The metal latch lifted.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then the gate opened.
A man stepped into the compound.
He was tall.
Very tall.
Broad shoulders beneath a dark, rain-damp shirt. His trousers were tucked neatly into heavy boots, the soles leaving wet prints across the concrete.
He closed the gate behind him.
Slowly.
Then looked toward the house.
Melody’s mother whispered,
“Remember, don’t look afraid.”
I nodded.
The man walked toward the veranda.
His footsteps were heavy but unhurried.
One.
Two.
Three.
Closer.
Melody moved away from the window and stood beside her mother.
The door opened.
The man stepped inside.
His eyes found his wife first.
Then Melody.
Then me.
They stopped.
I felt every muscle in my body tighten.
The man didn’t speak.
He simply looked at me.
His face was strangely empty.
Not angry.
Not suspicious.
Nothing.
Just... blank.
“Welcome home,” his wife said.
He nodded.
His eyes remained on me.
“Who’s this?”
There it was.
The question I’d been waiting for.
His wife didn’t hesitate.
“My sister’s son.”
The man looked at her.
Then back at me.
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
He nodded once.
“What happened to him?”
“He came from Accra.”
The man’s eyes moved down to my knee.
Then to the dried blood on my clothes.
“Looks like Accra was rough.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“What’s your name?”
“Khaleel.”
“Khaleel.”
He repeated it quietly.
As though memorising it.
Then he walked past me.
Just like that.
I released a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding.
His wife looked at me.
Only for a second.
I remembered.
The man placed his bag beside the dining table.
It landed with a dull, heavy thud.
I looked at it.
The bag was black.
Old.
Heavy enough that it seemed to sink slightly when it hit the floor.
Something inside shifted.
Clink.
Metal.
My eyes stayed on it for a moment too long.
“Dinner is ready,” his wife said.
He pulled out a chair.
We sat.
I kept my eyes on the food.
Rice.
Stew.
Plantain.
Normal food.
Normal family.
Normal evening.
Except nobody was acting normal.
Melody barely spoke.
Her mother kept serving her husband.
And the man ate as though this were any other evening.
“How long are you staying?” he asked me.
I swallowed.
“I don’t know yet.”
“You came for work?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
I glanced at his wife.
She answered before I could.
“He’ll help you for now.”
The man looked at her.
Then at me.
“You know anything about machines?”
“A little.”
“Power tools?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that.
“I manage.”
For the first time, something resembling amusement touched his face.
He continued eating.
I looked down at my plate.
My appetite disappeared.
After a few seconds, he spoke again.
“You’ll come with me tomorrow.”
I looked up.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
His answer was immediate.
Nothing more.
I glanced at the bag beside the table.
Then back at him.
“Okay.”
The conversation ended.
But something about it stayed with me.
He hadn’t asked whether I wanted to come.
He hadn’t even asked whether I was capable.
He’d simply decided.
And for some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t about work.
He wanted to see me.
Up close.
Maybe he wanted to know who I really was.
Or maybe I was imagining things.
I hoped I was.
Later that night, the house became quiet.
The man’s bedroom door closed.
A few minutes later, I heard the lock.
His wife disappeared into the room with him.
Melody was gone too.
I was left in the living room with a thin mattress and a blanket that smelled faintly of detergent.
I lay down.
Stared at the ceiling.
Sleep didn’t come.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the bus.
Saleem at the window.
Suzzy behind him.
The Dome.
The screams.
I turned onto my side.
I closed my eyes again.
A few minutes later, I heard footsteps.
I froze.
I opened my eyes.
Melody stood at the end of the room.
She was barefoot.
I sat up slowly.
“What?”
She came closer.
I looked toward the bedroom.
“He’s asleep.”
She shook her head.
She sat on the edge of the mattress.
For a moment, she didn’t say anything.
Then,
“Tomorrow, whatever you see... don’t react.”
I frowned.
“What am I going to see?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re the ones sending me with him.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me what I’m walking into.”
She looked toward the bedroom.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Her eyes returned to mine.
“You need to understand something.”
I waited.
“My father notices everything.”
A chill moved through me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means if you look frightened, he’ll notice.”
