Nnedi Okorafor - Lagoon

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 widescreen 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.

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.

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.

“So I just press this button, then?” Kola asked, holding it with both hands and extending her index finger to the red “record” button.

“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.