Chris lied on his stomach, enduring the newest stage of pain his body just entered. He moved his head down with a struggle and looked at the antidote vial in his hand, which he could barely clench shut. The sight of it blurred in his vision. Was it the poison? The beatings? The overexertion of his Relic’s abilities? Chris wasn’t sure what was the main cause for his symptoms but was sure of the presence of death coming his way.

Speaking of death; the one-armed omen’s pencil silenced. He stood up, stored the pencil back into his cast, and pocketed the notebook. “I was quite angry when you decided to ruin the flow of the story with that stunt you pulled at the museum,” Adisa said as he patted his pocket, “but now I realize that you’ve made things better. Tayte is, without question, a far better character than who I had planned to receive the Kamaitachi.” He slipped his feet back into his sandals and approached Chris. “You did good.”

Chris made sure to lock his face in a sour expression to hide the howling fear and the pain. “Gee. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

Adisa flashed a smile. It was endearing like a child’s. “I saw that move you used on Walidah. Would’ve been smart if you used that on the main body instead of the Jengu. It doesn’t matter how much damage she takes in that form.”

“Look, I’m already disappointed that your voice is going to be the last one I hear before I die. The least you could do is make your ramblings a little more bearable.”

Adisa put his hand over his chin, eyeing Chris with amusement; awaiting more forced trash talk.

Chris read his look and continued to gamble with his life. “Adisa, just get it over with and kill me already. I don’t want to listen to you.”

“Okay, then.” Adisa put his foot over Chris’s nape.

“Wait, no!” Chris cried out. “Please—”

Adisa laughed and lifted his foot. “You really need to stop acting tough and embrace your cowardly role already. I know you’re not prepared for death, Chris, which is a shame. I’m not going to kill you, not after you brought in Tayte. Your story might turn out to be the most interesting to observe.” Adisa studied Chris and then raised a brow. “How come you aren’t moving?” He noticed the antidote in his hand and then looked back at Andre’s corpse. “Oh, the twins.”

Chris allowed for his fear to show as Adisa crouched to him. He was locked in a cage with a lion, unable to move and with no other option but to hope that the beast takes away his life quickly.

Although, lions have a reputation for playing with their food. Adisa wasn’t much different.

Adisa took the vial and held it up. “Let me help you with that.” He put the antidote down and flipped Chris over onto his back. “Chris, you can raise your head, right?”

Chris gave Adisa a sceptical look. Giving him hope and then taking it away at the last minute—it would be so like him to play with his food like that. But Adisa’s unreadable face wouldn’t give him any hints on his true intentions even if he spent days studying it. After running a few laps in his head, Chris gave in and did it, anyway.

Adisa poured the green liquid into his mouth. “There, there.”

Chris gulped it all down and dropped back onto the black sand. Now, anticipating another disaster in line with his bad luck—Andre’s antidote could be fake.

Adisa tossed the empty vial away, stood up, grabbed onto Chris’s wrist, and brought him to his feet with one powerful pull.

Amazed and disoriented, Chris leaned onto Adisa's left side and wondered how strong he would be if he could use both arms.

Adisa took Chris’s arm, put it over his shoulder, and dragged him over to the rocky platform. They went up the steps and approached Tombstone Checkpoint. Ancient Luganda words were engraved across the slab of stone and a row of ten skulls sat on top of the tombstone, five of them were ignited with black flames.

“Chris. Call your Relic.”

“Lukwata,” Chris managed to call out. He pulled out the shield and let it drop and bounce off the tombstone. The sixth skull lit up.

There was a violent rumble. They turned to the sound and watched a few feet in front of them — the sand eddied and a hole appeared in the center.

“I guess that’s our exit,” Adisa said.

“Wait, how can you be sure?” Chris asked.

Adisa gave him a look. “I’m not, but isn’t it worth the risk if there’s a chance it could lead you to see Tayte again?”

Chris felt the need to scream in Adisa’s face festering in the back of his throat, but lacked the strength to do so. All he could do was give him looks.

Adisa chuckled and dragged Chris toward the pit. He stopped once they were inches away from it. “Do you wanna go together? Or would you prefer for me to go first?”

“Well, I—”

“Or maybe you should go first.”

“Wait, what—?”

Adisa pushed Chris in and he fell through the darkness, screaming every single curse word he knew in the English language.

###

Chris went through the all too familiar, unpleasant experience of spinning around and plunging deeper into the darkness with no idea when or if the ordeal was going to end.

