Ннеди Окорафор - Remote Control

The leopard burst into the road without making a sound. It came from directly in front of her. And because it happened to be a full moon and a clear night, she saw the great beast part the bushes and stride into view. Its head was low, its ears turned back and pressed close to its large spotted head. Its loose skin rolled and rippled over its muscular flesh.

Right there in the middle of the street, for the second time in her life, she faced death. However, she’d changed and grown since she left Wulugu; she had power now. It was just a matter of remembering, truly remembering and accepting. She stumbled back and her feet tangled. Down she went, sitting hard in the middle of the road. And still, she faced the leopard creeping so swiftly, so smoothly toward her. It had been months since she’d awoken in a shallow grave with complete control of her light. Months since she’d used her light for anything big.

However, time doesn’t change the essence of what you are and Sankofa’s essence had been forged and fused back home at the foot of that tree when the seed had fallen from the sky and she’d picked it up. She exhaled, letting it all go and letting it all in… what was in her killed her family, Alhaja, all those people who’d begged to be released from the shackle of life, insects, bats, drones, it protected her, it terrified others, it was from somewhere else, this seed… “All of it,” she said, her face wet with tears. It hurt because so much of it was terrible and still it was hers. Regardless. “All of it.”

It came easily and it came true.

As she lit up the road and forest in a thirty-foot radius, the leopard stopped, just at the beginning of the road. She could hear its guttural groan, as it placed a paw on the road.… and did not fall dead. She couldn’t believe it. The strength of her light should have incinerated the beast to ash, leaving only bone.

“Why won’t you die ?” Sankofa whispered. A movement to her right caught her eye. Movenpick was also standing on the road not even ten feet away, bathed in her light. “Stay there, Movenpick,” she shrieked. “Stay!” She stood up, facing the leopard. The beast had placed a second paw on the road. Today, Sankofa would die. She shined her light as brightly as she could shine it. A bat dropped to the ground beside her, dead, and she could hear the plick of beetles falling dead on the road.

The leopard was staring at her, close enough for her to see into its large eyes. In the green of her glow, those eyes opened up like windows. Sankofa gazed into them as the leopard crept closer and for a moment her world fell away and everything was green like the full moon above and the full moon inside her. In the years since she’d left home, she had only grown a few inches. She would always be a small girl from a small town. All this she saw in the leopard’s eyes. It comforted her; this creature would send her home.

“Ok,” she whispered.

The leopard was five feet away. Creeping. Sankofa frowned. It was twitching and blinking its eyes, its nostrils flaring wide. Its deep growl became a loud groan. It shook its head as if its nose were itching or burning. It stood up on its four legs, swaying a bit and looked piercingly at Sankofa. Then the leopard collapsed and did not get up.

Silence. Stillness.

“Yip!” she heard from her right.

“Movenpick,” she whispered, her voice cracking. For a moment, she stared at the dead leopard, then with effort, she looked down at Movenpick. Slowly, very very slowly, she reached a shaky hand down. As she did, Movenpick lifted his head up. “Oh,” she said, sniffing as tears of relief, shock and fatigue tumbled from her eyes. After so many years, the fox allowed her to touch him. The fur on his head was rough. “Who are you, my friend?” she whispered, wiping away a tear. “What are we?”

She pulled her light in and the road went back to being merely moonlit. The moment her light winked out and she looked up the road, she was gazing at another light. It came closer and closer. By the time she realized it was a bus, yet again, it was too late, and there she stood. Thankfully, the bus driver saw the girl in the moonlit road and slammed the brakes.

And it was in this way that a bus filled with passengers came to witness the small girl wearing a dress of near rags standing in the road with a massive dead leopard. Several of the passengers knew precisely who this was, despite rumors that she’d finally been killed. The bus driver also knew and he quickly jumped out to see if she was ok, for if this girl touched his bus they would all be stranded. A few passengers muttered under their breath about the driver’s lack of professionalism by wasting their time helping the girl. Three teenagers recorded the entire moment with their phones and tablets and posted the footage online within minutes. Most stayed quiet and just watched through the bus windows.

As the bus driver and three of the women talked to her asking what happened and why she was out here, all Sankofa could think about was the fact that she could no longer return to her quiet garden. People had seen her and now they would come looking for her. They would find the farmers and ask questions and maybe one of them would say something. Again, she’d reached a moment where she knew it was time to leave.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the pink tunic and trousers from an Indian woman who insisted she have them. The woman also gave her a box of maxi pads.

“Do you know how to use them?” the woman asked.

Sankofa nodded. She didn’t but she could certainly figure it out.

“And you understand what it is, right?” the woman asked.

Sankofa nodded. “It’s my period. I’m fourteen. I’d started to wonder if… I’m glad it has come.”

The woman nodded, smiling. “It’s good.” She cocked her head. “I’ve heard about you, Sankofa. I am here working on a drone delivery system for some of the local hospitals and stories about you circulate there. Good stories.”

“Really?” Sankofa said.

“Oh yes. One man had an aunt with terminal cancer who you… eased. He said you truly were like an angel.”

One young man who didn’t want to talk directly to Sankofa gave the Indian woman a bag of peanuts to give to her. A woman who’d been on her mobile phone the entire time offered Sankofa a large bottle of water, some flip-flops and a satchel to carry it all in. A man with an American accent gave her his near empty jar of shea butter. He’d rubbed a bit on his dark chapped hands first and she couldn’t help but smile. Some of the other passengers pooled together money to give her. When the bus quickly pulled away leaving her with Movenpick (who’d leaped into the bushes until the bus was gone) and the body of the leopard, she turned and walked quickly into the bush.

She dug up the box and without bothering to clean off the remaining dirt or checking on the seed inside, she threw it in the new satchel the woman had given her. She preened and used her watering can to water her small garden. She washed her body and her blood-stained clothes in the stream. She rubbed shea butter on her clean skin. She figured out how to use a maxi pad. She gathered all her things, deciding to leave her bloodstained clothes and watering can behind. By night, Sankofa had left yet another home behind.

They tell a story about Sankofa in many of the villages, towns and cities.

They say there once was a living child who was born to dead parents. Because her dead parents could not care for her, they took her to Death’s doorstep and left her there. Her parents knew where this was because they were dead. They pinned a note to the child’s blanket that explained they had given birth to a live child and that only Death would know what to do with her. They said she was beautiful, dark brown–skinned and perfect in every way and that when she cried, spiders, crickets and grasshoppers would sing to soothe her. They wrote that they wished they’d had her when they were alive and that fate was cruel.