Hasan kept his distance with the excuse he had pressing work to do. Cathy thought little about it. He was evidently a busy man.
The day before the last members of the team were to arrive, Cathy sauntered down the stairs to the sunny room where Robert was enjoying a leisurely breakfast. He'd found an American newspaper, which he was reading with keen interest.
When she entered, he looked up and smiled. “Good morning.” When she didn't respond in the same vein, his smile faltered. “Anything the matter?"
She didn't immediately answer and first sat down to pour herself a glass of orange juice. “I feel a bit off today. Maybe it's something we ate or drank yesterday when we visited the Museum."
Robert scanned her face over the edge of his paper. She knew she looked tired and pale. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't hide it from him.
“I thought I heard you call out last night. Were you dreaming again?” he asked, watching her expression for some sort of reaction.
She looked up, disturbed by his question. “Again? What do you mean again?"
“Well, I sometimes hear you call out in your sleep. I assumed that you were a sleep talker,” he said evenly.
Cathy sighed, and pulled the bowl of fruit over to her side. “Not really. It's just that I've been getting lots of nightmares lately."
“About what?"
She took a sip from her orange juice and started buttering her toast. “Oh, I don't know. It doesn't really make sense. It's all a bit jumbled,” she answered vaguely.
“When did they start?"
“Just before we came here.” She rested her face in her hand, looking at him. “I thought it could be stress, but they just seem to be getting worse."
“Tell me about them,” he urged.
“I can't. It's hard ... to explain."
Robert clearly wasn't satisfied with her answer, and continued pressing her. “Is it about your work? About this place?"
“No, not really,” she said.
“Come on, tell me. It may make you feel better."
“Robert, really, I don't want to talk about it...” She looked at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. Perhaps it would help to talk about it. “Okay, then, if you insist ... I'm in some kind of forest—a tropical forest. Sometimes I'm sitting reading at the riverside. Sometimes I'm running away through the fog. Nevertheless, I always end up being chased by a scarab figure.” She shrugged her shoulders. “That's about it."
Robert frowned. “That's it? Sounds like you're scared of this place."
She threw a filthy look in his direction. He really didn't understand her at all. “No, I'm not! What is it with all of you? It's not something in my head. It's very real."
He looked at her in surprise. “Calm down! I was only trying to help. Why are you getting so worked up?"
“I'm sorry ... it's just that ... I wish I could explain it to you ... It's not something that my brain concocted to deal with psychological stress. It's as if I'm reliving the past."
“Being chased by a scarab?” He tried hard not to smile but he didn't succeed, and she turned away hurt, aware at how vulnerable she suddenly seemed.
“Yes ... Oh, alright. It's silly, okay? The point is that it's really starting to scare me,” she said softly. She hadn't slept much the last few days and perhaps that was the reason for her nightmares and short temper. It certainly made sense.
“Are we still going to the pyramids today?” he suddenly asked.
She nodded, knowing that he was trying to take her mind off her nightmares. “Yes, I'd love to,” she said.
“Abdul suggested we take a camel ride. He said it's the only way to experience their culture first hand. Are you up to it?"
“Yes, I'll be fine.” She took another sip of her orange juice and absent-mindedly scratched a bite on her arm. “Damn mosquitoes!"
“Did you get bitten by a mosquito?” He seemed surprised. “Didn't you use the anti-mosquito spray I gave you?"
“Yeah, but apparently it didn't work. It itches like hell,” she said, scratching the bite madly. Then, realising how abnormal her actions seemed, she stopped. Robert had leaned over and took a careful look at her arm.
“I hope it's not one of those malaria-carrying ones. I wouldn't trust the hospitals around here to treat it,” he said tactlessly.
Her eyes grew big. She hadn't even considered that. “Thanks a lot. That makes me feel a whole lot better,” she sniped back.
He let go of her arm and picked up the paper again. “Don't worry. It doesn't seem to be too bad. Anyway, you are taking the anti-malarial medication, aren't you? Just stop scratching."
She pulled her arm away from him and rolled down her sleeve. His lack of empathy still caught her off-guard. It would explain why he was divorced twice. “If you say so,” she said, unconvinced.
There was a moment of tension in the room, which dissipated only slowly as they ate the rest of their breakfast in silence.
* * * *
“You are natural.” The camel driver pointed excitedly at Cathy sitting on the camel's back, rocking with the camel's broken rhythm. “You ride before?"
It took a few moments for Cathy to realise what the camel driver was asking her in his broken English. “Oh. You mean have I ridden before? No, never. Only horses, but believe me, their rhythm is much smoother."
“You not speak truth. You ride before. I can tell."
“No, I haven't. We don't have camels where I come from."
Robert, who had been following the conversation, grinned. “Don't take him seriously, Cathy. He is just buttering you up to get a bigger tip."
The driver shook his head fervently. “No. No. I not say that for money. Lady rides good. She rides like ... like ... princess. Like born on camel,” he insisted.
Cathy wasn't convinced she should take the comparison as a compliment, but smiled anyway.
Robert balanced precariously on his mount. He clearly wasn't enjoying the camel ride. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get us to the pyramid in one piece,” he grumbled, rubbing his backside.
