The Ka

by Mary Deal

  “One of us has good news,” Clifford said.

  “Mom and Dad, they're in Cairo,” she said as she waved the paper in the air and danced with glee.

  “Was that planned?” Dr. Withers asked with a teasing smile.

  “Oh, no sir,” Chione said. “After Dad retired, they mentioned a vacation in the Holy Land for next year.”

  “Just as well they come now,” he said.

  “Really?” Chione asked. “They're asking permission to spend a few days with us. Oh, please, Dr. Withers. They won't be in the way.”

  “Ask permission?” He smiled his crooked smile. “With all the tourists, dignitaries and study groups who've passed through? They, of all people, don't need permission.”

  “But to stay in camp with us? They'll bring their own food.”

  “If they don't mind sleeping down under for a while. After this storm passes, they can use Randy's yurt.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Withers,” Chione said, jumping with excitement. “Thank you, thank you.” She gave him a huge unexpected hug then wrapped her arm around Tarik and they walked away while she reread the fax.

  Shortly after that, Dakarai showed up in camp carrying something. Chione watched him look around till he spotted her. He walked over and surprisingly handed her the framed photo of her mom and dad.

  Dr. Withers and Clifford overheard and joined them; evidently not what Dakarai counted on, judging from his expression of dismay. Dr. Withers's gaze was intense, as if he meant to get to the bottom of something. “Where'd you come up with that?” he asked.

  Dakarai smiled meekly, pressed his hands together at the fingertips and said, “Among mastabas. I chase someone. They drop it.” He sighed and relaxed into his lie.

  “Who could it have been?” Clifford asked. Chione nearly laughed at Clifford's feigned nonchalance.

  “You still have thief,” Dakarai said. His smile went sour.

  “Who did you chase?” Dr. Withers asked.

  “I cannot see,” Dakarai said. “I lose him in necropolis.”

  “If someone dropped this,” Chione said, showing the intact picture and frame. “Why isn't the glass broken?”

  Again, Dakarai fidgeted. “Maybe put down,” he said, bending low and sideways, motioning as if to quickly lower something to the ground.

  Then Dr. Withers asked, “Do you know about your cousin, Usi?”

  “Yes, Usi is cousin.” Whether his reply was out of innocence or feigned, it now sounded like avoidance.

  “Have you heard about him this morning?”

  “No,” Dakarai said. Again he could not hide his lie. “About Usi?”

  “He was shot,” Dr. Withers said as they watched Dakarai's reaction.

  “Shot?” Dakarai asked. “Where he is now?” Dakarai's calm acceptance of the information was a dead give-away.

  “You'd better get down to the camp,” Clifford said.

  “Yes, I go.” Dakarai turned abruptly and folded into the blowing grit, hurrying, like he wanted to get out of a tight situation.

  Chione waited a moment till she knew he was out of earshot. “No remorse,” she said.

  “You noticed too?”

  “My guess,” Dr. Withers said. “Is that Usi and maybe some others stole for Dakarai, who used his contacts to get rid of the loot.”

  Chione remembered having placed the wrapped picture and frame inside her suitcase. “Someone's been under my yurt. Maybe everyone's.”

  “All right, you two,” Dr. Withers said. “We can't let word of this get beyond our group. If we have a snitch among the workers, we'll lose the element of surprise in identifying who it is.” He waved a hand decisively. “We'll check our belongings, then pass this information to the Bolis.”

  “Better report it to Cairo too,” Clifford said. “And I'd keep the information away from the Guard.”

  “Why did Dakarai incriminate himself by bringing this back?” Chione asked. “To stay in our good graces? How would he know whose tent it came out of?”

  “If he wasn't in on the taking,” Clifford said.

  “Dumb,” Dr. Withers said as he began to walk away. “Dumb if he thinks we'd buy into his lies. His little scheme just backfired.”

  29

  After the few laborers disappeared at the end of the workday, the team examined belongings. No one was foolish enough to bring anything of great value other than jewelry kept on his or her person. Some combs and brushes were missing. All of Rita's belongings, which Clifford locked inside a travel trunk were untouched. The trunk had been dragged under the collapsed yurt and, too cumbersome to carry, evidently abandoned when it could not be opened quickly. The business tents inside the circle had not been accessed, only the collapsed yurts on the periphery.

  “Whoever breached security did it on their bellies,” Clifford said. “Slithered like serpents crawling under rocks.”

  “Pros,” Dr. Withers said, scratching his head thoughtfully through the headgear.

  Beggars would have stolen a scrap of stale bread. They would have taken anything movable.

  “Not so much as a loose notepad has been taken,” Bebe said. “Professional thieves can't use those?”

  “Maybe Aaron doodled on too many of `em,” Clifford said, evoking laughter.

  Whoever raided the camp looked only for things with immediate saleable value. “We'll let the Bolis handle it,” Dr. Withers said. “So we can stay focused on our work.”

  The next morning Randy was in camp before breakfast preparing to check out. His arm was no longer in a sling but he still did not use it much. “I'll be bussing it back to Cairo with the children,” he said. “Save the team some dollars by not taking a flight.”

