The Last Priest

by Amy Cross

  “Yeah, but I don't wanna be seen as a pussy,” Martha replied with a smile. “I'm waiting for you to break instead. That way, I can pretend I'm so disappointed when we abandon the hunt for the lost tomb of Ah-Shalla.”

  As Martha made her way out of the tent, Charley adjusted her position on the sleeping bag and sat cross-legged for a moment. Taking a small mirror from her kit bag, she took a look at her face and saw that, despite a few cuts and bruises, she still wasn't looking too bad for someone who'd spent two and a half weeks in the jungle. Holding the mirror closer to her mouth, she spotted a few brown smears from the spider, which she quickly wiped away, before sticking her tongue out and seeing an entire severed spider leg resting on the surface. Resisting the urge to throw up, she wiped the leg away and then set the mirror down, before grabbing an energy bar from the bag and taking a moment to eat alone. She could already hear other voices outside, which meant the rest of the group had woken, but she wanted a couple of minutes alone, just to get her head straight.

  “Vote in five,” she heard Chris saying outside the tent. He sounded tired, but also determined.

  “Please,” Charley whispered, keeping her voice low so no-one could hear, “somebody change their vote. I want to go home. I just...” Closing her eyes, she thought back to the soft, cool bed in her grandparents' home, and to the sensation of her bare feet resting against the side of the sleeping dog. “Please,” she whispered, “let's just vote to go home. Please, can't one other person change their vote?”

  Above her, the sun could just about be made out through the cross-hatched fabric of the tent.

  ***

  “Okay everybody,” Chris said a few minutes later, as the five of them stood around the dying camp-fire, “you know what time it is, so let's get this over with. Simple majority rules, democracy in action, yesterday was three-two in favor of keeping going so let's see if anything's changed.”

  Around them, the sound of the jungle were becoming louder as other animals began to wake. Monkeys were calling to one another, parrots were cawing, and occasionally there were rustles as creatures moved through the undergrowth. Nothing dared approach the makeshift campsite, but plenty of animals were keen to observe from a distance, as if they'd never seen anything so strange as five European academics wearing ill-fitting khaki. Up in one nearby tree, a red and green parrot watched with particular interest, before being chased away by a monkey that wanted its perch.

  “One more thing before we start,” Chris continued. “I know some of you might be under the impression that this vote is a sham, that if the result is in favor of going home I'll override the decision and force everyone to keep going, but that isn't the case. I've always said that if the vote is for us to abandon the search for Ah-Shalla's tomb, then that's what we'll do.” He paused. “And in the spirit of kicking things off, I'll start. You'll be shocked to learn that I'm voting for us to continue.”

  They all stood in silence for a moment, as if no-one wanted to go next.

  “Martha?” Chris said finally.

  “I...” She paused, with a hint of doubt in her eyes. “I vote to keep going too.” She glanced at Charley for a split second, before looking down at the dying fire.

  “I vote to turn back,” said Duncan, his voice somehow sounding even wearier and more resigned than before. “We're not gonna find anything, and we can't be certain the rainy season won't start early this year. The longer we stay out here, the bigger the risk we're taking. I want to find the tomb as much as the rest of you, but I don't want to die in the process. Enough people have already chucked their lives away on this damn thing over the years.”

  “I agree,” said Henrik as he lit a cigarette. “I vote to turn back. We've checked the original search area and found nothing. It'd be better to get back to civilization, study the maps again, and think about returning next year. We absolutely can't risk getting caught out here when the rains come, and we clearly don't fully understand what we're dealing with. It would be arrogant to assume we can push on and somehow avoid the fate of people who came before us.”

  “No-one's going to die,” Chris told him.

  “You know the stories,” Henrik continued, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Men have gone mad searching for this place. What about Harold Cathcart? A hundred years ago, the man led a team to find the lost tomb of Ah-Shalla, and they say he was completely out of his mind by the time he got back to London. They say he actually found the tomb, too, but that it drove him out of his mind. The other men from his team were lost, and he ended up shooting himself in the head as soon as he got home. I don't want to be like him. I want to get home to my office and my work.”

  “Are you seriously going to let superstition drive you back?” Chris asked.

  “It's common sense. We're taking unnecessary risks by still being out here.”

  “So that's two in favor of continuing and two in favor of turning back,” Chris said with a sigh, “which is the same as yesterday, which means -” He turned to Charley. “You have the deciding vote again.”

  “I...” Pausing, Charley glanced at Martha and immediately saw the desperation in the older woman's eyes. Deep down, Charley shared that desperation; she wanted nothing more than to pack up and turn around, to begin the seven-day trek back to the port town so they could start on the journey home; at the same time she didn't want to be the one who cast the decisive vote, and she definitely didn't want her father to ever find out that she'd been broken by the jungle. If she couldn't be strong, at least she could fake it. “I vote to continue,” she said finally, with a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

  Henrik sighed, clearly annoyed.

  Duncan muttered something under his breath.

  Martha rolled her eyes.

