Buried Secrets

by Kristi Belcamino

  But she also refused to believe she was going to die.

  One thing she noticed, the two other men couldn’t keep their eyes off the treasure. All the gold. They were distracted by it. This was good. She eyed the passage behind her. This must have been where the men came from. That meant there was a way out. That’s all she needed to know.

  “Stand up,” Caldwell said. “I need you to stand back while we open the tomb door.”

  She was sitting in the middle of the room.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I think I broke my leg.” She grimaced in pain. But the pain was in her shoulder, not her legs. Her legs felt just fine.

  He nodded at the two men and a third that Dallas didn’t recognize. The three men came over and two of them lifted her up by the armpits, pulling her back toward the doorway. Perfect, Dallas thought. She held her breath, hoping they wouldn’t snatch the camera from where it still was attached to the head strap. Her only hope was if by some dumb fluke, it was still filming and Colton saw what was going on and was coming to help. But she knew that was next to impossible. What was he going to do? Squeeze down that tiny hole and then drop down where the floor had collapsed? Hardly.

  They set her down on the ground near the doorway. Train called them over. As soon as they were across the room, she whispered into the camera’s microphone. “If you can hear me, there has to be another way in. These guys came from a deeper level than I did. If you can find it, you can find me and stop them before they get the book.”

  After she spoke, she realized they all probably thought she was crazy. She’d never told any of them about the book. She’d never even told Colton about what Safra had said about the group trying to gain control of the book to take over the world and cause chaos.

  “Here and here,” Malcolm Land said. “It looks like if we put pressure on these two points we can pry the door open.”

  They’d discarded any archeological practices of being careful and preservation, Dallas thought. They wanted to find the tomb so they could have the book. She knew it.

  With all four men focused on the door, Dallas started to scoot over toward the opposite door leading back into the circular room. Soon, she was at the edge of the doorway. Nobody noticed.

  She could make a break for it.

  But she was frozen in place. It might mean her life, but she had to see what was behind that door.

  Just then Train glanced back at her, his eyes bright, and he smiled. For a second, their eyes met and something was exchanged, some energy, some electricity. It was sickening to realize, but Dallas had to admit that they shared a moment. They were on the verge of possibly the most exciting archeological discovery in nearly a hundred years and they both were filled with exhilaration. It was something nobody else in the world could possibly understand at that exact moment—how it felt to be on the verge of one of mankind’s greatest discoveries.

  Dallas’s breath caught in her throat as one of the crow bars did something that caused a cracking sound.

  Malcom Land jerked his head back to the door. Dust flew up around the door and the men started to cough. Then as the door was pried open a few inches, a blast of warm air reeking of sulfur jettisoned out of the doorway just as the large stone thudded to the ground, nearly crushing the leg of one of Train’s men and sending the crow bar the man was holding skittering toward Dallas. Malcolm Land ignored it and thrust a lantern inside.

  Dallas, with one foot out the door, half turned to run, froze. The crow bar was within her reach.

  Just then the three other men swore loudly. Between the two onyx statues, she could see the room illuminated by Land’s lantern was empty. The walls of the small inner chamber were covered in hieroglyphs. Train was swearing up a storm as he stepped inside.

  “Where is the sarcophagus?” He reached over and picked Caldwell up by his shirt collar and then threw him against the wall. “Where is it?”

  Dallas crouched and reached for the crow bar. Within seconds it was in the grip of her good hand. The worker had rallied and charged. She didn’t have time to raise the crow bar to strike him, but her left leg flew out and smacked into his chest. Thank you, CrossFit!

  Before he could recover, her other leg swept underneath and knocked the man’s legs out from under him. Before she could regain her balance, Malcolm Land was barreling her way. She turned so her injured shoulder was behind her and braced for the attack.

  Despite herself, she peered past Land’s charging body into the room he’d just emerged from. She saw Train pummeling Caldwell and swearing, as if he could beat the location of the mummified Cleopatra out of him.

