The last thing he wanted to see right now was the self-righteous mug of Private Agu. Benson watched intensely as Agu entered his office. He glanced at Agu’s hands. They looked normal enough. A curvy woman with a notepad followed behind him. Agu saluted Benson. Benson didn’t salute back.
The moment she entered the office, Adaora knew they’d made a mistake. She and Agu stood in awkward silence as Benson stared them down. Angry energy radiated from the burly, swollen-faced man behind the desk. He looked ready to wring Agu’s neck. Despite the large fan blowing right behind him, he was glistening with sweat.
Benson sat back in his leather chair, twiddling a pencil in his hands. The silence stretched out between them.
“I didn’t come here to talk about yesterday, sir,” Agu finally said.
Benson chuckled deep in his throat. “Are you sure?”
“This is Adaora,” Agu said. Adaora gave him a quick nod. “She is a professor of marine biology I met last night after the . . . I met her on Bar Beach.”
Benson’s eyes grew wide before he gained control of himself. “You were there? When it happened?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sit.”
Agu and Adaora sat.
“Sir, we know what caused the sonic boom and what is causing the water to rise. We . . . we met one and . . .”
Benson frowned. “One what?”
Silence. Adaora looked at Agu after no one said anything for several seconds. Agu and Benson were staring at each other.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning, Agu?” Adaora ventured. But Benson and Agu just glared at one another.
“Um . . . Please, sir,” Adaora tried again. “Just listen to him, sir. Please. Sir?”
Silence. Adaora could practically hear the anger that flowed between Agu and Benson.
“Look,” Adaora said, desperate. “I met Agu last night. We were both walking on Bar Beach. We and one other man were in the same place when we heard the boom. It was painfully loud. Then . . . something . . .” She bit her lip. No, she didn’t think this was a good person to tell about them being taken. “This woman came . . . from the water.”
Slowly, Benson dragged his eyes from Agu and set them on Adaora. Adaora spoke louder and faster. “She . . . she told us she was from outer space,” she said. “She can change. Into many things! The three of us have seen her do it twice now.
“We took her to my home. I’ve examined her skin cells under a microscope. Again, sir, I am a marine biologist. I have a lab in my house.” Adaora leaned forward, excited despite herself. “I’ve never seen anything like it. She isn’t made of cellular matter. And she’s not the only one. There are more of them . . . in the water. That’s why the water is rising.”
Finally Agu spoke. “Sir, your uncle, the president, needs to take control of what’s happening. I know no one knows where he is but you can reach him, can’t you? It’s an opportunity for Nigeria to—”
“My uncle is very ill.”
“But he is still the president, sir,” Agu said, trying to control himself. “He has not relinquished even one presidential responsibility, isn’t that true? Absurd as the idea of aliens in Lagos, in any part of Nigeria is, it’s real. It’s happened. He must get involved.” Peripherally, Agu could see Adaora, nodding.
“So you have one contained, Private?” Benson asked.
“Yes, sir,” Agu said. “She’s not violent or—”
“Is it green?”
Agu frowned. “Well, sir, she’s—”
“Slimy? Does it have antennae and those big yanfuyanfu eyes?” Benson asked, a smirk on his face.
“They’re not evil like the ones in all the movies,” Adaora added.
Benson grunted, twirling his pencil in his hand. “You know, it was just alcohol.”
“What?” Agu snapped.
“At the checkpoint last night,” Benson said. “We were all drunk and tired. And you can’t tell me she didn’t want it.”
Agu and Adaora looked at each other. Agu’s face went dark. Alcohol, my nyash, he thought. He’d seen Benson with his own eyes smoking igbo last night. How stupid did this man think he was?
“I didn’t come here to discuss that, sir,” Agu said evenly.
“No one could argue that she was drunk and practically spreading her legs for me,” Benson said.
