Stones of Nairobi

by Vered Ehsani

  Shaking my head to dislodge the treacherous thoughts insinuating themselves into my resolve, I recalled my own childhood. How many were the nights I cried out my loneliness as I yearned for my parents to return, knowing they never would?

  Fortified by those memories, I said, “But she won’t be with her mother or father. That’s not right.”

  Sighing, Koitalel withdrew his hand and stepped back. “It’s an agonizing decision but one I hope you will come to accept.”

  So saying, he bowed slightly, turned his back to us and drifted away into the skeleton-filled shadows.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ONCE KOITALEL RETURNED to Liongo’s side, the animated skeletons began to march again, their bones clacking, their jaws snapping, their various implements raised aloft. While many carried swords, knives, pitchforks and scythes, one swung a broom before its chest bones.

  “At least the garden will be cleared of leaves,” I commented.

  Yao frowned at me while Mr. Timmons chuckled. Huddled by the window, we watched their steady approach. Only Jonas and Father were absent as they darted through the house to ensure that all the windows and doors had been secured against the bony onslaught.

  “I can’t find any energy to drain,” Mr. Timmons said, his scowl deepening as he reached out toward the army.

  I squinted into the night. “That’s because they have none,” I confirmed. “And Liongo’s energy field is protected by some sort of shield.”

  “How vexing,” Tiberius said as he exhaled smoke.

  “Indeed. So how do we kill them?” I asked.

  “That’s the spirit, girl,” Koki smirked.

  “We can’t,” Kam rumbled. “They’re already dead.”

  Rolling my shoulders to release tension, I muttered, “Lovely.”

  “It’s not lovely,” Yao protested as he eyed me and shook his head. “It’s the opposite of lovely. Now, Wanjiru, she is lovely. These things are—”

  “How do we stop them then?” Mr. Timmons interrupted Yao’s commentary on the appropriate use of the word.

  “Break them,” Kam said. “The force that moves them needs the head to be connected. Sunlight also works.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m fresh out of sunshine,” I said and sighed. “So no arrows or poisonous darts then.”

  “It’s the old fashioned way, my dear,” Mr. Timmons said. “Clubs and fists.”

  Grinning, Yao announced, “And rungus.” Turning to face the door, he shouted, “Jonas, find rungus.”

  A muffled response from some nearby room reached us, sounding suspiciously like, “Get your own damn rungu.”

  Tiberius leaned toward me. “What’s a rungu?”

  He was answered by Jonas who appeared in the doorway holding aloft a smooth, well polished, slender stick that was not even two feet long. At one end, the stick curved to form a ball.

  “They don’t look like much,” I confided to my brother, “but they are effective at knocking sense into someone’s head.” I paused and added, “I’m sure they’ll do just fine at knocking a skull off as well.”

  “Our guest, Miss Baxter, she’s awake and upset,” Jonas said as he bounced the rungu against one palm.

  “Yao can knock her skull off,” Yao offered.

  Father blanched. “I’m sure Miss Baxter has had enough trauma for one day.”

  “That’s nothing compared to the trauma we’ve undergone, thanks to her accusations,” I said, my eyes narrowing on my husband.

  Mr. Timmons wisely remained silent.

  Arming ourselves as best we could, we scattered to different areas of the house. The plan, such as it was, involved preventing the skeletons from entering the house until the sun came to our rescue in a few hours. We focused on the front of the house where the larger windows and doors were; the back of the house was mostly wall with a few small windows and one door that were easily fortified.

  If (or rather when) they breached our defenses, then we’d move to the second plan: knock their heads off their shoulders. Kam would focus on Liongo. Tiberius was perched on the roof in bat form to prevent any from accessing the chimney or second-floor windows. As for Lilly, the best we could do was move her into a smaller room at the back of the house that had only two small windows that we blocked. Miss Baxter’s closet had no windows, so she was ironically in the safest position.

  As the skeletons reached the house, the clacking and clattering were deafening. Standing in the library with Mr. Timmons, I had to shout to be heard. Fortunately, we didn’t need to converse any further. An exchange of glances, both tender and ferociously protective, was sufficient.

