The Book of Phoenix Read Online Free PDF

jumped from my chest. “Mmuo, good evening,” I said. He’d scared me, but I was glad to see him. Without Saeed, Mmuo was my only other friend now.
    â€œDid you hear?” he asked, sitting on my bed. He spoke quietly, his low voice like distant thunder.
    I blinked, feeling the rush of sadness all over again. He was Saeed’s friend, too. “Yes,” I said.
    â€œI’m sorry, Phoenix.”
    My face was wet and drying with sweat. “I’m getting out of here,” I declared.
    Mmuo softly laughed. “You?”
    â€œWill you help me?” I asked. “You once did things against the Big Eye in Nigeria. Can’t you . . . ?”
    â€œYou get it
wrong
. I went up against Nigeria’s government, but the Big Eye . . . I know better than anyone what the Big Eye will do when you cross them.”
    â€œWhat? What will they do?”
    He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not telling you that,” he snapped.
    â€œThen help me get out of here,” I begged. “Please.”
    He frowned. “What is wrong with you? I can feel you from here.”
    I sighed. “I think it has something to do with how they made me. It’s been happening for two weeks and it’s getting worse.”
    We looked at each other, silent. I knew we were thinking the same thing, but neither he nor I wanted to speak it. If we spoke of my name, I didn’t think I’d be able to move, let alone run.
    â€œYes, that would make sense,” he said.
    He called himself Mmuo, which meant spirit in a Nigerian language. He was a hero to all those who were created or altered in Tower 7. Like Saeed, Mmuo had been taken from Africa. He said he was from “the jungles of Nigeria,” the same country as my doctor Bumi. I didn’t believe he was from any jungle. He spoke like a man who had known skyscrapers, office buildings, and streaming movies. He knew how to disable the security on several of the floors and was known for causing trouble throughout the building. Not that he really needed to do so to get around the tower; Mmuo could walk through walls. The only walls he could not pass through were the walls that would get him out of Tower 7. Mmuo could not escape; obviously, his abilities were created by Tower 7 scientists.
    He was a tall, thin man with skin the color of, and as shiny as, crude oil. He never wore clothes, for clothes could not pass through the walls with him. He was so proud and frank in his nakedness that I didn’t even notice it any more. Mmuo stole what food he needed from the kitchens. He was the only person/creature who’d successfully escaped the Big Eye’s clutches.
    Why Tower 7’s Big Eye tolerated him, I do not know. My theory is that they simply could not catch him. And since he was contained, they accepted the trouble he occasionally stirred up. Most of those in the tower were too isolated and damaged to be much trouble if freed, anyway.
    â€œIt looks like your skin is nothing but a veil over something greater,” he mused, after an appraising look. It was something Saeed would have said, and the thought made my heart ache again.
    â€œCan you open the door?” I finally asked. I paused and then pushed my request out of my mouth. “I want to see what is down the hall, near Saeed’s room.”
    Mmuo met my gaze and held it.
    â€œWhat did Saeed see, Mmuo?”
    He shook his head and looked away.
    â€œShow me, then,” I said, suddenly wanting to sob. “And help me. Help me escape.”
    â€œSaeed and I, we had plans,” he said. “He always said that it was right beneath your skin,” he said with a slight smile.
    â€œThat what was?”
    â€œYour taste for freedom.”
    He moved close to me, and I was sure he was going to hug me.
    â€œDon’t touch me,” I said. “You’ll . . .”
    He raised a hand up and made to slap me across the face.