(three years ago)
[azoma, southern africa | 1.2921° S ,36.8219° E]
The aura in Azoma gript like a rusty spoon, opaque with the tang of unknown spices and a decade's worth of dust-caked memories. Victoria Dixon, stared down the long, sun-baked road, a roadmap etched with the wrinkles of time. Beside her, Dieter Wagner, watched the unfamiliar landscape unfurl. Ten years. Ten long years since she'd stepped foot into this small country, leaving her son, Derek, behind – a heart-wrenching sacrifice in order to protect him from the men that hunted her.
This return to Azoma was a cocktail of anxiety, a dewdrop of hope, and a generous splash of "dear god, what did I do that?". Victoria, a mother weighed down by a past that wouldn't stay put, was embarking on a dangerous journey. Back to the very spot where she'd made a decision that still made her insides do a tap-dancing routine of regret – all those years ago.
The rusty gates of the dilapidated town opened, revealing a scene straight out of an Indiana Jones fever dream. Vines wrestled with crumbling buildings, and a crew of misfits milled about, their expressions a blend of suspicion and boredom. Victoria, pulled the Jeep to a stop, a plume of dust erupting like a disgruntled genie from a lamp.
Dieter, bless his ever-faithful soul, offered a nervous cough and a pat on her arm that did little to soothe the knot in her stomach. Stepping out of the car, Victoria felt the heat slam into her like a rogue wave. This wasn't just the oppressive Azoman sun; it was the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies and years of missed goodbyes.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the chaos. A woman approached, her smile as wide and welcoming as a crocodile's. "Victoria, mwanasikana wevhu!" (daughter of the soil) she boomed, engulfing Victoria in a hug that threatened to pop a button or two. "You look... older. Like a slightly weathered map, but a map nonetheless!"
Victoria, momentarily stunned speechless, could only manage a weak, "Amani?"
Amani, self-proclaimed Queen of this ramshackle town and Victoria's oldest friend, threw her head back and laughed. "The one and only! You haven't aged a day, darling, apart from maybe acquiring some very fetching worry lines. Been fending off those evil men again, have we?"
Victoria managed a shaky smile. "Something like that." Ten years ago, Amani had been a fiery revolutionary with a penchant for explosives and even more outrageous hats. Now, a few more silver strands streaked her hair, and yet she looks the same woman.
"Well, come on in, love!" Amani bellowed, steering Victoria towards her restaurant with the enthusiasm of a tour guide showcasing the Taj Mahal. "We've got catching up to do, a revolution to plan, and probably some questionable stew to get you reacquainted with Azoman cuisine. You know, the kind that leaves you wondering if it's actually food or a particularly aggressive form of clay?"
Victoria couldn't help but laugh, a genuine sound that chased away the dust bunnies of worry that had been multiplying in her stomach. Stepping into the familiar chaos of the town, she realized that while Azoma hadn't changed much, neither had Amani – or, seemingly, the questionable stew. But that was alright. Because in this hidden town, amidst the crumbling buildings and the whiff of revolution, Victoria had found a sliver of home, a friend who wouldn't judge, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to finally face the past she'd left behind.
The stew, a potion that defied categorization, sat steaming on a chipped metal table as they step into the restaurants. Amani, unaware of Victoria's uneasiness, launched into a tale of the latest town crimes – a stolen shipment of mangoes, the audacity! Victoria, however, could only manage half-hearted nods, her mind reeling with Amani's earlier revelation.
"Derek," Amani had said casually, ladling the stew into bowls, "is a strapping young man now. Been a real help around the town, your boy."
Victoria choked on a non-existent cough. Derek. Here. Ten years older, living under the same roof as the woman who helped her orchestrate the most agonizing decision of her life – a memory wipe.
Back then, faced with imminent danger, Victoria had made the heart-wrenching choice to have Derek's memories of her erased. A desperate gamble to keep him safe from the web of threats that entangled her and have a live somewhat of a normal life. The thought of him, a stranger now, filled her with a hollowness that rivalled the emptiness of the stew bowl.
"He... he remembers anything?" Victoria asked.
Amani paused, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Not a thing, love. Clean slate, just like you ordered. Though, the little rascal has a strange affinity for tinkering with gadgets – could be a genetic thing, pamwe?" (maybe)
Gadgets. That was Victoria.
