The Last Priest

by Amy Cross

  “Don't do that,” Charley said, turning to him.

  He shrugged.

  “I pray that Elizabeth will understand that everything I did, I did for our family, and for our future,” Chris continued. “I leave all my worldly possessions to her, and to our children, and I entreat her to always remember that she was in my heart. I also ask that she remarry, so that she does not spend her remaining years alone.” He turned to read the other side of the letter. “To any who follow in our footsteps and come to seek the tomb of Ah-Shalla -”

  Pausing for a moment, he lowered the letter, and looked over at the skull that stared up crooked from the mud. “His name was Thomas Martin. He was one of the men who accompanied Charles Ravenscroft on his expedition here in 1900.”

  “They all disappeared after reaching South America,” Martha pointed out. “They were never heard of again. Looks like they at least managed to reach the lost tomb. They just never made it out again.”

  “The curse strikes again,” Henrik whispered.

  “Hey,” Chris said, turning to him, “let's not start talking about things like that.”

  “What's in the rest of the letter?” Martha asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You didn't finish,” she reminded him. “To any who follow in our footsteps blah blah blah... What comes next?”

  Chris looked down at the letter for a moment. “To any who follow in our footsteps and come to seek the tomb of Ah-Shalla... I wish you luck.” He turned to her. “That's all.”

  “So where are the rest of them?” she asked. “Four people came on that expedition, and we know that Harold Cathcart made it back to London before offing himself. If old Tommy boy died and rotted here, I guess it's a safe bet that the same thing happened to the other two.”

  “Or they got lost in the jungle,” Chris suggested. “Maybe Thomas and Harold were the only ones who made it here, or maybe Thomas stayed behind for some reason when the others left. We might never know.”

  “Or maybe they're still here,” Duncan added. “There might be some more bones to find.”

  “Locating the members of previous expeditions is not our priority,” Chris continued, folding the letter up and heading back over to the small metal trunk where it had been found a moment earlier. Opening the lid, he set it inside before turning to the others. “Most of their equipment, like their tents and so on, have probably rotted away by now. We shouldn't let ourselves get distracted by a tragedy that happened more than a century ago.”

  “We should bury him,” Charley said suddenly.

  The others turned to her.

  “We should,” she continued, surprised at their resistance. “I mean, it's only right.”

  “It's a bit late for burying him, isn't it?” Duncan pointed out. “The guy's got no meat left.”

  “We can't afford to expend energy on frivolous activities,” Chris continued. “This man died a hundred years ago, his bones have been left out here for this long... I don't know the statute of limitations on a Christian burial, but I'm pretty sure they've run out.”

  “Besides,” Duncan added, picking up the skull and admiring it for a moment before placing it on top of a broken wall, “I think old Tommy would rather be in the sunshine.”

  Charley sighed.

  “What?” Duncan continued with a smile. “Wouldn't you rather be where you can at least see what's going on, instead of buried down there in the deep dark ground?” He turned to the skull. “He can stand watch for us.”

  “There's no obvious sign of injuries,” Chris continued, heading over to take a look at some of the other bones. “Most likely, this man died of exposure or dehydration, something like that. Those Victorian expeditions weren't always very well equipped, not like today.”

  “I say, that's a bit rum,” Duncan said, faking an old English accent as he tilted the skull toward Chris. “I'll have you know that we had several satchels full of porridge with us.”

  “Hilarious,” Martha said with a sigh.

  “Let's get back to work,” Chris continued, clearly not impressed by Duncan's antics. “We need to maximize our time here, and there are still several hours of sunlight left. If we can get all the preliminary work done today, tomorrow we can start really making inroads.”

  “You mean going inside this place?” Martha asked.

  “Precisely.”

  “Despite all the gloomy warnings,” Duncan continued, finally leaving the skull alone. “I've been examining some of the texts on the main gate, and let's just say that the people who built this place did not want visitors. They put up all the usual stuff about doom and pain coming to anyone who sets foot in the tomb, and things get especially bad for anyone who dares enter the actual burial chamber. According to the warnings, that's when the shit really hits the fan.”

  “I think we're all beyond such superstitious nonsense,” Chris told him.

  “Are you beyond it?” Duncan asked, turning to Charley.

  “I'm fine,” she replied.

  “You're not worried about being boiled alive in a pit of a thousand snakes?” he asked. “Seriously, that's one of the warnings on the gate. And even if you get past that, there's supposed to be an army of the undead guarding Ah-Shalla's final resting place, and a river of poison that gives off toxic vapors. I mean, it doesn't exactly sound fun in there.”

  “Get to work, people,” Chris called back to them, as he made his way up the stone steps that led to the plateau.

  “Just having some fun,” Duncan muttered, trudging after him. “Lightening the mood, yeah?”

  “You okay?” Martha asked, looking over at Charley.

  “Sure,” she replied, “I just... It was kind of creepy stumbling across a set of bones like that.”

  “I bet it was,” Martha said with a faint smile. “Well done for not screaming, though. That would've been very cliched. The way you calmly came to fetch us was impressive.” She turned and looked at the skull. “I wonder what he saw?”

  “What do you mean?” Charley asked.

