnamdi’s father was alive, Nnamdi’s mother used to drive there and return with all kinds of delicious mangoes, her favorite food. Then his mother would invite her friends and have a mango-eating party. Chioma always came over and enjoyed eating mangoes with his mother and her friends more than Nnamdi did.
Tse-Kucha was over five hours away due to bad roads and go-slow. According to his father, it always took Three Days’ Journey three days because he liked to drive the stolen cars slowly and make many stops to visit his many wives along the way. Three Days’ Journey had a wife in every tiny village that lay b
etween Kaleria and Tse-Kucha.
Nnamdi tried to nap on the bus, but a baby in the seat behind them kept screeching and carrying on. He was exhausted. He hadn’t even had a chance to bathe since they’d left the abandoned school. He’d grabbed fresh clothes when he’d sneaked into his room for his savings, but clean clothes did not mean a clean body.
Beside him, Chioma, always the heavy sleeper, dozed. Nnamdi looked out the window as he ate some of the crispy akara. What would they do when they got to Tse-Kucha? He shut his eyes. He was the Man. When he’d caught Bad Market, he’d found him by stopping and concentrating. Could he find a car in the same way? he wondered.
After three hours, the late-afternoon sun was heavy in the sky as it prepared to set. Nnamdi had been to Tse-Kucha once with his mother and her friends about two years ago and he’d really enjoyed that trip. Because his mother had been with her friends, he was mostly left alone to observe and think. The town had been small and smelled sweet from all the mangoes. And he had to admit, the fruits were delicious. There were small homes and even a few huts. An active market. He couldn’t recall any car garages or many cars at all, now that he thought of it. But there was a computer repair shop near the market. He remembered that because when they’d passed it, it had been full of people.
He focused his mind on the shop because it might be a good place to ask questions. The dirt road ran in front of it. The sign, what had the sign said? Surprised, he grinned as he recalled it perfectly: SUNSHINE COMPUTING. There was a stand in front of it beside boxes of mangoes. He saw that sign, too. It said, FREE MANGO WITH ANY REPAIR!!
“Cool,” Nnamdi whispered, his eyes closed. This wasn’t a memory anymore. This had to be another of the Man’s abilities.
There was a small line there right now. Nnamdi could see it. Three women and ten men. Some carried cell phones, one carried a cube-shaped computer, and several carried laptops. All of them looked impatient and irritated. A young man was walking up the line, offering them each a mango while they waited.
“No, thank you. I have more than enough at home,” snapped a woman carrying a cell phone. “This man needs to hurry up.”
Cars passed on the road, sending up plumes of dust. Now Nnamdi’s powerful mind’s eye could see inside the shop as two young men sat at a large table, parts and pieces all around them, peering into an open computer. They spoke quietly between themselves as they worked. Behind them, a woman wearing jeans and a T-shirt and carrying what looked like CDs or DVDs was exiting the back door. Nnamdi decided to follow her.
The woman walked onto a path that led between two walls of trees, humming to herself as she went. The path soon opened to a field full of cars. Some were dusty and some were sparkling clean. A few boys were scrubbing one of the dusty ones using a bucket of soapy water. They anxiously glanced at the woman and then worked faster. Then Nnamdi saw it: Bonny’s prized blue Mercedes. It was near the back of the lot, to the right. It sparkled and shone in the sunlight. Out of all the cars, it looked the nicest. A few feet away, standing beside an old yellow Jeep, was Three Days’ Journey. He was talking to the woman now, putting his arm around her. She took his arm away and stepped back, rolling her eyes.
Nnamdi pulled his mind back, trying to get the lay of the land in relation to Bonny’s car. Doing so must have overworked his ability, because nausea washed over him and his forehead throbbed. Barely, he held on to the vision. Tse-Kucha. It was a small town. “Got it,” he whispered, swallowing the saliva in his mouth. He opened his eyes to find Chioma looking at him. “Chioma,” he said breathlessly. “Do you have any of that minty gum you always carry? Please say you do. I don’t feel well.”
She quickly rummaged around in her backpack and brought out a piece. Nnamdi could have kissed her. “Oh, THANK you,” he said, snatching it from her, removing the wrapper, and shoving it into his mouth. The last thing he needed was to vomit on the bus. The driver would probably kick them off. The minty flavor burst into his mouth like crisp, cool water, cleansing, calming. He sighed, feeling much better, though his forehead still pounded.
“What was that about?” Chioma asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “A side effect? I was . . . I was seeing,” he said. “I think that’s what made me nauseous.”
“You were going to throw up? Ew.”
Nnamdi rolled his eyes.
Chioma laughed. “Are you all right now?”
“I think so. Just a headache. Chioma, I know where we have to go when we get there.”
