House of Scarabs

by Hazel Longuet

  The shock of seeing Sam out of the blue had rocked her to her core and opened old wounds she'd worked so hard to heal. Without her protective barriers up, it was as if everything had happened only yesterday, and the anguish for her lost life in Egypt was agonising. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging them close to her, and rocked, trying to ease the familiar tightness in her chest.

  How she longed to run back to the familiar security of Scarab's Rest, where she was immune to all this. Where she'd successfully created a new Ellie, one who navigated her way through life with only minor pangs of anguish. But until she could free herself from this bizarre situation, she was stuck here.

  Her mobile rang, but she ignored it, knowing she wasn't ready to face Ben or Gerhard yet. The time it would take them to find her would give her the opportunity to re-erect the emotional barriers she needed to protect herself.

  "Jeez, this museum is hotter than Hades now," Ben said, rubbing his forehead with his sleeve. "We've been searching for over forty-five minutes."

  "A person isn't lost when they don't want to be found, my friend. They are merely absent. We'll find her when she's ready to be found."

  Ellie watched Ben and Gerhard enter her hiding hole. She smiled at them. "Ah, there you are! I was wondering where you'd gotten to. Have you been exploring the museum?"

  Gerhard smiled, his eyes creasing as he enthused about the ancient relics he'd seen. "Mein liebling, I wish you could have heard Ben. He brought everything to life. Some everyday little pot seems so much more when you understand its place in the temple routines of pharaonic Egypt. There was one cup, so ordinary, yet inscribed with the name of Haremakhet, one of the high priests - fascinating."

  Ellie tucked her arm into Gerhard's. "Tell me more on the way home..."

  Old Friends

  It hadn't been easy slipping away. Ellie bounced around the house behind a thick screen of false exuberance and seemed determined to incorporate her two companions into her simulated gaiety.

  Ben pleaded exhaustion and retired to his room, planning to clamber down the overgrown bougainvillea vine to meet with Sam. He soon realised his folly when the bougainvillea bit back, embedding his arms and thighs with vicious thorns. He cursed as he let go, dropping seven feet to the ground. He dabbed ineffectually at the oozing wounds and muttered, "I look like a bloody escaped convict." He scrubbed his hands against his jeans in disgust and set off for his rendezvous.

  He'd agreed to meet Sam in Café Grecco as it was the only place he knew in Maadi. It had been a tranquil haven from the chaos of Cairo, when he'd had coffee there with Ellie and Gerhard in the day. By night, the café was a heaving mass of Maadi intelligentsia, all shouting over each other and competing with the deep rumble of the metro line that ran behind it.

  Ben squeezed between expat mums and young, trendy Cairenes to see if Sam had arrived or if there was a spare table available. Weaving between the tables, he spotted Sam checking his watch at a small table in the corner.

  "Hey, bud. How's it hanging?" Sam said as he jumped up to hug Ben and deposit the inevitable kisses on each cheek that open all Egyptian greetings. "Whoa! What happened to you, my friend? Have you lost a fight with a rose bush?"

  "Nope, a bougainvillea. Who knew they had thorns the size of small daggers?"

  "Not you, clearly," Sam replied. "What on God’s good earth were you doing embracing a bougainvillea? You've got cuts everywhere."

  "It's all your fault, making me sneak out. I had to climb out my bedroom window, hence my present condition," he said with a glide of his hand down his body.

  Sam smirked at him. "I don't recall asking you to sneak anywhere. I merely asked an old friend to meet me for coffee. I deny culpability. If you don't have sufficient apparatus to tell Elena you are meeting me, I suggest you get testosterone supplements."

  "Seriously, bud, she's one fearsome woman. I was protecting my balls by not telling her I was meeting you. You are her numero uno persona non grata."

  Sam flopped back into his chair, deflated. Pushing aside an errant buggy, Ben pulled out a chair and sat.

  "Seriously, Sam, a little warning would've been nice. I went in blind. She almost turfed me off the course. What the hell happened between the two of you? The last time we spoke, you were all loved up and planning a family. Then I hear on the grapevine you've gone your separate ways. When I asked you for help to find a language teacher, I didn't expect you to fail to mention the school’s run by your ex-wife. Jeez, bud, talk about setting a guy up to fail."

