Roachville

I couldn’t say how long this encounter with the naga lasted, but by the time it had returned to its wooden state, there was a reply from Macondo’s Garden. I fumbled with the mouse to open it.

‘Hi Annika, I’m sure I’m being followed. I’ll keep them after me as long as possible. Don’t worry, I can take care of myself. Please be careful and let me know what your plan is. Thinking of you.’

I read Ely’s message a dozen times, my heart banging inside my ribcage. He’s alive and hasn’t abandoned me!

‘Be careful too, I really really appreciate what you’re doing for me. I’ll be in touch very soon. Where are you? Thinking of you too. PS: let’s delete our messages.’

Hopefully, I’d get a reply soon. Ely must have been using cyber cafes or maybe a stranger’s borrowed smartphone. Or maybe he was part of the whole conspiracy. I shook my head, I couldn’t think like that. Besides, the naga would have warned me if that was the case.

So I had to get ready for another plane of existence. What did that mean exactly? I paced up and down the broken stairs a few times. Maybe I needed to arm myself? It was too late to go out and buy a baseball bat; my kitchen knives would have to do for now.

I borrowed a grinding stone from my next-door neighbour. Then I killed time by getting the one and only big knife left by Mac extremely sharp and checking my email messages every thirty seconds. Nothing else happened that evening, I was simply building up strata of determination, like prehistoric zooplankton depositing itself, layers upon layers at the bottom of an ancient sea.