The pool was twenty feet across. The water glimmered from Biko’s and Kundo’s lamps. Behind them, a rusted iron ladder climbed up out of the cistern. A circle of bright light suggested a larger lamp pointed through an open hatch. The oga’koi-koi had to be right above them.
“Bunseki wants his brain back,” Mba said, stone-faced, as he pointed his bow at the men.
Kundo and Biko stared at him.
Biko raised his hands as if to say “don’t shoot.”
“Sounds like you want to treat my squad and the Gnaw Maws,” Mba said. “Why?”
With lightning speed, Biko drew a crossbow from behind his back and centered it on Mba’s chest. The weapon was small enough to use with one-hand.
Kundo wore a similar mini-crossbow on his right hip. His hand hovered close to it, but he was a talker, not a quick-draw like Biko.
“A new weapon we got from Kamit,” Biko said, nodding toward the mini-crossbow. “Like it?”
“Put that bow away, Mba,” Kundo ordered. “Now!”
“Not yet.” Mba kept the bow pointed at Kundo. “Why?”
“We don’t have time for this,” Kundo said, shooting a glance at Biko.
“There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want,” Mba replied.
Kundo spat into the water. “We’re developing treatments for people with mild Bacillus manifestation. We grafted the most powerful healing herbs from Matamba; enhanced the grafts with powerful magic from Fez; tested results using technology from Kamit…all to ensure Bacillus never returns.”
“How did that work out for you?” Mba said with a smirk.
Kundo took a couple of steps away from Biko. “You have to work with the disease to find the cure. We needed a strain of Bacillus that manifested every time, in a predictable way. From that, we could learn how to destroy it once and for all and cure its victims. If we solved the puzzle, the medicine priests could redeem their image and save the world. One of our medicine priests, Fabukunmi Adewale, developed something that was close to a cure, but it was unstable. There was an accident.” Kundo shook his head. “Fabukunmi lived in the Mujedin Building.”
Mba glared at Biko.
Biko’s expression was calm and cool, but his eyes and the sweat on his brow suggested a frantic inner dialogue.
“Badundu’s another accident?” Mba asked, scowling at Kundo.
“Ironically, it took the banning of Ebandela and the remission of Bacillus to find our breakthrough,” Kundo replied. “With Bacillus dropping below epidemic levels in Sati-Baa, it soon became dormant. The manifestations either disappeared or grew manageable. We injected our new cure into volunteers who suffered from mild Bacillus manifestation. In all cases, we saw an increase in the severity of the manifestations and a small percentage also began producing manifestations never seen before.”
“Just like Ebandela,” Mba sighed.
“Worse,” Kundo said. “But better for us. Badundu proves that. The disease spread so quickly, with 100 percent communicability and manifestation. We never dreamed we’d get test results like that. From this new strain, we can reverse-engineer a cure that finally works and redesign Bacillus to fix the problems it caused.
“Sounds like gibberish to me,” Mba said. “It’ll sound that way to the public, too. Like Ebandela all over again.”
Kundo smiled. “We’ll rename it. Pay the priests to push it to them as some newfound food of the Gods. We will…”
Mba fired the arrow.
Kundo fell onto his back, sending floodwater splashing into the air. The shaft of the arrow protruded between his eyes.
Biko fired his mini-crossbow.
At the same time, Mba dropped his shortbow and, with blazing speed, drew his club and hurled it with a powerful sideways whip of his arm.
The club hit Biko in the neck.
The crossbow bolt hit Mba in the belly.
The mini-crossbow fell from Biko’s trembling hand. His eyes went dull and he pitched forward into the cistern pond.
Mba fell to his knees. A blanket of darkness fell over him. Before he succumbed to darkness’ warm embrace, he heard footsteps splashing behind him and voices shouting “Captain!”
CHAPTER fifty-seven
The overhead lights came on, jarring Mba out of his nap. He batted his eyelids to regain his focus. He was lying on a bed of aromatic flowers and herbs. A curtain was drawn around his bed. Through the gossamer white curtain he saw someone standing a few feet away. It was a woman. The swelling contour of her chest and the even rounder counter of her backside was one Mba knew well. He had studied and admired it for decades – “Binta?”
“Guilty,” Binta replied.
“How long have I been out?” Mba asked.
“Ten days.”
“Ten days?” Mba gasped. “It took me ten days to wake up from a shot to the gut?”