  Sam raised his eyes and studied Ben.

  "It's not as if you've ever had problems picking up girls, Sam. You’re a goddamn Adonis. In college, we had to beat them away from you. Why did you choose her? Why Ellie? She's cold, humourless, and pricklier than a bougainvillea. And boy, are they prickly."

  The waiter interrupted them to take their order.

  Sam studied his hands, appearing fascinated by the lines and grooves. With a sigh, he wrapped his hands around the chunky white heat of the mug and looked back up at Ben. With his eyes unshielded for the first time, Ben saw how wounded his friend was. The shine of charisma was gone. The laughter that had always lit his eyes, the macho bravado – all of it gone. He was less of the man that Ben knew, less of the Egyptian male, less of a human. It was as if the divorce had carved a chunk out of him, leaving him less Sam.

  "I can't answer you. That's a huge part of the problem. I have no answers. We were so happy, so in love. She made life better, truer, brighter. We did everything together – personally and professionally. Then, one day, she'd gone. No letter. No explanation. Just gone. I tried to track her down but got nothing. I talked to everyone, but no one could tell me where she was or why she'd gone. She vanished. I was fraught - I searched everywhere. Left my work. Sold everything to track her down. Then, from left field, I'm sent a divorce petition citing my infidelity and abandonment. Can you believe I was happy to get it? At least I knew she was alive. I fought the divorce, stating my total innocence."

  He paused, gazing into the distance, staring at his memories.

  "That's when I got the letter. Each character tattooed upon my heart. In the coldest tone imaginable, she told me she didn't love me, realised the huge error of our marriage, and that she could never respect, let alone love a corrupted soul such as myself. She demanded an immediate divorce and rejected any potential fiscal settlement, stating the only thing she wanted from me was a divorce. I worshipped her, habibi. She was everything, and if that was the last thing I could do to make her happy, I was willing to do it. Even if it cost me my happiness. To this day, I don't understand what happened."

  Ben sipped his coffee, saddened by the torrent of hurt he felt pouring from his friend.

  "God, Sam, I had no idea. I'm so sorry. But to be honest, the Elena you love doesn't exist anymore. Maybe she had a nervous breakdown or something, but the Ellie I know bears no resemblance to the girl you've always told me about. She's tough, hard, remorseless, and angry."

  His mind flicked back to the glimpses he'd seen of Ellie when she's wasn't aware she was being studied. It was possible Elena was in there somewhere but buried so deeply that it was better to say nothing to Sam.

  "What did you hope to gain from us meeting tonight? I'm telling you bluntly there is no way in hell Ellie will ever listen about you. God, the woman hates me nearly as much as you. Sorry, bud. It’s hard to hear, I know, but it's true."

  "I need closure. I need to understand. It's driving me insane, Ben, and I mean literally driving me insane. Voices talk to me about her. I feel the urge to protect her, even though until now, she's been thousands of miles away. Please, Ben, try to get her to see me, to explain. I'm begging you. I'll leave her in peace. I just need to understand."

  Ben glanced across the room at the cheerful young mums chatting whilst their children wreaked havoc in the café, at the young students laughing at some shared joke, and then back at his old friend whom he'd shared so many carefree moments with. Seeing the empty, b
roken shell of the shining man he'd once been staring back at him broke his heart. The force of nature that had been Sam tamed and shredded on the flinty, tough surface that coated Ellie. He deserved his answers.

  "Okay," he murmured.

  Part Two

  GERHARD’S QUEST

  The Serapeum

  "I still don't understand why we had to meet at such a god-awful time. Who in their right mind gets up at this hour?" Ben said.

  "It makes sense to look around before the public is here. We don't want to attract unwanted attention," Gerhard murmured.

  Ellie stared out at the passing countryside. The lush green fields were crisscrossed with irrigation canals, the trees dashed with thousands of roosting white egrets, endemic in the agricultural lands skirting the Nile. Today, she grasped her first glow of hope that they may crack this conundrum yet.