  Something heavy smacked against the wooden shutters of the window before me. From another part of the house, the tinkling of glass suggested that our hastily fortified windows weren’t up to the challenge of a siege.

  “There’s one in the house,” Yao yelled from the corridor just outside the library. “What fun.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” I said just as glass shattered and wood splintered in front of me. One of the wooden shutters and the window it covered had a fist-sized hole. A skeleton’s arm poked through and swung about, the fingers grasping at the air. Another hole appeared in the weakened shutter.

  “Don’t you wish you were back in jail where it’s safe?” I asked as I smacked at the arm before me while dodging a rusted spear.

  “And miss all the fun?” Mr. Timmons responded, his grin vicious and his eyes wild.

  A skull flew over my head, its passage brushing a few hairs.

  “Sorry,” Yao called out from outside the room. “Good news: no more skeletons in the corridor. And we’ve blocked the hole it made.”

  Something clattered above us.

  “Sounds like they’re on the roof,” Mr. Timmons observed just as a few red clay tiles rained down on the other side of the shutters. One bony arm fell into the room.

  The spear was still in motion as its owner jabbed about blindly with it, causing the two holes in the shutter to join. I now had a clear view of the horde of animated bones attempting to breach our defenses. I wrestled the spear free. Tossing it behind me, I peered through the ever-enlarging hole and saw a few skeletons fall from the sky.

  “Tiberius seems capable of handling things up there,” I observed.

  And so it went on. The pile of bones collecting before me was the only indication of the passage of time.

  At some point, Gideon whisked into the room and floated in front of me. His mouth moved but I heard nothing above the crashing of my metal walking stick against crunching bones.

  “I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment,” I shouted back as I walloped the forearm off a skeleton that was halfway through the window. Its jawbone snapped at me.

  Rolling his eyes, Gideon floated to Mr. Timmons. I didn’t dare remove my attention from the collection of bones attempting to crawl through the gaping hole. Only when Mr. Timmons waved at me and gestured that he was following Gideon somewhere did I pause in my efforts.

  “I’ll be fine,” I reassured him as I dodged a hand; the little bones rasped against my skirt.

  That would have been true if Tompandrano hadn’t charged through the window a few minutes later.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THE CROCODILE’S SHEER bulk and weight, aided by his momentum, not only flattened all the skeletons in his path and broke what remained of the shutters, but also demolished a good section of the surrounding wall. Bricks exploded and cascaded around me with heavy thumps. The vibrations from the blow to the wall caused a number of books to flutter off their shelves. Plaster dust obscured my vision and coated my tongue with a chalky, dry taste.

  Coughing, I wiped at the dust covering my eyes, the grit scratching my eyelids. A snapping of jaws alerted me to the crocodile’s nearness although I couldn’t see anything. The wooden floor creaked, and a piece of furniture scraped against a wall as the beast snuffled, sniffed and snorted. A fishy-scented breeze wafted into my face.

 
As the dust cloud began to settle, I could see the outlines of furniture; none of the pieces were in the same location and orientation as a few minutes previously. One of the exceptions was the paisley sofa that was positioned on the side of the room opposite the broken wall. I’d been sitting there earlier and had left my bow and quiver by its side.

  I debated on the likelihood of reaching the sofa, fumbling for and finding my bow, and successfully shooting an arrow through the crocodile’s remaining eye, and all before being chomped in two. Just as I came to the conclusion that my chances were slim, a sizable shape materialized before me. The faintly glowing snout waved to and fro, as if Tompandrano was searching for my scent amidst the debris.

  My metal hand clenched as if reminding me that I’d already lost a part of one limb which was one part too many. Unsure as to the acuteness of crocodile hearing, I held my breath as I lifted one foot and carefully placed it down, shifting myself one step closer to my bow.

  Tompandrano growled, his head jerking toward the doorway. No one was there, although I had to wonder why not. Were they all deaf or just too preoccupied to worry about the collapse of a wall? Either way, their absence was disconcerting.

