Chapter 48: The Twins
The ground was soft.
Rachel walked barefoot through a landscape of bones and blood. Not scattered—arranged. Mountains of femurs. Valleys of ribs. Rivers of dark red that didn't flow so much as seep. The air was thick and wet, heavy with the smell of iron and something older.
She didn't know where she was going. Her feet carried her anyway.
Her six cornrows lay flat against her scalp, damp with something she didn't want to name. Her nightgown—white, thin—was already stained at the hem. She walked.
Where am I?
No answer.
She climbed a hill of skulls. They shifted under her weight, clinking like horrible wind chimes. At the top, another woman stood waiting.
Same face. Same height. Same slim build.
But different.
This version of her wore a white robe, clean and regal, untouched by the blood that pooled at her feet. Her eyes were red—not irritated, glowing. A thin line of crimson ran from the corner of her mouth down her chin.
She was smiling.
"You're almost there," the other Rachel said.
"Where?"
"I don't know brat."
The dream shattered.
PORT HARCOURT 8AM
Ruth touched her daughter's shoulder.
"Rachel. Wake up. We're in Port Harcourt now."
Rachel's eyes opened. The car was moving through unfamiliar streets—palm trees, roundabouts, the faded elegance of Old GRA. Her mother sat beside her, older than she should look, her hands tight on her purse.
Rachel sat up. Blinked. Forced a smile.
"Finally."
She looked out the window.
The city blurred past. Behind her eyes, the bone field lingered. The other her. The smile.
Almost where?
BACK IN BENIN — DAVID'S MOTHER'S BOUTIQUE — AFTERNOON
The rat Phobia had been small. Nuisance-level. Three Vanguards, one Joy, and thirty minutes of chasing the thing through an abandoned warehouse. David's clothes were clean. No one was bleeding. That was a good mission.
They walked into the boutique in casual clothes—David, Jonathan, Praise, Joy. The bell above the door chimed. The air smelled of new fabric and peppermint tea.
David's mother was behind the counter, folding children's clothes, chatting with a customer. She looked up. Her face lit up.
"Good morning mummy."
"How are you."
"Hungry sha won't lie"
"How won't you be hungry when you left so early this morning."
"Good morning ma" The others said in unison while laughing.
Jonathan wandered toward the men's section. Joy disappeared down an aisle of scarves and bags. Praise stayed with David.
David's mother handed the customer her change, then turned fully to them.
"This job of yours," she said, shaking her head. "Really stressful. You're travelling again?"
"Yes, Mummy."
"It's getting too much." Her voice was soft, but her eyes were serious. "I might have to tell you to quit."
David didn't argue. He just stood there.
She sighed. Took his hands. Closed her eyes.
"A prayer for my son. And for his friends. Keep them safe. Bring them home."
She opened her eyes, looked at Praise, and added: "God bless you too, dear."
"Amen," Praise said.
"Amen," David said.
Joy burst around the corner, panting.
"David. Praise. You need to come."
David's mother frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Jonathan," Joy said. "He's getting hit on."
Praise and David locked eyes. Then they moved.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SHOP
Jonathan stood by the scarf rack, talking to a girl.
She was wearing a hijab—deep blue, neatly wrapped. Her face was open, friendly, and she was laughing at something Jonathan had said. Jonathan. Laughing.
David had never seen Jonathan laugh at a woman's joke before. Jonathan didn't laugh at jokes. Jonathan didn't talk to women.
"Jonathan!" David called, jogging over. "What are you doing?"
Joy appeared beside him. "Yeah, what are you doing?"
Jonathan's face went red. "I'm just—she asked for directions—"
"He was very helpful," the girl said. Her voice was warm. "And then he told me I had nice eyes."
Praise covered her mouth.
David clapped Jonathan on the shoulder. "Our boy."
"Smooth operator," Joy added.
Jonathan looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. "Can you all please—"
"What's your name?" Praise asked the girl.
"Zara."
"Zara," David said. "This is Jonathan. He's usually very serious. And very quiet. And he's never done this before, so please be gentle."
"I'm going to kill you," Jonathan said.
"You need her number first," Joy said.
Zara laughed. She pulled out her phone. "Give me your number, Jonathan. Before your friends embarrass you any further."
Jonathan, speechless, typed his number into her phone.
When she left, the group stood in a circle around him.
"So," Praise said, arms crossed. "You do have a type."
David grinned. "Grown ass man, by the way."
Joy was already on her phone. "Wait till Eloghosa hears this. I'm picking him up from the airport tomorrow."
"Love you, Mummy!" David shouted toward the counter.
"Love you too Safe journey!" she called back.
They filed out of the shop.
THE HELIPAD 6:30PM
The helicopter waited.
Ivie stood by the cargo door, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Ezra loomed beside her, massive and silent. Marcel was checking the fuel gauge.
David walked toward them, a bag the size of a bed slung over his shoulder.
"What's in this?" he asked.
"Everything I'll need," Ivie said. "Weapons."
"This is bigger than me."
"You'll grow into it."
"This again."
He loaded it onto the helicopter.
Jonathan stood at the edge of the helipad, hands in his pockets. Praise was beside him. Joy stood by the car, already on her phone, probably texting Eloghosa.
"Safe journey," Jonathan said.
"Don't do anything stupid," Praise added.
"Define stupid."
"Anything I wouldn't do."
"Tell Zara I said hi oh." Jonathan just put his head down "Our in-law."
"Don't worry I'll remind him" praise said.
David climbed into the helicopter. Ivie followed. Ezra took the seat by the window, silent as always.
The rotors started.
David looked out at his friends—Jonathan, Praise, Joy—waving as the helicopter lifted.
He thought about his mother's prayer.
Keep them safe. Bring them home.
He looked down at the bag Ivie had given him. Bigger than him. Heavy.
He wondered what was inside.