  The land changed as they neared the Saqqara plateau, desert sands replacing the grasslands and crops. The abrupt change from fertile land to desert never failed to astound Ellie; she could have one foot in rich soil and the other in sand.

  Passing through the entrance gate with a salute from the guard, they drove deeper into rolling hills of sand. They passed scattered relics of the pharaohs, crumbling pyramids, solitary columns, and half-standing temple walls. They stopped by a little hut. A sun-dried, wizened old man emerged from a pile of grubby blankets, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and slipped his feet into tattered flip-flops.

  "I've arranged for you to see the Serapeum while I go back and get Professor Mourad. Allah only knows where his driver has disappeared to, today of all days. I will leave you here with Rashid. We should be back in an hour. Rashid can answer all your questions until we return. He can be an old busy-body though, so dismiss him if you want to explore on your own." With that, Walid, Professor Mourad's assistant, scuttled back to the car and drove off in a curtain of whirling sand.

  They walked down the gently sloping hill carved into sand dunes that swallowed them. At the bottom of the slope was a huge oak door, pitted by eons of sandstorms, protecting the entrance to the vaulted Serapeum. Their weary guide pulled out a massive ring of keys and flipped through them, searching for the one that matched the door. With a great deal of huffing and puffing, he located it and eased the door open. It revealed a black hole not a single ray of light penetrated beyond the first few yards. A musty smell of antiquity lapped around them, enticing them to explore further.

  The guide fumbled around, searching for the lights, muttering, "Yanhar esswed," under his breath.

  Ellie laughed. "Shokran ya basha - khalas delwaati. Thank you, sir. Please do not let us disturb your rest any further," she said firmly, grasping his arm and propelling him back towards the hut. Perturbed to be frog-marched away from his post by a woman, Rashid pulled his arm free, adjusted his turban, and ambled back to the welcoming embrace of his rumpled bedding.

  Ellie found the switch, and the lights flickered on one by one, illuminating the vaulted interior with a soft golden glow. It transformed the black hole into a cavernous space leading off to both the left and right.

  "Wow, this place has changed since I was last here. There's a fine line between restoration and reconstruction, and I'm uncertain what side of the line this falls on. I'd heard the Italians had funded the restoration, but I didn't realise it was this extensive," Ellie said.

  Huge metal girders, painted to blend in with the golden stone, had been carefully embedded into the sandstone to support the giant vaults. A raised wooden floor led off into the distance, peppered with little glass peepholes that gave tantalising glimpses of the original ancient paving. Subtle floor-mounted lamps threw cones of warm light up the walls and across the soft curves of the ceiling.

  To the right was a small anteroom peppered with alcoves for statues of or bequests to the gods. To the left, a small corridor led into a vast complex of arched anterooms running the length of the long sandstone corridor. Each vaulted anteroom held gargantuan sarcophagi, many propped open, thirty tons of rose granite supported by stubby wood posts that separated the lids from the bodies of the tombs. Once home to the mummified remains of at least sixty-seven sacred Apis bulls, each having represented the incarnation of Ptah on Earth during its lifetime, the Serapeum resonated with an eerie majesty.

  Gerhard strolled closer to one of the sarcophagi, studying the detailed hieroglyphics etched inside the thick granite sides. "They’re vast. Must have been difficult to build, Ellie."

  "As a little girl, I believed only magic could have transported such huge lumps of granite eight hundred kilometres from the quarry and deep into this complex. It was different here then; it had a gentile decrepitude, a magic. It's a little over-polished now."

  "Ah, sadly, my dear, with age, things often lack the romance that the lens of youth provides. To me, this has a magical allure. Remind me again why we've chosen this fine venue as our starting point."

  "Major Gayer-Anderson purchased the statue from a local grave robber, who was sparing in his use of the truth. He consistently admitted he found it on the Saqqara plateau but not exactly where. They dated the statue to the Late Period, sometime after 600 BC. Only two places on the plateau were active in that period: the Serapeum and the Abwab el-qotat. Either could be the home of the cat. We started here as Uncle wants to show off the restoration. Plus, he knows it's one of my favourite places. He's a sentimental man."

