The Tides That Bind Us [AfroFuturism]

Nostalgia

The hole was just as Zaharah remembered it. Empty, save for the names of fellow tiger sharks past and present etched on the walls. She crossed to the northwest corner where her name sat up high alongside a stylised version of the team logo.

For as long as she could remember, the Tiger sharks had been assigned to the Locker room D, right next to this hole. And it had become a communal area for them to celebrate, cry, vent and decompress after games.

Zaharah soaked in the nostalgia, but an icy feeling undercut it. After physical therapy, she'd had no desire to play pocking anymore. Part of the thrill was having her family up there in the stands cheering her on. It would usually be Quelle and Jade, but on rare occasion, mom, dad and the twins would come out too. With them gone, pocking didn't seem worth it anymore.

Jade tapped her on the shoulder. Where to now?

"This way." She flicked her head to the corridor beyond the door and led them to the entrance of locker room D. The metal door sported a few nicks and pocks from time and shenanigans, and the panel on the side blinked red. Locked. She bit her lip, eyeing the keypad and palm scanner. They'd put in the extra layer of protection back in her early days after the Beach Runners rubbed monkey tamarind all over the Manta Ray's locker room.

Roddi scrunched his brow at her. "What's this?"

"The locker room for my old pocking team." She raised a hand to the pad. "I'm hoping they didn't take me out of the system. We need to get out of these clothes, change our profile in case the Director has people looking for us."

"I don't disagree, but what happens if you're not in the system anymore?"

"Then we have to run." She punched in the code on the keypad and pressed her hand to the scanner. Zaharah Cyan flashed across the screen and the door slid open.

The scent of cleaner and cleat sweat drifted into the hall, and the lights in the lounge area flickered to life. Overstuffed couches encircled a low table with a box TV hung above it. Counters hugged the north wall along with a fridge, a flat top range and a slew of appliances.

Zaharah recalled sitting on the couches, watching post-game highlights and munching on a bag of plantain chips while her teammates fought over the last of the lollies. Better times. Simpler times. Not-getting-shot-at times.

Jade touched her shoulder. You okay?

"Yeah, ah, let's hurry." She led them through the lounge to the backroom, past walls lined with lockers and seat, benches and tiny tables and finally to the showers in the back. Their reflections in the mirror were haggard, harrowed and tired. Their clothes were wrinkled, bloodied, their eyes dead, and shoulders hunched. They looked like zombies, akin to how the lab staff would come out after a two day shift.

And their nightmare wasn't over yet. They needed to move around the city without drawing attention to themselves. Zaharah went to rub her eyes, but thought better of it, when she spied the gunk on her hands. "Jade, did you pack any instant bleach? Or instant dye?"

Her sister nodded and boosted her bag onto the counter. I have spray dye. And dye and bleach packets.

"Alright. Roddi, we're making you blonde. Jade we'll use the spray dye on our braids. Pharah..." Zaharah looked towards the DJ, who leaned against the counter with her brother's bag in her arms.

I can give Pharah one of my wigs. I think the red faux dreads would fit. Jade passed Roddi a packet of instant bleach and he grimaced at it.

"Fine," he sighed, and moved the sink.

"Let's get to work." While Jade got busy helping Roddi and Pharah with their hair, Zaharah rummaged through the bags for new clothes for everyone. Thank goodness Jade raided the closets in Denden, else they'd have nothing to fit Roddi. After passing out everyone their assigned outfits, she gathered up her own clothes and slipped into a stall.