Original language: English
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It was 10:00 p.m. in Manaus, Brazil.
The city breathed in its own rhythm, humid, dense, almost suffocating. The night air carried the scent of the Rio Negro mingled with asphalt still glowing with the brilliance left by the sun's blaze. In the distance, the rainforest stood as a silent, dark presence, as if watching everything.
Eduardo was exhausted.
The entire weekend had been consumed by a rather ambitious project: the construction of a bridge over a wide branch of the Rio Negro. On paper, the structure was elegant, well-distributed pillars, modular steel beams, flawless structural calculations. In reality, it was a constant technical battle.
The region's soil was unstable, composed of deep sediment layers that required piles driven dozens of meters down before reaching adequate resistance. The river's water level shifted dramatically between flood and dry seasons, altering structural loads entirely. Transporting the steel beams depended on barges delayed by weather conditions. Environmental permits were strict. Any mistake could cost millions, and reputations.
Logistics.
Specialized labor.
Impossible deadlines.
His mind was still trapped in spreadsheets when his phone vibrated.
The car had arrived.
The window slowly rolled down.
Eduardo?
The voice was pressed but composed.
He slipped into the car tossing a distracted greeting her way. He muttered under his breath "Finally, home here I come!".
In the rear-view mirror, her eyes lifted.
She studied him for a second longer than necessary.
The woman's lips pressed into a thin line, the kind that doesn't quite become a frown but carries its weight. One brow arched slightly. Not surprised just unimpressed. The look wasn't loud, wasn't dramatic. It was measured. A silent assessment.
Then came the shrug.
Small. Controlled. Almost elegant
A subtle lift of one shoulder as if to say, of course. One of those
Her gaze lingered in the mirror just long enough for the message to settle, then dropped back to the road. Professional composure returned to her posture; hands steady on the wheel.
If he noticed the look, he surely didn't show it.
She looked about twenty-two. Carefully braided hair, subtle makeup, and eyes that seemed far too observant for someone her age. She didn't smile, but she didn't appear nervous either. Just attentive.
She confirmed the address efficiently.
The engine hummed as the car pulled away.
The city lights streaked across the windshield.
As they drove through Manaus, Eduardo noticed how the city changed at night. Modern glass buildings contrasted with remnants of the rubber-boom era. Bright avenues suddenly gave way to darker stretches. The river appeared between structures like a moving shadow.
She drove with precise, economical movements. No wasted gestures. No hesitation.
Fifteen minutes to the hotel.
Shower.
Silence.
Sleep.
That was all he wanted.
Two blocks before arriving, the traffic light turned red.
The car stopped.
The engine idled softly.
Eduardo glanced at the dashboard.
10:17 p.m.
Something subtle happened then.
She adjusted the rearview mirror, not casually, but deliberately. Measuring distance.
A dark car pulled up beside them.
Its window lowered slowly.
Too slowly.
An arm extended outward.
Metal reflected the yellow streetlight.
She was already pressing the accelerator before the first shot was fired.
The light was still red when the Uber surged forward.
The gunshot cracked through the thick night air. Another followed instantly.
Glass splintered.
The rear window fractured.
Eduardo twisted in his seat, heart pounding violently.
What was that?!
Gunshots. the driver said still retaining her composure.
I know it was a gunshot, why was it a gunshot?! Eduardo whispered under his breath
She didn't answer.
She took a sharp right turn without slowing, entering a narrower avenue. The car behind followed immediately. Headlights glued to their rear bumper.
More shots.
A bullet struck the fender. Another ricocheted off the pavement.
Her movements were minimal. Controlled. Every lane change balanced at the exact edge between risk and precision.
The speedometer climbed.
70 mph.
Nearly 90 mph.
They passed through a poorly lit stretch where shadows swallowed the road. A bus appeared ahead. She slowed just enough to slip past it through a gap that barely existed.
The pursuing car almost collided.
But recovered.
Eduardo tried calling the police.
No signal.
The internet had dropped.
Another detail that didn't feel accidental.
She turned into a sequence of side streets, then merged back unto the main avenue as if tracing a pattern. Eduardo realized she wasn't fleeing randomly.
She was guiding the chase.
The pursuing car attempted to pull alongside again. Another shot rang out, closer this time.
She leaned slightly forward, focused.
No trembling hands.
No panicked breathing.
Just calculation.
A road sign indicated access to the bridge crossing a branch of the river.
She glanced at the dashboard again.
10:19 p.m.
Exactly two minutes.
A chill ran through Eduardo, not entirely from fear.
She accelerated.
The bridge entrance shimmered slightly under a thin layer of condensation. Nearly invisible. Dangerous.
A truck ahead slowed unexpectedly.
She swerved to overtake.
The tires lost grip.
First faintly.
Then violently.
The rear of the car slid.
The guardrail rushed toward them.
Impact.
Metal screamed.
For a suspended second that felt eternal, the car hung in midair.
Eduardo turned to look at her.
Her eyes were open.
And there was something there that didn't match panic.
It was decision.
The car plunged.
The impact with the river was brutal. Water engulfed them in crushing darkness.
Glass shattered.
Air escaped in violent bubbles.
Pressure.
Cold.
Disorientation.
Eduardo fumbled for his seatbelt, hands shaking uncontrollably.
And then he noticed.
Before the car even stabilized underwater, she was already reaching beneath her seat, a precise, practiced motion.
As if she knew exactly what to do.
As if she had done this before.
In that moment, the fear changed shape.
Maybe the danger wasn't only in the car that had been shooting at them.
Maybe it had been sitting beside him all along.
© 2026 Ana Ejimonye. Published by The Insight Docket under the author's contributor publishing licence.