The Last Priest

by Amy Cross

  “Are you serious?” she asked. “What does he want?”

  “No-one knows, but he's got a history of blowing shit up. All of Europe and America is basically on high alert in case the guy decides to use his haul. Apparently he has missiles that would allow him to deliver these things to most of Europe, including London, Paris, Berlin, places like that. There's even talk about evacuating the cities. I don't know, I'm not usually the kind of person who gets easily whipped up into a state of panic, but this time... Something feels different. This psycho posted some videos online, talking about how he wants to bring civilization to its knees. It's not like he's after money or territory or anything like that, apparently all he really cares about is destruction and he's got more than enough weapons to bring it about. We just have to wait and hope the security services track him down and stop him before he's able to do whatever the hell he's planning, but so far they don't seem to be having much luck.” He sighed. “Either way, borders have been slammed shut all across eastern Europe. Hopefully that'll stop him for now.”

  “I'm sure it'll be okay,” Charley said cautiously, although she knew her words were no help. She couldn't help thinking back to the warning Duncan had found on the pillar, threatening the end of the world if the tomb was breached, but she told herself she was just being paranoid. The whole thing was just a coincidence.

  “You guys are fine,” he continued. “You're way out there in the middle of nowhere.”

  “We're just keeping busy,” she told him. “It's late now, we should probably be sleeping soon, but...” Glancing up the steps, she listened to the sound of Chris still working on the stones. He'd been hammering away for hours, and she had no doubt that he'd keep going all night if necessary. “I'm really not sure what we're going to find when we get in there,” she continued, making her way around the edge of the wall and wandering through the darkness, hoping to get a little further away from the others. “Can I tell you something, and you won't pass it on to anyone else?”

  “Shoot.”

  “You have to promise. I don't want people thinking I'm an idiot.”

  “I won't tell anyone.”

  “I'm starting to wonder if this is the right thing to do,” she continued. “Everyone else keeps saying that we're not grave-robbers, that we're scientists and historians, but I still don't know if we should be cracking open someone's tomb purely because we're curious. There are inscriptions all over the place, warning people to stay out. Maybe we should just...” Stopping at the corner of the wall for a moment, she took her torch from her belt and switched it on, shining a beam of light at the trees. “I can't tell anyone else that I feel like this,” she added. “They already think I don't belong here, and I'd just be giving them a load more ammunition.”

  “That tomb is over a thousand years old,” David pointed out, as his voice briefly filled with static before returning to normal. “I guess, after a long enough period of time, it stops being someone's last resting place and just becomes a site of historical interest. I mean, the bodies in there have probably turned to dust by now, so it's not like you'll even be disturbing much.”

  “But who are we to make that call?” she asked.

  “So what are you going to do? Wait outside while everyone else goes in tomorrow?”

  “Of course not,” she replied, continuing her walk along the edge of the wall, heading around to another side of the building. “I just -” Stopping suddenly, she shone the torch ahead and realized that she'd probably gone far enough. It was one thing to get some privacy from the others, but wandering off alone into the darkness didn't feel like such a good idea. Turning, she began to make her way back. “I guess I'll get over it,” she continued. “I'm sure scientific curiosity will trump moral concerns once we get through the door tomorrow. I mean, it's exciting as hell. We're on the verge of something truly amazing.”

  “You should be careful,” he told her. “I'm looking at the satellite images and you've got a lot of rain headed your way. The first band should hit shortly after sunrise.”

  “How long will it last?”

  “Most of the day, and rain storms in that part of the world can be pretty goddamn torrential.”

  “Thanks for the heads up,” she replied. “Our tents should be okay, though. They were built to survive blizzards.”

  “Communication might be difficult too,” he told her.

  “It might?” She paused, suddenly feeling distinctly uneasy at the thought that she and the others might get cut off, even if it was only for a few hours.

  “Relax,” David continued. “Once the rain passes, it'll be back to normal. I should be able to call again tomorrow evening.”

  “Sure,” she said, hearing another burst of static on the line.

  “I should go,” David told her when his voice finally emerged from the digital haze. “There's a shift changeover in about an hour, and I still have a whole load of stuff to do. I'll try to get in touch tomorrow, though, but I won't panic if we don't hear from you guys for a couple of days. Good luck with your journey into the mysterious tomb of death! We're all rooting for you guys! Just try not to get cursed, okay?”

  “Thanks,” she replied uneasily, “I hope we -” Before she could finish, she realized the line had gone dead. Sighing, she lowered the phone and stopped for a moment, looking around at the darkness. She knew it was crazy to be so worried, but a part of her felt that if the phone was out of action for even a few hours, she'd feel more isolated than ever. Looking up, she watched the sky for a moment, marveling at the bright stars that lay like a blanket from horizon to horizon. With no light pollution in the area, the stars were brighter than she'd ever seen them.

  Hearing a noise nearby, she turned and looked out at the dark jungle. She paused, listening in case the noise returned, and after a moment she heard a faint rustling sound. Instinctively, she raised the torch and shone its beam of light straight ahead.

  “Hello?” she called out. “Who's out there?”

  She waited, but no reply came.

