Black Panther

by Ronald L. Smith

  “You have done well, my son,” Mr. Jones said. “Tonight, you will be shown the higher mysteries, as I promised you.”

  Gemini turned to look at his followers. He smiled and bobbed his head up and down. “See what I told you? That’s right. Glad you stuck with me now?”

  Heads began to nod in agreement, but T’Challa saw that several kids remained quiet, and began to turn and look at each other, wondering what they had gotten themselves into.

  “This is where he’ll come through,” Gemini went on, nervous energy coming off of him in waves, “the Prince of Bones. He’ll give us power! More than we could ever want!”

  But the Skulls did not cheer and applaud this time. They were watching Gemini’s father and the silent men who stood behind him.

  “I had them all swear on the book, too,” Gemini said, turning back to his father. “Just like you told me to.”

  “Good, my son,” said Mr. Jones.

  “We have to do something now,” Sheila whispered through clenched teeth.

  T’Challa felt the material in his suit knitting itself together, almost like a living thing. The spirit of the Panther God, Bast, was stirring inside of him, ready to be unleashed.

  Mr. Jones took a few steps forward. “There is something you all need to know,” he said, eyeing the crowd. “You see, to accomplish any great deed, there must be sacrifice.”

  Gemini nodded—still hopeful, it seemed to T’Challa, that his great moment would be played out for all to see.

  “Sometimes sacrifice is hard,” Mr. Jones continued, “but the rewards are great. For instance, when you all placed your hands upon the Black Book of Signs and spoke the incantation, you swore your souls away.”

  T’Challa was struck. Swore their souls?

  Gemini shook his head in a nervous gesture. “But you said the incantation would open the door to the other side. You said those words would bring back Vincent Dubois. They said it in Old Nubian, just like you showed me.”

  “Darkness falls,” Mr. Jones chanted, “and He shall awaken. Swear to Him, and ye shall be rewarded.”

  Gemini was now pacing in front of his father. “What does that mean? That’s not what you told me it meant. You told me to make them swear on the book. I wouldn’t have—”

  “But you did, boy,” said Mr. Jones with finality. “And now the time has come.”

  T’Challa was speechless, looking at the two of them, father and son, but so much different from himself and his own father.

  Mr. Jones stood over the children like a teacher scolding unruly students. “Your souls will feed the Obayifo,” he said. “And your reward will be everlasting life. Through him.”

  “Obey-what?” Gemini said. He was afraid. T’Challa saw it in the way he stood, as if he had somehow shrunk in on himself.

  “Oh-bay-ee-fo,” Mr. Jones enunciated. “Also known as Asiman. That oath was one of sacrifice. The Obayifo feeds on souls. The souls of children, to be precise.” He angled his head and sniffed the air. “In fact, I think he is here now.”

  The men behind Mr. Jones began to chant. The sound was familiar. Old Nubian, T’Challa realized.

  The children began to look around warily. T’Challa saw M’Baku peering left and right. Was he looking for T’Challa to come to his rescue?

  I have to strike soon, T’Challa told himself. Courage cannot fail me now.

  “Long ago,” Mr. Jones said, beginning to walk and addressing the crowd, “before I found a higher path, I studied particle physics. I worked for years, until finally, I found it—my life’s work.” He ran a finger along the silver medallion around his neck, which opened with a click. A small glowing bead of red was cradled within. “It is here, the God Particle, and when merged with the energy from condensed Vibranium, it will open a door to another realm, one where I will rise as a god.”

  Mr. Jones yanked the medallion from his neck and threw it to the ground.

  T’Challa rushed him.

  But not before Mr. Jones tipped the vial onto the glowing object at his feet.

  A deafening BOOM rang in T’Challa’s ears and sent him reeling.

  The darkness ahead of him was ripped away and replaced by a gaping chasm, ringed with red and purple fire.

  “Zeke!” T’Challa cried. “Sheila!”

  But there was no answer.

