by A. L. Knorr
"Yep. You just had the wrong COM port and the settings were messed up."
Ethan looked at Jesse like he was a god.
Jesse shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I'm good with technology." His cheeks were tinged with pink.
"Obviously." Ethan settled in for the task at hand as Jesse and I turned away to go back to work. "Don't wander far, La Forge."
"La Forge?" I echoed to Jesse as we stepped down into the trench. "Another Star Trek reference?"
"I'm guessing yes," whispered Jesse. "I won't look it up in case it’s unflattering." He stepped down into Camelot and I followed.
"I doubt it’s unflattering." I smiled and picked up my trowel. "You made his problem go away like that." I snapped my fingers. "How did you figure it out so fast?"
Jesse's cheeks colored again. "It was nothing." He ducked his head. Something about his manner made me realize Jesse didn't want praise, and he didn't want to talk about it any further.
Seemed there was a lot he didn't want to talk about.
Chapter 8
It was Sarah who first brushed the sand away to reveal human teeth—beautiful, straight, white, and still lodged in the jaw. We called the find Tafuri. The painstaking job of uncovering whatever was left of her was still ahead and had to happen quickly. Once bones were exposed to the elements, they began to deteriorate much more quickly. When I asked for the job of unearthing the rest of her, Sarah was happy to pass it over to me.
Slowly revealing her ribs, the bones in her hands and feet, and the knobs of her spine was an exercise in amazement for me. No matter how uncomfortable it was kneeling on the sand, crouching against the breeze, or lying flat on my belly with my chin resting on my arm, I never tired of it. It was not the case for my colleagues, for as I entered the second day of uncovering her, I was left there for hours on my own.
Ethan showed me how to check the sciatic notch of the pelvis. As it was wider than his thumb, it was a significant indicator that the remains were female.
“Do you see how small her supra orbital rides are?” Ethan pointed with his pinky at her brow bones. “And how small the mastoid process is?” He moved his pinky to the knobby bone behind where the ear would have been. “These point to a female.”
I nodded, pulling my face mask down a bit so I could see better. “Her jaw is small and overall the skull is very round.” I added. “It talks about that in the field manual.”
Ethan nodded and though his mask was covering his mouth, I could tell he was smiling. “You’ve clearly chosen the right path for yourself, Petra. Keep up the good work. Would you like to help Sarah with the documentation?”
“I’d love to.” I smiled back at our team leader, heart full. I felt closer to realizing my dream than I ever had in my life before. I was living as an archaeologist, and loving it.
Tafuri was drawn, photographed, and then wrapped up with brown paper and deposited into boxes protect her.
We called the next skeleton Anwa, and I set to work uncovering it with the same care I had shown Tafuri. Even once the full skeleton had been uncovered and a second one discovered, no one seemed as magnetized to them as I was.
A hot and still afternoon found me lying on my stomach, using a paintbrush to pull sand away from Anwa. Sarah and I had started out the day working together, but as the sun climbed, Sarah complained of a headache and retreated to her tent for a rest.
After lunch, I was still digging alone. The sand on these bones tended to clump and stick more than it had on Tafuri's bones, and I needed something stronger than a brush. I cast about for another tool and spied a wooden pick—just what I needed. With a tummy full of lunch, I felt drowsy and slow. I could probably have used a nap myself before commencing the afternoon's work. I stretched my arm out for the pick, but it was just beyond my reach.
I glanced toward camp, where Hassan and Abu, two of the security guards, were drinking from tin cups, talking and laughing. No one else was in sight and Hassan’s and Abu’s backs were to me.
Locking my eyes on the pick, I gave the tool a mental pull. It slid toward me in the sand and I grabbed it. "Gotcha!" I discarded the brush in favor of the pick.
The sound of a boot on sandy rock made me gasp and look behind me.
Mifta was standing on top of some basalt rubble next to the pit. He was wearing reflective sunglasses. I couldn't tell where he was looking.
"Hello, Mifta. You made me jump. Didn't see you there."