Amani reached across the table, her hand warm and rough-skinned. "Listen, Victoria," she said, her voice gentling, "you did what you had to do. Now, you're here. I can only assume that you are here to rebuild what's lost."
Victoria nodded, tears pricking at her eyes. Rebuilding. It would be a long, arduous journey. But for the first time in a decade, she was back, not just in Azoma, but back in Derek's life. Even if he didn't recognize her, she would.
Clearing her throat, Victoria decided to make the introductions official. "Amani," she began, her voice warm, "this is Dieter. He's been... a very important part of my life these past few years."
Amani's eyes widened momentarily, "Ah, the mysterious companion! Well, come on over, Dieter, don't be shy! We don't bite... much."
Dieter, who had been perched rather stiffly on a rickety chair, offered a hesitant smile and rose to his feet. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Amani," he said, extending a hand cautiously. Amani, all booming laughter and boundless energy, engulfed him in a hug.
"Victoria's a lucky woman to have you around, that's for sure!" Amani declared, clapping him on the back with a force that could fell a small tree.
Victoria cringed internally. 'Lover' wouldn't quite capture the complexity of their relationship, a truth that felt oddly significant in this moment. Yet, there was no time for elaborate explanations.
The stew, long devoured, had been replaced by a shared pot of lukewarm tea, its bitterness a contrast to the sweetness of their reunion. Yet, beneath the surface of shared stories and easy laughter, a tension simmered.
"So," Amani finally began, her voice soft, "you haven't just come back for a nostalgic visit and a taste of questionable stew, have you?"
Victoria looked at her, a wave of emotions washing over her. Guilt. Hope. Fear. "No," she admitted. "You are right..." she took a deep breath, the words catching in her throat, "I'm here to take Derek to The States."
"America?" Amani said in disbelief. "But... Derek, his life is here now. He's grown up here, with the rebellion, with me. Isn't America where the trouble is? Why take his back there?"
Victoria reached out, her hand hovering over Amani's. "I know," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "And I wouldn't ask this of you, wouldn't ask this of him, if it wasn't absolutely necessary. But listen my friend, it is now safer where I am taking him than it is here" she choked back a sob, "I have a plan."
Amani remained silent for a long moment. Finally, she nodded slowly. "I understand," she said, "I wouldn't have wanted anything different for him either. But taking him to America..."
"It's the only way," Victoria pleaded. "There, he'll be safe with me this time. He'll have a chance at a normal life again, an education perhaps, a future free from war and fear."
Amani sighed, a long, weary exhale. "And what about him?" she asked, her voice soft. "Derek. How will he feel about all this? About leaving everything he knows behind? About a mother he doesn't remember?"
Victoria's heart ached. It was a question she hadn't dared to ask herself. "Honestly, I don't know," she admitted, her voice raw. "But I have to try. I owe him that much. At least a chance to know who I am, why I left him behind."
The silence returned, heavier this time. Amani looked at Victoria, her eyes filled with a thousand unspoken questions. "We'll figure it out," she finally said, her voice resolute.
The lights in the room sputtered its last, plunging the room into an inky darkness, except for the dusty sun rays squeezing through the windows. Then a light illuminated the doorway just as a figure silhouetted against the windswept dusk stepped inside.
"Hey, Ma Amani" Derek greeted, "generator's acting up again. Think I might need to take a look at the-"
He stopped short, his eyes darting between Victoria and Amani, the sudden shift in atmosphere thick enough to cut with a knife.
Amani cleared her throat, a nervous edge to her voice. "Derek, this is... Victoria. An old friend who just arrived."
Derek's eyes flitting back to Victoria, searching her face as if trying to unlock a forgotten memory. "Victoria?" he said, the name sounding foreign on his tongue.
Victoria offered a small, hesitant smile. "Hello, Derek."
Derek looked at Victoria for a beat too long, a trace of something unreadable crossing his features before he averted his eyes.
"Right then," he said, his voice regaining its casual tone, "about that generator..." He gestured towards the door with a nod. "Mind if I borrow a flashlight?"
Amani seemed to deflate a little. "Of course, dear," she said, her voice strained. "It's in the tool shed, by the usual spot."
Derek offered a brief nod and disappeared outside the restaurant, leaving Victoria and Amani, along with Dieter.