  The monkey on the nearby tree turned and swung away.

  “Are you sure about that?” Chris asked, staring at Charley. “I don't want you to feel pressured just because -”

  “I'm sure,” she replied, trying to sound more confident. “Totally, one hundred per cent. We should keep going. I'm sure we'll find some sign of the tomb soon. I mean, the satellite images can't be that wrong.”

  “Uh, actually,” Duncan replied, grabbing some leaves and throwing them onto the fire to extinguish the last of the flames, “they can. They are, or we'd have found the damn place by now.”

  As the others began to pack up, resigned to another day's trek through the jungle, Chris made his way over to Charley.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Vote the opposite to what you want.”

  “I didn't.”

  “Yes, you did. You want to go home.”

  “I want to find the tomb.”

  “Do you? Or do you just want to impress your father? Because if that's what you're worried about -”

  “It's nothing to do with him,” she replied, wiping sweat from her brow. “I want to find the tomb, I want to show that the maps were right. I want us to be the first people to set foot in that place for a thousand years.”

  “It must be hard,” Chris replied, “being the daughter of the guy who's funding the whole expedition. You know, no matter what happens or how you vote in the future, when he asks how you performed on this trip, I'm going to give you a glowing report. You've been -”

  “I don't care about that,” she replied, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “I only are about us finding the tomb. There's no need to talk about my father at all. He's just the money-man.”

  Before Chris could continue, she turned and made her way over to the tent, where Martha had already started packing up. They exchanged a brief, silent glance as Charley got to work pulling pegs out of the soft forest floor, but the silence was filled with unexpressed irritation and Charley knew that, apart from Chris, everyone else was secretly angry at her for voting to continue the journey.

  “Daddy's girl,” Martha muttered quietly.

  “You voted the same way,” she pointed out.

  �
�That's because I don't wanna be seen as a pussy. I want you to be the one.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You're welcome.”

  “We move out in twenty minutes,” Chris announced. “We've got a lot of ground to cover today, but I'm convinced that if we head north and make our way past the crest, we've got a good chance of finding the ruins. The satellite images show they should be right there.”

  “We already went over the crest twice,” Duncan pointed out. “It's not gonna magically be there this time.”

  “Let's just keep our focus,” Chris continued. “The tomb of Ah-Shalla is out here somewhere and we're close, we have to be. We must be almost right on top of it.”

  “You'll break tomorrow,” Martha whispered to Charley as they began to roll their tent up. “You can't hack it much longer. You'll change your vote.”

  “I won't,” Charley replied, even though her muscles were aching and every nerve-ending in her body was screaming at her to give up. “We're going to keep going. We're going to find that tomb.”

  Chapter Two

  “It should be here,” Henrik said, standing in a small clearing as he studied one of the many print-outs that the team had brought with them. “According to the satellite images, the southern edge of the lost tomb of Ah-Shalla should be right where we're standing. There should be a wall running straight through here.” He turned to the others. “I don't see a wall.”

  “I don't see a pyramid, either,” Duncan added. “According to legend, the tomb of Ah-Shalla was in the heart of a great stepped pyramid, rising majestically out of the jungle. Has anyone spotted a majestic pyramid anywhere?” He turned and looked around at the trees. “Nope, I don't see any majestic pyramids. I just see trees, trees and more trees. Oh, and vines. Lots of vines.”

  “We'll keep looking,” Chris replied, taking a sip of water.

  “For how long?” Henrik asked, lighting another cigarette with fidgety fingers.

  “As long as it takes.”

  “Until we drop dead? We came out here on a data-driven exploration and the data is wrong. That was the whole point of this expedition, we were supposed to use new technology to locate the tomb.”

  “The data isn't wrong.”

  “Then show me the tomb!” Henrik snapped, clearly struggling to keep from shouting as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Scores of men have come out to this part of the jungle over the past century and a half, and they all thought they'd be the ones to find the tomb. And what happened? They all disappeared, except for one Englishman who made it all the way back to London before blowing his brains out. We thought we were different with our satellite images and our GPS trackers, but evidently we got something wrong. There's no shame in admitting that we didn't find the place!”

  “Of course there is,” Chris replied, making his way over and taking the print-out, before double-checking the GPS readout. He muttered something under his breath as he turned and looked first one way, then the other. “It's here, it has to be. The satellite images show it. A whole tomb can't disappear in six months!”

  “You're making decisions based on emotion,” Henrik told him. “That's how people get killed in the jungle.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Martha whispered, turning to Charley. “You know that, right?”

  “The satellite images show it,” Charley pointed out.

  “Then the satellite images are wrong.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “I don't know,” Martha continued, “but either the satellite images are wrong, or our eyes are wrong. I mean, I don't see a ruined tomb here, do you?”

  “Maybe it's a hoax,” Duncan suggested, making his way back over from the far side of the clearing. “Did any of you ever think of that? Maybe someone faked those satellite images for some sick reason.”

  “They were verified,” Chris told him.

  “By who? Someone you can trust?”

