Remote Control

^{CHAPTER 9} DEATH

Whimpering. Someone was whimpering. And tapping her shoulder.

Soil. Rich fragrant soil. She pursed her lips and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, smearing it with a coat of the soil. She worked her jaw and flexed her legs and the muscles of her thighs locked with cramps. The pain of it shot through her body. And someone was still tapping at her shoulder, moving up to her neck. A warm wet roughness rubbed at her cheek.

She cracked open her eyes to a shadow hovering over her. The shadow whimpered, moving back as she sat up. “Mo… pick?” she muttered, her mouth too gummy to fully pronounce the name. It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the sunlight and immediately, she noticed another black shape close to her on her right. Something bigger than Movenpick. It bounced before her, making a papery sound as it did. It smelled of decay. The shape slowly bounced back, but did not go away. “Awk!” it said. Sankofa’s eyes focused and she found herself looking at an enormous vulture, its wings casually spread. It stared back at her as if to say, “What are you going to do now?” To her right, now feet away, Movenpick yipped and paced back and forth, keeping his distance from both Sankofa and the vulture.

“I am The Adopted Daughter of Death,” Sankofa told the vulture. “You are just a bird of death. Fly away. Or walk if you prefer. Just leave me.” She got up and more dirt tumbled from her skin and her dress. Her satchel of things was gone. She brushed off the dirt from her arms, rubbed it from her face, spat it from her mouth. She coughed loudly, hacked mud from her throat and spat. She blew it from both her nostrils. She dug it from the sides of her eyes. When she looked up, the vulture was gone. For all its noise when it had moved away from her, it had taken to the air silent as an owl.

Sankofa stopped and stared at the area around her. She was in the bush, though she could hear vehicles on a road nearby. And she was standing in a shallow hole the length and width of her body. A shallow grave. Had they thought she was dead when they put her here? Or maybe they’d thought they were burying her alive. Or maybe the people of RoboTown weren’t even the ones to bury her and some stranger had seen her lying in the road and put her here. But who would bury a child, especially one who was not dead? LifeGen might. If only to see what would happen next. She glanced around cautiously.

Deciding she was as alone as she could get, she took a silent inventory of her entire body, flexing muscles and lifting her dirty dress off her legs to see if there were scratches or bruises… or stab wounds. She touched her ears and was glad to find she still wore her mother’s earrings. She felt no pains or more than minor stings, but pain was a tricky beast, as she knew. Sometimes it took its time to officially arrive. But aside from a headache and a dull soreness in her forehead, which was most likely where the drone’s Taser had hit her, she was ok. She was alive.

She closed her eyes and tried bringing it forth. Would she still be able to? She could. Her world glowed green and the effortlessness of it was surprising. She tried shining even brighter. Then brighter. Then brighter. She lit up the road. And pulled it in. “I can do it so easily now,” she whispered, looking at her hands. She glowed again, controlling the light so well that she could make it shine a foot from her and then pull it right back in. “What am I?” she said. But she didn’t really care about that question. No. She was what she was and now after nearly dying, waking up in her own grave, and emerging from the soil, she was better.

She hugged herself and looked at Movenpick, wishing she could hug him, too. Movenpick yipped and trotted into the bush. Sankofa coughed again, hacked and spit out more mud and looked around her at the tall and robust forest. There were no plants around the spot where she’d lain. Barren, almost. No plants grew in the spot they’d chosen to bury her. Or maybe it had all died?

“I wonder…” she whispered, remembering. She simultaneously hoped in two directions as she reached into her right pocket. She wasn’t surprised to find her wad of paper money. She held her breath as she reached into her left. “Dammit,” she said when she touched the wood of the box. She spat out more dirty spit, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Dammit.”

She heard a soft snort and turned around. Movenpick stood there, still waiting. “Thank you,” she said. Movenpick fidgeted his paws and licked his chops. “Yes. Let’s go.”

Sankofa ran for the cover of dense trees, Movenpick trotting behind her. She wanted to get away from “her resting place.” For an hour, she walked through forest. Still, as she walked, she kept an eye on the sky that she glimpsed between the leaves and branches, watching for Steel Brother’s drones.