Seconds passed before he answered and each moment of silence filled my stomach with dread. Had he seen what I had done? I cursed myself. Why hadn't I just gotten up and grabbed the tool like a normal person? Of all the stupid mistakes made for laziness.
"I apologize," said Mifta finally. "I'll make a little more noise next time I do a round." Was it my imagination, or did his tone seem flat and a little sarcastic?
I gave him a nervous smile but he didn't return it, possibly because I was still wearing my face mask so he couldn’t see it. He stepped down from the rubble and walked by, his expression unreadable.
I was only left to hope that he hadn't observed my little stunt. I promised myself I wouldn't make such a stupid mistake again.
Mifta joined Hassan and Abu. He filled a cup with water and stood with them, drinking. I caught him looking back at me more than once. They spoke to each other, and the words drifted by on the wind. What were they conversing about?
Cautiously, I closed my eyes and lifted the gate between my mind and Mifta’s, probing his thoughts for a clue. What I picked up was a stream of Tamahaq as he spoke with the men. The base of my skull throbbed and I shut the gate, rubbing the back of my neck. I frowned and watched their backs for a while. When they burst into laughter, I tried to relax. They wouldn't be laughing if Mifta had told them I’d moved a tool with my mind.
It was a good thing I was left to my own devices for the rest of the afternoon's work. I was far too distracted by worry to make decent conversation with anyone.
“Excuse me!” Ethan tapped his knife against his plastic glass and stood up at breakfast the following Saturday. He put a hand over his heart. “I have a little surprise for you, my hard-working team, to celebrate the success of the dig thus far and as a reward for the excellent job you have all done over these last couple of weeks.”
Jesse and I shared a look and Jesse winked. Someone turned on a stereo and the funky refrains of a famous Bee Gees song filled the tent. A head appeared in the doorway wearing goggles and a bright pink and teal eighties one-piece ski suit. A thick knit hat with a huge pompom on the top bounced as Ibby bobbed her head to the music.
The tent exploded in laughter and applause as Ibby began to strut back and forth, modelling the retro outfit and throwing her hips all over the place. A pair of vintage skis were propped over her shoulder and as she turned, they flew over Mifta’s head. He ducked, laughing.
“My I present, sand-skiing in the Saharan desert,” Ethan yelled over the din. He spread his arms wide and bowed with a toothy grin. “A once in a lifetime opportunity, ladies and gents. Let it never be said that Papa Paranoid was also boring.”
Ibby ripped the toque off her head, sweat making her hair damp. “Brought to you by Speedstick’s aluminum chlorohydrate anti-perspirant spray.” She propped the skis against the tent wall and tugged the one-piece open at the neck, shimmying out of the top half. “The big guns of anti-stink. It’ll kill ya, but at least you’ll go down smelling pretty.”
Jesse covered his mouth as he laughed. He leaned over and said in my ear, “Skiing down sand dunes. We’re real rebels, the lot of us.”
“I hope I didn’t miss the party,” said a feminine voice over the din. A tall, slender woman in a white fedora appeared in the doorway of the tent. She had long blond hair streaked with gray and tied back in a braid. Her tanned face was lined with years of experience. Her eyes were bright blue and radiated a keen intelligence.
“Molly, you made it!” Ethan went around the table. “I didn’t even hear your vehicle pull up
over these hooligans.” Ethan and Molly gave each other a tight hug. Ethan turned to the rest of us. “This is an old—"
“Very old,” the woman added, to laughter.
“Friend of mine from Uni days. Professor Metcalfe is a well-known fixture at Harvard—”
“Just call me Molly.” A charming pink tinge dusted Molly’s cheeks as she waved hello to everyone. “A little birdie told me there was going to be dune skiing here today. I hope I didn’t miss it?”
There was a rustle of movement and clanking of plastic dishes and cutlery as the crew rushed through cleaning up after breakfast. Twenty minutes later, the entire team including the security men, were gathered at the top of a sand dune.
