by Linda Mooney
“How do you feel? Are you in any pain?”
“It…hurts,” she admitted. After a while, she tried again. “Muam?”
He glanced sideways at her. “Pardon?”
“Nothing.”
She turned her attention to the infant, who had been lulled to sleep between Gova’s warmth and the sound of her heartbeat. She’d found Muam, but he hadn’t awakened, maybe because the gods needed him to fulfill some sort of destiny in this life before he found her. Her Muam would not have known how to drive this wagon. Nor would he have known about the small white box in the rear of the wagon.
“Do you have any idea how you managed to survive that tornado?” Muam inquired.
She raised her head. “Survive what?”
“That F4 that blew through and leveled your town.” His attention remained on the road, guiding the invisible horses that pulled the wagon. She started to tell him she had no recollection of being injured, when he commented, “There’s the EMS coming toward us. I’m going to flag it down. You’re going to need more medical attention than I can give you.”
He pulled over and stopped. Getting out, he waved at the approaching wagon, which slowed, coming to a stop on the other side of the road. He spoke briefly to the men driving it, and they immediately emerged. One came around to her side of the vehicle and opened the door.
“Ma’am, where are you injured?”
She lifted her hand to show him. He took the baby from her, handing it to Muam. As he eased her from the seat, the other man appeared with a large board and a big red box.
“Lie down on the backboard, please. Take it easy. We’re going to examine you, make sure you’re stabilized, then transport you to the hospital. What is your name?”
“Gova Dov.”
She tried to lie on her back, but the pain was excruciating. She tried not to cry out as the man peeled away the blood-soaked cloth to examine it. He said something to his companion. Strange words she couldn’t understand, like a second language. Instead of trying to follow them, she focused on where Muam stood nearby, still cradling the child in his arms.
Tears sprung up in her eyes. He held the babe as if he’d held one before, gently rocking it as he swayed from side to side and watched the men hovering over her. He would make a wonderful father. Seeing him in that role touched her deeply, and Gova wondered if they would ever find their happiness long enough to have children of their own.
A baby. Muam’s child. It was a wish she’d dared not dream.
The men touched her wound, and she couldn’t help the stifled scream that escaped her. When she was able to open her eyes again, Muam was staring at her in shock and horror. And it was at that moment she knew he had awakened. He looked at the infant in his arms, then at her, and questions filled his face. Some of which she could almost hear him speak.
She reached out to him. He hurried over to kneel by her head, and took her bloodied hand in his.
“Gova!”
“My love.” She managed a watery smile.
“The babe?”
“I found it in the rubble. Have the men take care of it.”
A sound caught his attention, and he reared up to see what it was. Presently, another one of those wagons with the flashing lights drew close, and two more men appeared. Muam stood and handed the child to them.
“It needs to be examined.”
“You said you found the baby?” one of the men working on her queried. She nodded as he placed a cup over her nose and mouth, and she smelled fresh air coming from the tube attached to it. Something was wrapped around her arm, and she felt it tighten.
She fought to remain awake, if for no other reason than to gaze upon Muam. To catch a glimpse of him and see his loving face smiling back at her.
“It’s a girl, and she appears to have no broken bones or any other external injuries,” one of the other men informed them. “We’ll take her in and have her x-rayed to make sure she’s okay. How’s the woman?”
“We’re having trouble stabilizing her.” The man bent over her and smiled. “One of these days, when that baby’s all grown up, she’s going to tell her children and all her friends about how you saved her life. If it wasn’t for you, she could have died before anyone found her.”
“Gova.” Muam took her hand again, but addressed the men. “How is she?”
“She has a serious abdominal wound, and she’s bleeding profusely internally.”
“BP’s ninety-six over forty, and dropping rapidly,” the other man stated.
The first man gave Muam a concerned frown. “I’m sorry, sir, but she’s not going to make it to the hospital. She’s suffered too much trauma. From the looks of it, the tornado must have thrown her about before letting go.”
She was starting to feel cold. The man continued to speak, but his words were nothing more than buzzing sounds in her head. She knew Muam was holding her hand, but she couldn’t feel it. Lifting her eyes, she tried to get his attention.
“Mu’m.” Her mouth wouldn’t work properly, and she couldn’t make herself be heard above the hiss of air.
Maybe he sensed her distress, but he bent over her and clutched her fingers tighter. “It will not be long now, my beloved.”
She understood. He would remain with her as she died, after which he would immediately follow her. She didn’t know how he would kill himself, but he would, so that they could continue on to their next life and death. And on, and on, for however many more there were left. They no longer counted all the lives they passed through. They could only follow the path the gods and the Ancient Mother had set before them.
Closing her eyes, she felt him kiss her forehead as she drifted into darkness. The last thing she heard was the plaintive wail of a baby crying to be fed.
Chapter 19
Turkey, 2128
“…looking forward this excursion, Dr. Tripp. We’re supposed to meet up with Dr. Beccali’s team at the site.”
