Cries from the Lost Island

by Kathleen O'Neal Gear

  I headed for our tent.

  Roberto walked along beside me. “Are you sure that was a good idea?”

  “I’ve never been this scared in my life, Roberto.” The breeze had picked up. Across the camp tents jostled and creaked. “I figured someone else needed to know just in case something unfortunate should happen to me. Or you. Or both of us.”

  I stumbled.

  Roberto grabbed my arm to keep me from falling. “You’re still shaky, Hal. Hold on to me while we walk. I should never have left you alone tonight. God, I’m sorry.”

  I placed my hand on his shoulder to steady my steps as we walked. “I wanted you to. How did it go with Sarah?”

  “Pretty boring, actually. She got orgasmic over a bunch of broken rocks glued together to form pictures on the floor of a bathroom.”

  “I suspect that was a priceless Roman mosaic.”

  “Yeah. Well.” He tilted his head back to stare up at the night sky and seemed to be appreciating the brilliant patterns of the constellations. “Did the creep that attacked you steal the dagger?”

  I thought about lying. If I said yes, the dagger would be safer. And my friend would be safer. Not only that, I was pretty sure the only person I could absolutely trust was me.

  “No, I hid it, Roberto. I was afraid—”

  “Do not tell me where. I don’t want to know. That way, if I’m captured, they can’t torture it out of me.”

  “But what if something happens to me. . . ?”

  Footsteps padded across the sand in the darkness to my right. I whirled around with my heart in my throat, searching every possible place where she might be standing.

  Roberto looked out into the starlight, then gave me a concerned glance. His largest freckles resembled painted splotches. As he reached around to pull the pistol from where he kept it tucked into the back of his pants, he said, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I thought I heard . . . Nothing.”

  Frowning, Roberto whispered, “Are you sure you’re all right? You’re starting to worry me.”

  I didn’t need to ask why. Demons. Ghosts. Nonexistent corridors. Footsteps of invisible people. Had I not been injured in the attack, I suspect Roberto would have thought I’d imag—

  I kept walking, but the shifting sand beneath my boots no longer felt solid or even real.

  My whole body had gone numb.

  Egypt was an emotionally charged place for me, and this had been a traumatic day in more ways than one. When had I first started feeling that perplexing sense of disconnection? Like my own body was unfamiliar? I knew exactly when. It had started the instant Samael showed me the grave of the entwined skeletons. Perhaps that, and the marker that bore Cleopatra’s name, had triggered a dissociative flight of fantasy?

  That’s ridiculous. I have bruises everywhere. I smelled the man’s breath, for God’s sake.

  “Roberto? Can I ask you . . .”

  “What?”

  Feeling stupid, I made an airy gesture with my hand. “Did we actually board a plane to Egypt? Are we really here? Or did my parents institutionalize me, and I’m huddled in the corner of a padded room dreaming all this?”

  Roberto came to a dead stop. With a passion I’d never heard before, he said, “You think this is all a delusion?”

  “Well, think about it.” My voice sounded pathetic even to me. “It could be. What if I am just some crazy kid that can’t get over the murder of the love of his life?”

  Roberto shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and balled them into fists. “First off, asking me to tell you what’s real and what isn’t is kind of a waste of time. I don’t know myself. And if I’m a figment of your imagination, I’m going to tell you what you want to hear, right?”

  That was sobering. “I wish you hadn’t pointed that out. You’re the only thing that’s been keeping me sane. If you’re not real, I’m lost.”

  I started to walk off, but he grabbed my shoulder to stop me.

  “Second, we need to stay frosty, bro. I don’t understand why they’re in such a hurry to get their hands on the dagger. They haven’t found the grave of the Sem priest yet, have they?”

  “I don’t think there ever was a Sem priest burial, Roberto. When we were standing over the entwined skeletons, Samael told me the dagger had come from the hand of the larger skeleton, and it wasn’t a Sem priest.”

