With a soft buzz, the elevator began to rise from the ground floor. In a small building that was two years away from complete dilapidation, the elevator could barely contain the six passengers present. The inlaid, green rug was bleached in the corners, where a bit of dust had collected from horrible janitorial work. Two of the walls were covered in brown paint that reflected off a third wall where black curtains covered what used to be a mirror. The doors of the elevator were metal and clean. Probably the only part of the elevator that received proper care.

At the back of the elevator, two women stood side by side, dressed in matching ankara of blue and red, but with very different tastes. While one of them had sewn a boubou that covered from her neck to her ankle, the other wore her ankara as a scarf and a jacket, matched with blue jeans and a pair of black boots. There was a man in a suit, with a briefcase. He was darker and taller than all of them in the elevator and had chosen to remain up front, regardless of who came in. Beside him was another man who was dressed in a tracksuit, like a gym coach. The fifth was a young boy in a school uniform.

Osa leaned on the wall to her right, assessing her fellow passengers, wondering if they were assessing her, as well. Wondering if they were taking in her white sneakers and blue shorts and white t-shirt. Wondering if they knew enough to judge her for wearing sunshades indoors. Because people never knew what others were going through. They never understood beyond the simplest, outward clue offered.

Not that it mattered. Anyone riding the Bistrim Aba elevator at 02:52pm was there for the same reason everyone else was. Osa slipped her hands into her pocket, checking that the invitation card was still there. She'd obtained it in less than honest means. It would be a shame to have gone through all that trouble, only to be thrown out, just before it paid off.

"Meko wi," good afternoon, the man in the suit said in Jiki. As everyone in the elevator straightened up, he hit the emergency stop button. The elevator screeched to a shaky halt, causing some of the passengers to hang on to the side railings. When he turned around, he said, "I bet you're wondering why I've gathered you here."

His accent was distinctively Elheji. Even his English was affected by the flat, pitchy way Elheji commoners spoke. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been a strange thing to note. But they were in Usobo, which was on the opposite side of the country, in a town that was as far away from the middle belt as a person could be. 

"Can I see your cards, please?" he said, as everyone in the elevator started taking out their cards.

Osa rubbed hers before she pulled it out, feeling exposed and raw. She wasn't the only one holding up a card for inspection, and the man who was doing the inspecting was just checking that the gray, blank card with Jiki symbols on it was authentic. He was just checking that they had what they had. Surely, he wasn't checking for blood. Surely Osa had succeeded in wiping off every splatter from its surface. 

"Did you douse your card in perfume?" he asked, frowning at her.

"I like to keep things fresh," Osa replied, thinking of how she'd tried to get rid of the smell of blood. 

He cleared his throat and crouched before them, in the small space, as he opened his briefcase. "You can call me Yibilimo. Before we go any further, I would like to scan you all."

To Osa's horror, he pulled out a handheld device with a small screen, a tiny sterilization canister and a needle gun in the front. He counted the people in the elevator as if it wasn't obvious that there were five people with him. He picked out five new needles and laid them out, then slowly attached a needle and held it out to the first person. The secondary school boy put his hand forward without question.

"Why do you need to do that?" Osa asked.

"We're discussing sensitive information," Yibilimo said. "Want to make sure no clans-blood is present."

"None of us are clans-blood," the girl with the ankara scarf said. "We're all commoners here."

"We can't be sure." He nodded at the secondary boy. "Next?" The coach put his hand out as Yibilimo changed the needles.

"I hate needles," Ankara scarf said with a scowl.

"It will be fine," her friend said, rubbing her arms for comfort.

"Why are you worried about clans-blood now?" Osa asked.

"Haven't you seen the news?" he asked, moving on to the next person. "Two clans-blood were murdered and now they're looking for who to blame. Any mention of anti-clans sentiment and you're thrown in jail."

"That shouldn't concern us. We're not here to discuss the fall of the clans, are we?"

Yibilimo looked up from where he was reading the scan of Ankara Scarf's blood with a question in his eyes. "Where are you from?" he asked, getting to his feet. "I can't quite place your accent."

Osa's heart thumped in her chest as he held his gaze, unflinchingly. "I am from Osekoni."

He narrowed his eyes. "You don't sound like an Osekoni commoner."

"I spent most of my life abroad," she replied honestly.

"Abroad?" he said with a scoff. He raised the scanner, disposing of the needle as he fitted a new one for her. "Your family has enough money to send you abroad in this economy."

The needle punctured her thumb, and he read the scanner as Osa waited on baited breath, her fingers spreading, ready for a fight.

"No wonder," he said. "Rich commoners like you are the reason this country will not succeed."

"Excuse me?" she said, unsure she'd heard him correctly.

"You heard me. Just because the clans give you small money, you guys turn a blind eye to what they do to the rest of us who aren't so fortunate." Narrowing his eyes, he stepped right into her space, out rightly challenging her. "Just because you're a commoner, doesn't mean you're like the rest of us. I have half the mind to throw you out of this elevator."

"Hey," the coach said, pulling Yibilimo back. "We're all in this together. Let's not pick fights."

Unable to comprehend what was going on, Osa stood, stunned. He'd just called her a commoner. Jiki blood scanners didn't lie. If it said she wasn't clans-blood, then she wasn't clans-blood. Which was good for the situation she was in because she needed the information that they had. But then again, the country belonged to the clans and in order for them to protect their property from commoners who didn't know their place, certain things, certain amenities, facilities, were accessed only by blood.

Dizzy, she fell against the wall of the elevator as everyone turned to her. 

"Sorry," she said, breathlessly. 

Yibilimo gave her a scathing look, before he returned his scanner to his suitcase and stood.

