The Seed Under the TreeMonths later, Dave returned to the Mercy-Land Refugee Camp. It was no longer a camp; it was a ghost of a place, overgrown with elephant grass and wildflowers. The rusted gates were half-buried in the mud.
He walked to the center of the clearing, to the ancient mango tree that had stood witness to the great deception.
He knelt at the roots and dug a small hole. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single, polished coral bead—one he had hidden from the police during the investigation. It was the bead Edna had placed around the false Graham's neck on the day of his first presentation to the Chiefs.
"Let the earth have it," Dave whispered.
He buried the bead and stood up. As he turned to leave, he saw a young boy sitting in the branches of the tree, swinging his legs. The boy looked down at him, his face dirty but his eyes bright.
"Are you looking for someone, Oga?" the boy asked.
Dave looked at the child—another generation, another survivor in a city that never stopped breathing. He smiled, a sad, weary thing.
"No, my son," Dave said, his voice lightened by the truth. "I think everyone has finally been found."
He walked away, leaving the mango tree behind. The wind rustled the leaves, a sound like a thousand whispered secrets, but for the first time in nearly thirty years, no one was listening for a lie.
The End.