"He's a good kid Victoria," Amani finally said, her voice soft. "Strong, resourceful, just like you."
"Yeah, I can see that. Let me go re-acquaint myself, wish me luck", Victoria agreed.
Victoria stepped out of the restaurant and followed Derek, who now stood by the derelict generator, a frown etched on his face as he fiddled with a tangle of wires.
Hesitantly, Victoria approached him, the rough gravel crunching under her feet. Derek, absorbed in his task, didn't hear her at first. It wasn't until she cleared her throat that he finally looked up, his expression guarded.
"Flashlight wasn't where you said it would be," he said, his voice gruff.
"I apologize," Victoria stammered, "Maybe Amani was mistaken."
They stood there in an awkward silence. Derek continued to tinker with the generator, his broad back a wall against the vulnerability churning inside Victoria.
"Victoria, right?" he finally spoke, his voice lined with suspicion, "is there a reason you seem familiar?"
Victoria took a deep breath, the words sticking in her throat like sand. "Hey, Derek," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "there's something you need to know."
He stopped what he was doing, turning to face her fully. "What is it?" he asked.
"It's about your past," Victoria said, her voice gaining a sliver of strength. "About why you don't remember the first ten years of your life."
Derek squinted his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
Victoria reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on his arm. "I'm your mother, Derek," she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I am Victoria Dixon, your mother."
Derek stared at her, his expression a mask of disbelief, anger, pain. He pulled his arm away from her touch as if it burned.
"My mother?" he scoffed, bitterly. "You don't just get to waltz in here after ten years and claim to be my mother, the hell."
"I know, Derek," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "And I wouldn't be here if it wasn't absolutely necessary. It wasn't easy leaving you, not a day goes by that I don't regret it. But it was to keep you safe."
She launched into the story then, the story she'd rehearsed a thousand times in her head, the story of the men after her, the danger, the agonizing choice she'd made to have his memories erased. It spilled out like a torrent, a desperate plea for understanding, for forgiveness.
As she spoke, Derek remained silent, his face unreadable. The only sign of his internal turmoil was the way his hands clenched and unclenched by his side. When she finished, a heavy taciturnity descended upon them, broken only by the mournful hooting of an owl in the distance.
"So," Derek finally said, his voice low and dangerous, "you're saying you wiped my memory to protect me?"
"It was the only way," Victoria pleaded. "I couldn't bear the thought of having you feel what you are feeling now, baby."
Derek let out a loose laugh, "Protect me? You left me here, a stranger in a strange land, with no memories of the woman who supposedly loved me enough to sacrifice everything!"
"I know," she whispered, her voice cracking. "There's no excuse for what I did. But I was desperate. I thought it was the only way to keep you safe. Of which, at the time, it was."
A guttural roar of not one, not two, but a convoy of cars. Derek looked around, his hand instinctively reaching for the holster strapped to his thigh.
"What was that?" Derek demanded, his voice taut.
Victoria's eyes darted towards the horizon. In the distance, a plume of dust rose like a vengeful spirit, followed by unmistakable headlights cutting. Not headlights, Victoria realized, car spotlights. Multiple of them.
"Shit, I realise those vehicles, that must be Abyss" she choked out, the name a curse on her lips.
"Who the hell is Abyss?" Derek said.
"There's no time to explain," Victoria snapped. "We need to get out of here. Now!"
Grabbing Derek's arm, she sprinted back towards the restaurant.
Victoria propelled Derek towards the doors. "Amani!" she called out.
Amani emerged from behind the bar, a shotgun slung across her broad back. "Abyss is here!"
"Here?" she said. "Yeah you told me that your past was all cleared up, not that it was tailing you."
The doors groaned open like the rusty hinges of hell itself, revealing a parade of trouble in black leather jackets. At the forefront strutted a man built like a malfunctioning clothes dryer – all broad shoulders and thick neck crammed into a suit perpetually two sizes too small. This, Victoria presumed, was Igor, one of Abyss's personal attack dog, a man whose vocabulary likely peaked at "shoot" and "look menacing."
"Oh, hello there," Amani drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The circus came to town early this year."
"We're here for woman," Igor he said, his voice gravelly enough to pave a road. continued, his gaze sweeping the room like a searchlight. "Woman named Victoria. Heard she might be hiding out in your little nest of misfits."