Then he was soaring. Somewhere along the lines, he made the shift from falling to rising. There was no longer just darkness—sparkling dots illuminated his flight. It was the Ugandan night sky.

Once again, he was falling. Chris observed the scenic beauty of the milky way, making his body go numb.

“Oh, you’re still alive,” a stoic girl’s voice said.

Chris looked to his side, and Tayte was there, sitting on a rock. He scanned the dark forest in confusion, pits all around him, not remembering when he hit the ground. He slowly sat up, slight remnants of pain rose in various areas of his body. “Yeah, I’m still alive.”

“Cool,” Tayte responded.

Chris studied Tayte. Her hair was wet, and she was without her sweater, her chiffon top and jeans were dirty and torn in some spots and a few bruises marked her knuckles and cheek, but she seemed fine overall. “What happened to you in there?” He winced afterward, realizing how eager and concerned his voice sounded, like a worried lover.

Tayte shrugged. “After I jumped in there, I was in complete darkness, but being blown in every direction, like I was in a hurricane. When I came to, I was washed up on the shore of this beach with black sand. I was alone for a while and I only found Takato.”

“Wait, you didn’t run into Mayumi or Adisa?”

“Nope…” she said and heaved a sigh of great disappointment.

“So… did you fight Takato?”

“No. He helped me through some traps and then, when we passed a beam walk to light the Tombstone Checkpoint and exited here. Mayumi was waiting for him. She chased him away. And I stayed waiting for you,” she explained. Tayte cocked her head to the side and asked. “What about you?”

Chris shuddered, thinking back to the prolonged fight and the gruesome end. “The twins are dead.”

“You killed them both?”

“No, there was a fight and… Adisa showed up.”

Tayte let out an excited gasp. “Oh!”

Chris scowled back at her jubilant expression. His dependable reserve of fury kicked in and generated enough energy into him to stand up. “Okay, I’ve had enough of this!”

Tayte looked at him with genuine confusion. “Did I do something wrong—?”

“You’re doing this for fun or whatever, fine! But you also said that you want to help me win.”

“I do.”

“Then you can’t just go after someone like that and leave me behind! At least some kind of signal or something! We need to communicate, Tayte, and be on the same terms! Are we partners or not? Because at this point… I’m willing to continue on my own like how I planned in the first place. You’re obviously more than capable of handling yourself, so I don’t need to feel bad about it anymore.”

Tayte stood up and looked back at him blankly.

“I’m not going to travel with you any longer unless you promise me you won’t do something like that again and from now on we’ll work more as a team.” Chris didn’t know if he was trying to force her hand to be compliant or if he actually wanted to get rid of her because of the fear. But the one thought that hovered over all those others was what Andre brought up… he’d have no chance of winning if that happened.

It was all up to this moment. Chris was trembling and slightly regretting the ultimatum he proposed. If she walks away and continues on her own…

“Okay,” Tayte said, yanking Chris from his deep thoughts.

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry and it won’t happen again,” Tayte said, her voice still flat. She stretched out her hand. “From now on, I’ll be a better partner to you.”

The last sentence made Chris’s gut pang in a peculiar way. He ignored it and analyzed the situation. The option to not take her back was on the table as well. He shook her hand anyway. “Okay,” he said.

“Partners?”

“Partners.”

Chris couldn’t shake off the gnawing feeling that once again he made the wrong choice and this time he couldn’t blame it on his luck.

###

Chris and Tayte navigated their way out of the forest and waved goodbye to the elder as they reached the white gate. Chris attempted to communicate with the elder in Luganda and all he got back was a bewildered look.

The two hiked silently through the shortcut leading out of the Tanda Pits. Adisa never showed up again. Chris made sure to not mention another word about the former Post Mortem leader to lessen Tayte’s daredevil cravings.

They found the van exactly where they left it. Chris banged onto the windshield and Ryder sprung out of the vehicle, pointing a finger at him.

“Why are you hurting Vanessa?” Ryder shouted at Chris.

“Hi, Ryder,” Tayte said.

Ryder gave her a warm smile. “Tatyana-darling, how was it?”

“It was… fun.” Tayte looked over at Chris as if she was seeking approval.

“We were able to hit the Checkpoint and now… there are seven Fighters left,” Chris added.

