by SL Hulen
“The only thing I know about absolute zero is that it mixes well with cranberry juice.”
“There you go again—always making jokes. Well?” she asked after a long silence.
“I don’t know, I’d have to think about it.”
“You have until tomorrow morning to decide.” Khara gave one last, fierce tug on a thin braid at the center of Victoria’s back. “Finished,” she proclaimed and handed her the flashlight. Victoria shone the light onto the surface of the water, her eyes growing large at the image staring back at her.
Her skin glowed like moonstone against the winged eyeliner that curved upward at the outer corner of her eyes. Starting at the crown of her head, at least twenty small braids lay in neat rows across her scalp. With nothing more than a sliver of pottery, Khara had used the color she’d obtained by crushing it to soften the harshness of her cheeks and forehead and accentuate the fullness of her lips. Unconsciously, Victoria touched her face here and there to be sure that it didn’t belong to someone else.
“Ah. There is one last thing.”
Khara slid the coronation bracelet from her wrist and brought it to her lips. Whether the kiss she gave it was for good luck or goodbye, Victoria would never know. As she pondered this, the clasp closed around her wrist.
“Now you look like a queen.”
“Oh no, you don’t. It’s the only thing you have left—”
“And mine to give. In case you decide to stay, I want you to have something to remember me by. Thank you, Victoria Barrón, for everything that you have done for me. I will miss your cat’s smile and sharp tongue, but most of all I will miss your generous heart.”
She bowed ceremoniously. Victoria had never felt so small and graceless. After an eternity, Khara straightened. Accustomed to wearing pain silently and without complaint, she seemed genuinely surprised when she could not hold Victoria’s gaze.
“You haven’t left me yet, have you?” Victoria asked as she climbed onto the sandstone ledge of the spring in search of dry clothes.
A sliver of a moon rose in the sky; clouds churned and coiled like smoke from a locomotive. Now and then, a whiff of burning grass overpowered the smell of rain.
“It’s coming,” Victoria said, her skin tingling with electricity as small bursts of light began to dance across the rumbling sky. They took shelter in a narrow cavity at the farthest point from the cave opening, in a space just big enough to lay the bedrolls down side by side. Sometimes the cracking was just above them and, many times that night, it seemed the mountain would fracture.
Though Victoria still had no idea what was supposed to happen tomorrow, the idea that Khara would leave her took away the words she wanted desperately to say. Stay here where you’ll be safe. You can live a life filled with the simple joys I know you love. You and Oliver can raise corn and cows, maybe some chilies to harvest in the fall. I’ll drive up on weekends to visit. In a few years we’ll tell our story to your children. I’ll be the fun auntie and spoil them rotten. I’ll even ride horses with them. Please don’t go…
Crooked yellow fingers of lightning stretched malevolently across the black vastness. Victoria could not remember the sky ever seeming so full of wrath. Shrinking into her bag, she thought that the storm seemed a portent of things to come. Only crumbs would be left of her practice when she returned to El Paso. How much of what Elias had done would Marta blame on her? Plenty. Marta’s eyes, filled with a mixture of accusation and sympathy, would say, “I know my Elias. He would never have gotten involved if you hadn’t forced him to help you sell those bracelets.” Then she would wring her hands and dab her eyes. “I forgive you, hija; it’s not your fault. What can be expected when a child is orphaned at such a young age? Still, you’re a smart girl and should have known better. When has your uncle’s judgment been what it should when it comes to you?” Her aunt would then stare at the floor in silence and wonder what she had done wrong.
Maybe Khara was right. If she traveled to the past, she might outrun the cruel twists of life that she’d had no control over— the ones that had always had such control over her. Under the sleeve of her sweater, her hands ran over the raised goddess. Maybe it was time for a new start. A new start? Hah! Thousands of years in the past…
Finally, the wind eased, but Victoria found the silence disjointed and uncomfortable. She patted the sleeping roll next to her.
Khara’s voice was clear and alert. “What is it?”