  Deliberately ignoring the gesture of pseudo-altruism, Dr. Withers said, “Once in Cairo, get over to Vimble's clinic for a check up on that shoulder.”

  A little later, Randy approached her looking around to make sure they were alone. “What is it, Randy?” Chione asked as they stepped inside the now empty inventory tent.

  Bare pallets lay haphazard on the ground. The packing materials and tools were stored safely so thieves could not get them. Only paraffin tubs and sundry other items remained. The inventory tent, usually bustling with activity, camaraderie and dialect, seemed forlorn.

  “I just wanted to say goodbye. I'll see you again sometime, back in California maybe.”

  “Is it permanent? You're to stay in Cairo?”

  “For a while. I wanted to say something else though.” He paused briefly. “Chione, the children, according to the translators, they wanted to say goodbye to you.”

  “To me?”

  “Yes. Some cried when they asked me to tell you.”

  “Cried?” That did seem odd. “Do you know why?”

  “No, I don't. Except some of the kids refer to you as Ari. I was told Ari meant guardian. Why would they call you that?”

  “A lot of things you'll never understand, Randy. You're too fixed in your thinking about what life is and isn't. Your skepticism makes the paranormal too mysterious and scares the pants off you.”

  He thought for a moment and then said, “You know, Chione, there was a time I'd have shined you on after comments like that.”

  “Why be different today?” she asked, not expecting anything else.

  “I've been evaluating things. Your dreams did come true. And all the strange things that keep happening—?”

  “The occurrences you pass off to a curse?”

  “Curse or not, something's going on.” Even a curse implied something different and he could not deny it.

  “If you believe in them.”

  “I didn't think I did, that is, something's making things happen. Not everyone has dreams like yours.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I want you to know I'm awfully sorry to have taunted you so badly.”

  “You're apologizing?” She could not believe her ears.

  “I've changed, Chione. Something's happened over here. Look at me. In t
he month we've been in this oven of a desert, I must have lost between twenty, thirty pounds.” His clothing hung on his body. His face was thinner and tanned and his hair clean and shiny. His eyes were clear and they sparkled as if he had been re-made. “Does that bother you?”

  “No, I hope to lose more. I never knew what to do about my weight. Now it's being taken care of.”

  “Like a blessing? Or a curse?”

  He smiled wryly. “Something else,” he said. “I've never been part of this group or close to any of you. While you're all making these magnificent discoveries, I'm relegated to something else and not a part of it.”

  “Well, your shoulder, Randy.”

  “It's as if it was meant to happen to keep me from getting too involved here.”

  “I wouldn't carry it that far,” she said. When a person in denial found some validity in anything she did, they usually swayed in her direction and got carried away with exaggerated belief. She did not wish to see that happen to Randy.

  “Don't you see? I didn't get to work with the mummies when they were brought out. Didn't get to see any of the relics unless I poked my nose in here while they were being packed. For some reason, I was supposed to work with the kids and the tour groups. Chione, listen.”

  “I am listening, but I've got to get going.”

  “No wait, don't you see? There's a reason why I wasn't supposed to get involved. Now I'm being sent to Cairo.”

  “Well, your work waits for you at the Madu.” She knew Randy well. Playing the metaphysical guru and predicting why he was supposed to be where and when was not like him. He was puffing up his ego again, yet, she was curious enough to want to listen, even though history hinted that she should walked away.

  “You know me, how I work, right?”

  “You can be exceptional.”

  “Well, thank you,” he said, looking surprised. “But listen. When I learned I was going to the Madu, this great surge of self-actualization came over me, like there was more to come. Don't ask me how I knew that. You understand. I know you do.”

  Randy's excitement seemed to escalate over the news he had to relate. He was swept up in a current Chione recognized. “Go on,” she said.

  “I phoned Cairo, did some snooping. Do you know that the Museum has their own program to establish the DNA blood prints of all the mummies? They're trying to establish who among the living might be related to the Ancients.”

  Chione felt cold shivers go up her spine, a premonition so strong she had to listen. “Why is that of interest you?”

  “I specialize in genetics and biochemistry, remember? I have medical research training. I can fit into their DNA program working with the Museum's Microbiologist. I want in. I already have this theory—”

  “So go for it. Apply.”

  “Listen,” he said, still caught up in his thoughts. “My theory is that when they do the genealogy of the American presidents, they find each one related to past presidents. So if past Presidents produce the current ones, well, maybe it's possible that these genius Egyptian kids—born with knowledge of Ancient Egypt—don't you see? Maybe they're descendants of the Pharaohs families.”

  Another chill transited Chione's body. “Your thesis is tenable but, again, based on metaphysical thinking,” she said. “Quite unlike you, Randy.” She felt dizzy again, but had to concentrate because of the chill that lingered.

  “They DNA printed members of the Egyptian government and came up with next to nothing. With all the millions of people in Egypt, there has to be a new starting point or they'll scrap the project.”

  What better place to resume the program than with those who have innate knowledge of history, the Pharaohs and the dynasties? Still she said, “Wow, that's stretching it, don't you think?”