  “Duncan?” she continued. “Is it you? This isn't funny...” She paused. “Martha?”

  She waited again, but the only sound came from Chris still chiseling away on the other side of the pyramid.

  “Hilarious,” she muttered, taking a step back as she continued to shine the torch at the trees. She wanted to believe that the noise had been nothing, that it had just been an animal or the wind, but deep down she knew it had been neither of those things. She waited a moment longer, before figuring that she should just get back to the others. Turning, she -

  Suddenly she spotted something glinting in the torchlight. She froze, keeping the light aimed at the trees, and after a few seconds she realized she could see something white on the ground, just a few meters away. Whatever it was, it clearly wasn't moving. Taking a couple of steps forward, she squinted a little as she tried to get a better look, and finally she realized that there was a human skull poking out of the soil, in exactly the spot where she and Henrik had buried the remains of Thomas Martin a few hours earlier.

  ***

  “Subduction,” Martha muttered, as they stood around the skull a few minutes later. “Natural geological processes could have pushed the bone matter back up, out of the soil.”

  “Not this fast,” Henrik replied, with a hint of fear in his voice. In the distance, Chris could still be heard hammering at the stone, having told them to 'deal' with whatever was going on and not distract him. “Even if that happened, it would take weeks, and anyway, none of the other soil seems to have been disturbed.”

  “Then how do you explain it?” Martha asked, turning to him. “Come on, hotshot. How did a set of bones manage to un-bury themselves?”

  “What about wild animals?” Charley asked, turning and shining her torch through the trees. “Just because we haven't seen or heard anything, that doesn't mean there's nothing out here.”

  “There's no wild animal that'd dig up a skull and then just leave it,” Martha told her, “a
nd besides, we really would have seen or heard something.” Aiming her torch straight up, she looked at the tree branches high above them. “There's nothing in the area, which is why the cause has to be some kind of geological event.”

  “Or Thomas Martin just didn't want to stay buried,” Duncan suggested.

  The others turned to him.

  “I'm just saying what we're all thinking,” he continued, turning to Henrik. “Come on, man, I know you were thinking it.”

  “I buried him,” Henrik replied. “Charley was here too, she saw... I put him three feet down at least and I covered the grave properly. There's no way any kind of geological process could have brought him up so fast.”

  “Which leaves... what, exactly?” Duncan asked.

  “Maybe someone's playing a joke,” Martha pointed out, staring at him. “A really bad, really unfunny joke?”

  “Me?” he replied, clearly shocked by the suggestion. “Hey, come on, I've been with you guys all evening. I barely even took a moment to go and pee!”

  “Let's not start arguing amongst ourselves,” Henrik added. “Let's just...” He looked down at the skull for a moment. “Just because we don't know what caused this thing to come back up, that doesn't mean we have to rush to conclusions. If anyone here did this as a joke -”

  “For God's sake...” Duncan sighed.

  “I'm not accusing you,” Henrik continued, “I just think that if anyone -”

  “I know how to settle this,” Duncan replied, reaching down and grabbing the skull before heading over to the wall.

  “What are you -” Charley began to ask, but it was too late.

  Smashing the skull against the stones, Duncan then dropped it to the ground and crunched his heel against the remains, shattering the top of the skull and sending splinters of bone deeper into the mud as he ground them down.

  “Stop!” Charley shouted, rushing over to him.

  “Too late,” he replied, stepping back to reveal the fragments of bone. “There? Is everyone happy now? There's no way the skull of Thomas bloody Martin is coming back from that, not unless some prankster happens to have a tub of superglue. So if someone wants to keep playing tricks on us, they're going to have to be a little more inventive.”

  Kneeling down, Charley shone her torch at the fragments and began to pick them up, before Duncan reached past her and picked up the largest pieces, which he proceeded to throw toward the trees.

  “You're going too far,” Martha said firmly. “You've made your point.”

  “You all think I did it,” he replied. “As if I'd pull a stunt that was so completely stupid. So I figured I'd end it. There, now no-one can mess with the goddamn thing. Problem solved.”

  “It's not right,” Charley whispered as she continued to pick up small slivers of bone.

  “Oh, go to hell,” Duncan told her. “We don't need you to be some kind of moral compass for the whole group.”

  “You should respect the dead,” Henrik said with a sigh.

  “Or what?” Duncan asked. “They're gonna come back and get their revenge?” Stepping past the others, he turned and looked up at the dark pyramid, shining the light of his torch against the stones. “Hey! Is anyone in there? Ah-Shalla? What about all the workers you killed and the wives you had buried alive with you? What about the priests who were left behind? Any of you want to come out and play? We're right here!”

  “You're an idiot,” Martha muttered.

  “Anyone?” Duncan shouted. “No?” He continued to shine his torch at the pyramid for a moment, before turning and shining the beam straight at the others, causing them all to shield their eyes. “See?” he continued. “Let's cut all the supernatural bullshit and just get on with our job, okay? We're too smart to get suckered into superstitious crap.” Taking a deep breath, he waited for one of them to speak, but the only sound came from the distance, as Chris continued to chisel and hammer at the stones. “If you ask me,” he continued finally, “Chris has the right idea. At least he's doing something constructive, something that'll actually make a difference.”