Muam kept his gaze on the scenery that swept past them. At the vast expanse of sand and the occasional cluster of vegetation that defiantly fought to survive in the arid, semi-barren land. Trying to act casual, he glanced down to examine himself. As usual, the clothing was unrecognizable, but unusually comfortable. Light brown breeches, another pair of those enclosed sandals, a white shirt that clung to his sweaty skin, and a second shirt he wore open, as if someone had split it from neck to hem.
He blinked again, and realized he was wearing something over his face that blocked most of the glaring light the god in the heavens threw out this time of day. Reaching up, he touched something cloth-like covering his head. Apparently he also wore a helmet of some sort.
What fascinated him more was the wagon he was riding. It moved with incredible smoothness, with none of the typical jolts or bouncing he was accustomed to feeling. It seemed to skim over the rough terrain the way a bird soars in the air without flapping its wings.
“Dr. Tripp? Did you hear what I said?”
He glanced over to see a young man riding beside him. The man appeared to be in control of the wagon, although there were no reins in his hands. Instead, he grasped a pair of rods, which he moved upward and downward, and from side to side, making their wagon move accordingly.
“Forgive me. I was lost in thought. What did you say?”
The man grinned. “I said I’m grateful you’re allowing me to accompany you on this dig, Dr. Tripp. I mean, if this site ends up being what you believe it is, it’s going to be monumental! I mean, think of it, a previously unknown civilization that dates back thousands of years!”
“Who did you say we were meeting when we get there?”
“Dr. Lauris Beccali. She’s with the Istanbul Institute for Cultural Studies. She’s the person responsible for getting us permission to do this dig.”
The moment he heard the word “she”, Muam wondered if Beccali would turn out to be Gova. He wanted to ask more about this dig, whatever a dig was, but judging from what the young man had said, this event had been
his doing. Until he and Gova got back together, he needed to keep his ears open and try to glean as much information as he could.
He continued to stare out over the desert. There wasn’t another living creature in sight. Sighing, he pondered what kind of death he and Gova would suffer way out here. Seeing the never-ending plateau of sand, he wondered if they would be swallowed up in its searing, granular depths. Or maybe their end would come from a completely unexpected source, like a man with a weapon, or a wild animal. There was also the possibility they would be stranded out here to die of starvation or thirst. There was no way either of them could predict how much they would be forced to suffer, or if they were meant to suffer. After so many countless lives, they no longer held out any hope of surviving this curse. Long ago, they had decided they had no choice but to continue throughout all eternity living in bits and pieces. Praying to exchange at the most a single kiss and a quick embrace before meeting their extermination.
The gods had condemned them for the rest of time for a crime he and Gova had committed, whatever it was, and may never discover.
“We’re getting close. GPS says the camp is right ahead,” the young man remarked.
Muam sat up in his seat to scan the horizon. Before long, something colorful appeared. Brightly hued tents arranged in clusters. Specks of red and blue, orange and purple, with stripes and patterns, to make them easily visible against the unending bleached sands.
Their vehicle slowed and lowered to the ground at the same time. Muam glanced over at where several more of those strange-looking wagons were tethered. Many lives ago he’d learned that some wagons no longer needed a horse to draw them. Rather than try to understand the reason why not, he’d learned to accept the changes he faced whenever he awoke in a new body. A few he’d managed to grasp, but most remained mysterious and unexplainable. A type of sorcery he figured he’d never learn about.
At their approach, three figures emerged from the tents to watch their descent. Muam instantly recognized Gova. Her luscious black hair was tied back, and she wore a pair of light blockers over her eyes as he did, but he knew it was her.
As their wagon settled on the sand, sending puffs of dust into the air, she ran toward them, a partial smile on her face. She had yet to verify it was him inside, and held herself in check just in case it wasn’t him. Or, if it was, if he had yet to awaken.
There would be no hesitation when they met. He would pull her into his arms as he always longed to do, and kiss those wonderfully full, honey-sweet lips. If their companions were astonished by their actions, so be it. It made no difference. Not when their deaths could be heartbeats away.
The clear top of the wagon lifted, and Muam jumped out of the seat. Taking off his light blockers, he threw them to the side as he raced toward her. She met him halfway, her arms tightening around his neck as he lifted her off her feet.
“Gova!”
“Husband!”
She clasped his face between her hands and kissed him, taking it as deeply as they could under the circumstances. He wasn’t aware of anything else but the feel of her body against his, and her soft, warm mouth. After a while, he gently lowered her to the ground, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Forever,” he whispered.
“Forever.” It would always be their promise to each other. Their pledge of love.
Engrossed in each other’s presence, they remained oblivious to their surroundings until someone loudly cleared a throat.
“Uhh, Dr. Beccali? I didn’t know you and Dr. Tripp already knew each other.”
Caressing his face again, she responded to the man. “Actually, it is a long, long, very long story. You see, his name is Muam. My name is Gova. And we have been living and dying through hundreds of lives because of a curse.” Drawing her arms around his waist, she pressed her cheek to his chest. “How long do you think we have, my beloved?”
