Today We Die (The Killing Sands Book 1)

by Daniel Wilde

  During dinner Anta said, “Dr. Bader . . .”

  I cut her off. “Please, call me Shift.”

  “Okay Shift; but is that really your name?”

  “It’s what’s on my driver’s license,” I replied.

  Anta looked confused.

  “Yes, my name really is Shift,” I added quickly. “My mom said they made it up so I would feel unique.”

  “Okay, it’s certainly that. I like it.”

  Following our meal, we walked back to the hotel and said “good night” before separating to adjacent rooms at the Porto Marina Hotel. No kiss, no hand shake, no awkwardness . . . right. I spent the evening wondering what Anta was doing.

  “Why am I thinking about Anta when I should be preparing for this expedition?” I eventually chastised myself out loud, shaking my head. But instead of preparing, I looked out the window, again.

  The window to my hotel room this time, some 17 stories off the ground, looked out over the vast desert to the south. It was beautiful in the dimming light as the sun set in the west. Yes, the sun sets in the west everywhere, not just in America. More interesting, however, was a huge cloud of sand south of the city! It looked like it was blowing in from the east across the desert.

  I’d never seen the infamous sandstorms of the Sahara Desert. As wind power has become more prolific in poorer countries like Egypt, large wind turbines have been built all over the desert to pull water up from deep under the dunes. The increased water flow has led to the development and expansion of farmland throughout the Sahara. Old books of the desert show pictures vastly different from what can be seen in many places now. Tales in the Bible and other historical treatises depicting life in the Sahara seem to indicate that it had been bone dry for centuries. The change is remarkable!

  The increase in farming has led to a rapid decline in sandstorms since the Sahara itself has shrunk more than 40 percent since the late 2030s. Here, though, all I could see out my window, once I got past the suburbs of the city below me, was sand. If that storm turns north toward us, I may get a rare opportunity to see one of the great storms up close! That would be sweet! Probably. Of course, since these storms can last for days, that could put a damper on our expedition.

  And now I really have to do some research to prepare for the trip into the desert. With my thoughts coming back to the expedition, I remembered that I wanted to follow up on our dinner discussion of the history of El-Alamein. I wanted to get an idea of whether the desert, or the people of the desert, or some characteristic of the desert, had anything to do with the condition of the bodies. Anta shared a great deal of historical information with me at dinner, but I wanted to fill in some of the gaps.

  I removed the electronic tablet containing my research log from my suitcase and sat at the desk, touching the control to turn up the desk lamp. Thankfully, I have one of the new “MEHDs” with me, which fits conveniently in my pocket and communicates with my tablet. I’m not very technical, but I’ve already used the MEHD to communicate with others, via real-time holographic display, which is the MEHD’s main purpose. I also had someone show me, before I left Colorado, how to use it to access the Net. I’m not too impressed by the alarm clock.

  The MEHD functions like a standard holographic display, or “Holo”, but the display is accessed through light-weight glasses, accompanied by tiny ear pieces embedded in the frame of the eyeglasses above the ears. Those ear pieces softly affix to your skin while wearing the glasses, allowing sounds and other sensory information from the display to be sent through your skin into your ear canals.

  The glasses, and all of their parts, project the multi-dimensional image in front of you, allowing you to see, hear and actually feel like you’re in the presence of the person you’re talking to. Because the display is projected via eyeglasses, only the wearer of the glasses can see, hear and feel the holographic display. Of course, there’s also a setting that allows the holo to be displayed outside the glasses for others to see, but you lose the other sensory information. It’s limited to sight and sound in that setting. Either way, it’s amazing! And very useful for this trip, where my standard holo would be too heavy and bulky to carry.

  I started by verifying information that Anta provided. During dinner, Anta told me that the Health and Population Ministry just stopped all tours into the Depression. I asked why. I thought I knew the answer already, but wanted detail to help me in my analysis. She explained that the population of El-Alamein is roughly 29,000. But tourism is the major industry—bringing nearly 250,000 travelers annually—thanks to its “white, sandy beaches and favorable climate”. Although moderated by the Mediterranean Sea, the average daytime temperature in El-Alamein is about 88ºF (31ºC) during the summer months. Nice!