  Dallas held her arm straight in an attempt to conceal the crow bar against her leg.

  By the time the older Land reached her she easily swung the crow bar up and into his crotch. He collapsed with a howl, having no idea what had hit him.

  Dallas stepped over the two injured men and drew closer to the tomb.

  Train and Caldwell still hadn’t noticed her or what was going on in the outer chamber.

  That’s when she noticed the lower portion of the wall inside the tomb had a faint outline of three rectangles. She knew then—the tomb was lined with three shafts. They were sealed. But that’s where the coffin was. And all the queen’s treasures. Her furniture. Her special jewelry. Everything she would need for the underworld. And maybe the map to where the book was.

  “If you can hear me,” she whispered into the camera’s microphone that dangled near her mouth, “I want you to notice the rectangular indents. Shafts. Sealed. Get someone down here and unseal them. That’s where she is. If I don’t make it out alive and you do get to her body, look for a map. It will lead you to a book. Destroy the book before men like Train can get it.”

  Dallas knew then she was never going to make it out. It was up to Colton and Danny and Sam to stop these men. For a brief second, deep regret filled her that she wouldn’t ever get to see Colton again. She would never get to say yes to his mother’s invitations to holiday dinners. She would die unloved and alone.

  Meanwhile, Train had apparently given up on beating answers out of Caldwell. The archeologist was slumped in the corner with a bloody lip. Train was pacing the small room, swearing, yanking at his hair, and looking around wild-eyed.

  “There is nothing? This is her tomb? Where is her body? Where are her treasures? Where is the book?”

  Dallas froze at the word. The book.

  She backed out of the room and was halfway to the other door when Train turned. He took her in. He knew exactly what she was doing. She was about to run. She would have a head start, but that didn’t mean she could escape.

  She wanted to run, but she needed to stop him before he found the book. She stepped back into the room. His eyes widened. His gaze flickered to the crow bar in her hand and he smirked. Then he hefted up another crow bar and slapped it against his massive palm.

  They were equally armed. But he was bigger. And probably stronger. And didn’t have an injured shoulder.

  Her options were limited. She might be able to outrun him. Casually, she tried to look off to the side at the dark tunnel. Train saw her look and smirked.

  She swallowed and then her eyes grew wide. David Caldwell had crawled over from his spot against the wall to where the three rectangles were.

  “Wait!” he shouted. Train half-turned. David Caldwell was crouched, examining the rectangular indentation. Damn, Dallas thought. He knows. Caldwell used his hand to sweep off a large swath of something that crumbled to the floor.

  “Give me the bar. Now!”

  For a brief second, Dallas could tell Train was torn—hurt her or find the tomb. She held her breath. Train turned and stepped back into the tomb.

  Dallas knew she should run. It was her only chance to get away. But she was frozen. She had to see what was inside. It was impossible to leave before she knew whether Cleopatra’s mummified body was in one of the shafts. And whether the book was. She would do anything to stop these men from getting the bo
ok. She wasn’t sure what or how, but she had to stick around. If they found the book, she would sacrifice her life to get it away from them. She wasn’t sure how or if she had any chance of succeeding, but she knew she would at least die trying.

  As she watched, Train leaned over and stuck the crow bar into one side of the rectangle. It loosened easily, forcing the chunk of stone out a few inches. He removed the crow bar and went in at a different spot until it edged out even more. The third effort proved successful and the massive chunk of stone, at least the size of a big-screen TV, fell to the ground with a massive thud that shook the entire chamber.

  At least that’s what Dallas thought had caused the shaking, but soon they all realized it was something else.

