The Ka

by Mary Deal

  The men looked to one another. The sound came again, vague and indistinct, but none of the men had opened their mouths.

  “The wind,” Aaron said, shrugging.

  “There's no air current in here, O Pilgrim,” Masud said.

  “The tomb's no longer sealed however,” Aaron said.

  After that episode, no further sounds were heard and they slowly exited the spectacular First Chamber. They made their way into the passageway and down the short flight of steps.

  Aaron pulled Chione aside. “Why did Masud call me `O Pilgrim'?”

  “The Egyptians are very respectful of others.”

  “But why, specifically, `O Pilgrim'?”

  “Someone must have told him you've been to the Holy Land. Anyone who's been there is revered by the Egyptians.”

  “So if they respect you, they tack on some sort of title?”

  “Better than saying `Hey you', right?”

  Against a backdrop of walls displaying scenes of the times with artistic splendor, Ginny's lens continued to record their every move, videographed for posterity.

  Clifford flashed his light to the ceiling. He flashed again. He motioned for a man to bring a ladder, which Clifford placed precariously close to the priceless wall art. He climbed and again inspected with the light. Finally, he said, “Just as I thought. This dark ceiling contains residue of the oil lamps used by the Ancients when they carved and painted.”

  “No kidding,” Aaron said. “Let me see.” He held the ladder while Clifford descended. Aaron climbed and gingerly picked at the edge of one spot. He held up fingertips for all to see. “Right again. The restoration people can analyze this grime.”

  More stair steps took them deeper into the passageway.

  “According to radar scanning,” Aaron said. “One wall of the next chamber lies adjacent to the first, though several feet deeper.”

  No visible doorway could be found where radar indicated the next chamber.

  “Oh, great,” one of the engineers said. “Just what we need.”

  “What is it?” Clifford asked.

  “Look for a sealed passage, anything,” the engineer said. “Radar picked up a good-sized chamber on the right. We'll have to locate the entrance.”

  “Just look,” Aaron said. “Try not to touch.”

  Each of the team took a section of the wall and visually examined. Lamps were brought close.

  “Strange,” Bebe said. “I'd heard limestone in this valley was too poor to do much carving. Look at this art.”

  “We're higher up than Valley of the Kings,” Clifford said. “Way back into the hills. Might make a difference.”

  “Hey, I've found something,” Kendra said in a few moments. “Right where it should be.” She pointed along several deep slashes. “Right about here.”

  “How do you figure?” Clifford asked, straining to see.

  “Look closely,” she said, nudging him to bring his face up to the wall. “These cracks were purposely made to look like artistic tool marks, then painted over.” Again she traced up one side, across the top and down the other. “Here's our doorway.”

  “A solid block wedged so tightly you'd think the seams were carved in as part of the design,” Clifford said, shaking his head in amazement.

  Everyone stepped back for filming of the mural before the engineers would cut through. Chione accompanied Bebe and Clifford to sit on the steps near the portcullis shaft allowing a breath of fresh air. Words and exclamations in mixed languages floated through the passageway as the crews worked. The job of loosening a disguised stone block without damaging surrounding portions of the wall would be tedious. More equipment was needed. A nimble Egyptian scaled a notched rope hanging in the portcullis shaft. Soon, he returned with his equipment lowered to him. After what seemed hours, they heard stone grating as it slid loose, excited voices, and Dr. Withers calling them back to the fold.

  Two muscular laborers strained to pull the loosened granite block outward; taking what precautions they could to avoid scratching the stone floor. Using tenuous finger holds, they pulled and rocked the stone side to side. No one wished to cause damage that could be avoided.

  With the two-foot thick block almost free allowing a small opening into the chamber, a thick gush of putrid air escaped. Suddenly that moaning came again! Clearly, the noise originated from inside that chamber.

  They covered their noses and mouths with facemasks. For all their effort to clear, preserve, and enter through the only passage available, who or what could possibly be inside that chamber making those moaning sounds?