“We only have four pairs of skis and poles, so we’ll have to take turns,” Ethan shouted over the laughter and general silliness. It seemed everyone really needed a day off.
I wandered over to where Molly was applying sunscreen under the shadow of a rock shaped a bit like an Easter Island head.
“I’m Petra.” I held out my hand.
“Nice to meet you.” Molly shot me a sparkling smile from a face half coated in zinc. “You sound decidedly Canadian.”
I laughed. “East Coast. You sound decidedly Bostonian.”
“Guilty.” She handed me her tube of zinc.
“No, thanks.” I held up a hand. “I’m already greased up.”
“You have that beautiful olive skin. You probably get as brown as a chocolate cookie.”
I laughed. It was true. “I still try not to get too much sun.”
“Smart.” She rubbed the sunblock over the back of her neck and under her braid. “You’ll avoid looking like a leather handbag. Like I do.” She added more sunblock and coated the backs of her hands. “Things I wish I had known when I was your age. I’m from the generation that used to roll in baby oil and then lie there with tin foil to magnify the frying effect. So dumb. I have to be extra careful now. I’ve already had melanoma once. That’s a scary business.”
"What brings you out into the desert? And where are you staying? It’s like you popped up out of the sand.” I gestured at the empty desert that spread out vacant for miles around us.
She belted a laugh. “Great question!” She slapped her hat back on her head and tossed her sunblock into the knit sack dangling from her shoulder. “I'm an anthropologist. I was given permission to study the ongoing conflict between tribal militants and the rival groups seeking control here, specifically in the southwest.”
“Wow!” I fell into step with Molly as we made our way over to the group waiting for their turn to careen wildly down hot desert sand. “How is that going?”
“It’s not easy. I’m interested in how ethnicity affects the integrations of those displaced by political violence. I’m living in a Tuareg camp about a two-hour drive thataway.” She pointed two fingers to the west. “They seem to tolerate my presence. Not all of them talk, but I respect that. These kinds of studies take time.”
“Ethan let you know he’d be running an excavation not far away?” I asked.
Ibby walked by, handing out water bottles and we each took one.
Molly nodded and took a swig of her water. She leaned in close and said, “Truth be told, we were sweethearts many years ago. Turned out we were better friends than lovers–”
I blushed at this easy sharing of confidence on her part, not sure what to say.
“We never lost touch.” Molly looked at me, and it felt as though her bright blue eyes were really taking me in. “He was one of those special ones, you know. One of the ones that never lets go of you, and you never let go of them?”
I opened my mouth, but was still lost for words. Actually, I didn’t know. But I didn’t want to contradict her. I made a sound that could be taken as an agreement, but changed the subject. “In your studies, have you come across anyone with a tattoo across the wrist? A curved line, like a closed eye?”
Her eyebrows shot up, and lines in her forehead sprang to life. “That’s very specific. Across the wrist, you say?”
I nodded. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be on the wrist, I don’t know.” I told her about the man at the airport, how he’d raised the back of his hand to his forehead and flashed the simple tattoo outward at me.
“Hmmm.” Molly retrieved a notepad and pencil from her knit bag. “Can you draw it for me?”
“Sure.” I took the pad and pencil. “It was very basic.” I drew the shape for her. It looked as though a straight line had been pushed at by something round, creating a soft curve in the center.
“Oh. I do know this symbol,” said Molly, taking the page from me. “Was it like this?” She laid it over her wrist so that the symbol ran up the inside of her wrist.
I nodded. “That’s right. So it looked like a single closed eye when he held his hand up and his wrist out.”
“Strange that he would do that to you. This symbol is meant to ward off intrusion of the mind.”
My jaw slackened and I stared at her. My forearms prickled and even under the hot Saharan sun, a cold feeling swept over me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I believe so. There are many regional superstitions here.” She tapped the page. “This is one of them. And, you are very astute. It is a closed eye.”
“Who’s next?” yelled Mifta as he crested the hill with the skis, pouring sweat and wearing a face-splitting grin. Hassan climbed up behind him.
