For a brief moment, the two stared at each other, motionless. Aliyu didn't know what disoriented him more: seeing the redhead again or the fact that a thick layer of flames surrounded him even underwater? What disconcerted the African was the hair swirling like living flames around the stranger's head, or was it his angry gaze, his fists clenched at his waist, his chin lowered as if ready for battle? Was it imagining what the other would think of him, covered in black clay? Or was it the fact that the stranger was completely naked? 

Yes, the redhead wasn't wearing anything. And, at that very moment, the African, besides being lost, felt immensely grateful for being able to see through every corner of the black clay. If it weren't for that, his eyes would wander, hungry, over the bulky penis and scrotum, the large, round belly covered in tattoos and red hair, the nipples, the prominent chest, the strong arms and legs, the orange beard, the deep green eyes, as threatening as they were alluring.  

When the redhead walked towards him, his genitals swaying rhythmically with each step, Aliyu wanted to scream for him to stop. He felt, more than ever, like a sick and abnormal pervert. How could he delight in that sight when he was sure of the disgust the stranger would feel if he knew of his desires? The African thought about turning his back, covering his eyes with his hands, but he knew he would continue to see him exactly the same way. And he wouldn't know how to scream for the other to stop. In fact, since being covered by the clay, he hadn't uttered a single word. He had felt, from the beginning, his throat seized by the black clay, but only now did he understand what that meant for his ability to speak.  

To make matters worse, he began to feel that familiar warmth between his legs, the kind he knew all too well. Outside the black clay, that was an endless source of shame. He could barely hide the bulge under his pants, which led to laughter, pointing, and jokes. He couldn't predict how much the clay would hide, so he covered his groin with his hands and tried to control his thoughts, mentally screaming for it to stop.  

The redhead walked around him, his deep voice murmuring exclamations in a language Aliyu had never heard. The tattooed man shook his head, his hands covering now his incredulous eyes, now his mouth open in bewilderment. The stranger was certainly much taller than the Brazilians. Even so, his eye line only reached the African's chest. Then the redhead stopped in front of him and, looking up at Aliyu's face, asked some questions in what sounded like Portuguese. The naked man stared at him for a few moments, waiting for an answer. The African shrugged and turned his palms up, as he did when he didn't understand the Brazilians. That was when the other asked in English:  

"So you can hear me even underwater…"  

Surprised, Aliyu signaled yes.

"And apparently, you understand English," the other added. "You're human. Right? And you're not Brazilian."  

The African signaled again.

"My name is Drust. Drust McEith. I thought I was the strangest human being in the world. But it's good to know I'm not alone."

Aliyu didn't answer. He just lowered his head and remembered his sister, wondering how many more, strange like them, existed.

Drust remained silent, looking the African up and down, shaking his head. He still seemed angry when he asked:

"I guess you don't speak underwater, if you speak at all and if you can even have a human appearance."

Aliyu didn't make any gesture. He knew that before, except for his size, he looked like an ordinary man. But he didn't know if he could return to his old form. He felt a tremor deep inside, a visceral shaking that only he could perceive. It was as if his spine were trembling, and he might faint at any moment.

Fainting at the bottom of the river was not an appealing prospect.

Drust seemed calmer now. He took a deep breath — and the African realized that he was breathing flames — then studied Aliyu's face. "I know you can't speak," he said, his voice serious and formal, "but you're much quieter than before. If I'm making you uncomfortable…"

Aliyu raised his head and gestured "no" with his hand. Drust continued:

"Maybe it's the flames. Or the fact that I'm naked… It's just… I've never had clothes that could withstand my flames. But I can walk behind you… Or way ahead, if you'd rather."

The African gestured increasingly broad and rapid negatives. The redhead, his face tilted upwards, held Aliyu's gaze. "Besides," he said, "I believe there are people after me. Really bad people. They attacked me in Manaus. And I don't know what they would do if they discovered you."

I think they already have, Aliyu thought, but there was no way to gesture that. He felt less guilty now, replaced by a growing concern. If the Hammer Exos had attacked Drust, there were reasons beyond his own perceived depravity to stay close. He could protect Drust if they were found. It would be his way of apologizing, of doing some good.

At the same time, he feared that they would find Drust precisely because they were walking together. Maybe Aliyu was destined to be found, and the redhead wasn't. In that case, Drust would be throwing away his chances of escaping the Exos by staying with him.

The deep voice interrupted his thoughts:

"Well, we were both going downriver. So, I think the best idea is for you to go ahead. That way you don't have to walk with a naked weirdo, and if my enemies catch up with us, you can still escape."

The redhead stepped aside, clearing the way and extending his hand in front of Aliyu. He repeated the gesture when Aliyu didn't move. "You can go ahead."

The African imitated the gesture, offering the lead to the tattooed man.

"I don't think so, giant," Drust grumbled. "I'm pretty sure my enemies are coming from behind. Besides, you won't want to spend the rest of the walk with that ugly white ass in your face."

Aliyu's eyes widened, and he scratched his beard. His face burned. He was sure that if he weren't covered in black clay, he would be beet red with shame. As much as he desperately tried not to imagine the other's butt, the heat grew between his legs. As discreetly as possible, he put his hands back over his groin and focused on the half-naked women from the Manaus dawn, especially the one Drust had chosen last night.

"Alright," the redhead finally growled, taking the first step. "But if they catch up with us, you run, okay?"

Aliyu didn't try to answer. He just hurried to walk beside Drust, still with his hands crossed over his groin. If things went wrong, he already knew what he would do. And it definitely wouldn't be what the redhead ordered.

Meanwhile, in one of the most upscale neighborhoods of Manaus, the same blonde woman who had lured Aliyu out of the market rushed into an old warehouse. Her face was covered in cuts and bruises, her torso was in a cast, and her left arm was in a sling. A dozen of her compatriots were frantically typing commands into laptops while a timer ticked away in the corner of a screen on the main wall of the room. Almost an hour had passed since its activation. She, however, ignored all of this.

"Have they arrived yet?" she asked breathlessly, sitting down in front of one of the available laptops.

Colonel Walker looked her up and down. "Major Sanders," he murmured, his eyes wide, "those weren't just 9mm rounds. Playing tough won't help us if you faint here."

"Have they arrived yet?" she insisted.

"They have," the Colonel replied. "You got back just in time for the launch."

A few miles away, a plane dumped nine metal boxes along the Rio Negro. The effects wouldn't be felt immediately by the locals, but they would come, inevitably.