  Just south of the city, the town meets the Qattara Depression, part of the Libyan Desert. That’s the part I’d been staring at for the past half hour. The Qattara Depression lies below sea level and is covered with saltpans, sand dunes, salt marshes, cliffs, and fech fech. I learned that fech fech is very fine, powdered sand. My life is now more complete.

  The average summer temperature in the Depression is 98ºF (37ºC); and it’s exceptionally remote, with few plants and only isolated water sources. Camelback tours into the Depression are an immensely popular recreational activity. Makes sense—sit on the back of a smelly, bug-infested horse with humps and walk slowly through the heat of the desert to look at dirt. I get it.

  Historically, two important World War II battles were fought in the area around El-Alamein. This I knew, but I let Anta explain anyway. I’ve given up trying to get the upper hand in this relationship. At the First Battle of El-Alamein (1—27 July, 1942) the advance of Axis troops on Alexandria (now Apion) was slowed by the Allies. At the Second Battle of El-Alamein (23 October—4 November, 1942) Allied forces broke the Axis line and forced them back, westward, into Tunisia. The Qattara Depression confined the battles of World War II to the coastline. Thus, El-Alamein has significant historical interest to travelers as well.

  The Qattara Depression is huge and falls to a depth of 436 feet (133 meters) below mean sea level. That fairly-unique situation led to various proposals, a long time ago, to create a massive hydroelectric project within the Depression. A project was eventually approved in 2019 and was known as the Qattara Depression Project—or “The Project” to the locals. The Project called for the excavation and construction of a large tunnel from the Mediterranean Sea to bring in seawater. The tunnel was created through a series of small nuclear explosions, much to the chagrin of the scientific and political world. Imagine that.

  Once completed, salt water flowed through a series of hydroelectric penstocks that generated electricity by releasing the water. That water then spread out from the release point across the basin, evaporating by solar influx. Due to the evaporative effect, water could constantly flow into the depression, creating a stable source of energy.

  Eventually, The Project resulted in a hyper-saline saltpan as the evaporating water left the salt it contained behind. The only other comparable salt pan is the Bonneville Salt Flats south and west of the Great Salt Lake in Utah. I’ve been there—that’s cool! The “salt flats” there are so reliably and consistent flat that during dry weather, wheeled “race cars” used to compete in an effort to set land speed records, which continued into the mid-21st century. I don’t think such races ever took place here in the Depression—it’s not quite large enough.

  Unfortunately, in 2034, just 12 short years after the completion of the Qattara Depression Project, a massive 7.1 earthquake destroyed the penstocks and release points and caused several large fissures along the length of the tunnel. The Project became unusable. It couldn’t be repaired and was abandoned. The massive penstocks and tunnel are hugely popular tourist attractions, although Anta was very serious when she told me that they are not as popular as the Great Pyramids. The best way to see the old Project and its vast salt pans now is by camel, and the tours start and end in El-Alamein.

&n
bsp; Anta told me that the two ravaged bodies of photograph fame were discovered in the Qattara Depression, near the former Qattara Depression Project hydro-electric penstocks. She said that the only way to keep people away from the bodies was to shut down tours altogether in the area. I suppose her father, Minister Abasi Chalthoum, doesn’t want to have to explain to the International World Order, the “IWO”, why people are dying mysteriously in the Egyptian desert.

  My research was interrupted by the chirping of my MEHD. Switching to the caller display I read a message from Anta. The ministry wants to ask me a few questions tomorrow morning. We meet, by Holo, at 8:00 AM.

  When I realized how late it was, my next thought was, “What has Anta been doing for the last two hours?” With the interruption of my research, I realized how tired I was. I acknowledged Anta’s message, then turned off the MEHD.