“Shall we give this a whirl, then?” Molly put her hands together and rubbed them. “It’s been a long time since I nearly broke my neck.”
Molly and I strapped on the skis, the goggles, and the helmets. It was so hot inside the helmet I thought my brain was going to cook. She nodded at me as we pointed our tips downhill and I watched as she whooped and dug her poles into the sand, shooting down the dune and carving like she’d done it a thousand times before.
I was so bemused and distracted by what I had learned that I did a very poor job and fell twice, scraping my elbows and bruising my tailbone. By the time I got to the bottom, my heart was pounding and I felt like I’d been kicked in the backside. I tried to make the pizza shape with my skis to brake, ploughed up too much sand and flipped over on to my belly.
“Rode it like a champ,” said a voice at my elbow. Jesse helped me up and brushed me off.
“I didn’t ride it so much as it rode me,” I replied, laughing and feeling a little shaky. I popped my feet out of the skis and began to unstrap the boots.
“Do you want to go again? I’ll go down with you next time?” Jesse helped me out of the helmet and the fresh air against my cheeks felt delicious.
“Very funny.” I handed the equipment to one of our laborers who was eyeballing them eagerly. “Please take these away before I kill myself. I do believe I have done enough dune skiing to last me a lifetime.”
Jesse handed off the helmet and beckoned for me to follow him. “Cool, because there’s something I want to show you.”
Chapter 9
I followed Jesse toward a cluster of low red rocks just beyond the ski area. He hopped over the tops of the rocks and then slowed, getting to his knees and then to his belly.
“What are you doing?”
He looked up at me and put a finger over his lips, beckoning me to lie down beside him.
I went to my belly and mimicked him as he army crawled to the edge of the rock and peered over. I shimmied up beside him and followed his gaze.
“Oh my!” I whispered.
There, in the shade of the rock, digging in the sand like he hadn’t a care in the world, was a camel spider. I recognized it instantly from the photo Jesse had shown me before.
“Are you afraid?” Jesse whispered, looking at me with his brows drawn in concern. “I found him working here and thought it was so funny, because we were just talking about these on the plane.”
I shook my head. “I’m not afraid.” I was a little creeped out, but also admittedly fascinated. The creature was on the large side, as far as creepy-crawlies we
nt, maybe three inches long. But he was a good two feet below us and seemed to be so preoccupied with what he was doing that he didn’t even know he was being watched.
“Amazing. Right?” Jesse rested his chin on the back of his hands and gazed at the creature.
I agreed. The camel spider was pushing sand around at the mouth of a tiny hole, presumably his living quarters. He worked fast and efficiently, moving like he knew exactly what he was doing. It was mesmerizing to watch a living creature building himself a home with such focus and determination. In this way, he was not really terrifying at all, just a guy going about his daily grind.
“I think he’s making a comfortable place for a mate,” Jesse whispered, with a grin. “The arduous lengths we men go to for the right woman.”
I chuckled. “I’m guessing you’ve never ripped all of your leg hair out at the roots, or suffered through an acid peel?”
“An acid…” He shot me a horrified look. “Is that a thing?”
“That and worse, so don’t complain about the work men do to attract a mate.”
He held my gaze without saying anything for so long that I blushed and had to look away. He tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. Then he said, as naturally as saying ‘please’ or ‘thank you,’ “All you have to do is breathe.”
My face heated at his familiar behaviour. I might have pulled away from someone else, but there was something in me that wanted to lean into his touch. Jesse is a flirt, I reminded myself. This is what he’s good at. It doesn’t mean anything.
The sound of laughter from the group back on the dunes washed over us and we turned to watch the party. Ethan and Molly were careening wildly down the dunes, on the edge of control. There was a long whooping sound from one of them as they raced for supremacy.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the way the whole team was into the race, hollering and yelling and laughing with their hands cupped to their mouths, faces shining with sweat. I glanced over at Jesse but he was not laughing. Instead, his expression seemed serious, pensive, as he watched the merry-making.