  “That skull -” Martha began.

  “I don't give a damn,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “How did it rise up out of the ground? I don't care, for all I know it was Charley, trying to make some stupid point about morals and respect. I'm not a geologist, but I'll tell you one thing. If there was a geologist here, he'd be able to explain the whole damn thing. In fact, when we get back to London, I will personally make it my business to find someone who can explain it for us. Happy?” Sighing, he looked over at Charley, who was still picking up fragments of bone. “You don't need to that,” he said wearily. “The guy's dead. He doesn't know and he doesn't care.”

  “I care,” she replied.

  “Jesus, you people...” Turning, Duncan began to make his way back to the camp.

  “That was out of order!” Henrik called after him.

  Without stopping or looking back, Duncan raised his left hand and gave them all the finger.

  “Pleasant guy,” Martha muttered, heading over to the bones and reaching down to pull up the small metal trunk. “Remind me to pee in his water bottle some time.” Opening the trunk, she pulled out the letter that Chris had read earlier. “I knew it!” she said after examining it for a moment.

  “What?” Charley asked.

  “To any who follow in our footsteps and come to seek the tomb of Ah-Shalla,” she continued, reading from the letter, “I beg you to stop. There is something here, a great evil, and it has already claimed two of our number. The stories are true and a man still walks inside the tomb. Ah-Shalla himself has risen and will strike down all who come. I plead with you, leave this place at once and whatever you do, you must not enter the pyramid.” She turned to Charley. “Funny that Chris didn't want to read that part to us earlier, huh? That goddamn asshole, I knew he was lying!”

  “He probably just didn't want to scare us,” Charley replied. “The man who wrote that was probably hallucinating. He was probably delirious from the heat, or maybe an infected wound...”

  “Probably,” Martha said with a smile, folding the letter and slipping it back into the trunk, “but it would be nice of him to be honest with us, don't you think? After all, we're adults, we should be able to make up our own minds.” She sighed. “So what do we think, kids? Did Duncan do all of this as some kind of prank, or did the bones of Thomas Martin force their way out of the grave so we could read the rest of that letter? Those seem like the only possibilities right now.”

  “I don't think Duncan had anything to do with that skull coming back up,” Henrik replied, turning to look down at the shallow grave, where several other bones had also begun to poke through the soil. “I don't think a ghost was responsible, either. Hell, I don't know what happened, but it was probably just...” His voice trailed off for a moment, before he turned to look at the pyramid again and listened to the sound of Chris still hard at work. “I need to sleep,” he said finally. “Let's just wipe the slate clean. When the sun comes up, we'll forget all of this happened. If we're going to keep from grabbing each other's throats today, we need to find a way to avoid flashpoints like this.”

  As Henrik trudged back to camp, Martha turned to see that Charley was examining the bone fragments she'd gathered in the palm of her hand.

  “What should I do with them?” Charley asked after a moment, getting to her feet.

  “Bury them?” Martha suggested. “Toss them to the wind? I don't care, just... Let's not get too hung up on things that aren't important. If we stay here until day twenty-one and then start trekking back to base, that means we still have to put up with one another for another six days, plus the journey back to England... It's gonna be a long week if things fester.”

  Reaching into her pocket, Charley took out a small, clear plastic bag and dropped the bone pieces inside.

  “What are you doing that for?” Martha asked as they began to walk back to the camp.

  “I don't even know,” Charley replied
, closing the bag and then slipping it back into her pocket. “It just seems like they shouldn't be left out here.”

  “Out of some lingering sense of respect?”

  Charley shrugged.

  “Well, if I die out here,” Martha continued, “which I won't, but if I did, feel free to leave me where I fall. I have zero interest in a good Christian burial or being carried around in a Ziploc bag. Now that's unnatural.”

  As they walked away, a few pieces of bone were still glinting in the moonlight. High above, the vast stone pyramid towered into the night sky. Jutting out slightly from the stones, a small platform overlooked the scene; once, more than a thousand years ago, the last priest had stood on that platform and watched the workers toiling to build the tomb.

  Chapter Six

  “So should we draw straws or something?” Martha asked the following morning, as they all stood around the gap in the wall where Chris had finally managed to remove one of the stones.

  “Remind me,” Duncan said, “are we supposed to want to be the first one who goes in, or not?”

  “I'll be the first one going in,” Chris replied, slipping some new batteries into his torch. “As the expedition leader, it's my responsibility. And, to be fair, my privilege.”

  “What about traps?” Charley asked, staring at the gaping back hole. After a moment, she turned to the others. “You said there might be traps.”

  “Not in this part,” Chris told her. “Any kind of trap system would be reserved for the areas closer to Ah-Shalla's burial chamber or for any other rooms containing his treasures, and even then... Let's not get too hung up on things like that, okay? There really aren't going to be spears coming out of walls or crossbows linked to trip-wires. That kind of stuff is reserved for the movies.” Checking that his torch was working, he got down on his hands and knees, ready to crawl into the hole.