  "Well, then, mein schatz, I suggest we are prudent with our time and see if we can find any clues to our predicament in this impressive catacomb.”

  “Find anything?” Ben asked as the three regrouped.

  “Dust, sarcophagi, and plenty of empty alcoves that could have housed the cat or any other offering to the gods," Ellie replied.

  "Well, I haven't sensed a thing here. My familiar's gone into hibernation," Ben said. "Gerhard, care to shoot the breeze?"

  Tilting his head to the side, Gerhard raised his finely arched ivory eyebrow. "I am not familiar with the idiom, but I, too, sense nothing. There's no evidence linking this Serapeum with the goddess Bastet. Maybe it's time to move on to our next port of call."

  Breathless

  A deep boom echoed through the chamber. Air sucked at them as if something had triggered a vacuum. Ben sprinted towards the exit only to find it blocked by the solid, thick wooden door. Ben grabbed the large, iron ring handle and tried to open it. He moved the handle back and forth, trying to release the lock mechanism.

  "It's jammed somehow. The handle is moving, but the door won't open."

  "The wind must have blown it shut. You can get surprisingly ferocious gusts out on these plains. Let's call Rashid," Ellie suggested.

  "Shh... hang on a moment, Ells. I saw a shadow cross the daylight around the frame." A ripping sound was followed by a darkening of the frame, as if something had partially blocked the sun around the top of the eight-foot-high door. They shouted for Rashid. The door frame darkened in one-meter strips.

  "What's happening? What are you doing? Let us out at once."

  "Rashid, in God's name, let us out!"

  Mumbled comments outside the door came from more than one person as the final strip of light was snuffed out around the frame. A loud rumble accelerated towards the door, getting faster and louder until it crashed with a huge metallic ring against the door. They leapt back. One crash followed another, booming against the wood and each other, creating the resonance of a massed kettle band playing an homage to the end of times.

  Ellie fumbled in her bag and pulled out her mobile. With shaking fingers, she opened Mourad's contact and hit the call button. With the phone to her ear, she mumbled, "Come on, Mourad - answer. Come on." Silence. No ringing tone, nothing. She stared at the screen, dumbstruck, and turned back to the guys, "Oh, my God, it's happening again... there's no signal. Check your phones."

  Gerhard pulled his phone from the internal pocket of his tweed jacket and shook his head glumly.

  Ben’s head shot up as he sniffed the air, "Guys, we have a
more immediate issue than nonperforming cell phones. Can you smell that? Gas is seeping into the chamber.”

  "I don't smell anything," Gerhard replied.

  "I do. It smells like strong bleach," Ellie answered.

  "Ammonia - I can smell it now. Where is it coming from, Ben?"

  Ben knelt down and sniffed under the door. Shaking his head and dusting off his knees, he sniffed the air and moved into the side chamber. "It's much stronger here. I'd guess it's coming in through the air ducts or the climate control system."

  "Shit! Ben, it's pumping in under the door now," Ellie shouted.

  "Is there any other way out, Ellie? A rear exit or a hatch?" Gerhard asked whilst shucking his jacket, which he rolled up and wedged against the bottom of the door.

  "No, the door's the only way in or out of the chamber. There are small ventilation shafts but not large enough for use. I've explored every square inch as a kid - there's no other way out. Anyone have any idea how toxic ammonia is?"

  "Well, I don't think they've gone to so much trouble just to give us the impression of a well-cleaned tomb, do you? It's not like the cleaner thought, ‘I'm not in the mood to work today. I know! I'll dupe the boss by pumping bleach fumes into the tomb’. I'd hazard a guess it's pretty bloody toxic," Ben snapped back.

  Ellie scowled at Ben and went to Gerhard's side. "Any ideas, Gerhard?"

  He pulled a red spotted handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and dabbed at his red-rimmed eyes. "None to speak of, my dear one. We need an airtight vessel to avoid these damnable gasses. How airtight would these sarcophagi be?"