"Never heard of her," Amani said, her voice flat. "Maybe you should try the fortune teller down the street. Heard she's got a crystal ball that can see through lies."
Meanwhile, crouched behind the bar like a pair of shipwrecked stowaways - Victoria and Derek. Derek, his jaw clenched tight, gripped the weapon at his ankle like a lifeline.
"Don't play games with me," he warned. "We know she's here. And if you don't hand her over..." Igor trailed off, letting the unspoken threat hang.
A sharp crackle in Victoria's earpiece sliced through the tense standoff. Dieter's voice pierced the static. "Victoria, it's me! Get to the car outside, now! There's a back exit, we can get out of here."
Amani, continued her verbal joust with Igor. "Look," she said, "I suggest you take your oversized goons elsewhere and bother someone who actually cares about your threats."
Igor's hand yanked towards the pistol strapped to his hip. The air crackled with unspoken violence. This was it. This was their chance.
Victoria grabbed Derek's arm. "Give me that gun, I left mine in the car" she hissed.
Derek, hesitated for a beat before complying. Victoria shoved the weapon into her waistband.
"Derek," she rasped, her voice tight with urgency, "there's a black jeep parked outside, through the back door. It's ours. Go, now!"
Before he could protest, Victoria gave him a shove towards the swinging doors at the back of the bar.
"Go, get in a Jeep over there! I will be right behind you" she yelled.
The doors slammed shut. Before Igor could react, Victoria snatched a glass of amber liquid from the bar and launched it at the nearest gunman. The glass connected with a satisfying crunch, showering the man with a sticky spray of beer and broken glass.
Capitalizing on the distraction, Victoria ripped the Derek's pistol from her waistband, then she aimed and fired, the bullet finding its mark in the shoulder of another thug.
Amani didn't waste time with theatrics. She swung her shotgun in a smooth arc, racking the pump with a practiced snap. A deafening boom filled the air as a burst of lead erupted from the barrel, sending one of the attackers flying backward.
The bar erupted into chaos. Igor, shouted a command in a language that sounded suspiciously like nails scraping on a chalkboard. His men, shaking off their initial shock, scrambled for cover, drawing their own weapons.
Victoria rolled across the floor, dodging a hail of bullets that chewed into the wood. Reaching the other side of the bar, she used it as a rough-and-ready shield, firing back.
Amani cleared a path through the goons. With each blast of her shotgun, the smell of burnt gunpowder intensified, creating a haze that obscured the silhouettes of the attackers. Victoria, taking advantage of the chaos, used the smoke-filled room to her advantage, flanking an attacker and disarming him with a kick.
"Victoria! Go! Get Derek out of here! We will hold them off here." Amani yelled over the noise.
There was no time for arguments, no time for goodbyes. Victoria knew Amani could hold them off for a while, her reputation as a formidable fighter well-earned. Victoria then sprinted towards the back exit.
The swinging doors burst open with a bang and she headed towards the black jeep parked a few meters away.
Dieter, sat behind the wheel, the engine already revving. Derek, his expression a mixture of confusion and defiance, stood beside the open passenger door.
"Get in!" Victoria shouted, throwing herself into the backseat.
"Go! Now!" she screamed at Dieter, her voice raw with urgency.
Dieter, wasting no time, slammed the car into gear, the tires spitting gravel as they pitched forward.
Dust plumes billowed like angry genies in their wake as Victoria's black jeep tore down the deserted road. Behind them, the burning wreckage of the Amani's restaurant cast an ominous red glow on the horizon behind. In the rear-view mirror, Victoria could see Igor's goons piling into a convoy of black SUVs.
"Hold on tight!" Dieter gripped the steering wheel. "This is gonna be a bumpy ride."
Victoria, however, had no time for pleasantries. She reached for the comms unit tucked away in the glove compartment. "Amani," she said into the device, praying for a signal. "Are you alright?" Static greeted her, a nerve-wracking silence. She slammed the device down. No time to worry about Amani now. They had their own survival to focus on.
Suddenly, Derek leaned forward, his eyes luminous with a spark of rebellion Victoria hadn't noticed before. "Give me the wheel, I know the roads around here. I can lose them." he declared. Victoria hesitated. But then, she saw the determined set of his jaw. With a resigned sigh, Dieter unbuckled his seatbelt. "Alright, hotshot," he said. "Get on it."
