“We need a car,” Zainab said.
Headlights appeared.
She ran into the road, raising both arms.
“Stop!”
The car screeched to a halt.
The driver rolled down the window, alarmed.
“What is going on?”
“Medical emergency,” Zainab said. “We need to get him to the hospital now.”
The driver looked at the man on the ground. Recognition flashed across his face.
“Is that—”
“Yes,” Zainab snapped. “And if we don’t move, he will die.”
That was enough.
“Get in.”
They lifted Chief Oladipo into the back seat. Zainab climbed in beside him. Mustafa hesitated, then climbed in too.
As the car sped away, Mustafa looked back at the forest.
The trees stood silent.
But what had been buried there was no longer a secret.
Inside the car, Zainab checked Chief Oladipo’s pulse again and again.
“Stay with me,” she murmured.
Mustafa sat against the door, shaking. His hands were packed with mud. His body ached. But he could not look away from the man he had pulled from the ground.
“Is he going to die?” Mustafa asked softly.
Zainab did not answer immediately.
Then she said, “I won’t let that happen.”
The car raced across Lagos toward St. Mary’s Medical Center.
Suddenly Chief Oladipo coughed.
Mustafa’s eyes widened.
“He moved!”
Zainab leaned closer.
“Easy,” she whispered. “You’re safe.”
Chief Oladipo’s eyes fluttered. His lips parted.
“Water…”
“Not yet,” Zainab said gently. “Hospital first.”