  They waited. No more noises. Finally, Aaron shrugged and began helping to dislodge the stone. More putrid air belched out. He grimaced, cheeks puffing as he paused to blow out a couple breaths to clear the odor from his lungs and sinuses.

  Unbelievably, the block began moving by itself! A dirty hand slipped around the edge. Aaron took two paces back, grabbed a tripod and raised it like a club. His eyes bulged in their sockets. They stepped back. Way back. Several workers fled.

  “What is it?” Dr. Withers asked, straining to see from a distance.

  A dirty arm, with blood on a torn sleeve poked through as the block moved again. Then dirty, disheveled, and favoring the bloody arm, a figure hobbled into the passageway like the dead coming to life.

  9

  “Randy!” Dr. Withers said as his voice screeched in frustration.

  Perspiration dripped profusely from Randy's scalp, creating muddied streaks in the dust covering his face. His clothes were soaked with perspiration. Blood on his torn shirtsleeve had dried and darkened. The wound had stopped bleeding.

  Those who had not done so, immediately slipped into gloves, but not because Randy might contaminate them. With the foul air oozing out of that chamber and not knowing the cause but that something had surely rotted in there, they needed to keep their bodies covered because of a fungus called Aspergillus Niger which infected many tombs. Randy wore no protection of any kind.

  “How did you get this?” Aaron asked as he ripped Randy's sleeve apart to get to the laceration.

  “Never mind that,” Dr. Withers said, leaving Aaron to tend the deep gash. “How the hell did you enter that sealed chamber?” He fumed. This discovery was the most significant of his career. To have a member of his own team corrupt the site, or destroy parts of it, would be disastrous.

  “I found another passage,” Randy said meekly. Then he yelped when Aaron tried to move his arm.

  “Who approved of you going off on your own?”

  “It was an accident.”

  “You're an accident, Randy!” Dr. Withers said, screaming it, unable to contain his rage.

  “We'd better get him to a doctor,” Aaron said. “His arm could be broken.”

  “I just bumped something,” Randy said, eyes wide in denial. “It doesn't hurt anymore.”

  “Don't be stupid,” Aaron said. “Your shoulder's swollen all the way over your collar bone.”

  Dr. Withers had stopped pacing to take a look. “Before you even move,” he said, “I want to know where you got in.”

  “I went up the incline behind the portcullis,” Randy said. “I saw what looked like a hole or depression. When I bent down to examine it, the whole thing gave way.”

  “You fell into the chamber?”

  “Head first… or… shoulder first,” Randy said.

  “What we have here is another Giovanni Belzoni,” Clifford said.

  Dr. Withers shook his head and paced as the others looked on. “Well, someone get him across the river into Luxor,” he said, thumbing a direction. “If they can't treat him at that hospital, get him on a plane to Cairo.”

  Dakarai smiled. “Please, O Teacher, my cousin nearby is a doctor.”

  “No,” Kendra said quickly. “Peter Vimble is a British physician in Cairo. He's got a clinic at the hospital in Luxor just across the river. Doc's got medical records for all of us at both locations.”

  “Yes, O Teacher,” Daka
rai said, avoiding Kendra's eyes and nodding his agreement to Dr. Withers. “I myself was to go to Cairo later today. I'll go along now.”

  With a look of resignation, Randy limped away beside the tall, lanky Dakarai who had to slow his stride as pudgy Randy struggled to keep pace.

  Chione tugged at Aaron's sleeve pulling him aside. “Do you remember what you said to Randy earlier?” she asked in hushed tones. “You told him to go fall into a hole.”

  “I did, didn't I,” he said with a crooked smile.

  “How did you know that would happen?”

  “I didn't. At least, I don't think I did.”

  “Sterling?” Clifford asked, placing a hand on Dr. Withers shoulder.

  Dr. Withers took a deep breath and calmed himself before saying anything. “I don't want you all to think I'm being callous toward Randy…,” he said. A flagging hand waved off the rest of his sentence. He was perspiring heavily. Finally, he said, “So whatever condition that chamber was in—”

  “Excuse me, Sterling,” Clifford said, fanning his face and moving away from the putrid air still oozing through the chamber opening. “I think we should do a little investigation on the hill before we enter this chamber.”

