Beneath the Shining Jewel

by Balogun Ojetade

  CHAPTER forty-three

  Swole’s quick thinking saved him. Already wearing a mask for the coming deployment, he turned from the pilot’s cabin to see Mau enter #2.

  Mau tilted the box he carried over his head and amber liquid streamed out of a small hole in its side.

  Swole smelled the oil fumes. He leapt from his seat and ran toward Mau.

  Mau laughed as he struck a match against the side of his face.

  Swole shoved past Mau and sprinted out of the oga’koi-koi just before the remaining contents in the box exploded.

  Swole survived. Mau and two other constables, who were asleep in the Sand Creeper, were not so lucky. A warrior-turned-constable with the blade-name of Judge burned alive. A constable called “Blackwater” had suffered severe burns to her lungs and died despite Iya Siju’s best efforts.

  The explosion made a mess out of Mau as well. Luckily, the oga’koi-koi’s dense and hard hide absorbed most of the explosion.

  Commander Dinsu’s soldiers arrived in minutes and doused the blaze before the warehouse caught fire.

  The squad was banged up, enraged and frightened.

  Swole received some fairly serious burns. Digger suffered burns, too, while dragging Blackwater’s body out of #2; but Iya Siju said their injuries would not keep them from duty.

  The squad bandaged their wounds, mended or replaced damaged equipment and stood in a loose formation around their commanders.

  Binta was upset. She glared at Mba. “What happened?”

  “Mau must have been infected,” he said. “A Burner. He had that walk.”

  “He manifested?” Binta said, shaking her head. “Come on! I’d be more apt to believe it was sabotage. Do you know the chances of a Burner manifesting spontaneously after the number of Gnaw Maw transmissions we’ve seen?”

  “He could have been exposed during the autopsy on the shopkeeper,” Iya Siju interjected. Her hair was singed. She had run right up to the heat and flames behind #2 to work on Blackwater. Mba had been impressed by her actions.

  “It only requires exposure to body fluid containing Bacillus and those scalpels are sharp,” Iya Siju said. “I can divine on it.”

  “Don’t rule out sabotage too quickly,” Commander Dinsu chimed in. “Look at the timing of this.”

  “Who would want to sabotage us?” Mba asked.

  “Lots of people,” Binta replied. “As Jima says…remember history! There was a strong movement during the First Outbreak that sabotaged the properties of medicine priests and squad members because the medicine priests created Ebandela and we were seen as their hired swords…and there were enough indiscretions and accidents among the squads to earn some of the distrust.”

  “Who’s going to set himself on fire?” Swole groaned. His clothes were scorched in places. Bits of his mask were welded to his face.

  “Did anyone notice Mau’s behavior before?” Mba asked.

  “I have to admit, his communications during the autopsy bothered me,” Iya Siju said, wiping grime from her forehead with a sleeve. “I started cooking samples and left him to it. When we talked, he gave one or two word answers, so I tried to joke with him. He just got up and walked out. I thought he was angry about something and figured I would address it later.”

  Binta glared at Iya Siju.

  Iya Siju shrugged her shoulders.

  “Okay,” Mba said, stepping between Binta and Iya Siju. “Report any strange behavior right away.”

  Binta whipped around to face the constables. “This is not the time for doubt. We can’t worry about embarrassing questions. Understand?”

  “Agreed,” Iya Siju said. “Also, report any unusual feelings or fears you have, or someone else expresses, to me. It’s probably just paranoia, but we can’t take the chance it’s something else.”

  “So where do we go from here?” Mba asked. He felt the need for something to settle his nerves. All the excitement left him agitated.

  “Swole,” Binta began. “Will #2 be able to see action?”

  “It’ll carry troops, ma’am,” Swole replied. “But only above ground. It’s digging days are done.”

  “Commander Dinsu,” Binta went on. “Swole will bring your squad when we need them.” She exhaled and squared her shoulders. “I regret the loss of our people, but we still have a squad. We go ahead with the plan!”