  Gemini and the Skulls were nowhere to be seen. T’Challa picked himself up. The black hole in front of him made a noise, like rumbling thunder. Lightning strikes flared within it, pulsing in colors T’Challa could not describe.

  And out of it came Mr. Jones.

  But he had changed.

  A light was traveling through him, like a pitcher being filled with water, but this light was silvery and metallic.

  Mr. Jones shook his head back and forth, as if in pain, but he quickly stood up straight, the strange light within him flickering. His face was…shifting…moving.

  The men picked themselves up from the blast and began to chant again. T’Challa could feel it deep down in his bones. Mr. Jones’s head was bowed. But then he raised it.

  T’Challa shivered.

  Where Mr. Jones once stood was something else. Something…inhuman.

  It opened its mouth. Where its teeth should have been was a forest of tiny black spikes. Its eyes were red, and burned with flame. “He is here!” it roared, arms to the heavens. “The Obayifo is here!”

  T’Challa stepped back in horror. How can I stop that thing? I can’t.

  There was a flash of purple smoke and then chaos.

  Sheila rushed out of the darkness and flung something high over her head. Another burst of purple smoke plumed in the air. Her smoke bombs, T’Challa realized, as it exploded in front of Mr. Jones. She was trying to create a distraction.

  “Red Lightning!” a small voice cried out, as a blur of red zipped past T’Challa.

  “Zeke!” T’Challa shouted. “No!”

  Mr. Jones swatted Zeke away with one hand, sending him crashing into a wall, limp and broken.

  T’Challa sped forward and shimmied up one of the arches, turned his body halfway around, and jumped, crashing down on the creature’s back. The Obayifo fell to the ground but quickly pushed itself up, flinging T’Challa off.

  T’Challa rolled on the ground and sprang up quickly. He charged again, faster than he thought possible, and swung. He missed the beast’s head by an inch and smashed his fist into the wall, creating a spiderweb of cracks. T’Challa didn’t have time to marvel at his own strength. He just had to fight.

  The creature struck out with a closed fist, catching T’Challa in the jaw. He flew back, dazed. It felt like he’d just been hit with a sledgehammer, though the suit dampened the blow somewhat. If it hadn’t, he realized, he’d be dead.

  T’Challa leapt up off of his feet again and flipped in a backward somersault, driving his foot up into the creature’s chin and landing back on solid ground. But at the last moment, he slipped, and they both went down in a tumble, arms and legs flailing.

  The two of them stood quickly and faced each other, breathing hard. “For Wakanda!” T’Challa shouted, and charged again. Right at the last moment, he sprang up, higher than humanly possible, and came crashing down, driving his elbow into the hideous creature’s spine. It cried out—a deep, unsettling moan—and flung T’Challa from its back again.

  They faced each other once more—the young panther and this thing from who knew where. T’Challa’s breath was coming in great gulps. He squeezed his fists and felt the cloth of the suit tighten around his knuckles. Behind him, the hole through which Mr. Jones appeared stood open like a giant yawning mouth, black and fathomless.

  Then T’Challa saw the kids.

  “Help!”

  It was as if a giant vacuum had been turned on, sucking up everything in its path, a black hole leading to nothing. Dirt and mud swirled and slid toward the hole. T’Challa didn’t have much time.

  The Obayifo drew itself up to its full height. A long arm shot out and grasped
T’Challa around the neck. He couldn’t breathe. He clawed at his neck, trying to break free. The Obayifo slammed T’Challa against the wall, but the kinetic energy of the Panther suit absorbed it.

  “See, young prince,” the creature said, just inches from T’Challa’s face. “Look what you’ve gotten yourself into now.”

  T’Challa gagged. The monster smelled of death.

  “I will stop you,” T’Challa croaked out.

  The creature cocked its head. “Really? How?” Its eyes blazed a terrible red.

  “Like this,” T’Challa said, and crashed his forehead down into the demon’s head.

  The beast fell back, and T’Challa immediately thrust out his leg, delivering a forceful kick to its midsection, pushing the monster farther back toward the hole.

