Nnedi Okorafor - Lagoon

Adaora could hear the meaty sound of the boot smashing into Ayodele’s flesh even from where she was. The man kicked Ayodele again, another man joining him. He smashed at her face with the butt of his AK-47 and Ayodele’s head flew back to smack against the concrete, her nose spraying red blood. Adaora jumped off the boat. Everything went silent as all the blood rushed to Adaora’s head. What was she seeing? Why was Ayodele letting it happen?

Anthony was already off the boat and running toward the men. Adaora ran after him, Agu behind her.

“Stop!” he shouted, waving his hands about. “STOP IT!”

But they didn’t stop anything. Ayodele did not get up, nor did she do anything to protect herself. It all happened in seconds. There were five soldiers now, all dressed in green, brown, and black fatigues with black shiny boots and dull black guns. These men rained blows on every part of Ayodele’s body with their boots, the butts of their guns, their fists.

“Winch, I kill you!” a man growled as he punched Ayodele in the face.

“Kill am!” another man shrieked as he kicked.

Her white dress was splotched with spreading patches of red as they stamped on her torso, chest, legs and arms. They crushed bone and mashed muscle and organs. One man brought his foot down squarely on her exposed neck.

Bang! The gunshot tore open Ayodele’s side.

Another man smashed his gun into her lolling head.

Anthony had stopped, yards from the chaos, swaying on his feet. Even as she ran, Adaora could feel everything around her being pulled toward Anthony.

“Anthony, don’t!” Adaora shouted as she ran up behind him. “DON’T DO IT!”

“Why?” Anthony asked calmly.

“No more killing,” she said, panting. She turned to Agu behind her. He had murder on his face. “No killing! They don’t know what they are doing, they don’t know what she is, they are confused…” She was confused, too. What was she saying? She shook her head at both Agu and Anthony. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Let me,” she said, and ran to the mob of soldiers surrounding Ayodele.

She didn’t hesitate. Adaora plunged into the melee and began to shove aside the men beating Ayodele. Someone kicked at Ayodele but missed, landing on Adaora instead. Ignoring the pain, Adaora fell to her knees and threw her arms around the limp Ayodele. Then she flexed what was hers.

It felt like staticy heat bursting from her back and washing over her, and then toward the soldiers, shoving them all away. When they tried to press forward against it, the force repelled them, sending them flying back.

Adaora grasped Ayodele tightly, pressing her face to the alien woman’s neck. She could feel Ayodele’s warm blood seeping into her clothes. She could smell its coppery scent, mixed with sea water and urine. Ayodele was breathing in raspy gulps.

Why? Adaora thought. Why why why? Why was Ayodele bleeding? Why was she not changing? Why had she allowed them to beat her? Why had they beaten her? She continued to hold them back, as she pressed Ayodele’s broken body into her own.

“Witchcraft,” one of the men grunted.

Bang!

One of the soldiers must have fired at her. The noise was deafening, but Adaora felt no bullet. Just before the soldier could fire again, Agu ran up and punched the man so hard that he flew across the concrete, nearly tumbling into the deadly water.

Adaora brought her face close to Ayodele’s. She held the alien woman’s wide gaze. So different from the woman she had seen first on the beach less than two days ago. She’d experienced so much humanity in so little time.

“I saw you first. It started with you,” Ayodele whispered. “My people sent me for a reason. I’ve known all along…” Blood dribbled from her lips and Adaora shuddered. “Your people. They wanted to use me, kidnap me, kill me…”

“I’m sorry,” Adaora said. “We are better than that.”

“The Elders sent me,” Ayodele whispered. “We are a collective. Every part of us, every tiny universe within us is conscious. I am we, I am me…” She coughed up more blood.

“But why… ?”

“You people need help on the outside but also within,” she said. “I will go within… Adaora… let go of me… cover your ears.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

“Ayodele, please.”

“You’ll all be a bit… alien.”

Slowly, Adaora laid Ayodele on the ground. Then she looked up. Everything around her was slightly tinted periwinkle, the same color her fin had been. It must have been the effect of her force field. The soldiers were staring and staring, their guns raised, fists clenched. She could see Anthony and Agu not far behind the men.

Ayodele was looking up at her and for the first time, Adaora could see how badly hurt she really was. Her neck bulged grotesquely and Adaora could see the white of bone. One of Ayodele’s legs was twisted in an impossible direction, as were both her arms. She had been shot in the abdomen; bright red blood was soaking through her white dress. Her face was swollen and bruised. Her eyes were battered nearly shut.

“Garden eggs. Nothing better,” Ayodele chuckled weakly.

Adaora smiled, remembering how Ayodele had eaten the vegetables raw like candy.

“Close your ears,” Ayodele said, placing a hand on her knee. Adaora put her hands over her ears. She looked across at Anthony and Agu. They did the same and dropped to the ground.

Ayodele mouthed something to Adaora and she understood. “Let go,” Ayodele had said. And Adaora let the force field drop as she squeezed her eyes shut.

GBOOOM!

When she felt Ayodele’s hand leave her knee, Adaora opened her eyes. In the space where Ayodele had lain a white mist swirled, as if a fog had rolled in off the water. It had the faint tomatoey scent of… garden eggs. As she knelt on the concrete, covered in Ayodele’s blood, Adaora was overcome with a craving for garden eggs. For their crunchy cool fruit, sweet or bitter. “Oh,” Adaora whispered. And instinctively, she knew that this fog was rolling like a great wave over all of Lagos. She could almost see it in her mind. And everyone was inhaling it. Everyone in Lagos was craving garden eggs. Ayodele. What had she done?

She felt hands on her shoulders. “Please,” a man said. “Let me help.” It was one of the soldiers.

“Leave her!” she heard Agu shout.

“Agu, it’s OK, please,” she said.

“Are you all right?” Anthony asked.

She nodded. She could see the soldiers who’d beaten Ayodele standing all around her. She didn’t want to look into their guilty faces.

Ayodele was gone. Ayodele was here. “Lagos will never be the same,” Adaora said.

The President of Nigeria sat in the middle of the back seat of the armored black Mercedes. Already he was writing his speech in his head. Originally, he’d planned to present the one named Ayodele as he gave his speech, but she’d died. He didn’t understand what Adaora had said about inhaling her essence. That wasn’t important.

Beside him was his second wife, Hawra. She had never been so proud and happy to be in Lagos. Her husband was thinking like a president, but she knew he had to think even more broadly. There were infinite possibilities.

Anthony sat to the President’s right, his cheek pressed to the window. He would go home to Ghana. What had happened was only the beginning. The Elders had plans for him and his country.

Agu and Adaora were squeezed into the passenger seat. Agu held Adaora’s cool hand as he thought it all over. He was a home-wrecker with super-human strength that came from the Ancestors or the soil or whatever. And he had a new purpose in life – to be a proud soldier for the New Nigeria, whatever that was. When things calmed down, he would go and see his family in Arondizuogu. Hopefully, Adaora would come with him. They wouldn’t stay long because they would certainly be needed in Lagos. But he would make sure they were OK and maybe tell them his story. He touched the cut on his forehead. It had finally stopped bleeding.