Victoria turned the flashlight on. A few snowflakes landed gently at the foot of the sleeping bags, disappearing immediately. “I’m thinking about your offer.”
“Not a single day of regret will ever visit you in Egypt. I won’t let it. You have my solemn vow.”
“I said ‘thinking’; I haven’t decided anything yet.”
“I know that when you get something into your head, it’s as good as done.” A lengthy silence followed, and Victoria wondered if she had fallen asleep until she heard, “Victoria?”
“Yeah?”
“I have also been thinking.”
“About?”
“I simply cannot do it.”
“Do what?”
“Have Menefra put to death. Egyptian law says that I must hate her. Condemn her. Though she does not deserve the love I have for her, she is my twin. To kill her would be to kill a large part of myself, which Father Donato says is one of the greatest sins.” Khara took Victoria’s hand and squeezed it tight. “There was a time I thought of little besides plunging a blade through her dark heart, but now I am filled with pity for her. How can I benefit through the loss of her life?”
“Father Donato would be proud of you. And he would want you to wear this.” Victoria removed the gold chain from around her neck and handed it to Khara.
“Your aunt’s cross? Certainly not,” she declared, pushing it away indignantly. “You think that because I gave you the bracelet, you must return the courtesy?”
“Not at all. But if what you say about Menefra is true, you’ve earned it. Besides, I meant to give it to you earlier; you just caught me off guard. Take it—for good luck. Wear it to remember Father Donato. Heck, I don’t care why; just take it. And unless you want to spend the rest of the time before sunrise arguing about it, I suggest you put it on.”
It was too dark for Khara to work the tiny clasp, so Victoria, who had removed it thousands of mornings before her shower, fastened it.
“It’s beautiful,” Khara told her sincerely.
“You know, there’s every chance that nothing will happen tomorrow.”
“Shh!” Khara hissed, as though she was afraid someone would hear. “You will never learn when you’ve said enough. Now get some sleep!”
Chapter Fifty-One Khara
It was her last morning in the place she had once believed to be the Underworld. Khara rose, stretched, and smoothed her hair. Victoria was still slumbering as she crept from the sleeping bag to the hot springs to purify herself for prayer.
Lately she had not prayed on several mornings, preferring instead to spend the time in bed reliving the touch of Oliver’s hands on her thighs. The way she felt afterward made it impossible to think pure thoughts, and so the sun had begun its daily journey without her exaltation. Egyptians kissed their children awake and ate their morning bread without the benefit of the pharaoh’s prayer. And that brought her to another quandary. Was she to pray for the nation she had left behind, or for Egypt in the present day?
The spring water was seductively warm. Removing her boots, she rinsed her hands and feet. When the water was still again, she checked her makeup, touching up the black lines around her eyes with a piece of charcoal. Soon, Victoria joined her and was about to splash her face.
“Don’t!” Khara exclaimed. “It suits you too well to wash off.”
If she had been more awake she would have said something to the contrary, but Victoria just shrugged and fetched the last bit of food from the pack.
“It is unfitting for me to eat until after prayers,
” Khara noted, “but there is no need for you to wait.”
Victoria grumbled and crammed the bar into her pocket.
They stood at the ledge, and it reminded Khara of the time she had stood at the edge of a mountain with Nandor, unable to say goodbye while he spoke kind words to her as though she were a child. Turning to face the sun, she removed the cuff and lowered herself to her knees, bending as far forward as the stiffness in her limbs would allow.
Welcome, noble sunrise, constant in your abundance since the beginning of time
Next to her, Victoria knelt in supplication. Surely the gods of Egypt would be gratified this morning; her friend pronounced each word perfectly! Perhaps the mornings she had missed would now be forgiven. Even Menefra had never managed the entire prayer correctly. How could the gods of Egypt not be swayed by this modern woman on her knees, speaking a language that no longer existed? Khara smiled and continued.