  I ventured another step, noticing how the floor trembled below me. Or was it my leg betraying my nerves?

  The sofa was one step away, the bow visible as a dark line leaning against the arm closest to me.

  As I stepped forward, I leaned over and stretched my arm. Perhaps the obscuring dust adversely impacted my depth perception. Or maybe the increased trembling of the floor, accompanied by a distant rumbling, distracted me. Whatever the cause, my fingers brushed the bow, sending it clattering to the floor.

  A guttural roar launched me into action. I snatched up the bow and tumbled over the sofa to hide behind it just as large jaws snapped at the space I had so hastily vacated.

  A breeze swept through the jagged opening in the wall, clearing the air of most of the particles of brick and plaster. It was enough for me to see an empty eye socket peering in my direction. Underneath the slightly parted and tooth-filled jaws lay my quiver.

  Nostrils flaring, Tompandrano tried to angle his snout into the gap created by the piece of furniture and the back wall. One of the beast’s clawed front feet snagged the sofa and tugged it aside, widening my hiding space. Grunting, the crocodile yanked back but its claws were caught in the fabric. The quiver rolled farther out of reach.

  Peering under the sofa, I saw the quiver on the other side. A couple arrows had slid out, lying only an arm’s length away.

  The sofa jerked like a fish on a hook, further exposing me. Fabric ripped as the claws tugged free. The large jaws twisted around until they were between the sofa and the wall. One baleful eye glinted at me. The jaws widened in anticipation of a tasty revenge.

  Roaring, Tompandrano lunged forward just as I leaped up and over the sofa, falling onto the soft cushions before rolling onto the floor. Ignoring the new bruises I’d added to my growing collection, I pushed myself into a squat. Snatching my quiver, I shuffled away from the grunting behemoth only to stumble against an overturned side table. My legs tangled with splintered wood, and I fell backward.

  The crocodile heaved the sofa over and lurched onto the exposed back, his tail slashing against a bookshelf. Accompanied by the fluttering of a thousand pages, books tumbled onto the floor where they were flicked to one side or another by the movement of the monstrous creature crawling toward me.

  Unable or unwilling to avert my gaze from the one-eyed glare pinning me down, I fumbled with the quiver, spilling its contents on and around me.

  “If you think you hate me now,” I warned as my fingers wrapped around a shaft, “just you wait.”

  The jaws creaked open and a trumpeting blast emerged.

  “That can’t be right,” I said as I notched an arrow, my human hand shaking.

  The snout swiveled to face the large hole in the wall, the solitary eye no longer fixed on me.

  More trumpets sounded, followed by a rumbling that echoed through the floor and into my chest. Before I could identify the source, Tompandrano snapped his jaws shut and scuttled forward in a jerky fashion, his movements following an S-curve. Hissing, he disappeared through the hole, his tail whipping back and forth, its tip narrowly missing my head.

  Twisting at my waist, I stared after him. He exited my field of vision just as a herd of elephants entered it from the other side, led by a one-tusked matriarch. Trunk held aloft, she trumpeted while plowing through the skeletons as if stampeding through tall grass. Other elephants flicked their trunks with deadly effect, knocking skulls off left, right and center.

  “My friends,” I whispered, recalling Koki’s words: She’ll remember you, even if years pass without seeing you again. And they make very loyal friends indeed.

  Laughing in a manner that bordered on hysteria, I pushed myself into an upright position and admired the elephants’ brutal and efficient disposal of Le-Eyo’s army.

  A sense of a presence behind me caused me to spin about, raising my bow.

  Mr. Timmons staggered through the doorway, not at all concerned that an arrow was aimed at his heart. “I leave you for a brief interlude, Beatrice,” he said, gesturing about the room, “not more than twenty minutes, and you manage to destroy half the house.”

  “Not quite half, my dear,” I corrected him as I lowered the bow. “And I did have some assistance from a thirty-foot long crocodile.”