  The ground shook and suddenly there was a massive roar as if a train was about to come out of the small space. Something Dallas recognized immediately. An earthquake. The walls of the tomb rocked and buckled and pieces of the ceiling, massive hunks of rock and earth began to fall. One chunk struck Malcolm Land, sending him into a lifeless heap on the ground. Dallas, remembering what she’d been told when she’d been in the Loma Prieta earthquake, stood squarely under the reinforced doorway to the tomb. The quaking and rumbling continued. It had to be the longest earthquake in the history of the planet, Dallas thought. Would it ever end? She searched for Train, but didn’t see his hulking figure anywhere. But she did see David Caldwell. He was kneeling, holding the lantern in front of him.

  Later, Dallas would try to switch the events in her memory so it would make sense, but the reality was a massive ball of fire emerged from the shaft engulfing the lantern, swallowing any semblance of David Caldwell and disintegrating everything in its path up to the moment when it reached Dallas. At that point, it became a ferocious blast of air that send Dallas tumbling out of the tomb, through the door to the outer chamber and into the darkness of the tunnel.

  Later, Dallas would tell herself that the flame from the lantern had ignited stored gases in the shaft and caused an explosion. But she never could reconcile the image seared into her memory of the flames emerging from the shaft and then swallowing the lantern.

  Stunned from the impact, it took Dallas a few seconds to stand up. Remnants of the flame just beyond the tunnel entrance lit the room she was in. Swiveling her head, she tried to get her bearings but then everything in front of her crumpled into dust, blocking the entryway she’d just been thrown through. She stood untouched. She was stunned. And the shaking continued. When the ceiling above her made a cracking sound, she turned and ran. As she did, heart pounding, throat dry, legs and arms aching, she heard a sound behind her. It took her a few seconds to recognize what it was: the sound of rushing water. And it was heading her way.

  Terror zipped through her limbs. It was her worst nightmare come true. She would drown and would do so underground. Fear sent adrenaline rushing through her and she picked up her already lung-bursting pace. The taste of dirt filled her mouth and her legs screamed in pain. Soon her entire body was screaming in pain and she didn’t think her lungs or legs could go any further.

  The roar of the water was right behind her and then it licked at her ankles and then it struck her with the force of a punch and slapped her down. She went from upright to prone in an instant and barely had time to gasp for air before she was submerged. The water tossed her down onto the tunnel floor only to send her body hurtling into the walls of the tunnel, ricocheting back and forth like a ping pong ball. It seemed to last an eternity, but she was still surviving on that one breath when the motion of the water settled and she felt her body rise. The tunnel had filled with water all except six inches at the top. Lying on her back in the water, kicking her feet to tread water, she pressed her face into this sliver of air gasping for breath.

  The water was still coming, but slower now and she quickly realized the space with air was shrinking rapidly. She flailed in panic and began to sink under the water as her arms and legs motioned wildly and futilely.

  She was hyperventilating and her heart was racing and she thought she was going to die from a heart attack before she even ran out of air.

  Unbidden, her darkest memory floated into her consciousness, overpowering every other thought or emotion.

  “Have fun you two,” she’d said to her mother and father before they pulled out of the driveway that night.

  She’d never seen her mother happier.

  Her parents had always loved each other, but her dad’s free spirit nature had kept him on the road. But now he promised he was home for good. Any trips he took he’d bring her mother.

  She stood in the driveway and waved at the car as they headed down the long desert driveway. They were going to eat BBQ and go dancing.

  That was the last time she’d seen them alive.

  Last year, she’d found a picture of her parents she’d never seen before. It was when her mother was pregnant with her. In the photo, her father looked like he always had, dark wavy hair, thick black moustache, and a tight, close-lipped smile. Her mother, sweetness personified in an auburn-haired debutante, was pregnant.

  Thinking of them so young and innocent and happy was like a stab to the heart.

  Getting the knock on the door from Deputy Kraig about the car crash had been the worst day of her life.

  Now, certain of her own impending death, Dallas took some small comfort in knowing that there was a chance she’d seen her parents again. If there was such a thing as an afterlife. It wasn’t so far-fetched. After all, the Egyptians had been insanely smart and they’d believed in one.

