The air in Mariston was thick with the fragrance of ripened fruits and the distant scent of rain. Adanne Kalu, eight months pregnant, waddled carefully along the cobblestone path from the market. Her basket, overflowing with oranges, tomatoes, and yams, was balanced precariously on her hip. Despite the weariness that clung to her swollen feet, a gentle smile tugged at her lips. The child in her womb stirred, and she rested her hand over the firm curve of her belly, whispering softly, "Soon, my little one. Soon."
The road she traveled was familiar, one she had walked hundreds of times. Yet tonight, something felt... different. The streetlights flickered as though unsure whether to hold back the encroaching darkness. Shadows stretched long and ominous under the pale moonlight. Adanne glanced over her shoulder. The emptiness of the road seemed louder than it should have been.
She adjusted her basket and picked up her pace. Her home was only ten minutes away, a cozy bungalow where Samuel, her husband, waited. Samuel had insisted on picking her up, but she'd waved him off, determined to maintain her independence. "I'm pregnant, not broken," she'd teased. But now, she regretted it. The loneliness of the road seemed to claw at her resolve.
Then she heard it.
The faint hum of an engine.
She froze mid-step and looked back. A black van rolled toward her, its headlights off, the vehicle moving as though stalking its prey. Adanne's throat tightened. She stepped to the side of the road to let it pass, clutching her basket with both hands, but the van slowed, its tires crunching against the gravel.
Her heartbeat quickened.
The van stopped a few feet behind her, idling ominously. For a long moment, there was nothing but the low growl of the engine and the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.
"Hello?" Adanne called out, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound firm.
The engine cut off.
Her pulse hammered in her ears as the driver's door creaked open. A man stepped out, tall and broad-shouldered, his face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat that cast deep shadows. He moved slowly, deliberately, as though savoring her fear.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Adanne demanded, taking a step back.
The man didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out something long and metallic—a crowbar.
Adanne gasped, panic blooming in her chest. She turned and started to run, but her heavily pregnant body made her escape agonizingly slow. Her sandals slapped against the pavement as she pushed herself forward, her breath coming in short, frantic bursts.
"Help! Someone, help me!" she screamed, her voice echoing into the empty night.
The man's footsteps quickened behind her, his boots pounding against the road. Adanne stumbled, nearly dropping her basket. She turned a corner, hoping to lose him, but her foot caught on a loose stone. She fell hard onto her knees, crying out in pain. The basket tipped, spilling its contents across the pavement.
Before she could scramble to her feet, strong hands grabbed her from behind.
"No! Let me go!" she screamed, thrashing wildly. Her hands clawed at her attacker's arms, but his grip was unyielding. He dragged her backward, her feet kicking uselessly against the ground.
The van's side door slid open, and another man emerged, shorter but equally menacing. Together, they hauled her into the vehicle, ignoring her screams and desperate pleas.
"Please, I'm pregnant! Don't hurt me!" she sobbed, clutching her belly.
The taller man produced a roll of duct tape and slapped a strip over her mouth, silencing her cries. Her wrists and ankles were bound, and she was shoved into the dark, cramped space at the back of the van. The door slammed shut, plunging her into darkness.
Adanne's muffled sobs filled the confined space as the van's engine roared to life. The vehicle sped off, leaving behind only her spilled groceries and a pink scarf fluttering in the breeze.
---
Morning light filtered through the windows of the Kalu home, but Samuel awoke to an empty bed. At first, he thought little of it. Adanne often woke early, especially now that the baby kicked her awake in the early hours. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, unease began to settle over him.
"Adanne?" he called out, stepping into the kitchen. Her phone lay on the counter, untouched. The sight made his stomach twist. She never left home without it, especially not this late into her pregnancy.
He searched the house, checking every room and calling her name. When he found no trace of her, he threw on a jacket and hurried into the neighborhood.
"She went to the market last night," their neighbor, Mrs. Ibe, told him. "I saw her leave with her basket. Didn't she come back?"
Samuel's throat tightened. He thanked the woman and made his way toward the market, his steps quick and frantic. Along the way, he stopped anyone who might have seen her.
"She was here yesterday evening," said Mr. Okeke, a fruit vendor. "Bought some oranges and tomatoes. She seemed fine. Said she was heading home."
Samuel's heart pounded as he retraced her usual path. It was a short, straightforward route—she couldn't have simply gotten lost. But as he turned a corner, his blood ran cold.
There, scattered across the pavement, were oranges and tomatoes, crushed and rotting under the morning sun. A few feet away, he spotted something else: Adanne's pink scarf, snagged on a fence post.
He picked it up, his hands shaking. The fabric was soft and familiar, but now it felt like a ghost of her presence.
"Adanne," he whispered, his voice breaking.
A soft shuffle of footsteps drew his attention. He turned to see a homeless woman sitting on the curb, her thin frame wrapped in a tattered shawl. She stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"Did you see what happened here?" Samuel asked, his voice urgent.
The woman hesitated, her gaze darting nervously around the street. "The van," she muttered, barely audible.
"What van? What are you talking about?"
"The black van," she said, her voice trembling. "It comes at night. Takes them."
"Takes who?" Samuel pressed, kneeling in front of her.
"Pregnant women," she whispered. "They never come back."
Samuel's stomach churned. "Where does it take them? Who's driving it?"
The woman shook her head, pulling her shawl tighter around herself. "It's him. The... the one they call Olumide."
Before Samuel could ask more, the woman scrambled to her feet and shuffled away, casting nervous glances over her shoulder.
Samuel stood there, clutching Adanne's scarf, his mind racing. He didn't know who this Olumide was, but he was certain of one thing: Adanne was in danger, and time was running out.
---
That afternoon, Samuel reported Adanne's disappearance to the police. He sat across from an officer in a cramped, dimly lit office, recounting everything he'd learned.
"She's eight months pregnant," Samuel said, his voice tight with emotion. "She wouldn't just disappear like this. Someone took her."
The officer, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, scribbled notes on a clipboard. "Did she have any enemies? Anyone who might want to harm her?"
"No," Samuel snapped. "She's a teacher. She spends most of her time at home or the school. She doesn't have enemies."
The officer sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Look, people disappear all the time. Maybe she needed some space—"
"She didn't need space!" Samuel shouted, slamming his fist on the desk. "She was taken! I found her scarf and her groceries on the road! There was a van—someone saw it!"
The officer raised a hand to calm him. "Alright, alright. We'll look into it. But these things take time."
Samuel left the station feeling more hopeless than ever. The police weren't going to help him. If he wanted to find Adanne, he'd have to do it himself.
---
As night fell, Samuel sat alone in the living room, staring at Adanne's phone on the coffee table. He thought about calling her number again, even though he knew it would go to voicemail. The silence of the house was unbearable, a void where her laughter and warmth used to be.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Somewhere out there, Adanne was waiting for him. He couldn't let her down.
Grabbing his flashlight and a kitchen knife, Samuel stepped out into the night, determined to uncover the truth.