An ugly reanimate attacks Aminat right outside the room. The muscles wasted all down to the bone, skin peeling, falling off, intense febrile look in one eye, the other eye dangling by a nerve out of the socket, lower jaw hanging loose, and it smells of mildew. It is naked, clothes probably dropped off its frame. Aminat steps out of the attack and breaks the arm at the elbow, then she stamp-kicks it on its chest, sending it to the floor. She draws her gun and shoots it in the head. It still twitches, so she shoots it again in the heart. The corridor echoes with the gunshot and Aminat’s ears ring. It’s dead. The blood flow is sluggish and there is no arterial spurting. A few… spores float up into the air from the head wound. Aminat is puzzled, but too busy to contemplate.
“What is that?” asks Alyssa.
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Come on.”
The security guy is dead. The route to the car park is littered with dead bodies, some without a single mark on them, others split asunder like overripe fruit. Did one diseased reanimate do all this? Why are they after Sutcliffe?
“Would anyone have a reason to kill you?” Aminat asks.
“No. Not that I know of. I suppose Alyssa might have enemies.”
At the car she marvels at dead uniformed people, but also the absence of police or sirens. The car auto-unlocks and Alyssa gets in the passenger side.
“Self-drive. Office,” says Aminat.
“Cannot comply.”
“Reboot.”
The car reboots, but will not engage self-drive or tell her why.
“Olalekan, remote access my car and fix the self-drive software.” No response.
“What’s going on?” asks Alyssa, annoyingly calm.
“I don’t know. Nimbus is down.” She dials the cellular network.
“Boss! Thank God,” says Olalekan.
“You were supposed to keep watch.”
“Big terrorist thing at Atewo, and Jack Jacques was there, so the city is on alert.”
“Okay, okay. How do I…? I want to…”
“Do you have her? Alyssa Sutcliffe?”
“Yes. I’m bringing her to you.”
“You… er… need to hurry.”
“Why?”
“Mother’s here.”
Mother is what they call Femi. She must really be impatient to have come from Abuja. Fuck. Okay. Information first. Aminat turns on the news.
“Where are you taking me?” asks Alyssa.
“To a lab. You have a condition we need to study and it’s important. Do you want to call your family?”
“I don’t have a family.”
“Do you want to call anybody?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. Seat belt. I’ll take us manually.”
“What if I don’t want to go?”
“I can arrest you.”
“What charge?”
“I don’t know. Obstructing a federal officer. Crimes against fashion. Something like that.”
“I want—”
“Shut up, Alyssa. Shut up. I’ve just killed someone, and I need to wallow in self-loathing. Surely, even you can understand that?”
Close eyes.
All she can see is one of Hannah Jacques’s adverts about the reanimates being human. The words from that perfect mouth play on a loop in Aminat’s mind.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Too many changes in too short a time. Tally up: on the plus side Aminat has obtained her objective—she has Alyssa Sutcliffe in custody, if not at the laboratory. Two, both she and Alyssa are unharmed. Minus side: there is a body count that nobody can explain. There has been a bomb detonation, Nimbus blackout, patchy automated car functions, assignment not complete until Alyssa is in the lab undergoing tests. If she is to drive manually should she fetter Alyssa? She might try to jump out of the car or assault Aminat. God, she wishes she could phone Kaaro, but because of S45 security protocols, she can’t during active operations.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Now, go.
“Seat belt,” she tells Alyssa again. She opens the glove compartment and grabs an extra magazine and handcuffs which she stuffs in her waistband. She is still wearing the fucking running clothes. She eases the car out, then orients herself with the dome towards the lab. Charge is at fifty-nine per cent, but that is more than enough to get her there.
There are people on the streets and traffic on the roads. The dome is dark and grey, and a slight drizzle does not deter any of the activities. People are shouting, confused, and civil disobedience cannot be far off. One or two people slam palms on the bonnet. Street lights flicker—Aminat has never seen that, as if Wormwood itself is upset. She is barely able to do five miles per hour. Even on a day without too many cars, Rosewater is difficult to navigate without the constant route calculations of self-drive. The roads are too tortuous and snarl-ups are the norm. Only taxi drivers are immune to this with whatever juju they have in their brains. Tonight, though, the city itself seems to be in ferment. Aminat glances at Alyssa, who appears calm, but curious. Her eyes dart from person to person. She catches Aminat watching her.