  “Assuming he died right here,” she continued, looking around at the mud, “I wonder what was going on? Was he alone? Had he been suffering? He had time to write that note and put it away in the trunk he'd carried with him, so maybe he knew the end was coming. I mean, the handwriting was pretty neat, and it sure didn't sound like the fevered words of a man who'd lost his mind.” She looked up at the pyramid for a moment. “A place like this can play tricks on you,” she added finally. “It can drive you quite out of your mind.”

  “So where are the other two?” Charley asked. “There should be two other bodies.”

  “I'm pretty sure we'd have found them if they were around the perimeter,” Martha replied. “Don't worry, as sad as it is, they probably died quite a way from this place.”

  “Or inside,” Charley pointed out, looking up at the stone edifice of the main pyramid.

  “Boy,” Martha muttered, “you sure know how to send a chill down someone's spine, don't you?”

  “We should bury him,” Henrik said, starting to gather bones from the mud. “It's only right.”

  “I agree,” Charley replied. “I don't... I mean, I'm not Christian, but he seems to have been, based on what he wrote in the letter. We should respect that.”

  “You really think he cares?” Martha asked.

  “I think we should respect his wishes,” Charley continued, picking up a few bones that were near her feet. “It's okay, it won't take long. Henrik and I can do it.”

  “Well,” Martha muttered, “if you wanna be cute, be cute, but I've got other things to be doing.”

  As Martha headed away, Charley finished picking up bones before turning to look at the skull. “I wonder what his final moments were like,” she said, before glancing over at Henrik. “I mean, he was a long way from home, he'd finally found the lost tomb, but he knew he was never going to get back to England. If he was stranded here, writing that letter...” She paused for a moment. “Then again,” she added,
“the letter seemed hopeful, like he thought it would get delivered to his wife. Maybe there were other people still around, people he believed were going to make it out of this place.”

  “Maybe,” Henrik replied, carrying the bones over to a small clearing and setting them down, before kneeling and starting to dig with his hands. “There are a million possibilities. You'll go mad trying to think of them all.”

  Carrying the bones over, she laid them on the pile.

  “Do you think it matters?” she asked after a moment. “Doing this, I mean.”

  “Burying him?” He paused. “Maybe. Who knows? Either way, it can't do any harm to show a little respect. You never know if...” His voice trailed off for a moment.

  “Do you believe in that stuff?” Charley asked.

  “You mean God?” He finished digging a small hole, before starting to place the bones at the bottom. “Some days yes, some days no. I've never really been able to make my mind up. Do you mind fetching the last piece?”

  “What last piece?” Glancing back toward the wall, she saw the skull still in place where Duncan had placed it a few minutes earlier. “Right.” Heading over, she lifted the skull up, finding it to be surprisingly light. Carrying it back to the pit that Henrik had dug, she couldn't help looking down at the skull's hollow eyes. “It must be horrible to die out here,” she said finally, “so far from home, so far from anyone you love, knowing that your body...” She paused, glancing over toward the trees. “Knowing that your body will probably get eaten by predators.”

  “Except that it wasn't,” Henrik replied, taking the skull from her and placing it at the bottom of the shallow pit. “The bones wouldn't still be so close to one another if that was the case.”

  “Surely something from the jungle would have eaten him?”

  “You'd think so, but no,” he continued. “It seems like he just rotted away where he fell.”

  Looking out at the forest again, Charley listened to the silence all around them. “Shouldn't there be something?” she asked finally. “During our trek out here, we used to hear noises nearby, but since we got close to the tomb, there's been nothing. It's almost as if all the animals keep well away from the pyramid.”

  “It's exactly like that,” Henrik replied. “Spooky, huh? I've been on a few expeditions like this in the past, and these old sites are usually overrun by animals. Monkeys are a real hassle, but this place... Beats me, but you're right, they clearly don't want to come close. Now do you want to say a few words before we bury this guy, or should I?”

  “I don't know anything appropriate.”

  “Neither do I.” He paused, as they both looked down at the bones. “Rest in peace, God will welcome you, something about the father and the son...” Another pause, and then he began to cover the bones with soil. “Let's hope it's not the words that count, right? It's probably not.”

  “What about the letter?” Charley asked, looking over at the trunk.

  “I think it's a bit late to deliver it now,” Henrik pointed out. “I'm sure Mrs. Martin is long gone by now, and tracking down any descendants would be tricky.”

  “I guess.”

  “Done,” he replied, standing up and wiping sweat from his brow. “One grave, dug and filled.”

  “Should we mark it?” Charley asked.

  “You want to whip up a stone?”

  Looking around, she spotted a small rock nearby. Picking it up, she placed it on top of the makeshift grave. “I know it's probably stupid,” she said, taking a step back, “but at least it's something, right? If I died out here, I'd want -” She paused, suddenly feeling as if the conversation had taken an unexpected turn. “Not that that's going to happen, obviously, but -”

  “I know what you mean,” he replied, turning to look up at the pyramid. “It does feel like we're a long way from home, doesn't it?”

  “That whole thing about a curse is obviously rubbish, though,” she pointed out.

  “Is it?”

  “You believe it?”

