…Sequel to “ANTS”
Fifteen years after the tragedy, I had moved to the city, started afresh, built a new life. A wife. A child. A good job. We moved into our new home on the outskirts of the city. It was everything I thought I needed until the ants came.
At first, it was nothing. A few by the kitchen sink. Then by the staircase. Then they started appearing in the baby’s cot. Crawling all over the house, seeping through windows and door cracks.
We fumigated, sprayed, cleaned. We sealed holes, hired pest control— nothing worked. If anything, they returned stronger.
My wife began to panic after our child was bitten one night. She wanted us to leave. But I couldn’t. The house cost too much. I told her I would handle it. But deep down, I was terrified and didn’t know what to do. Each night, I heard them in the walls. Scratching and whispering. At 12:00 midnight on the dot, they would start moving in a line just like that night back in Zaria. I began to lose sleep. I remembered Kaka’s warning. Could it be her? Had she come back to haunt me? I didn’t spare the first ant like she said. Maybe… maybe she wanted revenge.
I spent money. I brought in experts, insectologists, pest services, traditional herbalists. Some took my money and disappeared. One clergyman came and prayed. He screamed when he saw the ants pour out of the wall socket. And he never returned. I dug up my old Bible. Burnt incense. Sprinkled holy water. Prayed. Fasted. Nothing. The ants grew bolder.
One night, I heard a rustling under the center rug. I peeled back a corner. The ants swarmed. Black. Thick. Countless. I screamed. My wife was done, she took our daughter to her mother’s. Now I was alone. The fear changed me. I paced at night, knife in hand, lights on. Then I started talking to the walls, warning the ants to leave me alone.
Desperate, I returned to Zaria. I needed answers. I needed a solution. I needed help. The village was cold and empty. Most of the old ones were dead. Kaka’s hut was nothing but clay and grass. I asked questions but no one could help.
Maybe the new Sarkin could help but I lacked the guts to take him back to that night many years ago. What if I get punished for what I did? The trip was an effort in futility. I went to Zaria alright. But I couldn’t talk to anybody about why I was there. I returned to the city with more fear and confusion than I left.
I returned to work but my mind was elsewhere. I wasn’t myself—I struggled to focus and kept making mistake after mistake. Then a colleague pulled me aside, he asked what was bothering me and I opened up to him about everything. He told me about a soil scientist—someone who studied underground ecosystems, at this point I had nothing to lose so I called him. He came with his equipments—metal rods, scanners and a box of sensors then he spent hours walking around my house, tapping and digging small samples. It took him several hours of work but that evening, he gave me the report.
“Did anyone tell you what this land used to be?”
I shook my head.
Read also: Ants
“This land was once an ancient anthill colony. A massive one. When they built this house, they destroyed the ant hill so the ants went dormant but only for a while.”
“So… this is natural?” I asked, relief and horror clashing in my throat.
He nodded. “Yes it is natural. These ants are not regular pests.
I asked, “So it’s not something spiritual?”
He shook his head. “No. But it’s dangerous. You disturbed their home and now they’re reacting.”
He showed me a scan that revealed several lines running under the house like spiderwebs. It was their network and my house was sitting right on top of it.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I should have felt better knowing it wasn’t Kaka. But somehow, this felt worse.
At 2 a.m., I heard the sound again. Not from outside but from inside the walls. Then the ceiling started to crack and before I could even move, it gave way.
Ants started pouring down. From the walls. The fans. The sockets. Everywhere. Hundreds and thousands of ants. I didn’t wait. I grabbed my keys, ran out of the house barefoot. I didn’t even stop to look back. I looked at the house from a distance and saw them—ants had taken over the whole place. I slept in my car that night. I was glad that my wife and daughter weren’t there.
The next day, the soil scientist told me the truth. “You need to leave that house. Burn it if you must. But don’t ever live in it again.”
So I let it go. I left everything behind and we found a new place. No garden. No backyard. No soil. Just walls, tiles and peace. Nothing to remind us of where we were coming from. Sometimes I still hear the sound in my head but I know it’s all in my head.
It’s been four years since we settled into a new life. But lately… something has changed. My daughter, Zara, has been waking up at night… screaming. She tells me she sees an old woman in her room. Every time, it’s the same thing.
“She just stands there, Daddy. By the door. She doesn’t talk. She just looks at me and points at the floor.”
I ask her to describe the woman.
“She’s old… very old. She wears a wrapper. Her hair is grey.”
My chest tightens every time I hear it.
Could it be Kaka? But why now? Why after all these years?
Zara has never seen her photo. Yet the way she describes her is too accurate.
Every time she wakes me with those screams, I feel that same fear that I felt the night the ants came into my room in Zaria and when they poured down from the ceiling at the old house.
Last night, Zara said the old woman finally spoke. I asked, “What did she say?”
And Zara looked up at me and whispered:
“She said, ‘He never listened.”