  “How's that?”

  “This entire valley experiences what's known as ten year floods from torrential rains. If this chamber was laying open up there, it's been flooded.”

  “Might explain the stench,” Bebe said, pressing her mask against her face. “Everything's probably rotted.”

  “In that case,” Dr. Withers said. “Somebody catch up with Randy. Have him request another crate of surgical masks and gloves. Tell Kendra's Doc friend to send the bill along.”

  They had no choice. Paki Rashad's men stayed in the passageway to assure no one entered the chambers. Outside, everyone gulped fresher air and fanned each other. Except Chione, who found the air inside the tomb, laced as it was, with fragrance the others had not detected, to be quite pleasant most of the time.

  Once outside the tomb, Clifford started toward the incline. “Sterling. Aaron,” he said. “Let's get ourselves up there on that hillock.”

  “Uh-uh,” Dr. Withers said, grabbing Clifford's arm. “Let's you and me just stay put while the younger, sure-footed billies climb up there on that slippery rock.”

  More than an hour passed by the time Aaron and the engineers came off the slope. “See that abutment up there?” Aaron asked, pointing. “Our crews have already set too many footprints up to that point. Randy's gateway is about a dozen feet in front of it where we found a long crack in the rock.”

  “What you're saying then,” Dr. Withers said. “Is that it's possible the ceiling of the Second Chamber is wide open?”

  “Maybe,” Aaron said. “Looks like some small boulders block the hole now.” Dirt backfilled over the boulders, prevented more rubble from pouring into the chamber, and hid the hole. “We traced the water run-off pattern. Water runs off the upper part of the hill down toward the abutment. When it hits the abutment, it separates and runs off in either direction away from the hole and down the sides of the hillock.”

  “So it's possible little or no water got into that opening?”

  “Since Randy fell in, the area around the hole's been disturbed so we couldn't tell if any water passed through.”

  “Maybe the hole sealed itself,” Chione said. “Maybe no water ever seeped in.”

  “There's always a chance,” Clifford said. “The diurnal temperature variation caused air to seep into the chamber and affected what's inside.”

  “Then let's get down there again,” Dr. Withers said. He started toward the tomb entrance. “I'm ready to face whatever's in that room.”

  “Please, O Teacher,” Masud said. “With the passageway right above that chamber, we should first vacuum away the debris on top. Please, O Teacher, let me suggest to build a retaining wall to keep further earth from entering Randy's hole.”

  “Yeah,” Dr. Withers said, giving a couple of tugs on his mustache. “Whatever you have to do, make sure nothing else slides into that chamber.”

  Masud called out the order to workers nearby, instructing with arms waving, fingers pointing and always with a smile and flashing eyes. The workers scrambled to get started.

  At the entrance to the Second Chamber, more loose cloths were about to be laid on the floor. Aaron said, “Look, Randy left footprints. Whatever's in that room, the floor's filthy.” They laid the cloths over Randy's marks. Dr. Withers shook his head and took a couple of swipes at the cloths with his boots before he and Rashad stepped in with a lamp.

  “Phew!” echoed out of the room.

  Masud followed, having drawn his shirtfront up over his nose. He backed out fast. “What is it you say in English? Stinky?”

  The others crowded the doorway, choking on the foul air. Their flashlights immediately showed the reason for the stench.

  “Mummies!” Dr. Withers exclaimed, backing up. “Piles of baby mummies!”

  The photographers were allowed in to do their job before another footprint was set down.

  “It's late,” Dr. Withers said. “We won't be able to fully enter this chamber till tomorrow.”

  Later that evening as the encampment was being secured for the night, Aaron asked, “Why didn't they finish carving steps in that first entryway we had to slide down through? Other tombs in these valleys all had steps inside the entries.”

  “Good question,” Dr. Withers said. “I can't remember any other tomb having such openings. Things do look somewhat incomplete.”

