CHAPTER SIX: THE GHOSTS OF LAGOS

The Edge of the City

Jace and Kunle stood at the top of a crumbling overpass, staring at Lagos in the distance.

The city stretched wide, its skyline broken and blackened. Fires smoldered in the ruins, and the air was thick with the distant echo of the dead.

Kunle exhaled. "Looks welcoming."

Jace didn't respond. His mind was elsewhere- on his wife and son.

They had come all this way. If they were in there... he had to find them.

A noise behind them. Rustling.

They spun, weapons drawn.

A group of armed men emerged from the bush, moving with quiet discipline. Their leader, a tall man with dark skin and sharp eyes, stepped forward.

He carried himself like a soldier, but his face was tired-like a man who had seen too much.

"You shouldn't be here," he said.

Jace lowered his gun slightly. "We're looking for someone."

The man studied them, then nodded. "Come with me. If you want to survive."

His name was Arowolo.

They followed him through winding streets and broken buildings, finally reaching a makeshift fortress an old police station turned into a barricaded haven.

Inside, hundreds of survivors moved about, repairing weapons, cooking over open fires, and watching the gates. A city within a city.

"This is our home," Arowolo said. "The last safe place before Lagos swallows you whole."

Kunle whistled. "Damn. Y'all got a real setup here."

Arowolo turned serious. "Only because we know the truth."

He gestured for them to follow.

Inside a dimly lit command room, maps, and blood-stained notes covered the walls.

Arowolo pointed to an old news article, its headline half-burnt.

"Government Evacuates Officials; Citizens Left Die."

He spoke, voice heavy.

"When the infection began, the government had a plan. Not to save everyone. Just the elite. The wealthy, the powerful. They took their families and left us behind.'''

Jace clenched his fists. "So they abandoned the city."

He laughed bitterly.

"But Lagos is too big. Too wild. And the infected..." He shook his head. "They don't care about borders."

Kunle exhaled. "Jesus."

Arowolo continued. "Some of us fought back. We tried to hold districts, and keep order. But then came the Night of Fire."

He pointed to a photograph- a city street, lit with flames and shadows of the dead.

"The military turned on us. They torched entire neighborhoods. If the dead didn't get you, the fire did."

Silence.

Jace spoke, voice cold. "And now?"

Arowolo looked out the window, toward the blackened ruins of Lagos.

"Now, Lagos belongs to the damned."

Arowolo turned to Jace. "You say you're looking for your family?"

Jace nodded.

Arowolo sighed. "Then you're going into hell itself."

He pointed to the city.

"The deeper you go, the worse it gets. Not just the dead. The Warlords. The Scorchers. The EGUN-EGUN."

Kunle tensed. "EGUN-EGUN?"

Arowolo's face darkened. "They call themselves The Purifiers. They believe the world must be cleansed. That anyone still alive is unworthy."

Jace and Kunle exchanged a glance.

"We ran into them before," Jace muttered. "Almost got executed."

Arowolo nodded. "Then you understand. Lagos is their kingdom now."

He looked at Jace.

"I won't stop you. But if you go in there... you might never come back."

Night fell. The fortress buzzed with activity guards on the walls, traders bartering, and children playing in the safest corners.

Jace sat by the fire, staring at the flames.

Kunle sat next to him. "You going in, huh?"

Jace didn't look up. "I have to."

Kunle exhaled, shaking his head. "Man... You and your damn hero complex."

A pause.

Then Kunle grinned. "Guess that means I'm going too."

Jace smirked. "Figured."

From the shadows, Arowolo watched them.

The next morning, they would enter Lagos.

And nothing would ever be the same.

TO BE CONTINUED...