  “Help!” T’Challa heard. Several children were being pulled along the damp floor by the black hole, a force too strong to resist. They grasped at the ground but found no purchase. Zeke and Sheila, T’Challa thought with dread. I have to stop this thing now!

  From the corner of his eye, a dark figure came running in his direction.

  Gemini Jones dove headfirst into the demon’s chest, knocking it to the ground. T’Challa quickly joined him, grabbing one arm while Gemini clutched the other. They were close to the hole, crackling with energy and fire.

  The thing shook its gruesome head and howled, trying to break free, but both boys held it tight. T’Challa felt a pull as the hole tried to swallow him up. Gemini was also being pulled along, as if by an invisible magnet. T’Challa stretched out his other arm against Gemini’s chest, holding him back while trying to grapple with the boy’s transformed father at the same time.

  T’Challa planted his feet, trying with all his might to gain a foothold, as if he were playing tug-of-war back home in Wakanda with M’Baku.

  The creature that was once Gemini’s father pushed back, using all of its strength to push itself away. But both boys dragged it closer to the swirling empty mass. White lights winked from within its inky depths.

  T’Challa looked at Gemini. Gemini looked at T’Challa.

  And then they pushed the thing in.

  The black hole winked out, as if it had never existed.

  T’Challa thought he saw little orbs of red and green light floating in the air, but he wasn’t sure. He was dazed, his head spinning with what had just happened.

  The air around them stirred, warmer than it had been just minutes before. It was as if a door had been closed, shutting out the cold air from another room.

  There was no scream. No howl of pain. Just silence.

  The men, the Circle of Nine, were nowhere to be seen. The only sounds were the soft sniffles and cries from children. Zeke and Sheila crept from behind the arches.

  “Is it done?” Zeke asked. “Did we stop him?”

  “We did,” T’Challa said. “Are you hurt?”

  “My arm feels like it’s banged up,” Zeke said, “and my head hurts.”

  “It was brave what you did,” T’Challa said. “Both of you.”

  “One for all and all for one,” Zeke said.

  They were interrupted by the sound of moaning and startled voices.

  “Help them,” T’Challa said to Gemini.

  And without missing a beat, Gemini jogged over to help his friends. For a gang that was supposed to be so tough, T’Challa noticed, not one of them chided the others for crying. They had seen something terrible. Something not of this world.

  “I’m sorry,” T’Challa heard Gemini confess a short distance away. “I…I didn’t know. I didn’t know my father used me to do this. I wouldn’t’ve—I couldn’t…” He trailed off, and raised his hand to his eyes. He shook his head, and then his voice broke. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  Small pools of lights from several cell phones began to glow. A jumble of mingled voices reached T’Challa’s ears:

  Someone call 9-1-1.…

  I need to call my parents.…

  Who was that in the black costume? The one that was fighting it?

  T’Challa found his backpack and darted away unseen, behind one of the many dark spots in the underground tunnel. He slipped his clothes on over the Panther suit and found Zeke and Sheila. “We have to get out of here,” he told them.

  “What was it?” Zeke asked, looking around warily, as if another monstrous creature could appear out of the darkness. “How did—?”

  “Gemini’s father,” Sheila said, her voice faraway and quiet. “He was…He changed into…”

  “He’s gone now,” T’Challa said. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt anyone again.”

  He turned and searched the throng of kids for M’Baku, but he was nowhere in sight.

  Back outside, the air was cold and damp, but T’Challa was still burning with adrenaline. They walked through the empty parking lot of the school, silent. The moon was dim above them.

  “I can’t believe it,” Zeke said.

  “No one’s ever going to believe it,” Sheila added.

  “Except for everyone that was there tonight,” T’Challa said. They saw me. They all saw who I really am.

  When T’Challa slept that night, his dreams were full of black fire and smoke. He awoke several times gasping for breath, believing that the Obayifo, the monstrous creature from the depths of the underworld, was there in his room, searching for him. But when his eyes adjusted to the dark, the only thing he saw was moonlight peeking in through his window.