Afterwards, they ate the last bar and shared some water. Khara took only a bite or two—just enough to push the bile back into her stomach as she watched the hands on her watch crawl from minute to minute. She helped Victoria wrap the sleeping bags inside the bedrolls and secure them to the pack, which they hid in the crevice where they had spent the night.
“We won’t need it,” Victoria told her. Then they scoured the area to remove any sign that they had been there. Finally, Khara used the small piece of charcoal to freshen Victoria’s makeup.
It was time to begin the short hike to the top of the mesa. To hide her fears, Khara prattled on about the world she was leaving behind.
“You can hardly see the sky for all the trees here. I never told you, but at first, there was so much green everywhere that I had difficulty thinking clearly. It was almost as if they cluttered my mind.”
“Mm hmm,” Victoria acknowledged in her all-knowing tone. “I think Oliver had something to do with that.”
“Wicked creature!” Khara laughed and moved ahead. It felt good to work the stiffness from her limbs and keep the turmoil in her heart at bay. “And so much of the time, it rained. But driving!” she exclaimed. “I shall miss that a great deal. And popcorn.”
“I thought for sure your favorite modern pastime would be television.”
“A fair conclusion. As a source of entertainment, however, it pales when compared to the glossy wood of a steering wheel. Tell me again, Victoria,” she pressed, “how it feels to fly above the clouds in a sky ship.”
Just then, Khara reached the top of the mesa. A gust of wind threatened to push her back until she braced herself against it and hurried to the totem. The eyes glowed green—the green of moss, the green of the trees below, a green like the inner ring of Menefra’s eyes—all the shades of green flashed in the twin ovals. “Victoria! You must see this!”
At 30,000 feet, you’re in the stratosphere,” Victoria explained, as though she hadn’t heard a word Khara said. “And there’s virtually no turbulence or pollution; no crowds—the world is so orderly from up there. I always wished I could just step outside.”
“Victoria.”
A rush of evil emanated from that voice, rooting Khara to the ground. Her gaze shifted briefly from the stones to the clouds gathering in a foamy, ever-tightening ring. She willed herself to turn, in time to see Arlan Mieley swing the tree limb he held high, catching Victoria squarely on the side of the head.
Khara screamed as Victoria’s knees buckled and she fell, her eyes following the flecks of moss and bits of bark that scattered beside her. Clumsily, she touched her forehead and stared at the blood dripping from her fingers.
“Leave her alone!” Khara screamed, searching for something, anything to use as a weapon.
But Mieley’s attention was still on Victoria. He kicked her midsection until she curled into a fetal position. Then, looming over her, he smiled insidiously and spoke, though Khara could not hear anything he said. Victoria tried to do as she was told, but when she leaned on her elbow, it gave way. Mieley kicked her once more, this time in the head and then she was still. He smiled ruthlessly before shoving her onto her back with his white shoe. He picked up the club and looked at Khara as though he hadn’t known she was there.
The sight of Mieley’s bulging eyes and twisted mouth charging at her stole her breath. With a sinking feeling, she realized that the bowie knife was tucked neatly into the pack they had left below. “Where is it?” he shrieked, his voice cracking like a young boy’s.
“Where is what?”
His answer was to swing full force at her. Mieley’s attack was ill-planned, and she easily jumped out of the way. Twice more he swung and missed, but Khara was no longer afraid. Again she ducked and, seeing her chance, landed a fist on the bridge of his nose. He dropped the tree limb, stepped back, and eyed her with astonishment. Wiping his nostrils, he rubbed the blood between his thumb and forefinger.
“Fearless little bitch, aren’t you?”
Lightning struck behind her; instinct caused her to turn to the earsplitting sound, and Mieley rushed. His shoulder slammed into her chest, sending her to the ground, and then he threw himself on top of her, trying to pin her flailing arms. When the uselessness of what he was doing occurred to him, he lifted her head and slammed it to the ground again and again.
She kicked and dug her nails into his mouth, his forehead, his eyelids. Lightning flashed, this time so close that Mieley was startled and jumped off her. She got up and ran.