Agu clasped the arms of his chair, digging his fingers deep into the upholstery. Adaora grabbed Agu’s hand. He didn’t notice at all. “That’s it, I can’t do this! I’m going to make sure all the newspapers and all your superiors know what you did!” He jumped up out of his chair. “Women don’t scream, cry, and fight if they ‘want’ it!” he shouted.
Adaora smacked her forehead, exasperated. “Can’t you two deal with this later?” she said to Benson. “This is an emergency! A national crisis! Call the damn president now! Tell him we need to see him! Tell—”
“I’ll do what’s necessary, miss!” Benson bellowed, standing up. He pointed at Agu. “I’ll see you tried for this insubordination, Private Agu! Private Julius, Private Akunna, get in here!”
The office door swung open as two beefy soldiers burst in. Adaora flinched at the smug expressions on their faces.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” the taller one said. He pointed at Agu. “I will kparoof you.”
“I guess he didn’t get enough last night,” the other one added.
Agu raised his fists, his unhurt eye bulging. He looked from one soldier to the other. “Come on then,” he said. “I will bring you both down.” He didn’t want to punch anyone. He didn’t want to kill anyone. But he could feel the potential in his fists. Without looking down at them, he quickly put his hands behind his back.
The two men hesitated. Then they moved forward and grabbed him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Adaora shouted, pressing away from the soldiers, her back against the wall.
They cuffed Agu. Then the short one held him, and Benson nodded. The taller one smashed a fist into Agu’s belly, causing him to cough and gag.
“STOP IT!” Adaora screamed, tears in her eyes.
They punched Agu in the belly again and then in the face, opening up the cut on his forehead. Blood dribbled into his swollen eye.
Adaora launched herself away from the wall and toward the fight when Benson grabbed her arm. She gave him a vicious look and tried to snatch it away. She considered biting him but couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Get him out of my sight,” Benson instructed his lackeys. “Put him somewhere where he can’t cause trouble.” As they dragged Agu out the door, Benson followed, pulling Adaora with him. “Come on, woman. After I make an important phone call, I’d like you to introduce me to your friend.”
Adaora finally tore her arm away, freeing herself from his grip. Benson looked amused.
“You can’t do this,” she said, shaking as she fought to control her outrage. “I won’t cooperate!”
Benson smirked. “This is a question of national security, prof. It’s not a good idea to get in the way of a military operation. People get thrown in jail for that kind of thing. And our jails are not so nice, especially for a woman like you.”
Adaora frowned, her mind racing. “What if we’re not telling the truth? What if this isn’t really an alien invasion? You’ll look like a fool in front of everyone.”
Benson smiled as he took her arm again. “Agu never lies. That’s his biggest problem.”
CHAPTER 16
HEADLESS STATE
The president of Nigeria had been in the same place for over fifteen hours since waking from his heart surgery, staring and staring at the news on television. He still couldn’t believe his eyes. His nurse and his wife had assured him that his head was clear. They insisted that his pain medications were non-hallucinogenic. And because he could speak, though doing so was
rather taxing, he knew he wasn’t in hell. Not yet. For the first time in months, he forgot about his pericarditis. He was free of the nightmarish images that haunted him, the images of his heart encased in a sack of vile yellow diseased fluid.
But this was worse.
Oh Allah, what am I going to do all the way from Saudi Arabia? he wondered. He wasn’t about to call on his VP. Handing things over to Wishwell Williams, indeed! There was no way he was delegating something so serious to a power-hungry, money-grubbing Christian blockhead with such a stupid name. Who would name their child “Wishwell”? The very idea of handing over the country to a man named Wishwell Williams made him want to spit. The man’s master’s degree was in zoology, for Allah’s sake! Williams knew more about governing lizards and birds than human beings.
“What are you going to do?” his first wife, Zena, asked. She was sitting on the edge of his bed watching the news with him. He wished she’d leave. Her cloying perfume was giving him a headache, and her clicking porcelain bangles were making too much noise. He needed his advisors. He wouldn’t have minded his second wife Hawra’s presence, either. She had a better feel for policy, being a lawyer herself. The only good thing about Zena was that she preferred to speak to him in Hausa instead of English.
