Sinking rapidly into the river, Aliyu needed more and more strength to move. The layer of black clay around him no longer seemed so malleable, but rather increasingly rigid. Breathing through it also became more and more difficult. Weakness and dizziness, little by little, took hold of the African's body and mind, bringing him dangerously close to unconsciousness.

However, before he fainted, he felt the black clay touch the riverbed. Perhaps he didn't need to swim after all. He didn't have, by far, all the vigor that the clay had given him at the Cathedral, nor did he breathe easily, but there was no sign that it would get any worse. And most importantly, there was no indication that he was being followed. After all, it would be hard to imagine those Exos underwater.

Although he didn't need to, he turned his face upward as he examined the river's surface. There was a lot, a lot of water above him, enough that almost no light reached him. Even so, he could tell it was still broad daylight up there. But at the bottom of the river, it felt like night. All he could make out were the shapes of plants and fish, of various types and sizes. He wondered what he would see when night fell, as lighting a torch was impossible.

The bubbles around him had practically ceased. He needed to decide what to do. He would certainly have to get out of the water at some point, but he would do it far from there. He could finish crossing the river, to the bank opposite the city, but he would hardly throw the Hammer Exos off that way. Returning to Manaus was out of the question, so he had to decide between walking against the current or with it. Against the current, there would be less inhabited regions, perfect for shaking off his enemies. He could spend the rest of his life in the middle of the forest, leaving no trace. But he wouldn't be able to get money to help his sister.

As soon as he thought of little Zainab, he felt his heart clench, cold. Instinctively, he brought one of his hands to his back, searching for his old backpack. First, he remembered that even if he still had it, it would be covered by the black clay, as would his hand. Then he remembered that he could see both inside and outside that new viscous skin around him. And he could see his old clothes in tatters from the battle, but no sign of the backpack. Which surely meant that it had been lost while the Exos were beating him.

Months of hard and literally sweaty work were no longer useful for anything. He was back to square one, but this time with much less time to raise the money he needed to save his little sister. But what other option did he have? The only solution was to follow the current, towards the Atlantic. Preferably to a heavily populated area, where he might be able to hide among the crowd and work to raise the money his sister needed.

It took him a minute to be sure which way the current was leaning. Even dizzy and disoriented, he walked. Much slower than usual, but he walked. Half an hour later, he was startled by the sound of a boat's engine. As he resumed his walk, he wondered what was happening up there. Who was that woman and the Exos? What did they want with him, after all, to the point that they were willing to sacrifice Brazilians? How many had been hurt, or worse, because of him?

Like lightning, the possibility that the redhead was among the dead came to him. Aliyu felt his heart race to the point of physical pain in his chest. He imagined, in a flash, the hand covered in orange hair, bleeding under the rubble of the cathedral. Suddenly, the universe became much colder than the bottom of the river, in a cold and dark implosion of emptiness.

The African lost track of how long he stood there, paralyzed, unable to think. However, little by little, reason returned. This disease was much more serious than he imagined. He knew it was insane to desire men, but now he realized the gravity of it. Why did he care so much about someone he had glimpsed for a few seconds? Why did he keep thinking about him? Why, even recognizing the strangeness of what he felt, did it continue to hurt so much, to the point that he couldn't move a single muscle?

It was at that point that he noticed his own shadow projected forward. Even before turning around, he knew that something was shining behind him and that, judging by the shadows it cast, the source of the light would also be at the bottom of the river. It could be some kind of beacon, maybe new weapons from the Hammer Exos. What he saw, however, left him much more confused.

That light came from flames and, as if that wasn't strange enough underwater, they were flames in human form. Flames that even imitated the running of an adult, approaching frighteningly fast.

Aliyu didn't know, at first, what to do. Was it some kind of spirit? His parents, despite being monotheistic, always spoke of spirits in the African forests and waters, but never anything like this. From the Brazilians, he had never picked up, from the little he understood of Portuguese, any legend about that being. Which also didn't mean it wasn't a spirit or supernatural entity.

The thing stopped a few yards from him, and a cloud of mud covered everything around. Even unable to see through that underwater dust, the African was sure that he was being watched. He felt a lump in his throat, his stomach clenched, and his legs wobbly, but he couldn't identify why. He recognized it as fear, which was entirely understandable, but he felt neither the urge to flee nor to fight. Somehow that was worse: it was an absolutely disorienting helplessness.

When the current dissipated the cloud of mud, Aliyu's heart leaped. Under the flames, he first recognized the tattoos, then the pattern of hair on the chest, and finally the red beard. He recognized those serious, almost angry eyes, staring at him from under the flames, scrutinizing him from top to bottom.

Against all odds, there he was, before him, the man who stubbornly lingered in his thoughts. And worse, he didn't look happy at all.