by Kevin Ashman
‘The main product?’
‘Yes, the main reason you are here,’ said Leatherman, ‘all this history stuff is all very interesting, but you are missing the whole point. If this is all genuine, then this girl has the secret to everlasting life, or as near to it as we are likely to get. That is the main focus here, Samari, if you want to pan for gold dust in a stream of historical information, that’s fine, but don’t lose sight of the main seam of solid gold that we require, immortality.’
‘Then, what is all this for?’ asked Samari. ‘Why do you want me to befriend her?’
‘Because we want her on our side,’ said Leatherman. ‘We need samples of her blood and plenty of it. We can do that in two ways. Either with her cooperation, where she will live comfortably in secure surroundings and be looked after in return for regular donations, or the other option where she will be strapped down and milked of her blood as we see fit. We are not animals, Doctor Samari, so we would prefer the former. However, this is too great a prize to be bothered with the human rights of someone who could hardly be called human, at all. One way or the other, we will get what we want, so it is up to you and her to decide which way it is going to be. However, the clock is ticking.’
‘How long do I have?’ asked Samari.
‘One week,’ said Leatherman. ‘ After that, it is out of my hands.’
----
When the meeting was over, Samari returned to his room and took a shower. After lunch he strolled around the extensive gardens enjoying the rare English sunshine. The guests at the lodge were also taking advantage of the sunshine and many old people walked along the paved paths between perfectly manicured lawns. Some walked with friends, some walked arm in arm with nurses, while others sat on benches, reading or just enjoying the sun. Overall, it was a very quiet scene and Samari couldn’t fail to be impressed with the standard of care that they seemed to enjoy.
Suddenly, a commotion filled the air and all heads turned to see an old lady sprawled on the floor alongside her tipped wheelchair. Samari was the closest and ran over to help.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ said the woman struggling to sit up. ‘My brake must have slipped and I came off the decking.’
‘Take your time,’ said Samari, ‘you’ve taken quite a fall.’
‘Nothing is hurt, except my pride,’ she said.
Two nurses arrived and checked her over before helping her back into the wheelchair.
‘Do you want to go back to your room, Mrs Leighbourne?’ asked one.
‘Not at all,’ said the woman,’ I’m fed up of being stuck inside. This young man can push me around the garden.’
The nurse looked at Samari inquisitively.
‘Is that okay?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ said Samari, ‘I could do with the exercise.’
The nurses went back to the others, while Samari headed off down the path, pushing Mrs Leighbourne’s wheelchair.
‘So,’ he said as they started out, ‘I always wanted women to fall at my feet, but this isn’t quite what I expected.’
‘I’m sure that with that dark skin and delicious accent, you have had your fair share of conquests, young man,’ she said. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Doctor Samari,’ he said, ‘but you can call me Geb.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Geb,’ she said, ‘and you can call me Mrs Leighbourne.’
Samari stifled a laugh at the woman’s formality and continued on their joint journey around the garden.
‘I take it that you are you a resident here?’ asked Samari.
‘Unfortunately, yes,’ she said.
‘Why unfortunately? Don’t you like it?’ asked Samari.
‘Oh, the standards are okay,’ she said, ‘it’s just the loneliness.’
‘Don’t you have any visitors?’
‘Nope, I am the only Leighbourne left on this planet,’ she said. ‘When they bury me, it will be the last of our line.’
‘Really?’ said Samari. ‘That’s quite sad.’
‘Well, I’m an only child, never had any children of my own and my husband died several years ago. Luckily enough, he left enough money for me to see out my days here. Still, it won’t be long now.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Samari.
‘Terminal cancer, Geb,’ she said, ‘the big C. Given me three months max, and then it’s checkout time.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Leighbourne,’ said Samari, ‘I didn’t know.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ she said, ‘I am eighty years old and I am very tired. I don’t mind dying, in fact, in a perverse sort of way, I am quite looking forward to it. I just hope it’s not going to be too painful. Anyway, don’t you read your patients notes?’
‘I’m not that kind of Doctor,’ he said, ‘I have a doctorate in Egyptology.’
‘Oh, that’s where you are from,’ she said, ‘I thought I recognised the accent. What is a doctor of Egyptology doing in death’s waiting room anyway?’
‘It’s a long story,’ laughed Samari, ‘so I have a better idea. I bet you have had a wonderful life, why don’t you tell me some of the exciting things you must have seen on your journey?’
‘I suppose I have, really,’ she said, and for the next two hours, Doctor Geb Samari spent quality time with a lonely old woman, listening to the stories of a life well lived.
----
Over the next few days Samari spent more and more time with Nephthys and though it was still tense in the beginning, after a while the tension eased and the meetings were very productive. Samari had persuaded Nephthys to sit across a table from him while he made copious notes in his diary. After the sixth day, he again sat in the cell, though this time only wore white clinical overalls. Nephthys stood against the far wall watching him closely as he entered the room.
‘Doctor,’ she said, ‘our talks grow more frequent.’
‘Are they too much?’ asked Samari.