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling his heart skip a bit in his chest. This situation was going to kill him. He wished he were at his home in Abuja with a glass of cool Guinness, watching Star Wars on his high-definition wide-screen television. He loved Star Wars, especially the more recent installments. There was such honor in Star Wars. In another life, he’d have made a great Jedi knight. Being a vigilante loyal only to justice was always better than being any kind of head of state. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said in his dry voice. “We need to do proper research.”
Zena looked at him but did not speak her thoughts. His illness made her presence more important. She was his senior wife; she’d known him longest. Thus, when he had fallen sick, she was the one he wanted around to care for him. Still, sometimes the sight of him made her want to spit. He looked so thin, so frail, so impotent in his white hospital gown. His skin was a blotchy mess. His eyes were rheumy and yellow. He was nothing like the lion of a man she’d married decades ago. And he wasn’t even thinking straight. How could he do “research” when he was a continent away? The slightest amount of stress made his heart do a death dance. Nevertheless, if he didn’t return to Nigeria soon, there would surely be a coup d’état.
The president wanted to shut the television off. He knew more than his wife, for he’d had a phone call that he’d sent her out of the room to take. It was from his good-for-nothing nephew, Benson. Of all people, why did he have to be the one handling this? Benson said he believed Lagos had been invaded by extraterrestrials. He’d sent a group of soldiers and two local oceanographers to patrol Bar Beach, and those men reported that the waters were teeming with ocean life that had not been seen there in over thirty years, and some that had never been seen—whatever that meant. And they couldn’t explain the copious amount of seaweed washing ashore, either.
Most troublesome was the report of the woman in someone’s house in Lagos believed to be one of the space creatures. Benson said he’d been told that she could shape-shift and was potentially dangerous. And right now Benson was on his way to the house to either capture or kill her. Benson, his most foolish nephew.
I have to get back to Nigeria, the president thought, rubbing his stubbly chin.
CHAPTER 17
CASHEWS, PURE WATER, AND CHIN CHIN
Anthony looked out the window at the crowd of fans gathering in the narrow residential street outside the house. Most were young people, and they brought a festive air. Local hawkers had picked up the scent and were selling bottled soft drinks, bags of “pure water,” cashews, peanuts and chin chin, and packs of cigarettes. Many had probably been at last night’s concert. And all of them seemed to have some kind of mobile phone in their hands. They talked, texted, took photos and footage of Adaora’s house. His friend Festus said that the social networking sites were buzzing with news of the Ghanaian rapper’s whereabouts and that he would give a free concert if enough people showed up. Word was traveling fast.
Behind him, Ayodele sat on the sofa. Adaora’s children sat across from her, staring in fascination. Philo stood sulking on the other side of the room. She was preoccupied with looking at her silent phone.
“Your audience gathers,” Anthony said.
Ayodele smiled. “You’re well liked.”
“I’m loved,” Anthony said, turning back to the window. He hoped they’d still love him after they learned that he wouldn’t be giving a concert.
Impatient, Philo opened her phone, flipped it shut, then opened it again. She couldn’t stand being in the same room as this woman, thing, whatever she was. Philo was positive that the woman-thing was evil, with her pleasant demeanor and long, too tightly braided hair and wicked ways. God will punish her, Philo thought darkly.
CHAPTER 18
SMOKING IGBO
Moziz was trying not to speed. With all the military and police out, he knew it was best to be as inconspicuous as possible. Especially since it was still late afternoon. But he had the feeling that time was short. He turned up his music—Anthony Dey Craze—and let the bass shake his well-traveled tan ’94 Nissan.
Troy was in the passenger seat, quieter than usual. Jacobs and Tolu were in the back, also quiet, as they smoked igbo. The smoke smelled especially sweet, and Moziz inhaled deeply. All of them wore black masks and were dressed in black clothes as Moziz had instructed. It was broad daylight, but Moziz didn’t care about being seen as much as putting fear into everyone in that house.