“Alyssa likes arm-warmers.”
“What? Are you talking in the third-person now?”
“Alyssa likes to wear these things, pulse warmers, elbow warmers. I saw her order history on her terminal.”
“You’re talking to me about arm-warmers. Alyssa, are you crazy?”
“No. I thought we discussed this already.”
“You’re talking like a crazy person,” says Aminat. “And I hate arm-warmers.”
“So do I.” Alyssa faces forwards again. “But Alyssa doesn’t.”
This woman is going to either kill me or get me killed. Or I’ll kill her.
Two blocks ahead of them a pedestrian climbs on to a car. The people around shout, but it is indistinct. Aminat is trying to see what’s going on when the window on Alyssa’s side shatters inwards. Arms reach in to pull at her arms and upper torso. They drag her out of the car. No.
“Idle,” Aminat says to the car. She gets out. “HEY!”
Four men have Alyssa and nobody even stops to help. Aminat fires in the air, then points the gun at the attackers. They scatter, leaving Alyssa on the pavement, bruised, but calm. The gunshot and its reverberation cause a panic and the noise rises. The mob is confused and confusing. Directionless. Aminat and Alyssa are separated from the car by the press of people. It cannot be stolen, the engine will stall without proximity to Aminat’s implant, but bits can be scavenged off it. She holsters her gun. You can’t shoot a mob. Aminat orients herself, then says, “We’ll go to the cathedral and hole up for the night. Tomorrow, I’m sure order will be restored.”
She handcuffs Alyssa to herself. This is not a thing she wants, but she can’t afford to lose her charge again.
There are people shouting Jack knows jack, one of the mayor’s ridiculous slogans, a play on I don’t know jackshit. Is he dead? Aminat hates the saying, but the mayor always was and is a populist. Guy knows how to win public opinion. The mob attacks cars now, and the roads become vast parks for abandoned vehicles. A few are on fire. Nobody can say what the violence is about. Aminat tries to flow with the crowd movement until she finds a vector to the sanctuary of the cathedral. She can see the spire. Alyssa trips a few times, but on the whole, does not slow things down. Aminat only has to assault four people before the pair reach the façade and find the cathedral closed, people banging on the doors, trying to get in.
“Okay, plan B.”
Alyssa is staring at the building. “This is beautiful. Humans are amazing.”
“Yes, remind me to tell you about flying buttresses over beers one day.” Aminat checks her subdermal phone, no Nimbus. She checks maps saved locally to the memory, looking for sanctuary. She phones Olalekan.
“Boss?”
“We’re on foot.”
“Repeat please. Louder.”
“We’re on foot.”
“Why? I’m reading unrest, mobs and riots—”
“I know. We’re in one. Can you get me out of here? And send a signal to the car. Use radio, trigger the implosive auto-destruct.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Can you send a team to get me?”
“Stand by… stand by… that’s a qualified yes, Boss.”
“Clarify.”
“No teams for at least six hours. You’ll have to find a foxhole to stay safe in.”
Aminat pauses, thinks of Efe, who lives in the area. “I can do that. Track my phone through the cellular network.”
“Taking your current coordinates—will refresh on the a.m.”
“Have you been home?”
“No, Boss.”
“Go home after you’ve made the arrangements. You can’t do anything until I have Sutcliffe back.”
“Negative. Mother is busy and I’m not leaving until I know you’re secure.”
“At least get the bunk and sleep.”
“That I can do, but call if you need me.”
“I will.” She thinks of Kaaro. “Olalekan, call my house. You know what to say.”
“Roger that.”
He has said it to Kaaro before while Aminat has been on missions. After signing off she takes Alyssa’s attention away from the features of the cathedral.
“Keep time with me. Tap my hand twice if I’m going too fast. Do not speak. Do you have memories of Alyssa’s attitude towards the city at night?”
“No,” says Alyssa.
