Ilorin — Dawn
The rain had stopped, but the world still felt soaked in sorrow. The first light of day crawled weakly through the mist, painting the rooftops and cracked roads of Ilorin in pale silver. The air was heavy with damp earth, gun oil, and burnt wires — the scent of unfinished battles.
Bayo Adeniran sat alone outside the hideout — a rusted filling station turned refuge. The ground beneath his boots was soft from the storm, his reflection trembling in a puddle nearby. He ran a hand through his beard, eyes following the horizon as if the city itself might answer for what it had taken.
Inside, silence hummed like a wound that refused to close.
Tope hadn't spoken much since the transmission ended. Ayo's last words — "See you in the next shadow" — looped in her head like an echo trapped in glass. Each time she blinked, she saw his face at nine: sharp-eyed, stubborn, too calm for a child who had learned to hide from men who wore power like armor.
When she finally stepped outside, she was wrapped in a faded scarf, her face pale but composed.
"Any signal?" she asked quietly.
Bayo shook his head. "Not a trace. The vultures must've jammed his route."
Her lips trembled before she steadied them. "He always covered his footprints. If they caught him… it wasn't by mistake."
Bayo looked toward the bruised sky. "No child should have to live in the kind of world we built."
"He wasn't a child anymore," Tope murmured. "He became what the world demanded — and what I prayed he'd never have to be."
The wind stirred between them, soft and uncertain. For a long while, only the rustle of leaves and the faint drip from the roof filled the space.
Then Bayo said quietly, "He called you Mom. I heard it once — back in Abeokuta."
Tope's eyes flicked toward him. "You never said anything."
"I didn't know what to say," he replied, voice rough. "But I understand now. You were protecting him — protecting the one good thing this country couldn't poison."
Her hands clenched. "And now he's out there alone because of me."
Bayo shook his head slowly. "No. He's alive because of you."
Her eyes glistened in the thin dawn light. For the first time since the storm, she let herself breathe — shallow, fragile, but alive.
~ ~ ~
Ilorin — Midmorning
Inside the hideout, Eagle-One hunched over a cluster of analog radios. The faint bulb above him hummed, throwing jagged shadows across his scarred face. His hands moved like a man dismantling ghosts, tuning into frequencies most had forgotten how to hear.
"They're sweeping Oyo and Kwara sectors," he muttered. "But one frequency keeps skipping their trace. Could be interference… could be him."
Tope's heartbeat quickened. "Ayo?"
"Could be," Eagle-One repeated, eyes narrowing. "The boy's too good. He's hiding inside the noise."
Bayo crouched beside him, scanning the notepad cluttered with symbols and jagged handwriting. "Can we lock onto it?"
"I'm trying," Eagle-One grunted. "But if I break the noise, I might expose him."
"Then don't," Tope said sharply. "He'll find us first."
Eagle-One studied her — the kind of look soldiers gave when they saw a heart trying to outpace its own scars. "If he's your blood, he'll find his way through the dark."
Tope turned away, trembling. The sound of her breath filled the small room — a sound halfway between prayer and defiance.
~ ~ ~
Ilorin City — Afternoon
The streets were restless.
By noon, posters with the phrase AIR IS LIFE had appeared on buses, walls, and market stalls. Beneath one, someone had stenciled Bayo's old construction logo — the mark of his fallen company — like a ghost resurrected in rebellion.
People gathered in small knots across intersections, their eyes wary but bright. At a junction, a crowd huddled around a portable speaker blasting an underground podcast:
The Cost of Air – Underground Feed.
A voice, digitally filtered but undeniably young, spoke through the static — each word a spark.
"They said air was free. Then they sold it in policies and pipelines.
Now they say silence will save us. But silence is the currency of cowards."
Bayo froze. The sound rooted him where he stood.
Tope's fingers gripped his sleeve. "That's—"
He nodded. "Ayo."
The voice continued, layered with interference, but clear in its message:
"If you can hear this, breathe. You are the network now.
Don't wait for heroes. Become the air."
The crowd stirred — some clapped, others wept.
Bayo's chest tightened, pride and dread mixing like fire and fuel. "He's alive," he whispered. "And he's not hiding anymore."
Tope smiled faintly through tears. "He's leading them."