“Good, because I think I figured out something else. You know Ruff Diamond? He’s been kidnapped and he’s probably in Tse-Kucha, too.”
“What?! How do . . .”
“Shh,” she said, looking around. “When we stop for the next bathroom break.”
Nnamdi had to wait two agonizing hours. The bus was hot and stuffy. A couple near the front of the bus got into a terrible argument that left the woman crying and the man moving to another seat. The baby behind them shrieked for an hour straight until she finally burped and went to sleep. And a man a few seats in front talked loudly on his cell phone the entire two hours and was still talking when they stopped and the driver proclaimed that everyone should “Get off for a few minutes and piss if you want to piss, or eat something if you dey hungry! We’ve got two more hours’ drive.”
They’d stopped on the side of the road next to a small market. The driver must have had some sort of deal with the people here. They sold all kinds of snacks and drinks and seemed to have been waiting for the bus. They charged twenty naira to use the restroom, a small zinc shack that stank like a burning zoo. The man who had been blabbing on his phone all through the bus trip was the first to pay to use the restroom. He brought out his phone as soon as he was finished and continued his conversation. Chioma tried unsuccessfully to bargain with the bathroom man and they ended up spending a sixth of their money to use the facilities. Afterward, Nnamdi and Chioma could only afford skewers of suya and shared a bottle of water. They walked a few steps away from the other passengers and stood beside a tall tree.
“You never know who’s on the bus and might be listening,” Chioma said.
Nnamdi nodded. He quickly told her about his new ability and all he’d seen.
“That’s really . . . Wow!” she said. “So you know exactly where his car is?”
Nnamdi grinned and nodded.
“You’re a walking GPS!”
“I guess. Except using it too much makes me want to vomit,” he said. “But, Chioma, what’s this about Ruff Diamond? Hurry, tell me everything.”
“Remember when Ruff Diamond left school?”
“Yeah,” he said. It was days before Nnamdi had fought with Never Die. “Jide said he heard Ruff Diamond went to see his mother.”
“We leave in two minutes!” the bus driver announced.
Chioma and Nnamdi talked faster. “You’d been gone for a few days,” Chioma said. “You know . . . you were at the abandoned school. Well, Ruff Diamond went to visit his mother and he hasn’t come back.”
“So?” Nnamdi said, shrugging. “That doesn’t mean he’s been kidnapped.”
“I know that. I’m not finished,” Chioma said. She took a quick swig of water. “You know how my laptop broke and my father won’t buy me a new one until next year? Well, I wanted to write some poems and I offered Ruff Diamond some cookies I made in exchange for using his laptop for a few days, so he lent it to me. This was the day before he supposedly went to his mother’s house. Well, he never came back for it or called me or anything. His laptop is really nice and he worked for his uncle for a year and a half before his uncle would buy it for him. That’s not something you leave behind. Now it’s been over a week!”
“Everyone!” the bus driver shouted. “We are leaving!”
They started walking back to the bus. “Anyway, I was in the market, buying tomatoes for my mum from Ruff Diamond’s aunt
ie, when his uncle came running to her. They moved away from me and were whispering. His auntie started weeping. I tried to listen. All I caught was ‘What kind of ransom?’ His uncle was holding a mango. One of those nice fat sweet ones. And he threw it on the ground. I didn’t think anything of it before, other than ‘What a waste!’ But now . . .”
“All the pieces fit,” Nnamdi said, finishing her thought. “You can’t get those big, big mangoes from anywhere nearby except in Tse-Kucha.”
Chioma nodded.
They were standing outside the full bus.
“And if it involves Tse-Kucha . . . I’ll bet Three Days’ Journey had something to do with it,” Nnamdi said.
“Yeah,” Chioma agreed.
“Are you two getting on or what?” the driver asked, poking his head out the door. They scrambled back onto the bus and the driver quickly shut the door behind them and started the engine.
Tse-Kucha
NNAMDI RECOGNIZED EVERYTHING from his vision as soon as they got off the bus. “It’s just down that road,” he said.
“What is? The computer place?”
“Yeah.”
“Ah!” Chioma exclaimed, slapping her arm. “Mosquitoes here do not wait one moment.”
Nnamdi slapped the side of his head. When his hand came away, there were two crushed mosquitoes on it. More would come out in the dark, but he was glad the sun was setting. These days, the darkness was his friend.
* * *
They stood behind the tree right outside the shop. It hadn’t taken them more than a half hour to get to the place from the bus stop. There was no line anymore, but the lights inside were on and the two computer technicians inside were hard at work. Since it was dusk, Nnamdi wouldn’t have any trouble sneaking up to the entrance unnoticed.
Ikenga Page 10