  “I agree,” Chione said. “There's a sense of urgency that I perceive from the glyphs too. Some are unfinished. Some have been reworked.”

  “I've got a theory,” Dr. Withers said, looking up the hillock. “Let's just say the men carving this gateway to the Underworld started with that axial tunnel we first backed through. Once far enough into the rock, they discovered the first of those holes like Randy fell in.”

  “Could be,” Clifford said. “In their haste, finding that hole more accessible, they enlarged it for the portcullis.”

  “Because they had to hurry,” Chione said. “For whatever reason. A definite sense of urgency exists here. So, in addition to abandoning the axial entry, they left the glyphs unfinished.”

  “And used the wide portcullis shaft from that point on,” Clifford said.

  “Why the hurry?” Dr. Withers asked.

  Later, word came that a couple of photo technicians became sickened in the Second Chamber. When Dr. Withers asked what was inside, the only response he received was that he had to see for himself. If what was in that room made them sick, how had Randy lasted?

  The prayer bell early the next morning called the Islamic faithful to worship. After breakfast the team scampered to the shaft for re-entry. Once inside, technicians were also expected to follow protocol and donned gloves and masks as well. “With these mummies lying exposed to the outside,” Dr. Withers said. “I don't know what we'll be breathing.”

  At the Second Chamber doorway, Chione heard that voice again.

  “Come… meet the children.”

  This time the voice was full of patience and dignity. It was female and soft, the offer irresistible. Chione eagerly pushed her way in and fell to her knees in the dust before a pile of tiny linen wrapped bodies. “Babies!” she said. Upon closer inspection as the room filled with light, the scene was one of near horror.

  Baby and children's mummies were strewn everywhere on the floor, scattered by the intruding rubble. Many had been stacked against the walls. Dismembered arms and feet were strewn about, even a head or two! Worst of all, many were burned.

  “Grave robbers,” Bebe said. “Grave robbers burned the mummies for torches.”

  “Barbarous disrespect!” Clifford said.

  “That's what Randy stepped in,” Kendra said, pointing to the floor. “Ashes.”

  A quick glance through the dim light disclosed a rectangular room about twelve by twenty feet in size. The ho
le Randy fell through was near the corner adjacent to the First Chamber. Rubble had fallen into the chamber in a steep triangular spill, spreading out over a third of the floor space.

  Not much attention went to the decorated walls at that point or to another pyramid ceiling. More pressing to learn was what had taken place inside the chamber. It had evidently been breached. Hunched over, Bebe began inching her way around studying the confusing scene. “Aha!” she said. “Look here.”

  “What have you got?”

  “Bones of fowl, I think. Coarse paper wrappers, and an old cup.”

  “Someone brought take out?” Aaron asked. Everyone laughed, all the while trying not to breathe too much of the sickening hot fetor.

  “Grave robbers might have spent the night,” Rashad said, showing embarrassment for the actions of his countrymen.

  “Or spent a long time trying to locate the passageway,” Kendra said.

  Remnants of the meal would be analyzed. Something as simple as bird bones could help reveal the time period the robbers had been present. Spices and seasonings on the remnants would reveal what types were being used in the common diet of the day. Bebe looked as though she might write some notes but gave up in the dimly lit space.

  “The same pyramid ceiling,” Ginny said, pointing her camera and lights upward. Curious, too, was the fact that another pyramid was constructed over a rectangular room.

  “Lucky for us. See that?” Clifford asked, pointing to the hole in the corner. “Another foot over and they would have found the First Chamber, too, with its easily opened doors to the main passageway.”

  “Let's not be too sure of ourselves,” Dr. Withers said. “If cunning grave robbers were able to access this chamber, who knows what we'll find deeper in.”

  Clifford and Bebe began to carefully poke at the rubble to learn what might be underneath.

  “Don't,” Dr. Withers said. “If you disturb that pile of earth, more could pour into the room and pin us all. And I'm still fond of breathing.” He fanned his face. “Even if the air is putrid.”

  Chione stood at a wall and again hugged herself, perceiving memories intended for no one to see.