  “What a mess,” Jonas huffed as he pushed past Mr. Timmons and scowled at the thick layer of plaster and broken bricks that covered much of the room. “Me, I suppose I’ll be cleaning this up.”

  “Do stop complaining,” I said as I brushed bits of the wall off me in an attempt to occupy my shaking hands. “At least the skeletons are no longer an issue, Liongo is doubtlessly battling with Kam, and all is well.”

  And all might have ended well if Miss Baxter hadn’t selected that moment to make her escape.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  AT FIRST, OUR minds didn’t process the fact our abductee had freed herself. We stared through the hole in the wall at the person running across the yard before us. We were all too exhausted to recognize who or what was screaming in such a shrill and obnoxious manner.

  “Miss Baxter’s escaped,” Yao yelped as he dashed into the demolished library. “She’s out there, amongst the killer skeletons and stampeding elephants.”

  “And good riddance,” Jonas snorted. “They can have her.”

  “Blast it,” Mr. Timmons grumbled and dashed through the demolished wall, chasing his demented ex-fiancée.

  “Where’s Father?” I demanded, for I could discern a vague hint of light appearing along the distant horizon.

  “He ran after Miss Baxter,” Yao explained, nodding his head and grinning.

  “Why didn’t you?” I howled as I stepped through the wall, searching for a sign of Father and hoping not to see him outside.

  “Because he left so quickly,” Yao defended himself, pouting as he did so. “And Yao came straight here to—”

  I stumbled outside. “Make yourself useful and do something,” I snapped. “Go onto the roof and assist Tiberius.”

  Yao muttered, “Miss Knight isn’t very happy, is she, Jonas?”

  I didn’t hear Jonas’ response as I hastened forward into the early morning gloom. The crunching of bones under large feet and the trumpeting of elephants reverberated through the spaces in my exhausted body. As I spun about the demolished garden, everywhere I looked were elephants and parts of skeletons.

  A glimmer caught my eye and, leaning against my walking stick lest I collapse, I stared out to the horizon where a thin slash of reddish gold glowed with the promise of a warm day. The darkness of night above me had shifted to the purple of pre-dawn.

  A shadow moved. I squinted my eyes, and the energy field of a vampire appeared. My werewolf vision pierced the dark to identify the person loping away from me.

  “Father,” I called out but
my voice was barely audible above the cacophony of the battle. I staggered toward the vampire who was dispatching a skeleton with a mace topped with metal spikes. “Father, the sun. You need to go inside.”

  He turned to me as the skeleton disintegrated into a pile of bones. While I was still too far away for him to hear my worn-out voice, he understood my concern. He glanced at the distant line of light that was thickening by the minute. Smiling, he nodded and took one step toward the house before his smile faded, his gaze fixed on something behind me.

  I spun about, raising my walking stick to pummel whatever was approaching but there was nothing except the house and Lilly. She was leaning against the wall outside her room, barely able to stand. Blood streaks stained her white shift. Her eyes were wide and wild, her mouth open in a terrible grimace.

  Wanjiru appeared by her side. Saying something to Lilly that I couldn’t hear, Wanjiru began to run after a small group of retreating skeletons.

  I stared at the skeletons. A tuft of fur sat atop one of them; Shelby had wrapped her long tail around the skeleton’s neck and was pounding her little fists against the skull. Paying no heed to the baby Vervet, the skeletons veered toward a distant clump of trees. Barely visible and waiting for them was the Nandi prophet, Koitalel.

  “Lilly,” I shouted, wondering why Wanjiru and Shelby had developed such a keen interest in those skeletons when there were still others closer to the house. “Lilly, go inside.”

  “Wanjiru,” Yao cried out from the rooftop.

  “Grace,” Father bellowed in a voice consumed with equal parts anguish and rage.

  I swiveled to face Father, only to see him turn away from the refuge of the house and sprint toward the same group of skeletons that Wanjiru chased.

  “Father, no,” I yelled as I began to run after him, knowing I couldn’t reach him but still needing to try. “Leave them. Go inside.”