  January 3, 2093—Anta

  Shift is a dork; but I can’t help but smile, thinking how sweet he is! He clearly faked not knowing about my truck today. Why? I could tell he had a lot more experience with automobiles than he let on. Later though, as we discussed Egyptian history, he was way out of his league. I told him I was smarter than him, but he didn’t seem to believe me. He just kept proving me right.

  Of course, I have to think of the expedition, not of Shift. I’m concerned about our investigation. There’s a large dust storm south of town that could prevent us from getting to the bodies. The weather forecast, as unreliable as ever, didn’t even mention this storm; yet, there it is, right outside my window. It’s not headed this way, yet. Maybe its south of where we’re going—hopefully tomorrow.

  Dad just sent me a message. He wants to talk to us in the morning. He’s got some questions for Shift. I hope Shift is ready. Dad can be pretty abrasive when there’s something urgent on his mind.

  I sent a message to Shift, hoping he wouldn’t sleep in again and miss the call. He responded right away. I wonder what he’s doing up this late at night. Thinking again about my day with Shift, a smile spread from my heart to my head and finally to my lips. I need to sleep.

  January 4, 2093, 8:00 AM—Shift

  “How did you sleep Dr. Bader?”

  “Excellent, Minister.” That isn’t true, I thought. But if I couldn’t lie to the Egyptian Minster of Health and Population, who could I lie to? I didn’t think Minister Chalthoum even cared. I could see and hear him perfectly through the Holo, and he wasn’t even looking at me—he was looking at Anta; probably trying to figure out if I beat her up, or worse, last night.

  “Well, that’s wonderful to hear,” Minster Chalthoum mumbled as he looked down at something in his hand.

  I don’t think he meant that. I’ve already learned that Minster Chalthoum is all business. He says what needs to be said. And so he did.

  “Dr. Bader, I have a few questions. I hope you can answer them. As you know, we believe that the bodies found south of your location were infected with some kind of bacterial or biological agent. All of our people, from the scientists to the doctors to the clerks, believe that can be the only cause. Can you confirm whether this theory is plausible?”

  “That’s a great question Minister. Interestingly, from the point of view of biological agents—which is the reason I was hired after all—the vast salt marshes and saltpans of the Qattara Depression are likely to, at least in part, counteract any such agents in the area. I understand the bodies are located near the massive saltpan created by 12 years of salt water deposits from the Mediterranean Sea into the Depression through the Qattara Depression Project. Well, high concentrations of salt are lethal to bacteria.”

  I really wanted the Minister to think that I knew what I was talking about, so I broke out The Project.

  He didn’t look too impressed.

  “Theoretically, though, it is possible,” I continued. “Many dangerous biological agents have been known to survive extreme conditions, like the conditions in the Qattara Depression, for long periods of time. But most of those biologic agents are believed to have been eradicated nearly 40 years ago. The last to cause any concern was Bacillus anthracis, or Anthrax. Today, all biologic infections are easily controlled through simple antibiotic medications. Even Bacillus anthracis, if it were still around, is no longer a concern because it wasn’t generally passed from human to human. In any event, the last known large-scale human outbreak of Anthrax was in 2001. There have been a few minor outbreaks since then, but nothing since 2051.”

  “Doctor, your answers may be factually correct, but you still haven’t persuaded me that what you will find in those bodies could not possibly be biologic in origin.”

  “Minister, in the unlikely event the Health and Population Ministry’s theory is correct, and the bodies are infected with some devastating agent of biologic origin, it’ll be a real surprise. But that surprise may potentially give rise to a very dangerous situation.”

  “Why?” Minister Chalthoum asked. “What would make it so very dangerous?”

  “There are no known biological agents which cause, or have ever caused such a disease process as depicted in the pictures of the two men. Typically, bacteria enter the body through breaks in the skin or through the nose and lungs. Early symptoms of Anthrax, for example—which often took up to a week to exhibit—included flu-like symptoms, followed by reddish-black sores on the skin or in the lymph nodes around the lungs. Hemorrhagic fever and death sometimes followed; but I’ve never studied, heard of, nor seen any body exhibiting characteristics similar to those exhibited in the two bodies. That’s why I don’t believe we’ll find evidence of bacterial infection.”

