AFLOAT Season 4 E. 5

Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.

            - Thomas Edison

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Ituron Community

Rain pelted the zinc roof of the quiet living room, filling the silence Boma had been drowning in for the past three days. Ever since the village doctor pronounced Maurice dead, her world had collapsed. Maurice, the tough man she had fallen in love with was felled by a sudden heart attack. He was gone before neighbors could even carry him to the local clinic. 

Watching the morticians carry his body away felt like a horrific nightmare and ever since, nothing else mattered. Not even the fragile new life growing inside her. 

A quiet clearing of a throat snapped her back to reality. Boma blinked, her dull stare sharpening as she remembered Eric sitting across from her. He had come under the guise of paying his respects, but she knew better. Maurice’s death was too sudden, too suspicious, and as head of the village vigilante group and a former friend, Eric wasn't there just to offer condolences. He wanted answers.

"I don't understand it," Eric finally said, breaking the heavy silence. "He was fine when I left that night. Boma, what really happened?"

Boma wiped a fresh stream of tears from her cheeks, her shoulders trembling. She looked up at him, her voice ragged and worn thin.

"It was the phone call, Eric," she choked out, clutching a crumpled handkerchief to her chest. "Right after you and your men stepped out, a call came in. He ran into the bedroom. I have never seen him that excited to receive a call. Yet, he was trying to hide what he was hearing from uncle Ambrose..."

She paused, taking a shaky breath as the memory replayed behind her eyes.

"I watched his face change from pure excitement to absolute terror. Next thing I knew, he was yelling into the phone, asking who died. Then... his knees just gave out. He slid down the wall, clutching his chest like something was tearing him apart from the inside."

Eric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his brow deeply furrowed. Hearing Boma's account confirmed the gnawing suspicion that had kept him awake since midnight.

"A phone call..." Eric repeated slowly, his tone turning cold and measured. "Did you hear who was on the line? Did he say a name?"

Boma shook her head helplessly, her voice trembling. "I—I don't really know... I think he called him Stan. Stanley. The speaker was loud, so I heard him talking about a bird... a bird that died before it could be delivered."

She broke into fresh, helpless sobs. Eric sat back, waiting patiently in the heavy quiet for her to compose herself. After a moment, Boma wiped her eyes and fixed a hollow stare on Maurice's framed portrait hanging above the doorway.

"The man on the phone," she continued, her voice barely a whisper, "he said something about a girl running into the river..."

Eric’s eyes narrowed sharply as a cold chill raced down his spine. The scattered pieces snapped together with terrifying clarity.

Dapper.

"Stanley," Eric muttered, his hands tightening into hard fists against his knees. He looked back up at Boma, his gaze sharp and focused. "Boma, where is Maurice’s phone right now?"

"It... it's on the small table by the bedside," Boma stammered, pointing a trembling hand toward the dark hallway. "I haven't touched it since that night, Eric. I was too terrified."

Without a word, Eric stood up...

CONTINUE 

Previously AFLOAT Season 3