  Dallas was thrust back into that dark period of her life, when her world as an orphan began.

  Her parent’s lawyer hadn’t wasted any time getting her out of their house to sell off what little they had. Dallas a marble-sized crystal ball with a few interesting runes etched into its surface.

  Other than that, Dallas wanted none of it. She had the lawyer arrange for an estate sale, everything must go, no reasonable offer refused. It had cleared enough for her to buy a decent loft near the university and get a crappy old Land Rover that she affectionately referred to as Betty.

  And then the lawyer had given her the key. It had been in a white envelope. No note. No explanation. Only orders to give it to Dallas if both her parents died. The key that would change her life. It was to the safety deposit box at the bank.

  Inside the box, she’d found a small leather notebook. It was a couple of inches larger than a paperback novel and nothing else. She picked it up and flipped a few pages. Nothing special, just a journal. But on the way home, a couple of loose pages came out of the notebook.

  When she pored through the pages later, she discovered it had belonged to her father. Most of the entries were pre-9/11 and had nothing earth shattering to say. Some of the later notes were about his own father’s death and that was about it. Several sections of the journal seemed to have large jumps in time. Examining the book closer, Dallas could see that there were missing sections. The spine was coming apart and the journal was shedding pages. One small piece of paper fluttered out. Unlike the other pages, this was a small slip with a phone number on it. Dallas recognized it as a Minnesota area code. But that wasn’t what was interesting, what was interesting is that unlike the journal pages her father had filled out, this piece of paper had different handwriting, writing that she immediately recognized as her mother’s curling script.

  She’d never called the phone number on it.

  But something about the memory of her parents sent a surge of energy through her. She refused to simply give up and die.

  The voice came from the blackness. Calm down. Swim. Kick your feet and arms. Back float. You know how to do this. It was her own voice.

  As if a button was pushed, the fear subsided and her body went into automatic motion.

  Another memory came. This time of the cute lifeguard coaching her through those horrid afternoons at camp came back to her. She knew what to do. The biggest challenge was to overcome her irrational fear o
f the water. It was a mental game. Physically she could do it, she told herself.

  With the lifeguard’s instructions playing in her mind like a movie, Dallas propelled herself down the tunnel, kicking her feet, pumping her arms, keeping her face out of the water until her breathing became regular again.

  Survival seemed possible. She was shivering so bad her teeth were chattering, but there was still air in the tunnel and she was still moving. Soon, she had to reach the spot where the others had entered the maze of tunnels. Luckily there hadn’t been any turns to make choices about. At least not that she was aware of.

  The black was so dark she couldn’t tell whether her eyes were open or not.

  But she would’ve felt the gaping holes if there had been other tunnels. As it was now, her fingertips brushed the sides of the tunnel as she did the backstroke.

  She was starting to believe that she would survive and escape the claustrophobic tunnel when her head smacked forcibly into the wall. Frantic, she turned. The tunnel had ended? It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

  Think Dallas. Think. She remembered the entry way to the tomb was arched so it dipped down from the ceiling slightly. With her fingertips, she felt the wall she had struck. As her hand probed lower, it ran out of wall. Tracing the edge, she felt the round swoop of an arch. She’d been right. But she’d have to dip her head underwater to figure out if the tunnel continued after the arch and if the other side had the same pocket of air.

  You can turn back around if it doesn’t, she told herself. Yet fear swarmed over her, making her gut clench. But what if I can’t find it again in the dark? Nonsense.

  The argument inside continued but she ignored it and dipped her head, kicking her feet, keeping one arm up to feel the ceiling. Within a foot, her fist thrust up and out of the water into the air and her head followed. She gasped breathing deeply even though it had only been a few seconds she’d been underwater.

  And that’s when she realized that the air space above her was more than a few inches. Reaching up, she couldn’t feel the ceiling. She heard the sound of water falling and realized it was draining somewhere. The question was whether she wanted to go where it was headed.