When she found the beautiful stream beside the large tree with several low growing branches thick enough to easily carry her weight, she knew she’d found a place to rest her tired lonely head. Even better, the area was bright with sunlight due to a large tree felled by a lightning strike. It was such a huge tree that its descent had taken down three other trees with it.

“I like this place,” she said. Movenpick was already in the tree when she sat on the lower branch. She smiled for a moment, then she dropped the smile from her face and got up. She looked around until she spotted a smooth grey stone lodged beside the rotting mass of a fallen tree. She placed the seed on the hardest part of the tree’s bark and then looked down her nose at it. Oval like a palm tree seed and etched as if its surface were trying to evolve into a circuit board. Always so so intriguing. She brought the stone down on it with all her strength. Then again. And again.

“Die!” she screamed each time she smashed at it. She laughed wildly and she cried, too. “DIE!”

Finally, she stopped. She looked down. The seed was in pieces like a giant cracked kernel of maize. She blinked. No, it wasn’t. It was still whole, not even a dent. Not even her imagination could destroy it. She stood there staring at it for a long long time. She put it back in the box. Her hands felt heavy as she did so. The pull. As if it was telling her by sensation that it would never leave her again. Never. She returned to the giant tree she’d found, her face itchy with dried and fresh tears.

She sang a song with no words to herself as she dug a hole. She used a stick and then her hands and she dug it a foot deep. The she dropped the box into the hole. She buried it and patted the dirt down smooth. She stood back, looking down at the spot, half expecting a root to push it right back up. To even place it right back in her pocket. Nothing happened.

Sankofa stayed in this place for seven months. There were a few interesting things about this small patch of undisturbed forest. It was not near any villages or towns, so she didn’t have to worry much about encountering any human beings. There was a road about a quarter of a mile away, but it was the type of road dominated by self-driving trucks and drivers who drove as if they expected spirits or witches to leap from the trees. There were three farms nearby, each run by old men who’d been working the land for decades. These old men had a farmer’s code, for they had grown their vast farms on their own, and that code was one of secrecy.

One early evening, Sankofa had been out exploring further than usual and she’d smelled smoke. She followed the scent and this was how she found the three old men sitting around a fire smoking pipes and sharing stories. It was dark and she stayed in the shadows listening for a bit. They were talking about one of the old men’s oldest granddaughters who’d come home pregnant and with a master’s degree in engineering and how they didn’t know whether to rejoice or die. They’d just decided to rejoice when Sankofa had boldly stepped into the firelight.

“Hello,” she said. When none of the men had screamed or run off, she added, “May I join you?” It was the first time she’d spoken to another human being in months, and her voice came through loud and clear. They knew exactly who she was and they knew of what had gone down in RoboTown. “But we’re on the farm, so secret stay here,” was all one of the old men had said. And then one of the others made room for her and she sat down.

That night, Sankofa didn’t join in in their discussion about the granddaughter who also didn’t have a husband and didn’t want one. She was happy to just listen. However, the next time she came across the old men in this same spot where the ashes of many fires remained, she talked to them about the way the land was exhaling. The farmers told her that it was great for their crops and that it would certainly be a good year. And one of the men brought her a sack of rice, a cooking pot, salt, some boiled eggs, and a jar of palm oil. They did not know that Sankofa could take care of herself, remembering how to live in the bush from her early days of being on her own. But the supplies were good and she was entitled to them being who she was, she knew it and she was glad the old men did, too.

“We respect the spirits,” one of them said as she took the sack of goods. The next time she saw the men two weeks later, they had each brought her seeds and a plastic watering can. They called them “the basics,” tomatoes, onions and cucumbers. And the next time, they gave her three yam cuttings.

Around the fallen trees, she cultivated a garden and the yam vines snaked over the lightning tree as if to embrace it. She ate well, slept well, laughed at Movenpick’s habit of playing wildly in the grasses with dried palm fronds, and she enjoyed her time with the old farmers who seemed to genuinely enjoy her presence, too. In these days, she watched the things she planted grow and let the worst of her misadventures go. She mourned and then honored Alhaja by carving her name in the fallen lightning tree and speaking words of love to the birds, lizards, grasshoppers and spiders who were certainly listening.