  Binta shifted; she closed her eyes and inhaled. “Yes?” she said, seemingly speaking to the air. “How many? What’s the address?” She nodded. “Thank you, corporal. Do not engage! I’ll send backup!” Binta opened her eyes.

  “What is it?” Mba asked.

  “Someone was taken by Gnaw Maws from an address near Lowola,” Binta replied. “The east end of our hotspot.” Her expression was grim. “Jima is in pursuit.”

  “Jima is chasing them?” Mba said, frowning. “Are they all in wheelchairs?”

  CHAPTER forty-four

  Jima was tired. Although he had quickly adapted to this new mode of locomotion, he was out of shape. His damaged body was unused to this sort of work – any kind of work – and the slippery grass had combined with the darkness to produce some awkward falls. Falls that resulted in painful muscle pulls that finally forced him to put his sword away and to hobble, using branches and trunks of trees for support. Aşe still burned within him, but his atrophied muscles had little to give in return.

  You can’t stop. You can’t fail!

  The corporal was there, eager to help – and to survive. His shortbow trembled in his jittery hands. He was jumping at shadows.

  The night crowded in and a breeze in the leaves whispered “Eat.”

  They had continued three blocks west, until they were forced, by fences and other obstacles, to take to the road. The glowfly streetlamps on Dedan Road made for faster travel.

  Jima’s legs and back were paining him terribly, but he pressed onward.

  He assumed that the Gnaw Maws would make a beeline for their lair. When he found no blood bird or scene of carnage, Jima figured that the victim had either escaped, manifested during the first stages of the attack or was being taken somewhere secure for that purpose. The first violent stages of the ritual would be unnerving to the anxious Gnaw Maws, though their need overrode any discomfort. You screamed until your voice broke.

  Incidents of hunting and gathering were recorded back in the day, but such reports were sketchy. Study of Gnaw Maws from the First Outbreak was incomplete. No one knew that the packs were even there until they grew to a size where they could hunt openly for flesh. Badundu’s pack would be small, and most of its members sick and dying. It was easy to hypothesize that early-stage hunting packs brought their captives back for Ritual in private and relative safety.

  The corporal had twice suggested that he go back for the elephant, but Jima insisted there was no time. If the Gnaw Maws did begin the ritual, then the only chance of interrupting them lay in pressing forward. People can survive. You’re proof of that, he told himself.

  Soon they took a turn where the ravine winded toward the military base.

  There’s still time!

  Jima told the corporal to contact Bunseki again. The corporal had used his limited psychic abilities earlier to contact Bunseki. All transport drivers – whether the transport was a horse, an elephant, or an oga’koi-koi, had some degree of psychic ability. It is what qualified them to effectively work with the transport.

  Bunseki was surprised to hear from Jima, especially that he was on foot, but he was glad the squad was coming. He and his team, Storm and Juju, had retired to the cart and were keeping watch. They had seen no activity in the ravine, though Storm swore he heard something hiss the word “Eat” near the sewer mouth.

  Jima pushed along, his feet cramping. Strings of drool dangled from his jaw, fouling his face-mask. His breath, trapped inside the mask, made him nauseous.

  “I can’t raise him,” the corporal said. “Must be…

  A scream drowned out the corporal’s words; and another.

&nb
sp; “That came from up ahead!” The corporal said.

  “Hurry!” Jima barked, pushing himself to greater effort. His heart pounded and his legs throbbed. The scar tissue on his skull and neck twitched.

  There was a streetlamp ahead where the road turned left and the tree choked ravine loomed. Jima knew the gully narrowed at a culvert that allowed runoff under an east-west stretch of road. Past that, the ravine wall would rise to the north where the sewer opened up. They rounded the corner and saw Bunseki’s cart parked just inside the rim of a streetlamp, fifty yards from them. Past it, the portal of the sewer opening lurked in darkness.

  The street ran past the cart to a dead end. A fence closed it beside a line of tall trees.

  “I still can’t raise Bunseki,” the corporal said panted. “Do you think they went into the sewer?”

  Jima stopped and drew his sword. He pointed at the cart. He lumbered to the front of the vehicle, leaning on the nearest horse and using it for support as he peered inside the rhino hide-covered wagon.