She looked at him laughingly. “Hey, don't complain. This was your idea, remember? I suggested we go by bus."
“Yeah, well ... Actually, it was Abdul's idea. I think he wants to punish us for making him drive around town the whole week,” he responded.
She just laughed and covered her head with her shawl and hat. The camel ride wasn't as bad as she'd expected. Maybe the camel driver had a point saying she was a natural rider.
They reached the pyramid and Robert literally fell off the camel. “I won't be able to walk tomorrow,” he moaned.
The camel driver gestured unsympathetically. “You must ride with camel,” he said sternly.
Robert glared back at him. “With camel? With camel? Camel goes on own. There is no with camel."
The camel driver shook his head in dismay. “You watch wife. She knows. She rides with camel."
“Firstly, she is not my wife ... Secondly, she's not a natural."
The camel driver was evidently shocked at Robert's admission. “Not wife?” Then he exclaimed something in his mother tongue, looking grim. “I wait. You go.” Commenting some more in his mother tongue, he let his gaze zip from Robert to Cathy and back again, while shaking his head excitedly.
Cathy was amused by his reaction, and leaned over to Robert to whisper in his ear, “I'm not sure, but do you think he has a problem with us not being married?"
Robert put his arm around her. “Who cares? He's also the same person who told us it would be an ‘easy ride'. Much easier than a car,” he said.
“Only if you're a natural,” she responded breezily.
She saw the expression of awe on his face and blushed embarrassedly.
“You have a beautiful laugh, you know. You should laugh more often,” he said.
“Thanks."
He pulled her closer and pointed to the tip of the pyramid. “Look at that. Now doesn't that make you feel small?"
She looked
up, trying to see the tip, but it was too high. Yes, he was right. It did make her feel small.
Abruptly another scene filled her mind—the sight of the pyramid from a distance as she was running ... Unsettled, she shook the vision off.
I must really get a grip on myself.
They walked over to the other side to the entrance. The heat that day had caused many tourists to stay away and it was remarkably quiet. As they walked around the corner, Cathy found herself suddenly catapulted back into time.
She was walking through lush vegetation surrounding the pyramid. In the distance, she could see the Great Sphinx, but it looked different somehow. She stopped. An elderly man in long robes approached her. He was holding out his arms, and she suddenly recognised him. A smile filled her eyes. “Father...” she murmured, not realising that her behaviour was obvious to those around her.
“Cathy? Cathy?” Robert's concern swept her back to reality. “Cathy? What's going on?"
She looked at him, confused, trying to get a grip on her surroundings.
“I'm sorry. I was daydreaming. I must have spoken out aloud. I was thinking how much my father would have enjoyed coming here,” she said, trying to cover up.
Whether or not she'd convinced him wasn't clear, because he simply said, “Are you coming inside?"
“No. It's not the same,” she said, without realising what she was saying. Even she was stunned by her comment.
“The same as what?” he asked.
“I don't know. It was a silly thing to say.” She tried to recover her composure. “I meant the same as the pictures."
The guide motioned the few tourists to the entrance, and she urged him on. “Go. You don't want to miss it just because of me. I'll wait for you here."
Robert walked off with the rest of the group, and she watched him, feeling suddenly extremely sad. The hint of a connection that was there initially was gone. She knew he didn't understand what she was going through. How could he? She couldn't even explain it. She felt a growing detachment not only from him but also from the others around them. It was as if she was slipping away into an abyss and she was unable to stop. If only I knew what was happening. Perhaps the psychologist, Sue and all the others had been right all along—perhaps she was just crazy.
She looked at the scene around her. Everywhere was desert. There was no sign that it had ever been anything but desert and yet she had a clear sense that once it was fertile land ... lush vegetation, plenty of food, plenty of animals—the ideal place to settle....
She looked up at the sky. It had to be beautiful at night. Maybe not with the city lights so close, but it had to have been beautiful once ... A perfect place to watch the stars and see the Orion nebula ... her home...
She jolted. Why would I think something like that?
She turned around, and suddenly the desert was gone. In its place was the lush vegetation about which she had been dreaming. In the distance, she could see some men at work; their sweaty bodies shimmered in the sunlight, wearing little more than linen loincloths. Some women dressed in short kalasirises were walking along, carrying water jugs.
As if in a trance, Cathy walked in their direction. She felt strangely at home. Then she noticed the same man she saw earlier, approaching her. His arms were stretched out and he was smiling. As he came closer, he called out to her. “What are you doing here, child? You know this is not your place."
“I know, Father, but I am trying to understand,” she said.
“Understand what?"
“Why did you build the pyramids?"
“It is our sign. Our mark,” he said, still smiling.
“For what?” she asked.
“To our people."
“I don't understand."
“I will explain it all in good time to you. Now off you go and play,” he said.
She looked at him strangely. Why does he speak to me as if I'm a child?
“But I want to know,” she insisted.
“In good time, child. In good time."