  “By me, actually,” Chris continued. “So unless you think I'm lying, I think we can put to bed any idea of a hoax. I saw the source feed with my own eyes.”

  “My father also had the images independently verified,” Charley added, turning to the others. Seeing the general lack of confidence in their faces, she immediately felt a little defensive. “Well, he did,” she continued. “He had two different labs study the images, and he had software and hardware engineers double-check the systems. He wouldn't have poured all this money into the project if there was even a chance that those photos were wrong.”

  “Because Daddy knows best?” Martha asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Because he's not an idiot!” she replied.

  Martha smiled.

  “Come on,” Duncan said, making his way over to them, “everyone knows about your father, Charley. He's been obsessed with finding the tomb of Ah-Shalla all his life. Don't you think it's just slightly possible that his desperation caused him to jump the gun a little? That maybe it made him too eager to believe?”

  “No,” she replied firmly. “He's not like that.”

  “It's easy to see what we want to see,” he continued, “especially when we've got multiple levels of technology to muddy the water. The thing is, though, that when you're actually out in the jungle, with your boots in the mud, there's no more lying. Look around, princess -”

  “Don't call me that!”

  “Look around, Ms. Manners. There's no tomb here!” He sighed. “Forget it. It's obviously just going way over your head.”

  “Because I'm still a student?”

  “You're the only one on this expedition who doesn't have a PHD,” he pointed out, before turning to Chris. “No offense, Dr. Abbingdon, but I think starting tomorrow, Ms. Manners shouldn't get a vote.”

  “Why the hell not?” Charley asked.

  “Because you're not as well-informed,” he replied, turning back to her. “No offense, but you're not on the same academic level as the rest of us, and it's pretty obvious that you blatantly just want to impress your father and show him he was right to force us to bring you along.”

  “No-one was forced to bring her along,” Chris said, as he studied one of the maps.

  “So why is she here?” Duncan asked. “She's a first-year post-grad student, not even at a good university. I can think of a hundred people, just off the top of my head, who'd be more useful on a trip like this. It's not like we need a work experience kid tagging along.”

  “Hey!” Charley replied, stepping toward him. “Who are -”

  “Calm down!” Chris called out, folding the map and heading over to them. “For God's sake, can't you see what's happening here? We've been out in the jungle for two weeks and you're starting to let your frustrations boil over! Duncan, Charley might have less experience than the rest of us but she's not just here because her father funded the expedition, she's here because I wanted to bring a research student along and she was the best candidate. If you think her father simply paid for her to come with us, you're not just insulting her, you're insulting me too.” He paused, before turning to Charley. “And you need to be more honest too,” he added, clearly running out of patience. “Start saying what you really think.”

  “Me?” she replied, shocked by his words.

  “I know you want to turn back,” he continued, “but you're desperate to prove yourself to your father and to the rest of us. Do me a favor, and just vote the way you want to vote tomorrow, okay? If you really think we should turn back, then that's what you should vote for.”

  “Maybe we should hold another vote right now,” Martha suggested.

  “Maybe we should keep going,” Chris replied firmly, “and hold a vote in the morning, as usual.”

  “Just in case we magically find the tomb in the next few hours?” Duncan asked. “Screw this, I'm calling a vote and I vote to turn back. Who's with me?”

  “I am,” Henrik said quickly.

  “I vote against,” Chris said, keeping his eyes on Charley.

  “I vote against too,” Mar
tha added.

  Charley turned and glared at her.

  “Well, I do,” Martha continued, with a faint smile that she couldn't quite hide.

  “It comes down to you again,” Chris said, waiting for Charley to cast her vote. “Forget about trying to impress me, or trying to impress the others, or trying to impress your father. Charley, do you really think we should continue, or do you think we should turn back?”

  “Remember,” Duncan said after a moment, “turning back doesn't mean giving up. We can re-check the satellite images, work out what's gone wrong, and maybe come out against next year.”

  “He's right,” Henrik added. “Face it, guys, we're wandering around in circles out here. The tomb of Ah-Shalla exists, I'm sure of that, but...” He shrugged. “I don't know what's wrong, but we're not gonna find it this time.”

  “What's it going to be?” Chris asked, still waiting for Charley's response.

  She paused. “I...”

  “You know what the locals say about the tomb of Ah-Shalla,” Henrik continued. “They say it won't let itself be found by the wrong people. They say you can be right on top of it and not see it, not unless the tomb wants to reveal itself to you. I know we laughed at that kind of superstitious stuff before, but maybe there's some truth in it.”

  “So you think the tomb's right here, all around us?” Duncan replied, clearly not buying the idea for a moment. He turned and look across the clearing. “You think it's here and we're just too dumb to see it?”

  “Not dumb,” Henrik continued, “just... We're not the people this tomb is waiting for. It's stayed hidden, for the most part, for a thousand years. Great men have come looking for the place and failed, that has to count for something.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Duncan muttered, “I thought I'd heard everything, but this? This is taking bullshit to a higher level.”