“We go be rich, oooo!” Jacobs shouted over the music, feeling very irie. He’d pushed thoughts of the Black Nexus out of his mind. Both Seven and Rome had been calling him all day. They could wait. Everything in his life was about to come together. He was sure of it. Once he had the money, he’d bring them in on things. He did wonder about Fisayo, who was supposed to have called him hours ago. But he was sure she was fine. And when he brought money to her, she’d be even finer.
Jacobs slapped hands with Tolu, who took a deep pull on the joint and handed it to Moziz. As Tolu spoke, he exhaled smoke: “Small time now, dem go trap all of them and we no go see chance take dem make money again. Moziz, na pot of gold your girl hand us so, o.”
Moziz took a pull on the joint and nodded. “We never begin eat cake yet. Mek we first pray say mek checkpoints no dey this road today.”
It was only Troy who was not caught up in the moment. “Nigerian police dey jump on top people motors and okada like say dem American ninja dem, and like say dem be Bruce Willis for Die Hard, abi?” Troy said. “Dem dey even chop women like groundnut.” He sucked his teeth with anger and muttered, “Nonsense.”
Moziz, Jacobs, and Tolu burst out laughing, but Troy only looked out the window, a dark expression on his face. He was thinking about the phone call he’d gotten a few hours earlier from his cousin Inno, saying his sweet pretty cousin Oregbemi had been raped last night by some soldiers or police, one of whom had had the nerve to be on television last night. Making appearances so soon after trying to kill Oregbemi. He, his cousins, and friends would get all the details and handle that soon, after he did what he had to do here. Once he had some money, he could take down even the authorities.
“Listen, if we reach dere, we enter and we comot fast,” Moziz said.
They all agreed.
* * * *
Anthony had his phone to his ear as he watched the festive crowd swell larger and larger outside of Adaora’s house. He frowned. “Why won’t either of them answer?” he muttered. He looked at his phone, pressed end, and redialed.
Ayodele was showing Kola how to use Adaora’s old but reliable digital camera. Kola’s brother, Fred, looked on with great interest.
“Yes.”
“It’s so easy!” Kola proclaimed, looking down at the screen. “Mommy never lets me touch this.” She giggled. “Wait until she sees that I can use it better than she can.” She lowered it and fiddled with some of the buttons.
Philomena stood on the other side of the room, looking out the window anxiously. She hadn’t mentioned the growing crowd to Moziz, afraid that he might not come if he knew. She no longer cared if the damn kids wanted to play with the alien. Even she sensed the urgency in the air. Something was about to change, and somehow this knowledge gave her the strength to take charge of her life. The first thing she’d do was not feel an ounce of guilt for what she was about to help happen.
* * * *
Adaora was fuming. Why did we think the man would behave rationally? When had the Nigerian government and military done anything for its people? They were all about covering their asses and stuffing their own pockets. She wanted to slap her other cheek. She’d been an idiot. She and Agu, rare patriotic Nigerians trying to do the right thing. Stupid members of the populace. Insignificant, powerless civilians. She should have known better.
She leaned her head against the car window. Lance Corporal Benson was in the passenger seat, the shiny silver SUV driven by yet another of his stupid lackeys. Poor Agu. What would they do to him? She nearly jumped when her mobile phone went off.
Benson held the phone up, looking at the caller ID. He turned around and scowled at her. “Who is Anthony Dey Craze?”
Adaora gritted her teeth. Her phone was her personal property. And when had he even snatched it from her pocket? “He is the other man who was with Agu and me when we first met the woman on the beach.”
He grunted, looking at the phone. “Sounds like that mumu rapper my niece listens to who is always screaming that he is crazy,” he said, putting it in his pocket. “If it is, maybe we should arrest him, too.” Both he and the soldier driving the SUV laughed.
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