  “I believe that we...” He paused, as if he was uncomfortable with the subject. “I believe there are things we don't understand. Mechanisms that operate behind the scenes. I tend to keep those views to myself, because in the scientific community we're supposed to be all about sheer, pure facts and nothing else, but the truth is... I think there's a vast amount that we don't know, and it's possible that there are things people used to know, hundreds of thousands of years ago, that we've forgotten.”

  “But curses were just a way to scare people away, right? They used to put terrifying warnings up to keep people from breaking in.” She turned to him. “Things were more primitive back then, I guess.”

  “I guess,” He replied, still looking up at the pyramid. “You know, the legend of the lost tomb of Ah-Shalla states that it can only be found by certain types of people, that the tomb itself chooses who reaches it and who just gets lost in the jungle. I thought we were going to be the ones to get lost, until you stumbled upon the place.” He turned to her. “Good job, Ms. Manners. If the tomb did want to be found this time, I guess you're the one it picked. We owe you one.”

  She smiled awkwardly. “I'm not sure it works quite like that.”

  “And the other part of the legend,” he continued, “is that the tomb also chooses who gets to leave again. As far as we know, the only person who ever found the tomb and got back home after was Harold Cathcart in 1899, and things didn't work out too well for him.”

  “I'm sure there's no curse that traps people here,” she pointed out.

  “They say great treasures are buried in the tomb,” he reminded her. “According to legend, the treasures can drive any man insane with greed, and that's before you even get to some of Ah-Shalla's other tricks. One of the reasons people have sought this pyramid for so long is that Ah-Shalla was said to have mastered the ability to turn back death. If you believe the stories, he carved his knowledge onto two stone tablets that were buried with him. All the gold and jewels in there, and those two tablets would be the real treasure.”

  “It's hard to believe any of that is true,” Charley replied.

  “I'm sure you're right,” he replied, before looking back at the grave they'd just dug. “Then again, I guess Thomas Martin thought the same thing when he arrived, and so did the others. Everyone thinks they're different, that they're the ones who'll disprove the whole curse thing and make it out alive. I just...”

  She waited for him to continue.

  “You just what?” she asked eventually.

  “Nothing,” he replied, seemingly forcing himself to snap out of it. “I'm just being dumb. I wouldn't have come on this expedition if I thought we weren't going to get back to civilization. We've got maps, we've got supplies, and crucially we're the first expedition to get here with proper, working communication links back home. It's not as if we can just disappear from the face of the planet, is it? We're going to get into this place, and we're going to get out again. Deal?” He reached out a hand.

  “Deal,” she replied, shaking his hand.

  ***

  “This section of text confirms it,” Duncan explained a short while later, indicating a set of symbols carved into a stone pillar. “This is the tomb of Ah-Shalla, and it contains his burial chamber as well as all the treasures he intended to give to the gods. It also contains, in theory, two stone tablets he'd used to record his knowledge. The rest of the text you see around you, on the pillars and walls, is a series of warnings.”

  “Painful death for anyone who dares go further?” Martha asked.

  “Exactly,” he continued. “Seriously, these guys went a little overboard with the threats. If you believe everything that's written here, there are pits of snakes and scorpions, there are horrific traps with spikes and poison, there are armies of the undead waiting to rise up and kill anyone who goes inside, and if that's not enough for you, Ah-Shalla himself is said to be waiting for anyone who gets all the way to the burial chamber. After all, the guy could supposedly
raise the dead.”

  “How convenient,” Martha muttered, rolling her eyes.

  “But what if it's true?” Charley asked. “Some of it, at least. Not the supernatural stuff, obviously, but what if there are traps?”

  “There almost certainly are,” Chris told her, “but they'll be very basic, most of them will be broken, and we can easily get past them. I've been on expeditions to tombs before, and I promise you, we're dealing with some very ropey designs. Pun intended.” He turned to look up toward the pyramid. “In the old days, when superstition reigned supreme, the threats themselves were enough to keep most people out. Only grave-robbers ever ventured into tombs, people motivated by greed.”

  “And what happened to them?” Charley asked.

  “The museums of the world are filled with the treasures they looted and sold,” he replied with a smile, “which rather suggests that they made it out just fine.” He turned to the others. “None of that means we can be complacent, though. I'm in charge and there are certain protocols we will be following. We'll be entering via the archways on the edge of the plateau at the top of the first set of steps. At that point, we should reach a large hallway. The tomb of Ah-Shalla is very different to other pyramids in this region, but we can make some reasonable assumptions about its layout.”

  “And we have all the right paperwork, yeah?” Duncan asked.

  “Of course.”

  “So we're not cutting corners?” he continued, clearly trying to make a point. “It's just, I could've sworn I heard the minister a few weeks ago saying that we have permission to look for the tomb, but not permission to go inside.”

  “We don't have permission to remove any high-value items from the country.”

  “But do we have specific permission to enter the tomb?”

  “Stop trying to cause trouble,” Chris said firmly, “I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't above-board. Now I'd like everyone to get ready for a basic exploration of the archways, so we can hit the ground running tomorrow morning.” He checked his watch. “We still have a couple of hours of usable light. Let's use it.”