“That’s still a lot.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Chris dawdled over to the passenger seat door. “Let’s get moving and back to the hotel. We will start looking for the next Checkpoint first thing in the morning.”

“Hey, don’t you guys think you owe yourselves some rewards to celebrate? I say, we go to Kampala and get some drinks.”

“I’m up for that,” Tayte said.

“You’re up for anything,” Chris replied. “If I suggested that we rob a bank for no reason, you’d be up for it.”

“Ooh, do you want to plan a bank heist?” Tayte asked with her widened eyes. “Those look fun.”

Chris facepalmed.

“I say we make a vote.” Ryder raised his hand. “All those in favor of hitting a bar?”

Tayte raised a hand.

“I just want to sleeeeep,” Chris whined.

“It’ll take us about an hour to get there,” said Ryder, trying to negotiate with Chris’s eternally disagreeable nature. “You can rest during the car ride.”

“I’d rather just rest on a bed, thank you.”

“This is your first time visiting Uganda where your family is from. Don’t you want to see what it has to offer?”

“How about after I get my rest?”

“Well, I want to see Kampala. It’s two against one,” Tayte said.

“But—”

“Democracy, bro,” Ryder said.

Chris stared at the two as they smiled back at him. “Ugh!” He gave out, cranking his neck back. “I hate you people so much!”

###

It was a long car ride indeed and Tayte gazed out at the window, lounged in the back of the van, although there was nothing interesting throughout the route, just everything you’d expect from roads and bypasses. Tayte would look over at the front seat now and then in hope of some entertainment. Ryder was surprisingly quiet and kept the radio off.

She noticed Ryder glancing over to a patched up Chris a couple of times. His sleep mumbles and grumbles made Ryder smirk.

And then they arrived in Kampala City. A colorful blend of glaring lights from the lampposts overhead to the back and front of rushing cars around them forced Tayte’s eyes open just as she was drifting off. She spotted a larger number of lanky men on motorbikes than she did cars. Some drove motorbikes with mounted carts overfilled with boxes and random materials almost falling out. Some motorists had passengers on the back with no protective gear holding onto the rider for dear life. Others had passengers who sat up straight and held onto the rail of the secondary seat nonchalantly—my kind of people, Tayte thought to herself.

Even from inside the van, Tayte could hear the music of the bustling streets of a capital city, which was a cacophony of songs being played from shops and locals hollering in accented English and Luganda.

“The National Theatre hosts outdoor drum performances on Tuesdays,” Ryder said, unprompted. “And it’s completely free.”

The Ugandan National Theatre was one of the country’s greatest architectural achievements, with a rich historical background. As soon as they rolled up in front of it; all of its greatness became clear immediately. The heart of Ugandan culture condensed into an interesting building. With a slight curve like a piano and the front was marked with concrete rings and a pleasant strip of yellow and gray at the top. The lights at the front of the venue did a superb job at bringing out the green of the well-kempt trees and plants.

Tayte kicked open the doors of the van and hopped out before Ryder finished parking. She stumbled, but caught her footing quickly and then stood still to hear the lively percussion of drums nearby.

Ryder and Chris stepped out of the van and moved up to Tayte. Chris began his usual release of growls and grumbles. “Okay, how about if I pay you two for us to go home?” he asked.

“You got a million dollars?” Ryder asked back.

“I’ll give you an IOU and we’ll call it a day.”

Tayte was already feeling the familiar twitches throughout her body for standing still for too long while being stimulated. She followed the music, dashing towards the sound of the drums.

###

The trio stood in an open space behind the theatre, alongside other spectators—locals or tourists—stood around or sat while they filmed or just lived in the moment and appreciated the talented Ugandan group’s drum performance; they wore tribal outfits and feathered headdresses. They played with smiles on their faces, energizing the crowd with their infectious beat enhanced with shakers. Grunting, yodeling, and exchanging whoos with the audience back and forth.

Tayte moved to the music while in her spot, sipping onto a bottle of her trusty instant red wine she had to run back and make when Ryder offered her a can of smelly beer. She looked over at Ryder and he was chugging his can and mingling with several strangers at once. Then she looked over at Chris, who stood next to her and was hunched over with his arms crossed, staring at the ground.

“You’re not even going to have a drink? I can make you red wine.”

“I’m starting to think that you packed more instant wine packets than things you need to survive.”

“But I do need these to survive.”

Chris groaned and shook his head.

Ryder came bouncing back to them. “Hey, let’s dance!”