"The witness has awoken," he said as everyone in the elevator perked up at those words.

But those words meant nothing to Osa. She'd known the witness was awake. She'd been there when the doors were unlocked and the witness walked through, fueled by nothing but vengeance and rage. Osa had stood by, powerless and human, as the witness had taken her family from her. 

"Where is she?" Ankara Boubou asked.

"We don't know," Yibilimo said. "But her cavern was dug up in Osekoni. People saw her tracking clans-blood up to Usobo and Izecha."

"Izecha?" the couch asked. "That's where the two clans-blood were murdered," he said, voice laced with eager nervousness. "Are you saying she is the one killing clans-blood? Praise the gods, she is here to save us!"

Osa scoffed.

When they all looked at her, she looked around the elevator, unable to hide the disdain itching into her bones.

"Do you think an ancient killing machine cares about you?" Osa asked.

"She's not a killing machine," the young boy said. "The witness is a protector of Jiki legacy."

"And who created that legacy, I wonder? Do you think it was commoners like yourself? Do you think she was a protector of commoners before the clans locked her up? She was complicit in their subjugation of the masses. The only reason you people worship her is because you think she'll fight on your side when she gets out."

"She's fighting the clans for us."

"They locked her in a cave for five hundred years without sustenance. She's pissed at them. It doesn't mean she cares for you."

"Who are you, really?" Yibilimo asked, pulling a short, wooden totem from his pocket and holding it towards her like a weapon.

"I thought we're not supposed to know each other's names."

"Usually we don't. But the clans are desperate enough to send a spy. So who are you?"

Behind him, Osa could feel the others turning towards her with suspicion, as they also pulled out their variedly carved totems. 

"We're in an old elevator," she said. "Don't be stupid."

"I'll take my chances," Yibilimo said, aiming his totem right at Osa. 

Moving to the side, she felt the wave of its power vibrate right past her shoulder as it slammed into the wall, causing the elevator to creak when it hit the wall behind her. The others stumbled around, grabbing at the walls and the railings, to keep from falling. When Yibilimo raised his totem again, Osa took him by the shoulder and flung him into the ceiling of the elevator, with his feet inadvertently hitting Ankara Boubou in the face. When they fell, Ankara Scarf screamed as she and the coach waved their totems at Osa. The force of their combined power shoved Osa into the wall as she knocked her head back and her glasses fell. She struggled to hold on, but before she could recover, the little boy stabbed her in the shoulder, with a knife. Groaning in pain, she shoved him into the wall and he hit it, causing a huge dent in the metal works as the elevator shook and he fell on the ground, unconscious.

Flinching, she pulled the knife out and to her dismay, the flesh around the wound jutted out in strings, as if trying to reach each other in order to heal. But they soon fell back, taut and injured, unable to heal. When she stood, Ankara Scarf watched her in awe.

"Your eyes," she said to Osa, letting go of her friend's hand as she took a step towards Osa. "They're..." she hesitated. "Your eyes are red."

Without her glasses, she was exposed. Closing her eyes, she grabbed the woman by the neck and slammed her against the wall, lifting her off the ground. When the coach tried to approach, Osa kicked him in the chest, sending him into the unconscious pile of his fellow elevator passengers.

"I was, quite recently, granted the same powers as your precious witness."

"You're the witness?" she said, grabbing hold of Osa's hand.

"For some reason," she continued, ignoring Ankara Scarf's question. "I can't heal. I can't feed. And every single day, my eyes keep changing color." Leaning in, she tightened her hold on Ankara Scarf's neck. "I'm going to let you go now. When I do, I want answers."

When she pulled her hand back, Ankara Scarf gasped and collapsed on the ground. Looking up at Osa, she crawled back to the wall, as if she could somehow disappear into it.

"Talk."

"I don't know much."

"Totas worship the witness. You know everything about her."

"Everything we know, we got from the clans. They know more about her than we do."

Which made sense. The clans had a monopoly on most of the information in Usehjiki. Osa had been searching for every bit of information she could glean about the witness and totas had bits and scraps. And each time she found a lead, they all kept pointing to someone who knew someone who knew someone. It made sense that the clans would be at the end of that thread.

"Who, specifically?"

"The Izeh clans-blood in Izecha."

Osa's blood chilled as soon as she heard it. It was unfortunate that everything was pointing back there. To the very place where she'd been created. To the very place she had destroyed in rage. She was slowly dying because she didn't understand her powers. And now, her only hope lay with the very people she was trying to avoid.

The woman got to her knees, crawled up to Osa and took her hand. "Let me go with you."

"What?" Osa asked, trying to pull her hand away.

"You're going after the clans. You're going to Izecha. You'll need me."

"I won't."

"Please," she bowed to Osa. "Let me serve you. All my life I have waited for your return. My mothers, my sisters, they all called me crazy. Yet here you are, in the flesh."

"I am not your witness," Osa said. 

Irritated, Osa hit the red button Yibilimo had pressed to stop the elevator. She folded her right arm in front of her stomach to reduce the movement around the stab wound in her shoulder. After surviving for weeks on little energy, the last thing she needed was a wound. 

"Take this," Ankara Scarf said, slipping a blue business card into Osa's back pocket. "If you ever need anything-"

"I won't."

"Please."

As Osa contemplated what to do, the elevator doors opened. Not wanting to spend anymore time in the stuffy place with unconscious bodies, she stumbled out of the elevator and made her way to the exit. She had to get to Izecha before things got even worse.

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Author's Notes

Ankara is clothing material that is made from wax prints. It is commonly used among central and west African countries for dresses, caftans, trousers, skirts etc.