‘No. They hold much that is interesting, yet I feel there is more to come. Your words are guarded as if there are things you would have me not know.’
‘You are very perceptive, Nephthys,’ said Samari, ‘and you are correct. There are things still to be said but they are not withheld to trick you, I worry only for you. This place is not what it seems and the world around you has changed. If I told you everything straight away, you would label me a liar.’
‘Would they be lies?’
‘No.’
‘Then speak them.’
‘They would bring you stress.’
‘Then that is my choice.’
Samari fell silent for a while. There was something about her that was different. Her skin seemed to have more colour and the hair growth was more pronounced. In addition, there was a calmness about her that he had not seen before.
‘Okay,’ he said eventually. ‘I will tell as much as I can, but in return, you must tell me something that no other person in this world knows.’
‘I have told you much already, Doctor.’
‘Yes, and it is fascinating, but our world eats knowledge like locusts eat the crops of the Nile. I seek something that will set me apart in this world of knowledge.’
‘Now, I see,’ said Nephthys, ‘you are indeed like other men but while they seek crowns of gold, you seek a crown of a different sort?’
‘Something like that,’ said Samari.
‘All men covet so,’ said Nephthys, ‘and when you place knowledge against riches, it is the coin that outweighs the papyrus.’
‘Not so with me, Nephthys.’
‘It is true of all men,’ said Nephthys, ‘and I will set you a test that I know you will fail. Will you take this test, Doctor?’
‘I have strength in my own convictions,’ said Samari. ‘Ask your questions.’
Nephthys left her position against the wall and walked slowly past him. He glanced nervously over his shoulder as she passed but remained where he was.
‘I will offer you a choice
of information, Doctor,’ she said as her hand caressed his throat, ‘and you can pick which one you want me to reveal. Whichever you choose, I will answer truthfully. Both answers can change your life in ways you can never imagine, but you can hear only one.’
‘And what do you want in return?’ asked Samari.
‘Nothing more than that already promised. I have been patient, but the time approaches when you must help me leave this place.’
‘You know I want to take you back,’ said Samari, ‘but it is very difficult. The land we are now in is very far away from Kemet and I fear we will not make it.’
‘Hear my words first,’ said Nephthys, ‘and make your choice later.’
‘Go on.’ said Samari.
‘My first gift will be one of knowledge, Doctor. I will tell you all there is to know about my kind, where we came from, how it is we survive and what it is like to be forced to sleep for a thousand years. I will tell you what it is like to walk on both sides of death and see what lies on either side. I have seen what awaits mortal man across the divide, and though it is something your kind are not meant to see, I will share this knowledge with you to do with as you wish.’
‘And the second choice?’ asked Samari.
‘The gift of gold,’ said Nephthys, ‘a treasure unimagined in any mortal’s wildest dreams. In the mountains to the east of the Nile, lies a single tomb, carved so deep into the mountains, that after you enter, it takes half a day to reach the burial chamber. The king buried therein has taken a treasure so vast, that it makes every king thereafter seem like a pauper in comparison. He was the greatest ever to walk the lands of Kemet and makes Ramesses look like a thief in the night.’
‘And who was this king?’ asked Samari.
‘Khufu,’ said Nephthys, ‘King of kings.’
‘But didn’t Khufu build the great pyramid?’
‘He did, but he saw the greed in his people and turned his eyes elsewhere even before it was finished. His body lies to the east in a location unknown by any mortal.’
‘And how do you know this?’ asked Samari.
‘For I have been there,’ said Nephthys. ‘During his reign, he treated Sekhmet with respect and allowed the nightwalkers to share in the bounty of his lands. There were temples in Sekhmet’s name and Khufu paid tribute at her feet. When he died, Sekhmet repaid the debt by ensuring his body was safe for eternity. She and her sisters guarded the tomb for a generation until the earth moved and rocks covered the entrance. Only one way in remains and it is by this route my mother took me as a child to pay tribute at the feet of Khufu.’
‘You saw the treasures yourself?’ asked Samari,
‘I did.’
‘And how much was there?’
‘It was spread in ten chambers, each ten times the size of this,’ said Nephthys.
‘And Khufu?’
‘Lies there still.’
‘How do you know that? It could have been robbed.’
‘No man could find it, for no man goes there. All who built the tomb were interred within and those who sealed the tomb were killed by the sisters. My mother chose the place well, for it is a place of death.’
‘Yet you know where it is.’
‘I, and only I, have that knowledge.’
‘And you would share it with me?’
‘Release me from this place and I will take you there. I have no use for memories of dead kings, or golden statues. My need is freedom and for that I would pay the earth.’
Silence fell as Nephthys walked back to the wall at the rear of the cell.
‘Consider carefully, Doctor;’ she said, ‘knowledge of life after death, or a treasure unparalleled. Either is available, all you have to do is open the door.’
Samari’s mind was spinning. What she was offering was beyond his wildest dreams, but the trade-off was a price too high. How could he let her loose? She would be a killing machine in an over populated world. Yet, was that his problem? There had always been killers and even if she did kill people, it would be the merest fraction compared to wars, starvation and disease. Who was he to assume the role of the world’s protector? With either gift, his life would change out of all recognition. The meaning of life, or a lifetime of luxury?