  “But it still might be, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “We have to figure this out, Hal. By attacking you tonight, they’ve taken this thing to the next level. They must be in a hurry.”

  The wind whispered through the ruins like a sad human voice calling out for someone to listen. “I think it has something to do with the bizarre cultish crap Dr. Corbelle mentioned tonight.”

  “I didn’t understand any of that. I mean, did Cleo ever tell you she was supposed to grow up and lead Egypt to world domination?”

  “No.”

  We started walking again.

  After ten paces, Roberto quietly said, “Hal, listen, we have round-trip tickets. Do you want to go home? For fifty bucks I’ll bet we can hire some student here to take us to the Port Said airport.”

  My gaze traveled along the length of the dark Roman fortress and moved out into the ruins until it came to rest on the amphitheater. When the wind gusted, sand blew around the circular walls in a glittering starlit haze. Too beautiful to be real. This was the kind of visual effect Steven Spielberg would create in a science fiction epic. An alien landscape that took the breath away with its sheer otherworldly magnificence.

  Maybe that’s exactly what I needed. A nice trip to the local Colorado sanitarium where they could dope me up and check my feces every day.

  Night birds chirped out in the marshes, and the sounds carried across the site.

  “Roberto, do you want to go home? It’s okay if you do.”

  He was silent for way too long before he said, “I was there when she died, Hal. She’d want me to help you, which means I’m staying.”

  As we trudged through the sand, my fear started to ebb and my brain worked a little better. “I suspect they’ve taken this to the next level because they’re afraid we’re going to find Cleopatra’s grave before they find the Sem priest.”

  “What happens if we do?”

  “No idea.”

  “Let’s say we put the dagger in Cleopatra’s grave, can’t they just pull it out and go stuff it into the Sem priest’s hand?”

  “Sure. If there is a Sem priest.”

  When we got close to Moriarity’s tent, the sound of hushed voices rose, but stopped instantly. They must have heard us coming.

  We passed in silence.

  Continuing on, I halted in front of Samael’s tent. The old man was absolutely silent. Was he actually in there sleeping? Maybe he was awake and staring blindly at the roof pole in his tent, thinking about Cleopatra’s rebellion to come. I considered calling out to him, asking him if we could talk with him for a few minutes.

  “Do you think we should knock on his tent?” Roberto asked.

  “No. He looked exhausted at dinner. Let’s leave him alone.”

  “But he has to be awake. How could anyone sleep through the hullabaloo that’s rocked the camp over the last thirty minutes?”

  Jerking a nod, I softly called, “Samael? Are you awake?”

  No response.

  I motioned to Roberto. “We’ll talk to him tomorrow. Besides, I’m tired, and I hurt. I need to sleep.”

  Just ahead, the front flap of our tent whipped back and forth in the wind. I longed to get inside where I could collapse onto my sleeping bag and hopefully fall into a dreamless sleep. As the adrenaline evaporated from my body, I felt completely drained.

  And scared.

  Really scared.

  Ducking beneath the flap, I got o
n my hands and knees and crawled onto my sleeping bag where I stretched out, fully dressed, and closed my eyes. It was too dark to see anything inside, but the walls seemed to be breathing; shifting with life, whispering. And somewhere in the distance faint laughter echoed through the ruins. It must be my imagination, but the things I was hearing . . . It sounded like there was more going on outside than night wind and human voices could account for. Things moved, tiptoed toward the tent. I considered ancient Roman ghosts, with spears and shields up, and had the urge to flee for my life. But I was less afraid of them than of the thing that had shaped itself into my Cleo, right down to the subtle nuances of her accent.

  Unless, of course, it had been Cleo.

  Dear God, a person could go crazy thinking about this.

  Outside, Roberto sat down on the sand. The magazine of his pistol clacked as he released the catch to let it fall out so he could check the ammunition. Finally, he slapped the magazine back into the gun, and there was another click. Switching the safety on?

  Or off?