  There was blood spray on the inside surface and something…else.

  “Captain?” The corporal called from the rear. “What is it?”

  Jima pressed a finger to his lips and hurried, wheezing, to the back of the cart. He looked at the corporal, his hood covering much of his face. Jima slid his fingers into the handle on the bumper of the cart. He caught the corporal’s eye and nodded.

  The corporal aimed his bow.

  Jima pulled the handle. The wagon’s covering snapped open, folding in upon itself. The material then disappeared, slithering into an opening in the top of the handle.

  In the floor of the cart was a blood bird. It glistened in the light from the streetlamps. But no body. There was a lot of blood, but not enough to suggest more than one person had met this fate.

  Jima ran over in his mind what he knew about Bunseki’s team. Juju was a decorated warrior – she trained soldiers in Axum before emigrating to Sati-Baa. The other was blade-named Storm. He grew up in a rough part of Sati-Baa, a thief who turned his life around in the military and later, became a constable.

  The Gnaw Maws had skinned someone. Jima’s guts twisted as he imagined the horrible scene. There were imprints on the walls of the cart – a hand and forearm; a hip bone and thigh.

  Eeeat! Eat. Eat! They would whisper it, biting and holding as the Alpha set its teeth and ripped; as the skin peeled off.

  Jima gasped. His thoughts returned to the present.

  “Take your mask off, corporal,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  Too late; the corporal vomited.

  The corporal swore as he tore his mask, now filled with his stomach’s contents, from his face.

  Jima pushed at the congealing blood pooled on the floor of the cart with his sword. “Not enough blood for all three.”

  But whose blood bird was it? Jima contemplated. How did the Gnaw Maws take them by surprise?

  “Where’s the uniform?” The corporal asked, shaking the sputum out of his mask. “Wouldn’t there be clothes?”

  “It is early and the Gnaw Maws have not fine-tuned their ritual,” Mba replied. “Doubtless they confused the cloth, like the victim’s uniform was skin. Soon, they will come to understand the difference.”

  “But they’re smart enough to get into a cart?” the corporal said, pulling his filthy mask back over his face.

  “Apelike intelligence,” Jima said.

  “So, where are they?” the corporal asked.

  “It is difficult to say,” Jima replied. “The lack of a body suggests that at least one manifested and joined the pack. It is possible someone was away from the cart when the attack occurred.”

  Jima limped toward the shadows and the sewer opening.

  “Stop!” The corporal shouted, shaking in terror. “Where are you going?”

  “Someone is in trouble and they still have our captive,” Jima replied. “The activity in the cart suggests a different segment of the pack may have attacked Bunseki’s team. The hunting pack might be bigger than we expected.”

  “Then we really need reinforcements,” the corporal said. “Don’t we?” His voice was shaky and weak.

  “Every second counts,” Jima said. “Anyone alive who has not manifested may be hiding and in need of our help.”

  “But the squad...” The corporal sighed. “They will be here soon.”

  Jima turned away from the man and shuffled up to the opening of the tunnel. There were several prints there – some made by bare feet and some made by shoes.

  It was pitch black inside. The tunnel was circular and the ceiling high enough that Jima could move unimpeded. A tall man would have to hunch forward.

  Eeeat!

  The word echoed inside his mask. Jima wondered if he had actually heard it, or if he said it; if his mind was finally breaking under the strain.

  Aşe coursed through his veins. He gasped with exertion and terror. He flipped on his lamp. “Stay there and wait for back up, or come with me.”

  “Great!” The corporal complained, his bow aiming in all directions as he approached the opening to the sewer. “Just great.”

  “It’s simple, corporal,” Jima said. “Shoot anything that does not identify itself…and watch your crossfire.”

  “I’m just supposed to be a driver,” the corporal said, defeated.

  CHAPTER forty-five

  The horses stopped in front of a small house, about ten yards from Jima’s transport.

  Mba took a swig from his little calabash before slipping his mask over his face.