  “Maybe. We could also DNA print the Hamitic peoples. The Copts are believed to be the closest blood relatives.”

  “Descendants of ancient Egyptians?”

  “Rather than give up on the DNA program, they should first investigate every angle, wouldn't you say? Starting with my kids?”

  “I don't know how intelligent those kids are,” Chione said. Nor could she believe Randy had acquiesced to any part of past life theory.

  “I can't explain it, but don't you see? I'm onto something, like it's been handed to me,” he said. “Just like I was pulled away from the group effort. Spending time with the kids? Chione, I'm really getting to know Egypt and her history. When I started studying with the children, something just came up and enveloped me. Now I can't get enough.”

  “Is that part of the curse?” she asked, smiling so he would know that she teased.

  “More like a needs recognition.”

  “Then you should apply for the program.”

  “It's not that easy.” He looked down at his boots, evidently preparing himself to do something humbling. He looked up, straight into her eyes. “Could you help me a little?”

  “Get into that program? What could I—”

  “Maybe not you, Chione. Can you influence Dr. Withers to give me a recommendation?”

  If Randy thought she had any influence, it would certainly not be used to contrive. “Why don't you present it to him yourself?”

  “I'm sure he's given up on me. He doesn't see the broader changes happening here,” Randy said. “I've been pushed in this other direction and my fate lies elsewhere.”

  If only Randy knew the changes the other team members were experiencing, dressing and eating like Egyptians. Yet, his rationale seemed totally based in metaphysical concepts. “Do you hear yourself?”

  He pleaded for her to hear him out. “I haven't been able to guide my own life or decide what I should do,” he said. “Now I've been pointed in a direction without any effort on my part. There certainly are other forces at work.”

  She could only smile. Randy was softening, allowing that he could not be the manipulator of his or anyone else's universe. He was seeing the light, but why had he come to her after all their conflicts? “Speak with Dr. Withers.”

  “I need your help. His tone begged. “I belong in this program. I didn't like Egypt when I first arrived. Those kids did something to me. If I can stay in Cairo with the DNA program, I can see the children.”

  “That's quite a change.”

  “I want to say something else,” he said suddenly. “Sort of from a man's point of view.”

  She already knew he would have more to say. “Give it your best.”

  “My mom nags me to get married,” Randy said. “She drives me nuts. She wants grandchildren. I don't want marriage. I want my career and, believe it or not, I'm happy to be away from my mother's nagging. Meeting these kids—they're my family now. I got attached to them as if they were my own.”

  Chione felt a twinge of caution. Randy was about to invade her personal life. “Well, thanks for confiding in me, Randy. I think your mother will understand eventually.”

  “That's not all, Chione. Don't you see? I heard the rumors about why you broke off with Aaron.” Chione stiffened, about to cut him short but he went on. “I sympathize with your situation. But let me say this just once. Think twice about Aaron.”

  “That's none of your—“

  “I got used to these kids and I don't want to leave them. They're my family now. They accept me and love me and it feels better than great. You can't tell me Aaron couldn't live without having his own—”

  “That's none of your business, Randy!”

  Randy did not flinch. “You're right. But you should know that I've accepted these kids with all my heart. To have your love, Aaron would do the same.”

  Chione trembled. Nothing Randy ever said had gotten so deeply into her. “It's my life,” she said.

  “I know. I had to say that because I'm only now beginning to see how special you are.”

  “Don't patronize me,” she said. “Maybe you ought to go see Dr. Withers while you have a chance.” As soon as the biting words spilled out, Chione regretted having said them. Here was Ra
ndy pouring out his heart. She marveled at how much he had matured. She sensed his loneliness and realized that on his own, he chose a wonderful direction for his life.

  The look on his face said if she chose not to help, he would understand. He smiled sadly, sighed, and turned to leave. “Guess I'd better see the boss.”

  “Wait, Randy,” she said. He turned back slowly. “You should break the news to him first. I'll see what I can do afterwards.”

  “Oh, Chione,” he said, sighing relief. “If there's ever anything I can do for you, just ask. I swear I'll give it my best. I'll never say no.”

  “It means that much?”

  “I wish you knew,” he said, smiling timidly. “The times, they are a changin'.” Then he walked back and hugged her.

  That was the closest she had been to Randy since they had to bump elbows working together in California. Since that time, she had not wished to be near him at all. As they embraced, a vision appeared and in a split second vanished. Something about blood. She thought of the gash that he sustained on his arm when he fell into the Second Chamber. She felt his pain and pulled away. “Good luck to you, Randy,” she said, meaning it.

  “One more thing,” he said. “Don't tell anyone about this conversation, okay?” He curled up a lip. “I wouldn't want to spoil my image.”

  Chione looked tenderly at him for the first time. “You know, Randy,” she said. “Maybe you should bring your mother to Egypt for a vacation, and to meet your new family.”

  She held the tent flap and watched him walk away into the haze. He definitely was thinner; shoulders taller and broader, with a posture more positive. Yes, the times they were a changin'. Then she saw the vision again.

  Blood, fresh and red.

  The kinesthetic feel of the scene was more of great expectation than fright.

  More blood, spots of blood.

  30