  My bodyguard. The only person on earth I could trust.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Hal?” a soft voice called. “Hal?”

  Rousing from deep slumber, I answered without opening my eyes. “Roberto?”

  “It’s about a quarter to six. I thought you might want to get up and comb your hair before Dr. Corbelle gets here.”

  My body felt like lead. It took real effort to move my arms and legs into a sitting position. When I managed to sit up, I discovered that I ached all over and had a monstrous headache. Wincing, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and yawned. Cool morning wind blew over me, bringing me the scent of coffee.

  By the time I’d crawled forward and unzipped the mesh screen. I saw the two cups half-buried in the sand beside Roberto.

  “Where did you get coffee?”

  “Sarah is an early riser. She came by a little while ago to say hi. I asked her to bring me two cups from the cook tent.” He lifted one of the cups and held it out to me. “How are you feeling this morning? There’s only one of me sitting here. You see that, right?”

  Smiling, I took the cup. “Yeah, I see that. Thanks for asking.” As I slumped down on the sand beside him, I said, “My guard duty started at two. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “Figured you needed the rest more than I did.”

  I sipped the coffee. It was still warm and tasted wonderful. “I appreciate it, but you’re going to be falling asleep on your feet by noon.”

  “I’ll survive. No nausea or blurred vision?”

  I shook my head. “No. Except for some impressive bruises and a few nasty cuts, I’m okay. Just a headache.”

  Most of the camp stood around outside the tents, talking and laughing, but a few students wandered the ruins. One dark-haired woman was sitting in a lotus position on top of the fortress wall with her eyes closed. Meditating in the gleam of sunrise, I supposed.

  “So Sarah came by, huh?”

  “Yeah, she can’t stay away from me. I had no idea I was so good at casting love spells.”

  I took a drink of coffee. “Thank God you brought all those condoms.”

  “Yeah, and to think that I was worried I’d have to use them as water wings to swim home.”

  “No chance of that now. Just don’t forget to wear one.”

  “What are you, my mom?”

  “I’m serious. You don’t know what kind of diseases they have in Arizona. I read somewhere that the prairie dogs around Phoenix have bubonic plague.”

  “Sarah doesn’t look like the type to hook up with prairie dogs, but I’ve been wrong before.”

  Dr. Moriarity’s tent shuddered as he unzipped the mesh screen and threw back the flaps to duck outside carrying his fedora. He hadn’t buttoned his white shirt, so I could see the gray T-shirt he wore underneath. Looking out across the ruins, he didn’t seem to see us at first. Instead, his gaze fixed on LaSalle Corbelle and Lacey Borden who were walking toward him. While he waited for them to arrive, he buttoned up his shirt, then put on his fedora and arranged it at a jaunty angle on his head.

  “LaSalle,” Moriarity greeted her with a cold smile. “Good morning.”

  Dr. Corbelle slowed down long enough to say, “Morning, Jim,” and continued walking toward me and Roberto.

  To my chagrin, Moriarity followed Corbelle. While Moriarity smiled at me in a sympathetic manner, I sized him up, trying to decide if that was the body that had knocked me flat last night. Could be, but I wasn’t sure, and my attacker had been Egyptian. He’d had a slight accent. Of course, he could have deliberately disguised his voice. By the time the man hit me, I was so terrified that little details were the least of my concerns.

  “Decided I’d come to you this morning, Hal. How are you?” Lacey called. She carried her medical bag over her shoulder.

  “Fine. I really appreciate you helping me last night.”

  Roberto and I stood up.

  Lacey stopped in front of me and studied my face, paying special attention to the purple goose egg above my left temple. “That’s going to hurt for a while. Any additional bleeding last night?”

  “There was a little on my space blanket this morning, but nothing to get excited about.”

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Straight through. I don’t even recall dreaming.”

  She looked at me speculatively, as though not certain that was a good thing. “Do you have a headache this morning?”

  “Yes, but it’s bearable.”

