Nnedi Okorafor - Lagoon

Father Oke dusted off his black suit and adjusted his immaculate white collar. His shiny shoes were spotless, which was just the way he liked them. He walked to the door where Chris was already standing. He must have been waiting for the last fifteen minutes.

“Good morning,” Chris said, smiling a bit too widely.

They shook hands and went inside.

Adaora was scribbling frantically in her journal. She’d gone upstairs to make breakfast for her husband, the children and Philomena. After assuring them that everything was OK, she’d run back to get her churning thoughts out of her mind. She had to remember every detail of the night’s events. Of Ayodele’s reactions, how they’d all met up, the sights, sounds, scents of the beach, everything. She was the scientist; the world would expect her to have the facts. Plus it kept her from dwelling on the memory of her husband squirming on the ground as though held by invisible restraints. Ayodele and Agu were watching the news as Anthony paced the room.

“The mystery deepens hours after a sonic boom sounded somewhere off the waters of Bar Beach,” the newscaster said. “The military cannot locate a source for the noise. Since the incident, however, and equally as mysterious, the sea level continues to rise. So far, it has risen over seven feet above its normal level. Lagos lagoon is filling up, and people’s homes, roads and the beaches have flooded. Neither the military nor scientists have any answers at the moment.”

Adaora rolled her eyes. Of course they don’t have any answers, she thought. And if they do, they’re not going to share them.

“What’s happening?” Agu asked Ayodele, who was happily munching on a raw garden egg.

She bit, chewed and swallowed the crunchy green and white tomato-like fruit for several moments before responding. “It’s the ship,” she said. “The size of it. The waters actually rose last night, not this morning, remember?”

“Yes, it was a big ship,” Adaora said, vaguely.

“It’s not just the size,” Ayodele said. “It is communicating with the water and the creatures in the water. We are communicative people.”

Anthony continued to pace. He wrung his hands and wished he had a big fat joint, the finest jamba . “I don’t know why I’m still here,” he muttered to no one. “I should have left early this morning.”

“It’s because you can’t,” Agu said.

Anthony stopped pacing, annoyed that Agu was paying any attention to him. He’d been talking to himself.

“You can go home but nothing will change,” Agu continued. “Who knows, they may have already overrun Accra.”

Anthony flared his nostrils at the mention of his country’s biggest city. “Don’t say that.”

Father Oke swept ceremoniously down the stairs followed by Adaora’s husband and Philomena, the house girl. Father Oke was all smiles and pleasantries. “Good gracious morning, everyone,” he said.

Chris said nothing, making a wide berth around Agu as he moved toward Adaora.

“This man again,” Anthony muttered, glaring at Chris.

Agu and Chris glared at each other and Adaora felt more than nervous. However, it wasn’t Agu she suddenly wanted to protect. She placed herself between Ayodele and Father Oke. If there was one thing she knew about Father Oke, it was that he was a smooth-talking predator. She couldn’t keep him from her husband, but she would keep him from her children… and Ayodele.

Philo sat on the stairs, took out her mobile phone and discreetly started recording with the phone’s camera.

“Adaora,” Father Oke said. “Please introduce me to your… new friends.”

“Good morning, Oke. What do you want?” Adaora asked. The man was a bishop yet he insisted that people call him “ Father Oke”. This deeply annoyed Adaora, even before he’d sunken his claws into Chris.

“Greetings, my child,” he said. “I—”

“How can I be your ‘child’? You’re only a few years my senior,” Adaora snapped.

Father Oke didn’t miss a beat. “You’re a child of God.”

“And you are God?” she asked.

He chuckled. “God speaks through me.”

Adaora snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I am not here to fight,” he said. “You need to make peace with your husband.”

Adaora felt rage heat her face. She clenched her fists, aware that everyone in the room was watching her. Slowly and deliberately, she said, “And how can we make peace when you are constantly meddling? You instruct him to starve himself like someone who does not have food! You convince him of your twisted nonsense.” She stepped closer and Father Oke stepped back. “How does him slapping me in the face bring peace, Father ? Eh? How can a man slap his wife ‘in the name of Jesus’? You instructed him to do so! You think I didn’t see your email to him a week ago? ‘Break her with your hands, then soften her with flowers.’”

Behind her, she saw Anthony shake his head in disgust. Agu glowered at Chris. Father Oke looked utterly flabbergasted. Chris looked shamefaced.

“You have little trust in your husband if you’re reading his emails,” Father Oke said coldly.

“Get OUT of my house!” Adaora screamed.

“ My house, Adaora,” Chris said.

“Oh my God, I’m going to kill someone this day, o,” Adaora proclaimed. “Your house? Says who?”

“ Seke, seke, seke ,” Anthony muttered, still shaking his head.

Chris waved a dismissive hand at Adaora. “Father Oke is not here to speak with you, anyway,” he said.

As if on cue, Father Oke slipped around Adaora. “What is your name, child?” he asked Ayodele, who’d been watching with quiet interest.

“I don’t need a name,” she said. “My people know me. But you may call me Ayodele.”

“Are you a witch?” he asked.

“Will you slap her if she says yes?” Adaora snapped. She inhaled deeply, put her hands on her hips and walked to the other side of the room. If she didn’t step away she knew she’d do something she’d regret.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” Ayodele asked Oke.

“Because I can help you.” Father Oke stepped closer. “I’m trained to help you control your evil, to find grace and salvation and goodness.”

“See?” Chris insisted. “She doesn’t deny it. I saw her change. She—”

“You didn’t come here to ask me about witchcraft,” Ayodele said to Father Oke, ignoring Chris. “You have other things on your mind.”

“What do you want ?” Adaora loudly asked Father Oke from across the room. “People like you always want something.”

“I want to help ,” he said to Ayodele. “Can… can you show me?”

Ayodele cocked her head as though considering Oke’s offer.

“Don’t!” Adaora said, rushing back over. But everyone heard the sound of metal balls on glass. Ayodele’s skin was already rearranging itself. On the stairs, Philo gasped, still holding up her recording phone.

Ayodele had turned into an old woman with dark papery skin and runny blind eyes. Chris scrambled backwards, whimpering.

Father Oke’s face melted into something like grief and joy all at once. “Mama?” he whispered. He made the sign of the cross.

“I am not a witch, I am alien to your planet, I am an alien,” Ayodele said in the voice of Father Oke’s recently deceased mother. “We change. With our bodies, and we change everything around us.”

“ Ewo! ” Father Oke exclaimed. He made the sign of the cross again. Philomena clapped her phone shut and everyone turned to look up at her. “Sorry,” she said, shooting to her feet. She ran up the stairs.