When Rami’s phone rang at midnight that day, she was awakened from such a deep slumber that she didn’t even check the caller ID or the time. She had been expecting a friend from the USA to call, so she just assumed that was the call she was expecting.
“Hello?”
Her voice was raspy from sleep, and a giant yawn followed her greeting.
“Rami? I need help! Please help me!”
Rami felt an instant chill, like cold water had been poured over her body. The frantic voice cleared the sleep from her eyes, and the shock made her take the phone off her ear to double-check the contact on her phone.
“Rami? Are you there? Rami, please!”
The voice was distant now because she was staring at the phone, but hearing it a second time caused a wave of fear and deep confusion to knock against her ribs. This could not be happening. But it looked like it was.
She scrambled into a sitting position, bringing the phone back to her ear. “Aba?”
Her voice was weak, shaky, and tentative.
“Oh, thank God!” Aba cried. “I thought you couldn’t hear me. Please, I don’t have much time, so please just listen, okay?”
Rami’s heart began to beat against her chest. This was real. This was happening. It was really Aba. There was so much she wanted to say and a plethora of regrets she wanted to apologise for. She never thought she would hear Aba’s voice again or have the chance to tell her how much she regretted their last conversation. And she had so many questions, but she was nothing if not a remarkably attentive listener. Her apologies and questions could wait.
“Okay.”
Rami’s voice was still a whisper. She had figured out what was happening. She was still asleep. This was a dream, and she would wake up to reality. So, for now, she would just listen. She would relish Aba’s voice one last time because there was no way that Aba could be calling her. She had already come to terms with never hearing from her again, and she wasn’t going to allow this stupid dream to give her false hope. So she kept quiet and listened.
Aba began to speak cryptically. “The answer you’re looking for is right in front of you. Just go back to the last day by yourself and ask the right questions. Make sure you listen to the answers carefully. You’re such an active listener, Rami. Make use of it. And please don’t trust anyone, especially no one in the last group photo I took. And remember that drunkards may sound mad, but they speak the truth sometimes. You only have to listen and ask them to talk more. You can do it, Rami. I believe in you, and I’ll be waiting.”
When the line went dead after that, Rami panicked.
“What? What does this mean? Aba? Aba!”
The sudden sound of thunder startled her, and her eyes filled with tears. What kind of joke was this? What kind of stupid, cruel dream was this?
It had been raining before she had slept, and Rami could still hear the sound of steady rain hitting against the roof. Strangely, she found it comforting, and a memory of Aba and her snuggling together under the comforter as kids while it rained outside ran through her mind. Maybe this dream wasn’t meant to be cruel. Perhaps the rain had brought it on. Rami shivered. The rain had brought some much-needed cool to help Accra fight the hot weather it had endured for months. She reached over to her bedside table to find the remote and turned off the AC. Slipping back into bed, she snuggled into her blanket and closed her eyes to sleep off the dream she had about her dead sister, who was buried almost two weeks ago, calling her to say strange things that made no sense.
*********
Somewhere in another part of the country, Aba handed the phone back to her keeper, who was staring at her with disapproval.
“I followed the rules!” Aba protested. “I didn’t tell her outright to come find me, and I didn’t mention anybody’s name or give any direct clues.”
Her keeper stared at her for a while and sighed. “You’re right. I was just worried that you were going to say too much. If you go against the rules, it will decrease the time you have left. But at the same time, you need to give her enough to be able to find you.”
Aba tried to be hopeful, trying not to feel fear while outside in a place that felt as though a thousand eyes were watching. “I think I gave her enough clues.”
“Do you think she’ll understand?” her keeper asked, who, unlike Aba, was comfortable in the eerie environment.
“I hope so. In the morning, at least. For now, knowing her, she probably thinks she’s dreaming.”
Her keeper nodded, feeling terrible.
“Thank you for this, for giving me a chance.” Aba said, meaning it.
“It’s the least I could do. I never have the power to save the girls who are brought here, but I try to give everyone a fighting chance before it’s too late.”
Aba gulped. “How many girls have you tried to help?”
Sad eyes bored into hers. “I don’t know. I stopped counting. Knowing the number helps no one, especially me.” But she remembered their faces. She remembered each and every one of their faces. She didn’t mention that, though.
“And how many of them were found before it was too late?”
The question slipped out before she could stop it, because she didn’t really want to know the answer. She couldn’t imagine that the answer would be encouraging, and she was right.
“None. But it could be different for you. You’re different.”
As they stared at each other, Aba felt her stomach drop. She could feel that they both needed the outcome to be different this time. She wondered what the other woman’s story was and how she ended up here, unable to leave and cursed to watch woman after woman come here, unable to help them. Most of all, Aba hated that she was putting this much responsibility on her younger sister. She was terrified of her fate if Rami didn’t manage to solve the mystery of her disappearance, but she was slightly comforted by the fact that even if she was unsuccessful, Rami would never know the fate that befell Aba because she couldn’t find her. She might just think it was a prank call if she hits a dead end. But she really, really hoped that Rami would find her. “Please, Rami, my beautiful, clever girl. Put that smart brain to use for me,” she whispered.
“I need to take you back,” the keeper said gently, her voice and expression filled with regret. Her superiors knew what she was doing. They knew that she was out here in the open air at midnight with their captor, trying to help her escape her impending fate. They always knew each time she tried it, but they didn’t complain as long as she stuck to the rules and didn’t stretch the boundaries too far.
She had found the loophole a few years ago and tried to use it to help the girls escape. The leaders had been amused by her impassioned plea to give the girls the chance to escape, and had readily agreed to allow the girls to try. After many attempts that had yielded no success, the keeper had understood the reason for their initial amusement and easy acquiescence. It was nearly impossible for their loved ones to locate the girls without providing obvious clues. Especially when they were at the last place anyone would ever dream of looking for them and the betrayal was often by the last person anyone would ever guess. The key was finding the culprit. Without finding the culprit, there was no hope of finding the girls.
As she led the latest victim (she never called them by their names; it was harder when she used their names before) back to her holding room, the keeper prayed to a god she didn’t believe in. “Please, let them find this girl. Somehow, let me be able to help one girl.”