  “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?”

  “I don’t know, a five, maybe.” Actually it was an eight.

  “Do you have aspirin? Ibuprofen?”

  “Aspirin. I’ll take a couple before we go to work today.”

  She pointed a finger at me. “Do it. No macho bullshit. Real men do need to keep brain inflammation down. If you have a mild concussion, working today is going to make it much worse. Understand?”

  “I’ll take it slow.”

  “Okay, but if your headache gets worse, stop work and come see me. In fact, I recommend you do not work today. You should stay in your tent and sleep. LaSalle, do you agree with me about that?” As the morning breeze picked up, black hair blew around Lacey’s face.

  “That’s good advice, Hal. We can always—”

  Moriarity interrupted, “In fact, since you are my student, Hal, I insist you stay in your tent today. Besides, I need to talk to you. Sophia told me about last night’s attack. I need more details if I’m going to find the culprit.”

  Without realizing it, my shoulders hunched forward in self-defense. The last thing I wanted to do was spend time with Moriarity. I lied, “Later, okay? I promised Dr. Corbelle I’d help her today, and I’d like to try and do that. If you don’t mind?”

  Corbelle straightened up. In an authoritative voice, she said, “That’s right. I asked Hal to help me at the temple. If he’s able to. Do you have any objections?” Her deep gravelly voice had an edge, as though daring him to get into a fight with her.

  Behind his heavy black-rimmed glasses, Moriarity’s eyes appeared bug-like. His gaze went back and forth between me and Corbelle. Obviously, he suspected collusion, but he warily replied, “No problem. However, Hal, you should always get such things approved with me before you agree to them. You’re on my crew.” To Corbelle, he said, “By the way . . .” His expression contorted as though he hated to say it, “I was hoping you could come take a look at some skeletal remains for me.”

  Corbelle’s head jerked toward him. “Skeletal remains? You found a burial? Where?”

  Moriarity vaguely waved his arm to the north. “Samael found a grave yesterday and Sophia suggested—and I agreed—that we need a biological anthropologist to take a look at it. If you don’t mind?”

  She hesitated for a couple of seconds. “Of cou
rse not. I’ll be there right after breakfast. Where is it?”

  “I’ll show you,” I said.

  “You’ve seen it, Hal?”

  I nodded. “Samael showed it to me. It’s interesting. Two entwined skeletons covered with a stela that says Cleopatra in Greek.”

  “Really? I can’t wait. Male and female?” She’d directed the question to Moriarity.

  “That’s why I need a biological anthropologist. Sophia and I disagree about that.”

  Corbelle tucked a wind-blown lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Okay. See you after breakfast.”

  “Hal? Roberto?” Moriarity said. “Why don’t you join me for breakfast? We can talk for a little while before you show Dr. Corbelle the burial.”

  Roberto and I exchanged a glance, but since I didn’t see any way out of it, I said, “Sure. Meet you at the cook tent.”

  “I’ll save you places at the table. Don’t be late.” Moriarity turned and strode for the breakfast line that was already forming up.

  The four of us watched him go.

  Corbelle said, “Take your aspirin, Hal, then we’ll walk you to breakfast.”

  “It’ll just take me a second.”

  I ducked back into the tent and dug around in my pack until I found the bottle my father had forced me to pack. Silently, I thanked him and his obsessive need to over-prepare for every eventuality. Popping three aspirin, I grabbed my dig kit and our hats, and ducked outside again.

  As I handed Roberto his Rockies’ hat, I said, “I didn’t want you to forget that.”

  “Thanks, buddy.” Roberto flipped it on his head and pulled the bill down to shield his eyes.

  Lacey and Roberto led the way to breakfast, while Corbelle and I followed a couple of paces behind them.

  Pointedly, Corbelle said, “I’m glad you used me as an excuse, Hal. Being away from Jim will give you a while to think things through. But I really believe you need protection. Have you thought more about my offer last night?”