Kwara State Outskirts — Night
The night stretched over Kwara like a heavy cloak.
The van hummed softly along the cracked asphalt, its headlights carving thin paths of light through the rural dark. The road ahead wound toward Jebba, where silence and suspicion shared the same air.
Bayo's eyes stayed fixed on the road, unblinking. The map on the dashboard flickered, recalibrating every few kilometers. Tope sat beside him, arms folded, still trembling though she pretended not to. The gunfire from Ibadan still echoed faintly in her mind.
They hadn't spoken since crossing the boundary line. The only sound was the distant thrum of night insects and the rhythmic creak of the van's suspension.
Then came a noise — faint, metallic, high-pitched.
Bayo slowed instinctively, tilting his head toward the open window.
The sound circled, mechanical and deliberate.
Tope's breath caught.
"Drone?" she whispered.
Bayo killed the engine.
The night swallowed the hum of the vehicle. Both of them sat frozen, listening.
For a long moment, the whine hovered overhead, rising and dipping like a predator's breath. Then it shifted east, fading until it was lost among the trees.
Bayo waited a full minute before restarting the van.
"Not military," he murmured. "Too light. Probably a scout from the grid team."
Tope exhaled, her shoulders finally lowering. "Or a warning."
He nodded. "Either way, they know we're not ghosts."
~ ~ ~
Jebba South Depot — Pre-Dawn
They reached the edge of a small town before dawn — a forgotten place where buildings leaned like old men and the scent of wet dust hung heavy in the air. A broken sign read Jebba South Depot.
Bayo parked near an abandoned petrol station.
He stretched, stepping out to scan the horizon.
Tope followed, wrapping her jacket tighter against the chill.
"We rest here till first light," Bayo said.
"Safe?"
He looked at the shattered windows and graffiti-streaked walls. "Safe enough for now."
They found a small clearing behind the structure where weeds had overtaken an old fire pit. Bayo crouched, gathering dry scraps of wood from the debris. The flame came alive slowly, flickering against the night's breath.
Tope sat opposite him, knees drawn close, the warmth chasing away her trembling. The orange glow painted her face, revealing exhaustion and something else—resolve.
She watched him quietly for a while before speaking.
"When you left Abeokuta, did you think you'd make it this far?"
Bayo didn't look up. "I didn't think at all. Thinking slows the kind of running we do."
A faint smile tugged at her lips. "You always have an answer."
"No," he said, tossing another stick into the flame. "Just enough silence between the wrong ones."
For a moment, the crackle of fire replaced the need for words. The stillness wasn't heavy anymore—it was necessary.
Tope's gaze softened. "You saved me twice, Bayo."
He shrugged. "You would've done the same."
"Maybe," she said. "But you didn't have to."
He didn't reply. His eyes were somewhere beyond the firelight, fixed on the horizon's faint shimmer.
Then it happened—without warning, instinctive.
Tope leaned forward and hugged him.
It wasn't planned, or even rational. Her arms tightened around him in sudden release—the fear, the exhaustion, the ache of surviving too long.
Bayo froze. His hands hovered midair before resting gently on her back, awkward, unsure. The moment lasted only a few seconds, but it held more than words ever could.
When she pulled away, her face was wet with quiet tears she didn't bother to hide.
"Sorry," she whispered.
He shook his head slowly. "Don't be. We've both been ghosts too long."
The fire crackled louder, sparks rising like tiny stars.
Tope smiled faintly through her tears. "I thought I lost the part of me that could feel something other than fear."
Bayo stirred the fire with a stick. "Fear is what keeps us moving. But sometimes, you need something else to remind you why."
Silence again—comfortable this time.
Then Tope broke it. "Do you think Ayo's alive?"
Bayo's hand paused mid-motion. "If anyone can vanish without dying, it's him."
She nodded, though uncertainty lingered. "You trust he'll find us?"
"He already knows where we're going," Bayo said. "He'll come when it's time."
Tope looked into the fire, letting the warmth dry her tears. Somewhere between fear and faith, she thought, I stopped running.
Bayo reached into his jacket and unfolded a weathered note — coordinates, barely legible.
"Eagle-One sent this two hours ago," he said. "He's alive."
Her eyes widened. "Your mentor?"
"The same. He trained us before everything went wrong. Said he'd stay buried until the network reset."
"So this is it," she whispered. "The new signal."
He nodded. "North and South grids are still alive. But they'll wait for my call before moving."
Tope leaned forward. "And when you call?"
Bayo's eyes hardened. "Then we stop running."
~ ~ ~
Kwara Plains — Morning
A gust of wind swept through the clearing, scattering ash into the air. The flame flared, then steadied again.
When the first light crept over the horizon, Bayo stood.
"Time to move."
Tope hesitated, reluctant to leave the fragile peace. "Where to?"
"East. Toward the rail line. Eagle-One's message mentioned a drop near the old steel yard. If we're lucky, it's still clean."
She rose, brushing dirt from her trousers. "And if we're not?"
He smiled faintly. "Then we improvise."
As they returned to the van, Tope looked back once. The fire was dying, smoke rising in thin spirals — ashes and echoes of what they'd survived.
They drove until the road narrowed again into a path of red earth and tall grass. Goats darted across their way; distant huts blurred by dust.
By midday, the van began to cough. The engine sputtered, protesting each mile.
"We're running on fumes," Tope said, glancing at the gauge.
"Two more kilometers," Bayo muttered. "There's a supply spot near the yard."
But the van didn't make it. It wheezed once and died at the edge of a thicket.
Bayo coasted it to a stop and stepped out. The air was heavy with the smell of rain.
"Perfect," Tope said, half-laughing, half-crying.
He opened the back door, retrieving a duffel bag. "We go on foot from here."
She tightened her laces. "Any idea how far?"
"Less than a mile. If we cut through the brush."
They started walking. The ground squelched beneath their boots, soaked from the night's storm. Somewhere in the distance, a train horn wailed—a lonely, metallic cry that seemed to echo their exhaustion.
~ ~ ~
Old Steel Yard — Noon
When they finally emerged from the trees, the steel yard rose before them — rusted cranes, silent tracks, warehouses swallowed by weeds.
Bayo raised his hand, signaling silence.
He scanned the area. Nothing moved except a torn flag fluttering from an old pole.
"Clear," he said softly.
They approached one of the smaller sheds. Inside, broken crates and oil drums littered the floor. A faint blue light blinked near the far wall.
Tope pointed. "That… supposed to be doing that?"
Bayo smiled for the first time in days. "It's a beacon."
He knelt beside it, prying open the metal casing. Inside was a sealed envelope and a compact drive.
"From Eagle-One?"
"His style," Bayo said. He unfolded the paper and read silently. His expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened.
"What's it say?" Tope asked.
Bayo looked up slowly. "It says we're not done running yet."
She frowned. "Meaning?"
He handed her the note. In crisp, deliberate writing were the words:
They're already in Ilorin. Burn the trail. Wait for the next shadow.
Tope looked at him, fear flickering back into her eyes. "So they're ahead of us?"
Bayo's jaw tightened. "No. They think they are."
He tucked the drive into his pocket, eyes scanning the shadows. "We move before sunset."
She hesitated, glancing back toward the treeline. "You think Ayo's out there?"
Bayo's voice was low but certain. "He never left."
For a heartbeat, Tope thought she saw movement near the edge of the brush—a shimmer, a figure watching. But when she blinked, there was nothing. Only the wind and the whisper of distant thunder.
"Let's go," Bayo said.
They stepped out of the shed and into the growing heat. Behind them, the beacon's light flickered once more, then went out.
The next phase had begun.