They melted back into the moving crowd before the patrol trucks appeared.
But Bayo carried the echo of Ayo's voice like a heartbeat — steady, defiant, and alive.
~ ~ ~
Hideout — Evening
Thunder growled somewhere beyond the hills. The radio hummed again, faint but rhythmic. Eagle-One leaned close, tapping a pen to the beat.
"Morse," he said. "Someone's talking."
Tope leaned forward, tension carved across her face. "What does it say?"
Eagle-One scribbled fast: SAFE NORTH. ROUTE SEALED. KEEP MOVING. DON'T WAIT.
Her hand covered her mouth. "He's safe…"
Bayo exhaled slowly, every muscle unwinding. "The boy never misses."
But Eagle-One frowned. "No signature."
Bayo turned sharply. "Meaning?"
"Meaning anyone could be mimicking his code," Eagle-One replied. "The vultures are clever — they'll bait us if they can."
Tope's voice cracked. "That's him. I'd know his pulse even in static."
Eagle-One sighed. "Hope's a dangerous thing, Tope. It blinds faster than bullets."
She looked away, her silence sharper than any retort.
Outside, the air thickened. The night was coming again — with all its questions.
~ ~ ~
Ilorin — Nightfall
The curfew sirens began at nine.
Patrol trucks prowled through the streets like restless beasts, their searchlights cutting through the mist. The city seemed smaller now — every shadow alive, every sound amplified.
Inside, a single lantern glowed between Bayo and Tope. He sat cleaning his pistol with mechanical calm; she sat cross-legged, drawing shapes into the dust with her fingertip.
Finally, she broke the silence. "When you look at him… do you see her?"
He froze. "Who?"
"Amaka," she whispered. "You talk about Ayo the same way you talked about her — like you're afraid to break something already broken."
He swallowed hard. "Maybe I do."
Tope's eyes softened. "You never told me what losing her cost you."
He looked up, the light carving hard edges across his face. "Everything that made sense."
She shifted closer. "Then why keep fighting?"
He hesitated — then met her gaze. "Because if I stop, her death becomes meaningless. And Ayo's courage too."
The silence that followed wasn't empty; it pulsed with recognition.
Two souls carved by war, bound not by romance but by shared ruin.
Tope reached for his hand. He didn't pull away.
The touch said: I see you. I hurt too. But we keep breathing.
~ ~ ~
Midnight — The Return of the Signal
The radio cracked. Static flared — then cleared.
All three converged instantly.
A voice came through, faint but distinct.
"Mom. Uncle. Don't follow. They're tracing you.
I'm heading north — code 'Owena.' Repeat, Owena.
Trust no one."
Then silence.
Eagle-One grabbed his map, circling a point north. "Owena's a hydro-dam route — water blocks reflection. Smart kid."
Tope pressed her palms together. "He's alive… and still thinking three steps ahead."
Bayo's jaw tightened. "If he's heading north, they'll sweep through Ilorin first."
Eagle-One's reply was grim. "Then we move before dawn. Pack light. No signals. No trails."
Bayo nodded, eyes lingering on Tope. The lamplight traced her profile — worn, defiant, and alive in the way only survivors are.
"Get some rest," he murmured.
She shook her head. "Sleep's for people who've stopped fighting."
He smiled faintly. "Then we stay awake together."
~ ~ ~
Ilorin — Before Dawn
The first call to prayer drifted through the cold.
The trio stood outside the filling station, bags packed, weapons hidden under tarps. The road north stretched before them — long, silent, uncertain.
Bayo looked back one last time. "This place gave us air," he said quietly. "Now it's time to make it breathe."
Tope adjusted her scarf. "And if we fail?"
"Then the next shadow will remember we tried."
Eagle-One gave a sharp nod and started the truck.
As the engine rumbled, Bayo looked east — toward a boy rewriting the story of a nation, one encrypted line at a time.
The sky broke into soft gold.
The fallout had begun — not of bombs or bullets, but of truth finally too heavy to stay buried.
~ ~ ~
Closing Note
For every secret unearthed, a city stirred.
For every truth spoken, another wall cracked.
And through it all, a child's voice whispered across frequencies unseen:
"Breathe. Even if it costs you."
The world was listening now.