Page 104 of Death of the Author

“What about the kidnappers?” she asked, pulling herself fully upright.

“They ran as soon as you got away and the guard started shooting in your direction.”

She swallowed hard. “So if I hadn’t run...”

Her uncle nodded. “I think someone would have died.”

Her shoulders sagged, the reality of how close they’d all been to a full-on firefight settling into her bones. “But the kidnappers got away.”

Her uncle’s eyes flashed with heat. “For the time being. Now that I know Ogo was involved, I know what to do. Ah, the disrespect, o. Word of mouth will punish him. You are known in the region. You are loved. And you are our blood. People will be angry that these idiots ran you off.” He frowned deeper, cocking his head, and Zelu knew he was thinking about “jungle justice,” when the community handled the meting out of punishment, usually with violence. She couldn’t stop him, but she didn’t plan to be in the country when it all played out, anyway.

Zelu waved a hand. All that mattered at this point was that she and the others get the fuck out of here and onto a plane back to Lagos, then home. She’d had enough of Nigeria for a long while. “Where are Hugo, Marcy, and Uchenna?”

“With Uchenna’s family,” her uncle said. “His grandfather wouldn’t have it any other way. Uchenna got in a fistfight with one of the kidnappers who’d lost his gun. He beat the guy up pretty badly, but when the guy fled, Uchenna didn’t stop him. Your white friend with the robot legs is shaken up, though. They all are.”

“What about Onyemobi?” Zelu croaked, another wave of worry hitting her.

“Onyemobi is well. He and I will handle the rest. Don’t worry” was all her uncle said, a dark look on his face.

When Uncle Ralph left to go make a call, she picked up her cell phone. It was dusty but otherwise in good shape. She looked at its dark screen, afraid of what she’d see when she woke it up. She reveled in the ignorance for a moment. She’d been recording live all that time. Millions had tuned in. People had heard and alerted the authorities. Her family had probably seen the whole thing, too, by now. Her mother must have been sick with worry. She’d warned Zelu about this very thing, and Zelu had dismissed her warnings. Her mother was probably cursing Zelu’s recklessness.

Zelu touched the screen, and the first thing she saw was that Yebo haddone something interesting. It had created what it called a “Window of Love” on the top lefthand side of her phone. In it was a list of comments from social media that were full of compassion, praise, and encouragement.

We love you, Zelu!

Queen of Robots!

You’re so COOL!

Area Boy no fit catch you!

001100111!!

I wish I could be like you!

We were all watching!

I literally love you!

Never stop writing!

In all of what had happened, she’d forgotten she still had fans. There were people out there who loved her stories, who worried about her, who wanted her to be okay, who lovedher! She shut her eyes for a moment, blinking away tears.

Then she saw the list of missed calls, emails, and texts from her mother, siblings, agents, and even acquaintances. It was as if everyone who had her phone number had tried reaching her within the last few hours. Msizi had been calling every hour since around the time she was taken to the hospital.

She took a glance online and saw that she’d made national and international news. Her live video had gone massively viral. The author who’d become famous for writing a drama about robots was now at the center of her own robot drama in real life. People were talking excitedly about the science behind her amazing exos. Though most of the chatter was kind, there were also people who were laughing at the arrogant Nigerian American who thought she was untouchable. Some were speculating about how much her ransom would have been. Some said the kidnappers were Boko Haram and that the terrorists had planned to sell her off as a robot wife.Someone said they were Fulani herdsmen who wanted to sell her off as a robot cow. Nigeria was looking very bad in all this. She put her phone down.

“Man, oh man,” she muttered. What had she done?

Yebo dinged and a window popped up.

Remember the Window of Love

It included a link back to all the kinder comments she’d viewed before.

Sighing, she threw her phone onto the blanket by her feet. What good was love if she could only see it through a window?

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