Derek wasted no time. He slid into the driver's seat.
The chase was on!
He drove through narrow dirt tracks, the jeep bouncing on its suspension like a rogue beach ball. Sparks flew as they scraped past crumbling buildings, narrowly avoiding clotheslines.
One of the SUVs, attempting to take the lead, misjudged a turn and ended up careening into a fruit stall, sending a cascade of overripe bananas flying in a gloriously messy explosion.
Suddenly, Derek swerved off the main road, taking them onto a barely-there track that snaked its way through a dense grove of baobab trees. The SUVs, their sleek forms ill-suited for such terrain, hesitated before lumbering after them.
"Where are you going?" Victoria shouted.
Derek, his face a mask of concentration, yelled back, "Shortcut! Ma Amani used to take me on this route to look for parts. It leads to an old abandoned mine shaft. We can lose them there!".
The jeep kept bouncing like a runaway beach ball on steroids, tires sputtering sand as Derek navigated the treacherous path. Victoria, clinging to the roll cage for dear life, couldn't help but let out a whoop of exhilaration.
"You're a natural behind the wheel!" she shouted over the noise of the car turbulence.
Suddenly, the path narrowed drastically, flanked on either side by towering cacti that resembled twisted, prehistoric watchmen. Derek, unfazed, took a sharp turn, the jeep tilting precariously on two wheels for a heart-stopping moment before righting itself with a triumphant screech.
The landscape around them transformed. The dense cacti gave way to a sprawling vista of red sand dunes, the setting red sun ahead. It was a scene of deserted beauty, a stark contrast to the bustling world they were leaving behind.
In the distance, a solitary black silhouette broke the monotony of the dunes – a lone, abandoned building-like structure. "That's it!" Derek exclaimed, pointing towards the structure. "The old mine shaft!"
Derek pushed the battered jeep harder, the engine screaming in protest. But somehow the SUVs behind them were gaining ground, closing the gap with an unsettling speed!
Victoria twisted in her seat, grabbing a hidden compartment in the back. She emerged with a Grenade Launcher that looked more at home in a sci-fi movie than on this desolate landscape. "Incoming!" she yelled. Derek, his jaw clenched tight, glanced back at the approaching SUVs.
Victoria didn't waste time with pep talks. She aimed the weapon out the back window and fired. A series of grenade POP from the barrel, erupting in a brilliant explosion mere inches in front of the lead SUV. The vehicle screeched to a stop.
The other SUVs, caught off guard by the sudden attack, swerved to avoid the wreckage. This momentary hesitation gave Derek a precious few seconds. He navigated the jeep around a jagged rock formation, throwing the pursuers off track fleetingly.
The SUVs then adjusted their course and continued the chase. Victoria took another shot, aiming for the tires of the closest vehicle. The grenade launched found its mark, causing a tire to explode with a loud BANG! The SUV veered off the path, speeding into a sand dune before coming to a rest, tilted at an alarming angle.
"Two down, one to go!" Victoria shouted. But even as she spoke, a plume of black smoke erupted from the engine of the crippled SUV, signifying its fiery demise.
Derek, using every ounce of skill he'd picked up from his impromptu off-road adventures with Amani, navigated the jeep through a maze of rocky outcrops.
"We won't outrun them forever!" Derek shouted.
Victoria knew he was right. They needed to lose them before getting to the mineshaft ahead.
Suddenly, an idea sparked in her mind. "Hold on tight, Derek!" she yelled.
Derek, his eyes wide with questions, braced himself. Victoria, with a silent prayer, aimed the weapon at a cluster of precariously balanced rocks on a nearby cliff face. She fired. The grenade launcher tossed a grenade at the rocks above. The ground trembled as the rocks tumbled down, cascading in a thunderous avalanche towards the last pursuing SUV. The driver, caught by surprise, slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The avalanche engulfed the vehicle, burying it under a mountain of rubble. Dust and debris filled the air, momentarily obscuring their vision, as they drifted to a stop.
Victoria, her heart pounding in her chest, waited with bated breath. Finally, the dust settled, revealing a scene of utter devastation. The SUV was completely buried, its fate sealed.
They had done it. They had escaped.