That Time in Cairo by Logan Ryles (books to read in a lifetime .txt) 📗

air. The light came on and flooded the space in front of him, illuminating the face of a dead man lying only inches away.

12

Wolfgang gulped back a scream and thrashed backward, almost dropping the light. The olive-toned man that lay at his feet was tall and dressed in dark clothes. His neck was twisted to one side at an unnatural angle, his eyes wide and frozen into a death-stare.

“Hello?” The voice was distant and faint.

Wolfgang’s heart beat so loud he wasn’t sure if he heard the call, or just imagined it. He forced himself to calm down, clawing his way backward up the sandy slope until he was a few yards from the body, then he scanned the light upward.

He sat at the foot of a sand dune packed with rocks sloping downward from the roof of the cave about fifty feet up. Only it wasn’t a cave. The light wasn’t powerful enough to shine all the way to the ceiling, but Wolfgang could make out flat stone walls rising behind the dune, and at the top of the dune, he could make out the square outline of the hole he’d shot out of during his wild descent. It was square and black with no sign of light from the outside world streaming through.

It’s some kind of chute . . . leading into what?

Wolfgang rubbed sand from his eyes, then placed his free hand into the dune to brace himself. His fingers sank into the sand and touched something hard and round. He frowned and twisted, panning the light over the spot and sweeping the sand away.

Wolfgang choked, thrashing backward again. The object in the sand was a human skull, decayed to the point where almost none of it remained, but the shape was unmistakable. He swallowed a panicked shout and clawed his way to his feet, struggling for balance at the bottom of the dune.

“Hello?” the voice said.

This time, Wolfgang was sure he heard it coming from the far side of the sandpile, off to his left, where the light was too weak to shine. The skull lay in between him and the voice, as did the body, but the prospect of another human in this dark cavern of death sounded like salvation itself. Wolfgang stumbled around the skull, struggling for balance and keeping away from the body as he panned the light forward.

“Hello?” the voice said for the third time. It was weak, almost a whimper, and Wolfgang thought it was female. He could hear fear in the tone—the same fear that still pounded in his blood with every heartbeat.

“Hello?” Wolfgang called back. “Where are you?”

He struggled for balance as he circled the bottom of the dune. The voice didn’t answer him, but he heard a soft cry, like a child sobbing. Wolfgang clung to the flashlight as if it were his sole hope for survival—which it might’ve been. Sand filled his clothes and ground against his feet from the insides of his shoes, but he kept thrashing forward, flashing the penlight from side to side as he saw another wall rise out of the darkness.

Then he saw her. From the first glance, he knew the little figure nestled in the crevice between the bottom of the dune and the nearest stone wall was Dr. Pollins. She looked just like her sister, identical in every detail. Amelia lay with most of her torso out of sight, buried in the sand. Only one arm, her neck, and her head poked out. As the light flashed across her face, Wolfgang saw pure panic in her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her hair was twisted into a tangle of sand and sweat.

“Dr. Pollins?” Wolfgang said.

Amelia lifted her free hand toward him as he hurried forward, kneeling in the sand beside her and placing the penlight in his mouth. He dug with both hands, pawing sand away from her torso.

“My leg . . . it’s broken,” Amelia said.

Wolfgang spoke around the light. “Stay still, Doctor. I’m going to get you out.” He quickly unearthed her torso and other arm, then moved to scoop away sand from her leg. As he did, his fingers touched something hard, and he recoiled.

More bones.

He moved to her other side and scooped the sand away. Gradually, he shifted enough sand to expose everything from her knees up, then he reached down and pressed his arms beneath her back, gently lifting her up and out. Amelia groaned but allowed him to pull her free before setting her back down in a sitting position, her back resting against the stone wall.

“Water?” she asked.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any.” Wolfgang looked back up at the ceiling and scanned the penlight over the mouth of the chute.

Megan and Kevin would be working for a way to free him. They would need rope—a lot of it—and he didn’t remember having any in the 4Runner. Without communications, he had no way of telling them to send down water or more lights.

Wolfgang panned the light around again, taking in the full bulk of the sandpile, then glimpsing the dead man lying at the bottom.

What’s going on here? Is this the tomb?

Wolfgang flinched when Amelia grabbed his arm, and he was impressed by the strength in her fingers.

“We have to get out,” she said.

“We will, Doctor. My friends are coming, okay?”

Amelia shook her head. “We have to go now.”

There was a fear in her eyes that transcended the natural panic of being stuck underground. It was deeper and more immediate. Was she descending into shock?

“Are there other men?” Wolfgang asked, motioning to the body at the foot of the sand dune.

“No,” Amelia said. “Just him.” She swallowed then motioned to her left.

Wolfgang turned the light in that direction, following her line of sight. For the first time, he saw a black doorway in the far corner of the room, barely visible even when he pointed the light directly at it. Wolfgang’s heart skipped, and he felt a wash of excitement in spite of their predicament.

The tomb.

“A pharaoh?” Wolfgang