Nnedi Okorafor - Lagoon

“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.”

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.