  M’Baku came back to the embassy the next day, backpack in tow and with a look of guilt on his face he couldn’t hide. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. It took a long time for him to speak, but finally, it all came out.

  “It all started with Gemini,” he said. “He told me that his father traveled in Africa before and wanted to talk to me.”

  T’Challa listened but remained rigid, barely making eye contact, only studying the blank walls in the room.

  “He was…strange,” M’Baku continued. “I didn’t want to tell him anything. It just sort of happened.”

  It seemed to T’Challa that he was telling the truth, but he still couldn’t forgive him. Not yet, at least.

  “He kept pressing me about where we were from, and somehow I—I let it slip. I’m sorry, my friend. Really.”

  T’Challa was still fuming. “What about my ring?” he hissed. He stood up, and moved closer to M’Baku. “That was your own idea, right? You wanted to impress Gemini and his father! How could you, M’Baku?”

  M’Baku lowered his head.

  Rage filled T’Challa’s heart. He clenched his fists. “This will come back to haunt you one day,” he said. “This…betrayal.”

  M’Baku stood up. The two boys faced each other, breathing hard. But before it came to blows, M’Baku picked up his pack from the floor. “I guess I won’t be staying here any longer,” he said, and headed for the door.

  “M’Baku,” T’Challa said wearily. “Just stop. You have to stay here. My father—”

  M’Baku froze, and then turned around.

  “Wakanda was attacked,” T’Challa told him. “Didn’t you hear from your father?”

  M’Baku slipped his bag from his shoulder. “No.”

  “Don’t worry,” T’Challa said. “Everyone’s safe. But my father—your king—ordered us to stay here until everything is under control. You can’t just go running off to who knows where.”

  M’Baku took a few steps and slumped into a chair. He let out a labored sigh and ran his hand through his hair. “You’re not going to tell my father, are you?”

  T’Challa didn’t answer.

  “If he finds out what I’ve done, he’ll never forgive me, T’Challa. He’ll banish me…make me leave the kingdom.”

  T’Challa met his friend’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  And the boys didn’t speak again for the rest of the night.

  “‘Obayifo,’” Zeke read
from his cell phone, “‘also known as Asiman, is an African vampire demon. It has an appetite for ripe fruit and’”—he swallowed—“‘children.’”

  T’Challa, Sheila, and Zeke sat outside on the football bleachers. The Monday after “the Event,” as Zeke called it, several students called in sick. But T’Challa was okay, and so were his friends. And that was all he cared about at the moment.

  Zeke fiddled with the clip that held his sling in place. “It’s kind of cool, actually,” he said. “Having a sprained arm. It gets me out of gym class.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “How did he do it?” Sheila asked. “Mr. Jones? How did he turn into it?”

  T’Challa still wasn’t sure, but he had a theory. “I think that the energy stored in that God Particle combined with condensed Vibranium ripped a hole in our dimension.”

  “But how did he turn into it?” Zeke asked. “The Vibranium didn’t do it, did it?”

  “No,” T’Challa said. “Vibranium is an alien metal. It’s not magic. I think Mr. Jones and this Circle of Nine mixed magic and science together. Remember the chanting? I think that’s what really turned Mr. Jones into that creature.”

  T’Challa remembered the words Mr. Jones had spoken: Did you know that when Vibranium was first found in Wakanda, it turned several of your people into demon spirits?

  T’Challa shuddered. He recalled the legends of Wakanda, which spoke of his ancestors transformed by their first experience with Vibranium. It was Bashenga, the first Black Panther, who prayed to the Panther God for strength in defeating them.

  T’Challa looked out past the football field. Silent crows sat on the fence like sentries. His ring was gone, lost in a swirling mass of energy.

  He wondered, not for the first time, what he would say to his father.

  Gemini Jones wasn’t seen in school again. The newspapers reported that his father died in a mysterious accident in an abandoned water tunnel.