Suddenly he was gone and Cathy found herself standing alone in the desert. The lush vegetation had gone and so had the women and men. It was as if they'd never been there. Cathy was dumbfounded. Her heart was beating rapidly and her mouth felt extraordinarily dry. She instantly knew her body was in a state of shock. But why? Had she just experienced a piece of the past or had it been a mere hallucination?
A wind had picked up and the sand was thrashing against her legs, and she turned back towards the entrance of the Great Pyramid. She tried to get a hold of herself, trying hard not to let anyone know that she was completely shell-shocked.
She was just in time to meet Robert as he returned from his exploration. “How was it?” she asked, keeping her face and tone as neutral as possible, hoping he wouldn't notice she wasn't herself.
“Fantastic. A bit damp and dark, though, but otherwise fantastic,” he said, clearly excited about what he'd just experienced. “Some places aren't good to visit if you're claustrophobic, though. Why anyone would build tombs like that I don't know."
“They weren't tombs.” The words were out before Cathy could stop them.
He looked at her sharply. “Pardon?"
“They weren't tombs,” she repeated.
“Well, call it monuments then."
“They weren't that either,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
He seemed taken aback. “I know there are many theories about when and why the pyramids were built, but I still believe in the conventional one—that they were built as tombs for the pharaohs."
“That's your right, but they were neither tombs nor monuments for pharaohs.” She couldn't stop herself.
Why am I saying these things?
“What were they then?"
“I don't know,” she admitted.
Robert frowned. It was clear to her he was getting wound up. “Oh, well. That's scientific for you. You disagree with me, but you don't have an alternative solution?"
“No."
What's wrong with me? This isn't me speaking!
It was as if someone else was controlling her words and she had no way of preventing them from coming out of her mouth.
“Right. I see this is going to be an interesting discussion,” he said.
“There isn't going to be a discussion, because I don't have an answer. I just know that they weren't what people believe they were."
“Okay. Whatever you say.” Robert shook his head in disbelief and muttered under his breath, “Very scientific. Very scientific."
An extreme anger suddenly took hold of her. “So what if I don't have an answer? Must there be an answer for everything?"
He seemed confused. “Yes. You should at least have a theory.” He paused for a moment. “Are you alright? You seem ... different."
She flicked her hair back. What did he mean she looked different? She looked like she did every day of her life. He was trying to distract her from her point. “I don't have a theory, okay? I have an instinct."
“Well, as long as you have an instinct.” His sarcasm didn't pass over her head and she looked at him disturbed. Then he suddenly burst out laughing. “Relax. You're entitled to your opinion. I was just baiting you."
Cathy didn't laugh with him. She was distressed by her outburst. Her emotions were becoming completely uncontrollable and out of character. There was no reason for becoming so angry with Robert. His comment had been completely innocuous.
The camel driver was waiting for them with their rides. He was apparently not yet over his shock to learn that they weren't married, and maintained a dignified silence towards them. Robert and Cathy exchanged amused glances, trying hard not to obviously laugh at the man's silence.
Suddenly Robert shouted and pointed at the figure of a lone man standing in the desert. “Look! I'm sure that's him."
“Who?” she asked, checking what he was looking at.
“The man who found your necklace."
She squinted behind her sunglasses. How c
ould Robert have come to the conclusion that the lone figure was the same man who returned her necklace? He was several hundred metres away. “How can you tell? You can't even see his face."
“I'm sure.” Robert was plainly excited and he turned to the camel driver. “Go in that direction. I want to speak to that man."
“It cost you extra. Not route,” the camel driver said resolutely. He evidently was not going to simply follow the whims of some Western tourist.
“Yeah, yeah. I'll pay extra.” Robert nodded impatiently. “Just hurry."
The driver uttered some words to the camels, and nudged them on. An unwilling participant in Robert's quirky decision, Cathy followed him, feeling perturbed. How could he recognise the Samaritan from hundreds of metres away when he hardly knew him? Anyway, what was he going to achieve? He clearly had a bee in his bonnet, and it irritated her, but there was little she could do.
“I don't like this, Robert. Sometimes it's better to let sleeping dogs lie. Besides, you don't even know if this is the same man,” she protested.
The camels had increased their pace and even Cathy was starting to find it a rather uncomfortable ride. As if having become aware of their imminent approach, the lone man had turned and was staring directly at them. Robert gestured at him to wait, but the man had turned in the opposite direction and started walking away.
“What is he doing? Where is he going? Hasn't he seen me wave at him?” Robert said anxiously.
Cathy looked at him annoyed. “Robert, he doesn't want to speak to us. Can't you just let it be? I've got my necklace back. He doesn't want to be thanked. Leave him,” she urged, but Robert appeared to have turned deaf. He stubbornly forged ahead, apparently determined to speak to the stranger whom he believed helped them at the market place.
The man walked to a white Landrover, and got in.
“Hurry!” Robert shouted at the camel driver, who nudged the camels into a steady trot, but it was already too late. The man in the Landrover drove away without waiting for them. As the car disappeared over the dunes, the camel driver reigned in the beasts and Robert sat back. He was clearly disappointed.
“Shit. He could have waited, and since when do Arabs drive Landrovers?"
Alien Genes 1: Daughter of Atuk Page 9
