"O gini mere? What happened?" the neighbors asked, gathering around Alice.

"I am from Asaba and I got word about our hometown this morning," the man said. His accent was thicker than Alice 's, and Olanna understood his Igbo a moment after he had spoken. "The vandals took our town many weeks ago and they announced that all the indigenes should come out and say 'One Nigeria' and they would give them rice. So people came out of hiding and said 'One Nigeria' and the vandals shot them, men, women, and children. Everyone." The man paused. "There is nobody left in the Njokamma family. Nobody left."

Alice was lying on her back, rubbing her head frantically against the ground, moaning. Clumps of sand were in her hair. She jumped up and ran toward the road but Pastor Ambrose ran after her and dragged her back. She jerked away and threw herself down again, her lips pulled back, her teeth bared. "What am I doing still alive? They should come and kill me now! I said they should come and kill me!"

She was strengthened, emboldened, by the madness of grief and she fought off everyone who tried to hold her. She rolled on the ground with such force that the stones cut her skin in tiny red gashes. The neighbors said oh and shook their heads. Odenigbo came out of the room then and went over and picked Alice up and held her, and she stayed still and began to weep, her head resting on his shoulder. Olanna watched them. There was a familiar melding to the curve of Odenigbo's arms around Alice. He held her with the ease of someone who had held her before.

Finally Alice sat down on a bench, blank and stricken. From time to time, she would scream "Hei!" and stand up and place her hands on her head. Odenigbo sat by her and urged her to drink some water. He and the man from Asaba talked in low voices as if they alone were responsible for her, and afterward he came up to where Olanna was sitting on the veranda.

"Will you pack some of her things, nkem?" he asked. "The man says he has some Asaba people in his compound and he will take her to stay with them for a while."

Olanna looked up at him, her face blank. "No," she said.

"No?"

"No," she said again, loudly now. "No." And she got up and went into the room. She would not pack anybody's clothes. She did not know who did pack Alice 's things, perhaps Odenigbo did, but she heard the "Ije oma, go well," from many neighbors as Alice and the man left late in the evening. Olanna slept outside and dreamed of Alice and Odenigbo on the bed in Nsukka, their sweat on her newly washed sheet; she woke up with a raging suspicion in her heart and the boom of shelling in her ears.

"The vandals are close!" Pastor Ambrose cried, and he was first to run out of the compound, a stuffed duffel bag in his hand.

The yard erupted in activity, shouting, packing, leaving. The shelling, like burst after burst of horribly loud, vile coughing, did not stop. And the car did not start. Odenigbo tried and tried and the road was already crowded with refugees and the crashing explosions of mortars sounded as close as St. John's Road. Mama Oji was screaming at her husband. Mama Adanna was begging Olanna to let her get into the car with some of her children and Olanna said, "No, take your children and go."

Odenigbo started the engine and it whined and died. The compound was almost empty A woman on the road was dragging a stubborn goat and finally left it behind and hurried ahead. Odenigbo turned the key and again the car stalled. Olanna could feel the ground underneath vibrating with each boom.

Odenigbo turned the key again and again. The car would not start.

"Start walking with Baby," he said. Sweat clung to his brow.

"What?"

"I'll pick you both up when the car starts."

"If we are walking, we will walk together."

Odenigbo tried to start the car again. Olanna turned, surprised at how quiet Baby was, sitting in the back beside their rolled-up mattresses. Baby was watching Odenigbo carefully, as though urging both him and the car on with her eyes.

Odenigbo came out and opened the bonnet and Olanna climbed out, too, and let Baby out and then wondered what she would take from the boot and what she would leave behind. The compound was empty and only one or two people walked past the road now. There was the rattle of gunfire nearby. She was frightened. Her hands were shaking.

"Let's start walking," Olanna said. "Nobody is left in Umuahia!"

Odenigbo got in and took a deep breath and turned the key. The car started. He drove fast and, on the outskirts of Umuahia, Olanna asked, "Did you do anything with Alice?"

Odenigbo did not answer, looking straight ahead.

"I asked you a question, Odenigbo."

"Mba, I didn't do anything with Alice." He glanced at her and then looked ahead at the road.

They said nothing else to each other until they arrived in Orlu, and Kainene and Harrison came out of the house. Harrison began to unpack the things in the car.

Kainene hugged Olanna, picked Baby up, and then turned to Odenigbo. "What an interesting beard," she said. "Are we trying to copy His Excellency?"

"I never try to copy anyone."

"Of course. I had forgotten how original you are."

Kainene's voice was thick with the tension that surrounded them all. Olanna could feel it, moisture-heavy hanging over the room when Richard came back and stiffly shook hands with Odenigbo and, later, when they sat at the table and ate the yam slices Harrison served on enamel plates.

"We're here until we can find a place to rent," Odenigbo said, looking at Kainene.

Kainene stared back at him, raised her eyebrows, and said, " Harrison! Bring some more palm oil for Chiamaka."

Harrison came in and placed a bowl of oil before Baby. After he left, Kainene said, "He roasted a fantastic bush rat for us last week. But you would have thought it was a rack of lamb the way he went on about it."

Olanna laughed. Richard's laughter was tentative. Baby laughed too, as if she understood. And Odenigbo focused, unsmiling, on his plate. On the radio, there was a repeat broadcast of the Ahiara declaration, His Excellency's voice measured and determined.

Biafra will not betray the black man. No matter the odds, we will fight with all our might until black men everywhere can point with pride to this Republic, standing dignified and defiant, an example of African nationalism…

Richard excused himself and came back with a bottle of brandy and gestured toward Odenigbo. "An American journalist gave it to me."

Odenigbo stared at the bottle.

"It's brandy," Richard said, holding it out, as if Odenigbo did not know. They had not spoken since Odenigbo drove to his house years ago to shout at him. They had not spoken even after they shook hands today.

Odenigbo did not reach out to take the bottle.

"You can have Biafran sherry instead," Kainene said. "Possibly more suitable for your tough revolutionary liver."

Odenigbo looked at her and there was a small, sneering smile on his face, as though he was both amused and annoyed by her. He stood up. "No brandy for me, thank you. I should get to bed. I have quite a walk ahead of me, now that Manpower has moved to the bush."

Olanna watched him go inside. She did not look at Richard.

"Bedtime, Baby," she said.

"No," Baby said, and pretended to focus on her empty plate.

"Come right now," Olanna said, and Baby got up.

In the room, Odenigbo was tying his wrapper around his waist. "I was just coming to put Baby to bed," he said. Olanna ignored him.

"Sleep well, Baby, ka chifo" he said.

"Good night, Daddy."

Olanna placed Baby down on the mattress, covered her with a wrapper, kissed her forehead, and felt the sudden urge to cry at the thought of Ugwu. He would have slept on a mat in the living room.