  “Thank you Doctor. That response is more on point. In the event, however, that you do find bacterial agents at work, is there a danger that the infection could spread to the general population?”

  “I don’t think so. Again, I’ll discuss Anthrax because it was the most recent biologic disease our world has faced. It’s always been understood, even generations ago, that Anthrax isn’t contagious in the general sense; that is, it can’t be passed from person to person.”

  “So, you’re saying that, if those bodies succumbed to Anthrax, or any other biologic disease, it is unlikely that disease would be spread by personal contact with another infected human?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Can one survive an Anthrax infection?” the Minister asked.

  “Yes. Now. Prior to 2045, even without treatment, more than half of those infected with Anthrax survived.”

  “So what do you expect to find Doctor?” Minister Chalthoum asked, with a little too much derision only partially hidden underneath his controlled emotions. Perhaps he thinks I’m a quack, and maybe I am.

  “Well,” I responded, “in the event we discover some form of biological agent at work out there in the desert, it will certainly be enlightening to learn, if possible, how the men became infected. If there is some kind of biological agent out there, I want to know where it came from and how it survived in that area. I believe we’ll find some other cause of death, but I don’t know what that will be at this time. As I’ve said, I’ve never seen a body in the condition of those bodies.”

  “Thank you Doctor. I appreciate your time. I understand that you are going to be making contact with Mr. Riyad Shafik this morning. Good luck. And good luck to you Anta.”

  “Thank you father.”

  Without further warning, Minister Chalthoum disconnected the Holo.

  “Anta?” I paused mid-sentence, not knowing how to complete my sentence. “Uh, your dad doesn’t mess around, does he?”

  “No,” she replied, “but I can tell he was impressed with your knowledge.”

  “Really? I’m pretty sure he’s thinks I’m full of crap. But if you think he’s impressed, I guess that’s good.”

  “It is. Let’s go find Mr. Shafik.”

  January 4, 2093—Shift

  Following our meeting with Minister Chalthoum, Anta and I got back in her old truck and headed back to the office of Mr. Shafi
k, arriving around 10:00 AM local time. During the short drive, Anta commented on the potential onslaught from the aggressive sandstorm that looms just south of us and fills up the southern horizon as far as we can see in both directions. It’s pretty freaky.

  Mr. Shafik wasn’t at the office, again. The overly-unexcited secretary whom we had met at the door yesterday informed us that he hadn’t returned yet. He’d been expected two hours earlier. She was understandably concerned that Mr. Shafik was somewhere in that sandstorm, hunkered down waiting out the storm. Upon our request for further information as to his travels, she informed us that she was “not at liberty to say” but that we “may wish to inquire at the offices of the Tourism Board as to the permits taken out for Mr. Shafik’s travels”. We did wish to.

  The office of the Tourism Board was located prominently in the center of town where every tourist to the area could reach it from any direction. The exterior of the building had a white-washed stucco finish, with large windows looking out into lush gardens around the outside. The gardens had several benches and picnic tables placed at varying intervals, interspersed with Lotus Flowers, “Birds of Paradise” and other colorful flowers. Inside, the wide-open space had several desks and kiosks with computer terminals and Holos full of information on all the different tourist attractions in the area.

  A few attractive young ladies sat among the various information booths talking to tourists. There were three young men too, probably also attractive based upon Anta’s reaction to their stares as we walked in.

  A bubbly young female staff member approached us as we entered the building.

  “Can I assist you sir,” she asked in accented English. She looked directly at me, batting her eyelids and smiling. Anta reacted to that too. She stepped between us, holding out her hand for a shake, and then led the conversation, leaving me out completely. I was okay with that—made me feel a little cool actually!