“Okay.” Tayte said in an instant and let Ryder take her by the hand.

They stopped to look back at Chris, who didn’t move a muscle.

“Aren’t you going to come dance with us?” Tayte asked.

“I can’t,” Chris said in a stern tone.

Tayte’s eyes widened with genuine concern. “You’re physically incapable of dancing?”

“Look around, Tayte!” His voice almost surpassed the volume of the drums and earned him some looks from bystanders. He winded down and continued. “There are so many ways I can ruin this for everybody. A single misstep can take this whole place down.”

“You’re really going to use your curse as an excuse for everything?”

“It’s called being ‘responsible’.”

“Funny way to say ‘being a coward’ but okay.”

“I’m just looking out for everybody!” he snapped. “I don’t want to be the reason why everybody had their fun ruined.” Chris grouched and walked away.

Tayte looked down at her hands and then up at Ryder. “I messed up, didn’t I?”

“Eh, it doesn’t take much to set him off, but don’t worry, he’ll cheer himself up by reading up on a new historical fact and then he’ll be fine.” He dragged her to the center. “Now, come on, little lady, let us dance.”

Tayte halted and tilted her head to the side. “How are you supposed to dance to drums?”

Ryder shrugged. “Any way you want!”

The two applied the notion of dancing like nobody’s watching a little too well, but to the delight of the performers and spectators. Suddenly, it was like they became a part of the performance as well. The beat of the drums sped up and the performers’ chanting, yodeling and shouting intensified as well, but stayed in sync with the rhythm.

The energy coursing through Tayte felt different from the usual adrenaline. Instead of an angry need to feed, the feeling was soothing and had her giggling aloud with Ryder. She stopped for a moment, looked around and spotted Chris tripping over literally nothing but air, crashing into a bush and then throwing a tantrum. Concerning the people around him. “Has he always been this stressed?” she asked Ryder.

“If you think this is him being stressed, you should see what happens when he is offered an ice cream cone in public.”

They slowed down, calming their dance moves to talk.

“Wait, why’re you asking me?” Ryder asked. “You were his classmate.”

“We barely talked to each other.”

“Oh, right. Y’all told me.”

Tayte looked over at the performers and got a wink from one of the men. She giggled. “How did you partner up with him in the first place?” she asked, turning back to Ryder.

Ryder started to laugh hysterically. “He put out an ad for a getaway driver on the dark web with a list of requirements the driver needs to be compatible with in order to be in ‘sync’ with his curse. I saw the ad, and I thought it was hilarious.”

“So, you met all the requirements?”

“Nope. But I was the only guy who would take the job, so after that I kinda became a regular of his.”

“Hm… so, what’s your story?”

“Ooh? Tatyana, you’re interested in getting to know me?”

She flashed a smile. “Why not?”

“Well, my story is typical. Nigerian boy wants to see the world and gets mixed up in some bad shit, pisses off his parents in the process, and leaves his home, and starts living with a gang he worked as a driver for. Boy eventually makes it to the states where he gets involved in some even worse shit, falls in love with a girl who wants to see the world as well, makes promises with her, they have their whole lives mapped out and then girl…” Ryder gave her a look, cuing her.

“Dies,” Tayte finished.

They stopped to stare at each other as a bevy of vivacious ladies in vibrant dresses stepped out from behind the drummers and danced around them. Whistling arose from the crowd.

“She’s shaking hands with Elvis now,” Ryder said.

Tayte studied Ryder, her face shifting back to its usual stolid form. “Talking about her death like that is easier for you, isn’t it?”

“Well, of course, you don’t have to point it out like that!” he said, laughing and then sniffled. “You’re lousy at this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Ryder, almost choking on his words. As the women formed a line and began to shake, Ryder focused on them with his face growing grim. “Vanessa used to say that I have a problem with being in touch with my true emotions. I have a bad habit of over-filtering everything to the point it makes me numb. It’s not healthy, even though I promised her. I still do it,” he said.

“Isn’t acting animated all the time exhausting?” Tayte asked.

“It is, but I’d rather be exhausted than sad.”

“But you’ll be sad anyway,” Tayte pointed out and then dodged a dancer in her way. She froze, remembering something. “Wait, did you say ‘Vanessa’?”

Ryder nodded and looked back at Tayte. “Vanessa’s soul is now a part of that van.”

The performers ended their show, and the crowd applauded and cheered.