She thought about her parents and brother as she always did and wondered what they’d think of all that had happened. She carved their names into the lightning tree, too. Not once during her time in the forest did she use her glow for more than killing off mosquitoes attacking her skin at night. The farmers were probably curious, but she never showed them her glow, except on that first night when they’d asked to see with their own old old wise eyes. Only on that day had they seemed to fear her.

Nevertheless, two hundred fifteen days after stepping out of her own shallow grave and making one for the seed in the box, she looked into the eyes of death… again. She was just coming from one of the evenings of chatting with the old men. She’d told them about how her garden was going and they’d all been impressed, saying that for someone who was fitted with the talent of taking life, she was also good at cultivating it. They’d all laughed. And she was still softly laughing to herself as she walked back to her home in the forest, Movenpick close behind. Movenpick went with her everywhere, even to visit the old men, but he never showed himself to them, so they only knew of him in legend.

She had a slight bellyache and she was wondering if she should eat a few mint leaves and call it an early night when Movenpick stopped and whined. He ran up a tree not far from their home. Then Sankofa noticed it, too. Every single creature in the forest had gone silent. It was dark so she saw nothing around her. Her night eyes and ears were sharp, so she usually felt safe in this forest. Until now. She froze, suddenly anxious, looking around, listening. She saw nothing. She moved faster, unsure of what she’d do when whatever, whomever it was revealed itself. What difference did it make if it was at her home or right here?

She made it to her garden and paused at her growing yam farm. She felt something creeping down her inner thigh. When she looked, she saw what might have been a line stretching toward her ankle. She squinted. She couldn’t quite see it in the dark… but she could smell it. Blood. She gasped. If she’d scratched herself badly enough for blood to run down her leg, she certainly didn’t feel it.

She was stepping up to the tree she and Movenpick had been sleeping in for months and she was about to remove her wrapper when the leopard dropped in front of her. Its arrival was heavy yet perfect. A soft thoom and then swipe just missing Sankofa’s chest. She fell back, somersaulted and was on her feet in less than a second. She ran. She knew this part of the forest so well that moving through it in the darkness was her advantage as the leopard came after her silent as a spirit. She slipped under a low branch, leapt over another. Leapt over the brook. Faster, faster, faster, she could hear it pursuing her like water flooding a creek. Focused and relentless.

Her mouth hung open as she fought to catch her breath; her mind was both clouded and sharp with adrenaline. She stumbled into the nearby road, the hardness of the concrete so unfamiliar after all these months that it hurt her feet. And that was when she finally remembered. What in Allah’s name had she been running for? She turned to the forest and pushed for it to come. And for over a minute, it didn’t.

The leopard burst into the road without making a sound. It came from directly in front of her. And because it happened to be a full moon and a clear night, she saw the great beast part the bushes and stride into view. Its head was low, its ears turned back and pressed close to its large spotted head. Its loose skin rolled and rippled over its muscular flesh.

Right there in the middle of the street, for the second time in her life, she faced death. However, she’d changed and grown since she left Wulugu; she had power now. It was just a matter of remembering, truly remembering and accepting. She stumbled back and her feet tangled. Down she went, sitting hard in the middle of the road. And still, she faced the leopard creeping so swiftly, so smoothly toward her. It had been months since she’d awoken in a shallow grave with complete control of her light. Months since she’d used her light for anything big.

However, time doesn’t change the essence of what you are and Sankofa’s essence had been forged and fused back home at the foot of that tree when the seed had fallen from the sky and she’d picked it up. She exhaled, letting it all go and letting it all in… what was in her killed her family, Alhaja, all those people who’d begged to be released from the shackle of life, insects, bats, drones, it protected her, it terrified others, it was from somewhere else, this seed… “All of it,” she said, her face wet with tears. It hurt because so much of it was terrible and still it was hers. Regardless. “All of it.”

It came easily and it came true.

As she lit up the road and forest in a thirty-foot radius, the leopard stopped, just at the beginning of the road. She could hear its guttural groan, as it placed a paw on the road.… and did not fall dead. She couldn’t believe it. The strength of her light should have incinerated the beast to ash, leaving only bone.

“Why won’t you die?” Sankofa whispered. A movement to her right caught her eye. Movenpick was also standing on the road not even ten feet away, bathed in her light. “Stay there, Movenpick,” she shrieked. “Stay!” She stood up, facing the leopard. The beast had placed a second paw on the road. Today, Sankofa would die. She shined her light as brightly as she could shine it. A bat dropped to the ground beside her, dead, and she could hear the plick of beetles falling dead on the road.

