Manifest

Nine

It was foolish to use the main road. Especially with the crowd of people who wanted to follow him and make sure he was alright.

Eddie ran into the nearest bush as other pedestrians and drivers called to him frantically. Scared someone might follow, he'd hastened his pace, grateful for the covering of the tall grasses and the evening sky.

Eddie hissed when he stepped on a sharp piece of wood and it pressed through his left foot.

"Oww," he yelled into the bush, hopping around on his right leg and stumbling into the heavy grass. As he fell, the stick dislodged itself from his foot, causing him even more pain. Eddie cried and cradled the foot, turning it over to see the damage. The downside to a dark sky was that he couldn't see anything.

He touched around the area where the stick had previously been, careful not to apply too much pressure. It was wet from blood. He continued to feel around for the wound until he reached his toes. There was nothing there. Eddie leaned over and searched his foot again, pressing it harder to see if he could shock his brain into remembering where he'd been stabbed.

There was still nothing.

"Oh my god," he said, dropping his leg and standing as he started towards his house, once again.

Abasi Enyong had a lot of explaining to do.

===

"Abasi Enyong, what did you do to me?" he switched on the security lights and went around the house, searching for Abasi Enyong. He didn't see Abasi Enyong anywhere.

Eddie ran into the house, went through all the rooms, hesitating in front of his dad's room. His hand rested on the handle. At last, he pressed it and entered.

There was no one there.

"Enyong," Eddie said as worry grew within him.

Not long ago, he'd asked Enyong to leave. And it wasn't as if Eddie wanted him to come back. He just needed some answers. He needed to understand what was going on.

In retrospect, when a god rose from the dead and informed him that he'd been anointed, Eddie should have asked a few questions.

"You're a god, right?" Eddie said to the house. "You can hear me? Please come now."

He looked around at the house.

"Please," he begged, walking into the sitting room. "I need..." he took a deep breath and tried to relax. "I know what I said. I just- I need to know what's happening to me. Please."

There was still no reply, so he got on his knees, right there.

"Enyong, please come to me. I need you."

He tried to concentrate, tried to remember the way it had felt to pray to Enyong when he had allowed himself to feel something.

It was obviously more than saying mere words. It had to be if Abasi Enyong did not appear.

Wiping his nose with the top of his shirt, he climbed into his favorite sofa, as he stared at the dirt and blood he'd tracked into the house in his haste. His head pounded just looking at it. He knew he should clean it before it began to solidify, but Eddie couldn't even bring himself to try.

===

Eddie didn't know he'd fallen asleep. When he woke up, he heard the gate open. He hoped it was Enyong and was disappointed to realize it was not.

It was just another mourner seeking closure. Eddie didn't have it in him to receive anyone. He should have locked the gate and closed the front door so people wouldn't walk in and expect to be seen.

The woman marched across the compound in blue jeans, a sleeveless ankara top and a pair of black leather boots. Strapped to her right thigh, in a black holster, was a short, wooden, kitchen pestle.

She walked right up to the door and leaned in with a smile. Eddie inhaled and got to his feet as he recognized the woman. The long dreads, the silver gloves, the bold strut.

In confused surprise, he wondered to himself what on earth the Nigerian president's chief-of-staff was doing in his father's compound.