Finally, he stood up.
‘There is much to consider, Nephthys,’ he said, ‘I will back this evening with an answer.’
‘Do not ponder too long, Doctor;’ she answered, ‘for there are other deals to be made.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Samari.
‘Be gone, Doctor, for I tire of your questions.’
Samari left the cell and made his way back to his room, confused and scared, yet excited beyond all reason.
----
Later that evening Samari made his way down to the canteen for his evening meal. Even here they had spared no expense and those who were able enough, could eat their meals in a restaurant atmosphere. For the last few evenings, he had joined Mrs Leighbourne for dinner. Each enjoyed the other’s company and though he avoided the real reason he was here, he still was still able to share the many fantastic stories of Egyptian history he had learned throughout his career. In return, he heard Mrs Leighbourne’s tales of the worldwide travel she and her husband had enjoyed throughout her life. He looked over to the table they normally shared and was surprised that she wasn’t there as she was a stickler for timekeeping. He called one of the nurses over.
‘Has Mrs Leighbourne been in already?’ he asked, ‘It’s not like her to be late.’
‘Oh, Doctor Samari, I am so sorry,’ she said, ‘didn’t anyone tell you? Mrs Leighbourne passed away this morning.’
‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘that’s awful. I thought she had a few months left?’
‘These things can strike at any time,’ said the nurse. ‘She had a poor night and never really woke up. Her poor heart finally gave out about ten this morning and she died peacefully in her sleep.’
Samari sighed deeply.
‘Oh well,’ he said, ‘at least she wasn’t in pain. That’s the only thing she was worried about.’
‘She was an extraordinary woman,’ said the nurse. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No thanks,’ said Samari, ‘I’ll grab a sandwich and take it back to my room. Thank you.’
----
The day’s events had a sobering effect on Samari, and he lay on his bed in his room, staring at the ceiling while wrestling with his conscience. This whole immortality thing was tearing apart everything he believed in. He was an Egyptologist and spent his life studying the dead and their surroundings. It was the way of things, the way it should be. People, animals, plants, they all lived and died before being replaced with the young and the healthy. Just take Mrs Leighbourne for instance. She was a prime example of someone who would have benefited from some miracle drug that could replace the cancerous cells or prolong her life, but even she had stated she welcomed the eternal sleep that death brought. Death was as natural as birth. It was inevitable, it was natural and more than that, it was right. Yet to be in a position to understand how to slow that process down was a privilege and surely he had a duty to the human race to explore this opportunity that lay before him.
On the other hand there was a powerful argument against there being be an elixir of eternal life. The world couldn’t take it. The rich and the powerful would keep it for themselves. Power would remain in the same hands for generations and with absolute power came absolute corruption. But even if the outcome was different and the drug became widely available; what then? The world could hardly maintain the population as it stood now. Millions already went hungry and the human race was stripping the planet of resources faster than they could be replaced. What would happen if you threw immortality into the pot? Birth rates would continue to rise, yet there would be far less death and disease, ideal in principle but disastrous in practice. The population would implode and the human race would be wiped out apart from a few privileged individuals. No, whichever outcome came from this, it
could only end in disaster.
Then there was the lure of Khufu’s tomb. He already knew that many Egyptologists had long thought Khufu was buried elsewhere, and if Nephthys could show him where he lay, then the world would benefit enormously with the expansion of knowledge. Fame and fortune would follow and though that was secondary in Samari’s thoughts, he had to admit, the thought of worldwide recognition did make him smile.
For hours, the thoughts raced around his mind until finally he made a decision. He would accept the offer of Khufu’s tomb and somehow take the girl back to where she belonged. He wasn’t sure how that could be done yet, but the decision was made. He just wanted to do one thing first and then he would go down to the basement and tell her she was right. Men chose wealth over knowledge every time. He walked down to reception and spoke to the girl on the desk.
‘Hello again,’ he said, ‘I wonder if you could help me, please? ’ One of my friends passed away today and I understand you have a chapel here where people can pay their last respects,’
‘That’s right we do,’ said the girl. ‘It’s in the east wing but you have to make an appointment as sometimes there are other families there.’
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I may be too late but could you check if Mrs Leighbourne is still there and if so, could I book fifteen minutes as I would like to pay my last respects.’
‘Just a second,’ she said, consulting a diary on her desk. ‘Oh yes, here we are, Mrs Agnes Leighbourne, died early this morning. Oh, sorry, Mr Samari, It seems Mrs Leighbourne’s body has already been collected earlier today.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Samari. ‘Could you let me know what undertaker took her? Perhaps I could pay my respects at the chapel of rest.’
The girl read the notes.
‘Right,’ she said, ‘there is no record of an undertaker on file as apparently the body was taken away by private ambulance.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, that’s quite normal. Sometimes the families of the deceased make their own arrangements and transport the body to a funeral home closer to the family home.’
‘I thought she didn’t have a family?’
