Bridge and Broken Lights
915 Words
The old bridge creaked under the weight of forgotten traffic, its rusted girders arching over the murky lagoon like skeletal fingers. Lagos' water below churned black, reflecting the city's endless glow—holo-ads dancing on the waves, promising luxury implants no one down here could afford. Aisha slowed her run to a stagger, shoulder wound pulsing with every step. Blood soaked her sleeve, sticky and warm, but she clamped down on the pain. No time for weakness. The hunters' boots echoed in her head, closer than the rain.
Kofi's silhouette cut sharply against the bridge's edge, tool belt glinting under a flickering sodium lamp. He paced, hands shoved in pockets, that easy grin nowhere in sight. Relief hit her first— he hadn't ditched. Then suspicion, cold as the wind off the water. Beside him stood the suit: tall, broad-shouldered, face half-shadowed by a wide-brim hat. The scanner in his hand hummed low, its screen pulsing blue—her trace, locked on like a predator's eye.
Betrayal? Or backup? Aisha's hand slipped to the pipe she'd tucked in her belt, grip slick with sweat and blood. Echo pinged softly in her implant: Caution. Not all allies wear grease.
"Kofi," she called out, voice rough, stepping into the light. The bridge rail groaned as she leaned on it, feigning casual. Up close, the suit turned—mid-forties, maybe, with a scar tracing his jaw like a bad weld. His eyes, though? Sharp, assessing, with no corporate blandness. Just... tired.
"Aisha." Kofi's head snapped up, relief flashing before he clocked her arm. "Jeez, you're hit. What happened? I heard shots in the tunnels—"
"Later." She nodded at the suit, pipe half-drawn. "Who's your friend? And why's he got my ping?"
Kofi raised his hands, placating. "Easy. This is Tunde. Old contact—runs interference for independents like us. Heard the chatter on the wire about a glitch hunt. Figured you needed more than my EMP toys." He shot Tunde a look, urgently. "Show her."
The suit—Tunde—lowered the scanner, thumbing a switch. The screen shifted from her trace to a grid map: Lagos' undergrid, nodes lighting up red. Echo's blueprint overlaid, faint but clear—the blackout path, snaking from the server farms to the elite spires. "Your signal lit up like a bomb," Tunde said, voice gravelly, like he'd smoked one too many hand-rolled cigars. "Pulled me in. That code you're chasing? It's not just noise. It's a key. To everything."
Aisha's breath hitched. Nia's face flickered in her mind, shattered glass eyes. Find me. "You know Echo?"
Tunde's scar twitched. "Knew the builders. Your father—good man, bad timing. Nia too. They thought they could predict the cracks in the system. Corps didn't like previews." He glanced at the water, voice dropping. "The raid wasn't random. Echo went dark to survive. Now it's waking up. And they're scared."
Papa. Nia. The logs from the salaryman burned hotter in her deck—containment priority. She jacked a quick query, NetVeil linking her to Tunde's scanner. Data handshake: clean, no traces. Real. "Why help now? What's in it for you?"
Kofi stepped closer, close enough she could smell the egusi on him again. His hand hovered near her good shoulder, not touching. "Tunde's like us. Lost family to the reformats. And me? Told you—I don't let ghosts get eaten." His eyes met hers, steady in the lamp's buzz. Something shifted there, soft under the grit. No pity. Understanding.
She nodded, slowly, pipe easing back. Trust still tasted like ash, but alone? She'd be past by dawn. "Fine. But if this is a play—"
A drone whine cut her off, slicing the night. Not one—three, skimming the lagoon like sharks. Lights stabbed down, pinning them in white glare. Tunde cursed, scanner beeping frantically—hunters inbound, closing the net.
"Move!" Kofi grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the bridge's underbelly—a tangle of support beams and forgotten walkways. Tunde covered, scanner pulsing a jammer burst. Static crackled, drones veering wild, but not blind.
They dropped low, scrambling along a narrow ledge over the water. Spray misted up, cold and salty, soaking Aisha's boots. Her shoulder throbbed, vision spotting, but she pushed—Echo's ping guiding, a digital hand on her back. Deeper. The core waits.
Halfway across, the lead drone recovered, spotlight swinging. It locked on Tunde—beam hitting his chest like judgment. He shoved Kofi ahead, turning to face it. "Go! I'll hold—"
A shot rang out. Not drone fire. Something heavier, from the shadows on the far bank. Tunde jerked, blood blooming dark on his shirt. He staggered, scanner clattering into the drink.
"Kofi—pull him!" Aisha yelled, but the boy was frozen, face ashen.
Tunde met her eyes, mouth working blood. "The core... It's in the old lab. Under the market. Tell Nia... sorry." He toppled, his body hitting the water with a splash that swallowed him whole.
Drones swarmed closer, sirens wailing. Kofi's hand clamped hers—tight, real. "We can't—"
But as they bolted for the far side, Aisha's deck lit up. Not a ping. A download. Echo's voice, clear as Papa's: They're here. For you.
The water below erupted—not waves. Figures rising, sleek black suits breaching like ghosts from the deep. Hunters. In the lagoon.
And leading them? A woman with shattered glass eyes. Nia. Alive. Or something wearing her face.
- Writer
