Echoes of the Forgotten Script
The hum of the maruwa's engine vibrated through Modupe's bones as the three-wheeled vehicle weaved through the dusty streets of Maiduguri. The city was alive with the evening bustle—hawkers calling out prices, motorcycles zipping past in chaotic harmony, and the scent of roasted maize hanging thick in the air. She barely noticed any of it.
Lost in thought, she glanced out at the fading sun before leaning forward. "Here is fine," she said, tapping the driver's shoulder.
The maruwa jerked to a stop. As Modupe reached into her bag for payment, the driver's eyes drifted past her to the vehicle parked just ahead—a sleek, olive-green G63 Mercedes customized to perfection. The imposing machine gleamed under the sun, its rugged yet polished frame exuding an air of wealth and sophistication.
The driver let out a sharp whistle. "Kai, Hajia! Na your motor be that?" He glanced at her with renewed awe, his reedy Hausa accent stretching the words.
Modupe smirked, handing him the fare. "Eh na mine. Nagode."
"Hajia, you be oga oo!" he exclaimed, shaking his head as he tucked the money into his pocket, still in shock as she stepped out and unlocked the car.
Settling into the plush leather seat, she started the engine, the air-conditioning immediately cooling her sun-warmed skin. With a flick of a switch, she swiveled her driver's seat completely around-facing the custom-built mini mobile office in the rear cab of the SUV.
Every tool she needed for her work as an anthropologist and archeaologist was meticulously arranged: scanners, specimen containers, UV lights, aged parchment preservation kits, even a compact PC setup flanked by two curved screen monitors, she pulled out the parchment, she carefully extracted a series of chemical solutions, dousing it with preservation fluid to stabilize the ink and paper from further deterioration. Once the process was complete, she sealed it inside a clear,airtight archival bag
Her next move was clear.
She picked up her phone and dialed Dr. Umar Kijana.
------
Dr. Umar Kijana lived in an aging colonial-style house in 303 Estate, a prestigious neighborhood housing retired and active professors from the University of Maiduguri.The estate was lined with tall baobab trees, and the air carried the scent of old books and burning frankincense from homes steeped in academia.
Inside his study, shelves overflowed with brittle manuscripts, scrolls, and ancient hausa books written in Arabic script, Dr. Kijana, now in his late sixties, was seated at a low wooden table, fingers already tracing the parchment before Modupe had fully settled in.
His sharp eyes darted across the faded ink. "Ajami… but not just any Ajami. This," he tapped a section near the bottom, "has been altered. Encoded. Someone did not want this to be easily read."
Modupe leaned forward. "Can you decipher it?"
Dr. Kijana exhaled through his nose. "Some of it. Give me a moment."
Pulling out a magnifying glass, he worked meticulously, translating in fragments until a coherent message emerged:
The earth swallows light, yet the sky trembles beneath it.
A shiver ran through her spine. "What does it mean?"
The old man's face darkened. "That… is unclear." He drummed his fingers on the table. "But see this?" He pointed to the remaining part of the parchment. "It's another layer of code. This one—I cannot break. It requires a mind more attuned to modern decryption."
Modupe exhaled, already knowing who could help.
"I'll handle it," she said, standing to leave. "Thank you, Doctor."
Dr. Kijana nodded, but as she exited his house, his expression darkened. Once her car disappeared down the road, he reached for his phone.
His hands shook slightly as he dialed a number he had prayed never to use.
A voice answered. Cold. Expectant.
Dr. Kijana swallowed. "Event 17. Someone has a lead."
Silence. Then a quiet reply:
Proceed.
------
Modupe arrived at her hotel in the heart of Maiduguri , exhaustion tugging at her limbs. She locked the door behind her before slumping onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
She needed answers.
Grabbing her phone, she dialed Taiwo, her husband, a brilliant engineer and tech specialist still bound to his work contract in Abuja.
"Hey, love," Taiwo's voice came through, warm despite the late hour.
"Hey… I need your brain on something. I sent you a picture. Check it out."
Taiwo hummed as he opened the file. "Hmm. That's some serious symbology work. Looks layered, like a cipher embedded in a cipher. Give me a second."
Modupe listened as he worked, the clicking of his keyboard filling the silence. After a few minutes, he let out a low whistle.
"Got something. There's a geometric overlay hidden in the script—almost like a cartographic co. This isn't just text, Dupe. It's a map."
Modupe sat up straight. "A map to what?"
Taiwo hesitated. "That's where it gets weird. The text suggests a region outside the city.....deep into the forest. But the landmark it describes—'where the earth swallows light'—those aren't natural references. They're… specific. Man-made. Or worse...alien"
Modupe's breath caught. This was it. A location.
"Taiwo," she whispered, "I think I know where to look."
As they spoke, across the street from her hotel, two men in dark suits sat in a dimly lit room, their eyes fixed on a high-tech directional microphone setup pointed straight at Modupe's window.
The taller of the two leaned back, listening through his earpiece. "She's close."
His partner, dressed in an identical suit, typed rapidly on a laptop, logging every word of her conversation.
A single reply came through their encrypted channel:
"We'll let her lead us to it. If she finds it and survives, we claim it."
The taller man smirked. "Poor girl doesn't even know she's already lost."
-----
Meanwhile, inside her hotel room, Modupe rubbed her temple. A feeling had been nagging at her since she left Dr kijana's house.
Her voice remained steady, but she texted Taiwo at the same time she spoke.
MODUPE: "I think I'm being watched."
Taiwo's voice turned sharp. "What? Since when?"
MODUPE: Ever since I left the professor's house. A car's been on my tail. And I feel eyes on me.
On the other end, Taiwo clenched his fist. "Dupe, if not for this damn contract keeping me in Abuja, I'd be there already. Be careful."
She nodded, trying to ignore the dread pooling in her stomach.
Somewhere, out in the night, she knew someone was watching.
Waiting.