Manifest

Nineteen

Eddie wasn't defenseless without Enyong.

He rubbed his hands on his thighs and paced the small room, wondering what he was supposed to do. He couldn't even get home. He had no money on him, no car. He had no idea where he was, to begin with.

At least, he wasn't defenseless. He couldn't remember much, but he knew he'd fought that guy off with his powers. He could just use that again. No big deal. Maybe sleepover in the raggedy room till morning then trek to the nearest bank. Every village had GTB, right? He wasn't lost. He was not freaking out.

Eddie gave himself a slap to snap out of it.

"Are you alright?"

He looked up from the corner he'd sequestered in. The old woman from before was standing there, held up by her walking stick in one hand and scruffy lantern in the other as she watched him with shock.

"How come you're up and about? Where are my dressings? Come and sit let me look at your wound." She shuffled into the room as Eddie waved her off.

"My wound is fine."

"I want to see."

"Don't worry about it."

"Alright," she agreed, halting her progress as she dropped the lamp and rested both hands on the stick, placed in front of her for balance.

Relieved, he sat on the bed. Then he got up as her eyes followed him around the room.

"Are you hungry?"

His stomach answered before he could. He held it and turned away, ashamed. Eddie couldn't eat their food. He knew he shouldn't. They barely had enough to feed themselves. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, in search of answers. Maybe if he'd kept his mouth shut, Enyong could have gotten him a meal and he wouldn't have to impose on poor people.

"I'm fine."

"But your-"

"I said I'm okay," he snapped as she leaned back, blinking at him without a reply.

Confused, he rubbed his head and paced the room again. He'd expected more of a fight from her, considering how he'd heard her bulldoze Enyong into letting him stay in her house.

"I should go."

He headed for the door.

"Is it safe for you to be out there?" she asked. "Someone did stab you."

"I'll try to stay out of trouble."

She scoffed at him as she shuffled over to the bed and sat on it.

"Your father was a terrible liar, too."

Everybody in Antaikot knew Ibanga Okot. He'd spent the better part of the last ten years in Akwa Ibom and he'd been exceptionally social about it. Eddie expected that a few people in Antaikot would know him, but now that he thought about it, he wondered why a woman living on the outskirts of the state knew his father at all. Or why she had such a familiar tone when talking about him.

"How did you know my father?"

"I was friends with your grandmother, Uwakmfon. During the civil war, we left Antaikot together, with our families. It was a very difficult time for everyone. It wasn't easy to travel in large groups, either," Mma Ubon said. "A lot of families lost a lot when we returned, after the war. Some of your father's siblings were drafted and we never saw them again," she raised her walking stick and gestured at their surroundings. "My husband lost most of his plot, but he was alive. His brothers weren't so lucky. Most of them were killed in the war, the other two who survived were beheaded, along with the elders. My husband was the youngest, with a young family. They let him go."