“No,” Binta said. She paused for what seemed to Mba like a minute. “We kept you asleep until we could be sure.”
“Sure of what?” Mba asked. Then he remembered. He took inventory of his body. His face and head throbbed. His underarm burned. Banana leaf pulp was pressed to the wounds – the bites! “Daarila!” He groaned.
“You didn’t turn, obviously,” Binta said. “But you have it, Mba.”
Mba’s throat felt as if a belt was tied tight around it. His tongue felt thick. “How? Was anybody else bitten and didn’t turn?”
“Yes,” Binta said. “I was bitten.”
“Well, then,” Mba said. “There you have it. You were bitten and you’re okay, so…”
“Turns out, I’m immune to this new strain,” Binta said. “I’m still me. Are you still you? Not sure if you are.”
“I’m me, Binta,” Mba sighed.
“I think you are,” Binta said. “If not, you would still be in restraints.”
She pulled back the curtain. A small calabash was balanced in her palm. She extended it toward Mba. “Here. You probably could use a drink.”
Wine! Mba took the calabash from Binta. He pressed it to his lips…then he sniffed the air. Something did not smell right. He brought his nostrils to the rim of the calabash and sniffed again. Poison? He threw the calabash at Binta.
She dodged the gourd and drew a knife from inside her sleeve.
Mba rolled out of the bed and leapt to his feet. His back and his belly were on fire.
“I tried to do this the humane way, Mba,” Binta said. “You are the last living soul infected by the new strain of Bacillus. We can’t have another outbreak like twenty years ago…maybe worse.”
“This new strain works fast, Binta,” Mba said, keeping the bed between him and her. “If I was going to manifest, it would have already happened.”
“You can still infect others, though,” Binta said. “I’m sorry, Mba, you have to die.”
The realization came to Mba in a flash. “Maybe you aren’t you…”
“You have to die, Mba,” Binta said. “You have to. It’s the only way.”
Mba perused the room. A window was at his back. He shot a glance out of it. He was twenty feet above ground. The Sati-Baa River coursed in the distance. He was back in Metro.
“Not the only way,” Mba said, turning toward the window.
“No!” Binta screamed, leaping onto the bed.
Mba hurled his weight into the window. The glass shattered. Mba leapt down to the ground, landing on his feet with a dull thud.
He was amazed that he was unharmed. Strangely, he felt alive. The pain in his back was gone. He felt excited. Part of him wanted to run back into that building, find Binta and fight her…kill her…
Eat her.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Afrikan Martial Arts Master and Babalawo / Olorisa / Elegbe, Balogun is the author of the bestselling non-fiction books Afrikan Martial Arts: Discovering the Warrior Within The Afrikan Warriors Bible and The Young Afrikan Warriors’ Guide to Defeating Bullies & Trolls. He is screenwriter / producer / director of the films, A Single Link, Rite of Passage:
Initiation and Rite of Passage: The Dentist of Westminster.
Balogun is one of the leading authorities on Steamfunk – a philosophy or style of writing that combines the African and / or African American culture and approach to life with that of the steampunk philosophy and / or steampunk fiction – and writes about it, the craft of writing, Sword & Soul and Steampunk in general, at http://chroniclesofharriet.com/.
He is author of eleven novels – the Steamfunk bestsellers, MOSES: The Chronicles of Harriet Tubman (Books 1 & 2) and The Chronicles of Harriet Tubman: Freedonia; the Urban Science Fiction saga, Redeemer; the Sword & Soul epic, Once Upon A Time In Afrika; a Fight Fiction, New Pulp novella, Fist of Afrika; the gritty, Urban Superhero series, A Single Link and Wrath of the Siafu; the two-fisted Dieselfunk tale, The Scythe, the “Choose-Your-Own-Destiny”-style Young Adult novel, The Keys, the Urban Fantasy epic, Redeemer: The Cross Chronicles and the Sword and Soul horror novel, Beneath the Shining Jewel. Balogun is also contributing co-editor of two anthologies: Ki: Khanga: The Anthology and Steamfunk and contributing editor of the Rococoa anthology.
Finally, Balogun is the Director and Fight Choreographer of the Steamfunk feature film, Rite of Passage, which he wrote based on the short story, Rite of Passage, by author Milton Davis and co-author of the award winning screenplay, Ngolo.
You can reach him on Facebook at www.facebook.com/Afrikan.Martial.Arts; on Twitter at https://twitter.com/Baba_Balogun and on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/blackspeculativefiction.
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