He also embraced her, lightly kissing the top of her head. Her scent wafted up to him, and he closed his eyes as he savored it. That was another thing that never changed. Besides their appearance, her own womanly smell remained the same. Even when blinded to where he couldn’t gaze upon her face, or deafened to the point where her voice was lost to him, her scent was always there to comfort him. Enough to give him strength to face their next life.
Someone tittered uncomfortably. “This is…rather out of the ordinary. Doctors, please. Gova, Muam, or whatever you’re calling yourselves. Can we at least go inside the tent where it’s cooler and, uhh, sort this out?”
Muam grinned at her upturned face. “It makes sense to get out of this heat, my love.” She nodded, and they followed the other men inside one of the larger tents, their arms around each other’s waists.
Instead of rugs, there were several tables with odd boxes scattered on them. But there were also a few stools and chairs. He and Gova took two of the chairs and seated themselves side-by-side, their thighs touching. She grasped one of his hands in both of hers, holding it in her lap as they both waited patiently for the rest to sit.
One man immediately got to the point. “Dr. Beccali…Lauris, I’ve worked with you for nearly five years. You never once mentioned having a husband, or referred to yourself by any other name. What is going on here?”
“I’m also just as puzzled,” Muam’s travelling companion stated. “The entire time you were planning this dig, you never spoke of Dr. Beccali. You didn’t even know who she was, or that the consulate had requested her to come here, until we were getting ready to board the plane.”
He squeezed her hand. “We have no qualms about telling you our story because we know this moment will not last much longer.”
“What do you mean?” the other man queried.
“Now that we have found each other, our deaths are imminent,” Gova softly replied.
The three men gasped in alarm. Muam’s companion jumped to his feet. “How? Are we in danger?”
Muam shook his head. “We cannot tell you.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” the young man hotly accused.
Gova continued. “We cannot because we do not know how we will die, or when.”
“Then how can you be so sure you’re gonna die?” the first man demanded.
“Because we have been living and dying for hundreds of years,” Muam tried to explain. “We were cursed for a thousand lives.”
“A thousand years?”
“A thousand lives,” Gova corrected.
“And what number is this life?” Man Number Two asked.
Muam shook his head. “We do not know. We lost count a long time ago. All we know is that, when we awaken in another body, it is not long after that we find one another. Most of the time we barely have time to share a kiss, and to embrace each other, before we are killed.”
“Killed how?”
“We have met our deaths in many ways. Sometimes by our own hands.”
Muam’s companion gasped. “You’ve killed each other?”
“When we were forced to,” Muam hastily explained. “In those events where we were going to be parted, we ended our own lives.”
“Why?”
“Because if we do not die together, the curse may be broken, and we may never reach that one thousandth life.”
“What’s supposed to happen if you do reach number one thousand?” Man Number One inquired.
Gova gave a little shrug. “We do not know for sure. We can only guess. But we are hoping we can finally have a life together.” She frowned slightly. “Forgive me for asking, but I awoke to who I am just moments ago. Who are you, and what are we doing here?”
Man Number One glanced at Number Two, then sat up straighter in his chair. “Okay. I’ll play along. My name is Daniel Bregstrom. You and I… Correction. Dr. Beccali and I work together at the institute.”
“My name’s Hamid Ossa,” Number Two informed them. “I’m with the Turkish government, in the Department of Cultural Appropriations. I’ve been assigned here to assist you. As well as look out for our coun
try’s assets and heritage.”
Muam’s companion looked at them. “I’m guessing you need to know who I am, too?”
Muam answered with a nod.
“I’m Xavier Doluca. I’m working on my PhD in archeology. I’ve been working with you for almost eighteen months now, Dr. Tripp. Or…what do you want me to call you?”
“It does not matter,” Muam told him, addressing the other two men at the same time.
Bregstrom snorted. “I can’t believe you actually think we’re going to swallow this fairy tale of a thousand reincarnations. I mean, what is the purpose of such a stunt?”
Doluca eyed the two men. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sitting here, listening to Dr. Tripp’s explanation, but in all honesty, my gut says that ain’t him talking. The Dr. Tripp I know doesn’t talk like that. In all the time I’ve known and worked with him, I’ve never heard him lecture about anything that wasn’t concrete solid in facts. Hell, he even speaks in a way that sounds foreign to me.”
Ossa glanced at Bregstrom. “I hate to admit it, but he makes a valid point.”
The five of them sat in silence that gradually grew uncomfortable. Before long, Bregstrom uncrossed his legs and stood. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I can’t sit around here waiting for the apocalypse, or whatever you think is coming to kill you, and maybe take the rest of us with it. If you don’t mind, why don’t we pretend this whole thing is one big joke, and get down to the reason why we’re here in the first place?”
Gova looked her husband. “He makes sense. What would it hurt?”
“Nothing. The man is wise to suggest we try to go on as if our doom is not waiting to strike us down again. If you men do not mind, please remind us what our original purpose is for being here. Also, if you would, answer me this. What is a dig?”
Chapter 20
Discovery
They exited out the tent and walked a short distance to where the land suddenly disappeared beneath their feet. Muam stared in shock at the firm ground beneath him that was as clear as water, but was strong enough to support all their weight.