  “This is it!” Toy said. His voice was pitched high with excitement. “We were a couple blocks west of here this morning.”

  “Right,” Mba said, beginning his dismount. He winced as he climbed down from the big horse. The pain in his back left him breathless.

  Toy leapt down from his horse and put on his mask. He pulled his glowfly lamp from his saddle bag and turned it on.

  Mba drew his sword and his club and took a step toward the elephant.

  “Why did Captain Jima come here?” The younger man asked as he lifted his shortbow from his saddle and then tossed the quiver over his shoulder.

  “Shut up,” Mba whispered.

  It was dark. The streetlamps were out. Houses along the road had their lights on, but every curtain was closed, every blind pulled. The Sharif’s message had hit home. It was an army matter, he told them; some dangerous substances were being moved out at the base. That’s why the road into town was blocked. But the public had to imagine it was more. Anyone over thirty would remember the various cover stories squads used back in the day to explain away manifestations and ‘bash, bag, burn’ operations. All those attempts to reduce stress had created paranoia.

  Mba imagined Badundu families waiting and wondering. Watching windows and doors, a free hand always on the sword or spear they had never used before. They’d be keeping their children together somewhere safe. Doors locked; some nailed shut. Playing kigogo or telling stories – anything to keep them occupied. Redirect the questions and don’t think about it. Everybody under twenty would be thinking back to stories that they had heard in school or whispered around campfires. And everybody else would be wondering if the terror had returned to the shadows.

  A breeze blew and leaves tumbled along the road. Something clicked and skittered nearby.

  Eeeat.

  Mba quickly turned on the lamp that hung from his waist. He felt like he was smothering in the mask. The world was muffled, but he heard the words clearly.

  Eeeat.

  He dragged in a breath and looked over at Toy. “Watch your crossfire.”

  Toy covered Mba from behind as he climbed up the elephant’s trunk and then peered into the litter. Jima’s wheelchair was strapped to the lift. A small lamp glowed on Jima’s desk where scrolls were arranged. Other than that, the litter was empty. “Nobody home,” Mba said, peering down at Toy. “Let’s check the house.”

  The last they heard from Jima and his c
orporal was that the pair was moving west along the ravine in pursuit of a hunting pack with a possible captive. The last telepathic communication with Bunseki’s location said he had been in touch with Jima and was waiting for him at the sewer opening near the main road. Jima was walking, so he could not have gotten far.

  Binta had given Mba Toy for company, but would not spare another constable.

  Mba and Toy crossed the lawn. They walked into the porch light, weapons at the ready.

  “Watch it!” Mba whispered and pointed. The door was ajar. The glowfly chandelier inside was on, revealing an arch that opened on a living room with a couch and chair. “Alright,” he said, pausing on the step. “If things go crazy, we get back to back.”

  “Watch the crossfire, right?” Toy’s eyes glimmered with excitement.

  Mba nodded. “Back to back; or back to a wall. If we find Gnaw Maws in there, we move toward a defendable room. Doesn’t matter what room, just something with a single entrance.”

  Mba opened the door and slipped in. Protocol required Bacillus Squad members to identify themselves when entering a scene where the infection was suspected, but Mba had learned early on that was like ringing a dinner bell. Identifying your squad membership was supposed to give innocents time to come out of their hiding places. Mba’s technique just meant he had to be twice as careful of shadows and people popping up.

  His attention was drawn to the smashed and broken furniture. A table and chairs were overturned and mixed with leaves and refuse from the backyard. Mba followed Toy to the back of the house.

  The wind tugged at the curtains. Some kind of cabinet had been knocked over. There were shattered statuettes and several drawings on papyrus inside it. Mba kept his sword trained on the black rectangle of the open door and grunted as he knelt to pick up one of the drawings. He flipped it over. The swaying chandelier illuminated the illustration of a good-looking woman in a huge headwrap. Nice hips and breasts. Beside her was a little girl with curly hair. She wore a dress that matched the color and pattern of her mother’s headwrap. A man stood beside the girl. Sweat pooled around the edges of Mba’s mask. He recognized the man and the woman in the drawing.