He gave chase, using the barren topography of the mesa to his advantage. When the steep cliffs left her nowhere to run, he hesitated. “Tell me where you’ve hidden it,” he wheezed, “and you can go.”
“And Victoria?”
“She’s not going anywhere,” he barked. “I know there’s more treasure, you’ve hidden it up here, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” In his eyes, Khara saw her worst fears realized. Mieley was a man whose eyes gleamed at the prospect of tossing a mummy from its sarcophagus for the treasure inside. She pictured the canopic jars holding her father’s brain, his lungs, emptied onto the floor of the tomb, unavailable to him for eternity.
A shadow fell over them; the eclipse had begun.
She ran for the totem against the wind, against her anguish at leaving her friend, and toward the spot where the sky seemed to split open. Mieley was bearing down on her. He grabbed her hair and pulled so hard that she hung in mid-air for a moment before falling on her back, which knocked every bit of air from her lungs.
As he picked up the tree limb, the ugly sneer on his face evaporated as the mountain rumbled beneath them. It grew like the swell of the ocean, and Khara knew there was no more time. Seeing her expression, Mieley steadied himself to strike a better blow and raised the limb to swing.
A dark blur of a figure caught him with his arms in the air, knocking him to the ground in a tangle of legs and arms. It took a moment for Khara to realize that it was Victoria who had jumped atop him, exposing the pocket knife given to them by the smallest scout. In the instant before she jammed her knee into his side and drove the blade into Mieley’s shoulder, fear shone in his eyes. He howled like a wild animal.
Without taking her eyes from him, Victoria shouted, “Go!”
“No!” But even as she looked at the totem and the path of the shadow covering the sun, she knew the futility of her answer.
“I can’t hold him! Go!”
Khara ran for the totem. Attached to the right side was a celestial web with edges the color of the night sky and dotted with a million stars. It looked like the Milky Way, except that it possessed all the colors of the rainbow. The center of the web opened in a slit, like a cat’s eye. She heard the loud cracking she had heard once before, the metallic chiming of strange bells. Just short of the eye, she stopped.
“Leave him!” she screamed.
Victoria dashed to her. Mieley rose, confused, the knife stuck in his shoulder, and followed her.
Only a few feet remained. Victoria was going to make it! Khara took a last breath of piney air a
nd stepped inside the eye. When she breathed again, the air was dry and smelled of warm sand. She stretched out her hand. “Hurry!” But the pulsing kaleidoscope of colors formed an invisible obstacle Victoria could not breach. They stood less than an arm’s distance apart, the galaxy of colors between them. Placing her hand on the barrier, Victoria looked wistful. “I thought—well I would have come. So long, girlfriend, I’ll be on the lookout for you in those in-between places.”
“No, no, wait!” Khara screamed. Mieley, pale and bleeding, caught up. He stood limply at Victoria’s side, looking half-dead. The earth shook and the sky opened, and Khara tried to find Victoria’s eyes.
I will miss you every day.
Khara’s fist crossed her heart and she bowed. She felt herself lifted up and then, gratefully, nothing more.
Chapter Fifty-two Mieley
A hollow tinkling sound he could only liken to the sound of the antique Baoding ball he kept on his desk, but a thousand times louder, filled the air. Too amazed to move, Arlan Mieley watched his prize step into a slice of light.
“What the hell?” The words left his mouth weakly as he realized the breadth of his mistake; she had escaped, taking the last bracelet with her. No, it was far worse than that. A sickening sensation spread through him. Now it all made sense. All the running and hiding had nothing to do with hiding a cache of treasure; it had been to hide the girl. Who was she? Though he did not think he could bear the answer, he glanced furtively at Victoria.
No wonder she had been willing to give up her reputation and her lousy center. He watched her look at the ground and wipe her eye. Her shoulders sank, and she seemed not to notice he was there. He seized her by the shoulders, pushing his face close to hers.
“Where did she go? Tell me!” he screamed.
She would have fallen except for his grip on her. Victoria shrugged and said very quietly, “To the year 2181. BC, that is.”