She swallowed.
“If you ask too many questions, he’ll notice.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then maybe you’ll come home.”
The way she said maybe made my stomach tighten.
I looked toward the bedroom.
“What does he do?”
Melody didn’t answer.
“Melody.”
She stood.
“You don’t need to know tonight.”
“That sounds familiar.”
She almost smiled.
Then the smile disappeared.
“My mother will talk to you before you leave.”
She started walking away.
“Melody.”
She stopped.
“Why are you helping me?”
She stood there for a few seconds.
Then she looked back.
“Because you look like someone who still thinks people are supposed to help each other.”
And then she disappeared around the corner.
I didn’t sleep much after that.
Morning came too quickly.
I woke to the smell of coffee.
For a few seconds, I forgot where I was.
Then everything returned.
The bus.
The Dome.
The settlement.
The man.
I sat up.
My knee still hurt, but the swelling had gone down slightly.
I put on my shoes.
Melody’s mother was already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
“You slept?”
I turned toward the voice. It was her.
“Not really.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
That wasn’t exactly reassuring.
She placed a cup of tea in front of me.
“Eat.”
I sat.
She remained standing.
“My husband will be taking you with him.”
“I know.”
“He may ask you questions.”
“I figured.”
“Answer simply.”
I looked at her.
“And if he asks about the Dome?”
She stopped.
Then lowered her voice.
“You’ve never been there.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“You’ve never seen it.”
“But...”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“That’s all.”
I nodded slowly.
“And whatever happens today?”
She leaned closer.
“Keep a calm face.”
There was something in her expression that made me stop eating.
A door opened behind us.
We both turned.
The man walked out.
He was already dressed.
Dark trousers.
Dark shirt.
Heavy boots.
He looked exactly the same as the night before.
Emotionless.
He walked past the table.
Then stopped.
He looked at me.
“You ready?”
I stood.
“Yes.”
He nodded toward the door.
I grabbed my jacket.
As I passed the dining table, I noticed his bag.
It was sitting there again.
The same black bag.
He noticed me looking.
“You’ll carry that.”
My eyes met his.
“Okay.”
I picked it up.
The weight surprised me.
Heavy.
Much heavier than it looked.
Something metallic shifted inside.
Clink.
Again.
I adjusted my grip.
The man watched me.
For a second, I wondered whether he was waiting for me to ask what was inside.
I didn’t.
“Let’s go.”
I followed him outside.
The morning air was cool.
The settlement was already awake.
People moved between houses.
Motorcycles passed along the muddy road.
Someone called out to the man.
He raised a hand in response.
Nobody seemed surprised to see me beside him.
We walked.
I carried the bag.
He said almost nothing.
Every now and then, I caught him looking at me.
Not openly.
Just enough.
Checking.
Watching.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t brought me along because he needed help carrying a bag.
He wanted me where he could see me.
We eventually left the houses behind.
The road narrowed.
Trees closed around us.
My grip tightened around the bag.
The metallic objects inside shifted again.
Clink.
We walked for several more minutes.
Then I saw it.
The Dome.
It stood beyond the trees, enormous and white, its curved exterior rising above the surrounding trees.
The man didn’t slow down.
He led me toward a smaller entrance on the side of the compound.
Not the main entrance.
A service door.
There was nothing remarkable about it.
Just a secured doorway set into the side of the facility.
The man unlocked it.
The metal clicked.
Then another lock.
Then another.
Three locks.
He opened the door.
I followed him inside.
The air was colder than outside.
There was a faint smell of detergent, something sharp and medicinal.
It reminded me of a hospital.
For a moment, I wondered whether I had misunderstood everything.
Perhaps the screams I’d heard from the Dome had come from somewhere else.
Then I heard it.
I stopped.
The man continued walking.
As though he hadn’t heard a thing.
Then came another sound.
A scream.
Unmistakably human.
It came from somewhere deeper inside.
The man turned his head.
“Keep up.”
I followed.
We passed a doorway left slightly ajar.
I slowed.
Then stopped.
The bag slipped slightly in my hand.
Because what I saw beyond that door
was not something a person was supposed to see.