“Rosewater can be dangerous at night, and I’m not just talking about the humans. Keep quiet, only speak if it’s absolutely necessary.”
Alyssa nods and they set off. Overhead, the minor buzz of drones. No law enforcement personnel or military, but the drones would film in infrared if need be. Footage would be scoured later and people would be brought to justice and punished.
“Hey, ladies, how much?”
“Hey, baby. Hey, legs!”
“Show me your yansh.”
“Wey ya particulars?”
Some men follow, keeping up a monologue. Once, Aminat has to subdue an insistent man. Someone shines a light in her face so she can’t see, and Aminat pulls her gun and aims for the light. It goes away.
Alyssa is compliant, says nothing. The crowd thins as they negotiate the streets. The normal familiarity is lost, but Aminat is pretty sure she is on the right track. After a pattern of thinning-out mobs they come to a line of men and women standing across a street. They are all armed with hockey sticks, cricket bats, planks and rakes.
“Turn back,” says the middle male. “You do not belong here.”
“My friend and I just need to go through to the next street,” says Aminat.
“You are looters.” He looks at their cuffed hands. “Perhaps you are prisoners. We should call the police.”
Aminat shows her ID. “Step aside, sir.”
The line remains intact.
“Look, I know you’re trying to protect your families and homes, and I respect that, but I have business beyond this row of houses. I don’t have time for this.”
The people look at each other, but don’t move.
“Legally, I can arrest you for obstructing me. I can shoot you all. I can beat you within an inch of your pampered lives, in spite of being tired. Which do you—”
“May I suggest something?” says Alyssa. “We’ve had enough violence. How about giving us an escort?”
As they arrive at Efe’s house, Aminat concedes that Alyssa’s suggestion was wise. Efe doesn’t answer the door and Aminat has to call her to gain access. Efe drags them both in, side-eying the vigilante. She squeezes Aminat tight.
“What are you doing wandering about at this time, on this night?” asks Efe.
“I work for the government.”
“Yes, tackling fake pharmaceuticals, I know.”
“No. I can’t tell you what I do, but it’s not fake drugs.”
“If you say so. Who’s the white girl? Prisoner?”
“Not exactly. I’ve got to ask a favour.” Aminat takes off the handcuffs. “We need a place to stay for tonight. We’ll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow morning.”
Efe smacks her on the shoulder. “As if you have to ask.”
Later, Aminat takes a shower, then puts on the clothes Efe lays out. Alyssa goes next, but Aminat stops her when she sees the back of her neck.
“Alyssa, you have two windworms on your neck.”
Aeolian larvae are more common closer to the dome in marshy areas, and they tend to burrow under the skin. They are painful and have been known to kill children. These ones seem to be lying stable on the surface of Alyssa’s skin, something Aminat has never seen or heard of.
“I don’t feel them,” says Alyssa.
Aminat thinks perhaps she has misidentified the worm and lifts one off Alyssa’s neck. It immediately curves back on itself and latches on to Aminat’s finger. It hurts like having a nail pulled out with pliers. Alyssa helps remove it and stamps them both out.
“Aminat! Come hear this,” says Efe.
Jack Jacques is on all networks, all feeds, all media, speechmaking.
… know that you are tired and afraid, and my thoughts are with you tonight, wherever you may be. Today, some cowardly people tried to test our resolve, to test my resolve to bring modernity and prosperity to every citizen of Rosewater. Thirty-five citizens died, among them, seven children. I was at the epicentre, but remain unharmed. Rest assured we will get to the bottom of this heinous act and root out the culprits. In order to process the crime scene, law enforcement has had to close down Nimbus temporarily, but it will return, I am assured, by tomorrow morning. I myself plan to curl up with a good book tonight.
“That’s a lie. With a wife as fine as his?” Efe snorts.
Go to bed knowing that you are safe and that I’m thinking of you. Go to bed knowing that I will avenge those who kill our children. Long live Rosewater. Long live the Federal Republic of Nigeria.
As the image fades, Aminat wonders what Jacques is hiding this time.
Sleep comes with difficulty, but a blanket of darkness eventually falls on her.