Finally Alice sat down on a bench, blank and stricken. From time to time, she would scream “Hei!” and stand up and place her hands on her head. Odenigbo sat by her and urged her to drink some water. He and the man from Asaba talked in low voices as if they alone were responsible for her, and afterward he came up to where Olanna was sitting on the veranda.
“Will you pack some of her things, nkem?” he asked. “The man says he has some Asaba people in his compound and he will take her to stay with them for a while.”
Olanna looked up at him, her face blank. “No,” she said.
“No?”
“No,” she said again, loudly now. “No.” And she got up and went into the room. She would not pack anybody’s clothes. She did not know who did pack Alice’s things, perhaps Odenigbo did, but she heard the “Ije oma, go well,” from many neighbors as Alice and the man left late in the evening. Olanna slept outside and dreamed of Alice and Odenigbo on the bed in Nsukka, their sweat on her newly washed sheet; she woke up with a raging suspicion in her heart and the boom of shelling in her ears.
“The vandals are close!” Pastor Ambrose cried, and he was first to run out of the compound, a stuffed duffel bag in his hand.
The yard erupted in activity, shouting, packing, leaving. The shelling, like burst after burst of horribly loud, vile coughing, did not stop. And the car did not start. Odenigbo tried and tried and the road was already crowded with refugees and the crashing explosions of mortars sounded as close as St. John’s Road. Mama Oji was screaming at her husband. Mama Adanna was begging Olanna to let her get into the car with some of her children and Olanna said, “No, take your children and go.”
Odenigbo started the engine and it whined and died. The compound was almost empty. A woman on the road was dragging a stubborn goat and finally left it behind and hurried ahead. Odenigbo turned the key and again the car stalled. Olanna could feel the ground underneath vibrating with each boom.
Odenigbo turned the key again and again. The car would not start.
“Start walking with Baby,” he said. Sweat clung to his brow.
“What?”
“I’ll pick you both up when the car starts.”
“If we are walking, we will walk together.”
Odenigbo tried to start the car again. Olanna turned, surprised at how quiet Baby was, sitting in the back beside their rolled-up mattresses. Baby was watching Odenigbo carefully, as though urging both him and the car on with her eyes.
Odenigbo came out and opened the bonnet and Olanna climbed out, too, and let Baby out and then wondered what she would take from the boot and what she would leave behind. The compound was empty and only one or two people walked past the road now. There was the rattle of gunfire nearby. She was frightened. Her hands were shaking.
“Let’s start walking,” Olanna said. “Nobody is left in Umuahia!”
Odenigbo got in and took a deep breath and turned the key. The car started. He drove fast and, on the outskirts of Umuahia, Olanna asked, “Did you do anything with Alice?”
Odenigbo did not answer, looking straight ahead.
“I asked you a question, Odenigbo.”
“Mba, I didn’t do anything with Alice.” He glanced at her and then looked ahead at the road.
They said nothing else to each other until they arrived in Orlu, and Kainene and Harrison came out of the house. Harrison began to unpack the things in the car.
Kainene hugged Olanna, picked Baby up, and then turned to Odenigbo. “What an interesting beard,” she said. “Are we trying to copy His Excellency?”
“I never try to copy anyone.”
“Of course. I had forgotten how original you are.”
Kainene’s voice was thick with the tension that surrounded them all. Olanna could feel it, moisture-heavy, hanging over the room when Richard came back and stiffly shook hands with Odenigbo and, later, when they sat at the table and ate the yam slices Harrison served on enamel plates.
“We’re here until we can find a place to rent,” Odenigbo said, looking at Kainene.
Kainene stared back at him, raised her eyebrows, and said, “Harrison! Bring some more palm oil for Chiamaka.”
Harrison came in and placed a bowl of oil before Baby. After he left, Kainene said, “He roasted a fantastic bush rat for us last week. But you would have thought it was a rack of lamb the way he went on about it.”
Olanna laughed. Richard’s laughter was tentative. Baby laughed too, as if she understood. And Odenigbo focused, unsmiling, on his plate. On the radio, there was a repeat broadcast of the Ahiara declaration, His Excellency’s voice measured and determined.
Biafra will not betray the black man. No matter the odds, we will fight with all our might until black men everywhere can point with pride to this Republic, standing dignified and defiant, an example of African nationalism …