The leopard was staring at her, close enough for her to see into its large eyes. In the green of her glow, those eyes opened up like windows. Sankofa gazed into them as the leopard crept closer and for a moment her world fell away and everything was green like the full moon above and the full moon inside her. In the years since she’d left home, she had only grown a few inches. She would always be a small girl from a small town. All this she saw in the leopard’s eyes. It comforted her; this creature would send her home.

“Ok,” she whispered.

The leopard was five feet away. Creeping. Sankofa frowned. It was twitching and blinking its eyes, its nostrils flaring wide. Its deep growl became a loud groan. It shook its head as if its nose were itching or burning. It stood up on its four legs, swaying a bit and looked piercingly at Sankofa. Then the leopard collapsed and did not get up.

Silence. Stillness.

“Yip!” she heard from her right.

“Movenpick,” she whispered, her voice cracking. For a moment, she stared at the dead leopard, then with effort, she looked down at Movenpick. Slowly, very very slowly, she reached a shaky hand down. As she did, Movenpick lifted his head up. “Oh,” she said, sniffing as tears of relief, shock and fatigue tumbled from her eyes. After so many years, the fox allowed her to touch him. The fur on his head was rough. “Who are you, my friend?” she whispered, wiping away a tear. “What are we?”

She pulled her light in and the road went back to being merely moonlit. The moment her light winked out and she looked up the road, she was gazing at another light. It came closer and closer. By the time she realized it was a bus, yet again, it was too late, and there she stood. Thankfully, the bus driver saw the girl in the moonlit road and slammed the brakes.

And it was in this way that a bus filled with passengers came to witness the small girl wearing a dress of near rags standing in the road with a massive dead leopard. Several of the passengers knew precisely who this was, despite rumors that she’d finally been killed. The bus driver also knew and he quickly jumped out to see if she was ok, for if this girl touched his bus they would all be stranded. A few passengers muttered under their breath about the driver’s lack of professionalism by wasting their time helping the girl. Three teenagers recorded the entire moment with their phones and tablets and posted the footage online within minutes. Most stayed quiet and just watched through the bus windows.

As the bus driver and three of the women talked to her asking what happened and why she was out here, all Sankofa could think about was the fact that she could no longer return to her quiet garden. People had seen her and now they would come looking for her. They would find the farmers and ask questions and maybe one of them would say something. Again, she’d reached a moment where she knew it was time to leave.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the pink tunic and trousers from an Indian woman who insisted she have them. The woman also gave her a box of maxi pads.

“Do you know how to use them?” the woman asked.

Sankofa nodded. She didn’t but she could certainly figure it out.

“And you understand what it is, right?” the woman asked.

Sankofa nodded. “It’s my period. I’m fourteen. I’d started to wonder if… I’m glad it has come.”

The woman nodded, smiling. “It’s good.” She cocked her head. “I’ve heard about you, Sankofa. I am here working on a drone delivery system for some of the local hospitals and stories about you circulate there. Good stories.”

“Really?” Sankofa said.

“Oh yes. One man had an aunt with terminal cancer who you… eased. He said you truly were like an angel.”

One young man who didn’t want to talk directly to Sankofa gave the Indian woman a bag of peanuts to give to her. A woman who’d been on her mobile phone the entire time offered Sankofa a large bottle of water, some flip-flops and a satchel to carry it all in. A man with an American accent gave her his near empty jar of shea butter. He’d rubbed a bit on his dark chapped hands first and she couldn’t help but smile. Some of the other passengers pooled together money to give her. When the bus quickly pulled away leaving her with Movenpick (who’d leaped into the bushes until the bus was gone) and the body of the leopard, she turned and walked quickly into the bush.

She dug up the box and without bothering to clean off the remaining dirt or checking on the seed inside, she threw it in the new satchel the woman had given her. She preened and used her watering can to water her small garden. She washed her body and her blood-stained clothes in the stream. She rubbed shea butter on her clean skin. She figured out how to use a maxi pad. She gathered all her things, deciding to leave her bloodstained clothes and watering can behind. By night, Sankofa had left yet another home behind.