The Man in the Photograph

Nia didn't stop running.

The alley stretched ahead, opening into the slumbering streets of Lagos. Her lungs burned, her legs ached, but she forced herself forward, weaving through the empty roads. She had no destination, only the knowledge that she had to disappear.

Dr. Ibekwe was gone. His sacrifice burned in her chest, but she couldn't afford to stop. Not yet.

She slipped into the shadows beneath a crumbling archway and pressed her back against the wall, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The city was silent, save for the distant hum of traffic.

She gripped the book he had given her, her fingers digging into its worn leather cover. This was all she had left of him.

Shaking, she pulled it open. The pages were yellowed with age, filled with symbols, diagrams, and handwritten notes. But her eyes locked onto a single image—a photograph tucked between the pages.

A young boy stood in the center, grinning.

Her heart clenched. Zeke.

He was no longer just a blurry face in her mind. The photograph made him real—tangible. His dark eyes held a spark of mischief, his arms draped around the shoulders of two other people.

One of them was a girl.

Nia's fingers traced the face. Her face.

It was her in the photograph. Younger, happier, standing beside Zeke as if they had belonged together.

She flipped the photo over.

Scrawled on the back in faded ink were four words:

"Find him before they do."

Her breath caught.

The Watchers had erased Zeke from her mind. But someone—Dr. Ibekwe? had left her this message.

Which meant one thing.

Zeke was still alive.

And if they were trying to erase him… then they were hunting him too.

A shadow moved at the edge of the alley.

Nia snapped the book shut and pressed herself deeper into the darkness, her pulse hammering.

She wasn't alone.

She had to move.

And she had to find Zeke! before the Watchers did.

Nia pressed herself against the wall, the weight of the book clutched in her arms. Every muscle in her body was tense, her breath shallow as she listened for any sound that might betray a pursuer. The alley was dimly lit by a single flickering streetlamp; shadows stretched across the ground like reaching fingers.

She risked a glance around the corner. A lone figure stood at the far end of the street, silhouetted by the faint glow of a distant neon sign. It was impossible to see the person's face, but the way they stood still, patient sent a chill through her. It reminded her of the Watchers who had broken into Dr. Ibekwe's home.

She ducked back into the alley, heart thudding. If it was one of them, she had no time to lose. She needed to get away, but every direction felt exposed.

Her gaze flicked to the photograph again. Zeke's grin radiated from the faded print, and her younger self stood beside him, eyes shining. A pang of loss and longing twisted in her chest. Who are you, Zeke? Why did they steal you from my mind?

The footsteps started slowly, echoing off the damp pavement. They were coming closer.

Gritting her teeth, Nia weighed her options. If she ran out onto the street, she risked being spotted immediately. But if she stayed hidden in the alley, she'd be trapped.

She glanced upward. A rusted fire escape clung to the side of a dilapidated building. It was a precarious climb, but it might be her only chance. She tucked the book securely under one arm and leapt for the bottom rung of the ladder. It creaked under her weight, but she managed to pull herself up, rung by unsteady rung, until she reached the first landing.

Below, the footsteps paused at the mouth of the alley. She froze, pressing her body against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. The figure stepped into the alley, scanning the darkness. Nia held her breath, her heart hammering so loudly she feared it would give her away.

The figure paused, then continued on, heading deeper into the shadows. Nia didn't dare move until the footsteps faded.

When the alley was silent once more, she exhaled a shaky breath. She had to keep going. The metal steps clanged softly under her feet as she ascended, each movement sending flakes of rust spiraling down to the ground below. At the top, she hoisted herself onto the building's flat roof and collapsed against the ledge, panting.

She allowed herself a moment to breathe, to think. The cool night air brushed against her damp skin. In the distance, the city lights glowed, a stark contrast to the suffocating darkness she'd left behind in the tunnel. Somewhere out there, the Watchers were searching for her. And somewhere else, Zeke was alive, if the photograph and her recovered memory could be believed.

She opened the book again, carefully flipping through the pages by the faint glow of a nearby rooftop lantern. Most of the text was indecipherable, written in symbols she didn't recognize. There were sketches of artifacts—stone tablets, masks, intricate carvings. One page depicted a map of West Africa, dotted with cryptic markings. It reminded her of the ancient civilizations Dr. Ibekwe had hinted at cultures with knowledge so powerful it had to be hidden.

She paused on a page filled with scribbled notes in the margins:

• Key to the Spiral

• Zeke's last known location

• Northern territories—river crossing.

Her eyes narrowed. The words sparked something in her mind, a half-remembered conversation. She could almost hear voices echoing in her head, her own voice and Zeke's talking about a journey they'd planned. But the memory was hazy, like trying to recall a dream after waking.

She tapped the page, tracing the lines of what appeared to be a hand-drawn map. A small symbol, shaped like a spiral, was marked in red ink near a river. If this was where Zeke had gone, it might be her best chance to find him.

Her fingers lingered on the spiral. It looked oddly familiar, but she couldn't place why. Another piece of the puzzle locked behind her lost memories.

A sudden noise snapped her back to the present a clang of metal, echoing from the alley below. She peered over the edge of the roof. The same figure stood there, looking up, a faint glint of eyes under the brim of that dark hat. A second figure joined them, scanning the building.

You can do this, she told herself, remembering the adrenaline that had coursed through her when she fled Dr. Ibekwe's house. She inhaled, sprinted forward, and jumped.

For a heart-stopping moment, she was in midair, nothing beneath her but darkness. Then her feet hit the concrete edge of the neighboring building. She stumbled, knees scraping against the rough surface, but she made it. She quickly scrambled behind a large ventilation unit, panting.

Below, she heard shouting. They must have seen her jump. But she was still free. For now, a grim voice in her head reminded her.

She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling her heartbeat gradually slow. She needed to get out of Lagos at least for a while. The spiral on that map, the note about the northern territories, whatever secrets lay there, it was her only clue to finding Zeke. And if the Watchers wanted to stop her, that meant she was getting close to the truth.

Clutching the book to her chest, Nia rose to her feet. The city sprawled out in all directions, glittering with promise and danger. She had a lead—a tenuous one, but a lead nonetheless.

I'm coming, Zeke, she thought, the name resonating like a mantra in her mind.

And with that, she disappeared into the night, determined to uncover the secrets they'd tried so hard to bury and to protect the one person who might hold the key to her lost past.

Nia's heart jolted. They'd figured out where she went. She couldn't stay here. Carefully, she backed away from the ledge, searching for another way down. Across the rooftop, she spotted a gap to an adjacent building. If she could leap across, she might lose them in the labyrinth of rooftops.

She stuffed the photograph and book into her bag, stood up, and backed up a few steps. The other roof was maybe a yard away doable, but one misstep could send her plummeting to the street.