Predictably, Garret goes down first, followed in dramatic fashion by Riley, who collapses on deck, and then vomits all overpoor Sayed as he carries her limp form to her cabin along the hallway that runs the length of the boat.
By Tuesday afternoon both Jeremy and Simon are throwing up over the side of the boat while Garret and Riley lie still and pale on the deck cushions, sipping weak, sweet tea.
“Feeding the crocodiles boys?”
Riley’s eyes fly open, and she struggles to sit up.
“You said—” she starts.
I hold up my hands.
“Kidding. Kidding. There are no crocodiles.”
Sadie and Bart, the only two apart from me who aren’t sick, hide their smiles.
“How about this? If you’re all feeling up to it by Thursday afternoon, I’ll get Khaled to take us down to Asyut on Friday morning. But only if we’ve had twelve hours without any upchucking.” I thought this might cheer Riley up, but it doesn’t.
“I don’t think I’ll ever go twelve hours without vomiting again in my life,” she whimpers, which gets a laugh out of everyone. Even those still feeding the crocodiles.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Sadie
Iknow it’s mean, and I wouldn’t wish it on her, truly, but the days Riley is away from the dig are bliss. I do miss Simon and Jeremy and their joking around. But having a few days without having to watch out for those little verbal darts is nice.
Since there are only three of us it’s pretty quiet. Ethan decides to work beside Bart and me in our section, which is both great and terrible. Terrible because from the corner of my eye, I can see every flex of his thigh muscles, every drip of sweat running down his tanned neck, every brush of his gloved fingers against the sand. All of which threaten to overheat me in a way the sun doesn’t quite manage.
Great because while he’s working with us, he spends the morning explaining some of the techniques he likes to use when digging, and talks about finds he’s made on previous digs. I think I’ve found my kink. Competence. Ethan could write the book on competency porn. Which just makes my head even morejumbled. Heart, head, body. They’re all getting in on the act now. Damn them.
I wish every word out of his mouth didn’t make me admire him even more. If only he was a PhD student himself and not a professor, maybe things could be different. Or if he wasn’t still grieving the death of his wife. Or if I didn’t have bone-deep trust issues. So many reasons to keep my distance. And yet, almost as many not to. I just have to try and keep my mother—as unpleasant as that is—front and centre in my mind.
The evenings are quiet since nobody is eating and they’re all in bed by the time the sun sets. It’s good to get in a few early nights, although lying in bed listening to the sound of vomiting coming from the tiny bathrooms we all share, or over the side of the boat, is not at all restful.
On Thursday morning, everyone except Riley, who is no longer vomiting but is still ‘too weakened to work’, is back at the dig. Pale and quiet, but back. So it looks like the planned trip to Asyut might happen.
I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about the consistency and colour of the soil I’m digging, or maybe it’s the hollow-ish sound it makes as I gently work my trowel into it. Either way, the hair on the back of my neck stands up, and there’s a low-level buzzing in my ears. Like the air pressure has changed. The ever-present chatter of the local workers fades to white noise. I shake my head. I can hear someone calling, as though from very far away, although I don’t recognise the language.
Instinctively, I swap from the trowel I’ve been using to a brush.
I sit back on my heels and take in what I think I might be seeing. The buzzing gets louder and there’s an echoing, not unlike the sensation I experienced at the Pyramids. It’s as though all the breaths, all the thoughts, all the dreams from this place are speaking to me across the years. And that voice is calling me on.
I remember what Freyja’s friend Diana said to me in Bangalay. About how I’ll know when I’ve found it. Because I’ll hear it calling to me. It didn’t make sense then. Maybe it does now. Which is ridiculous. It can’t be. Yet it is.
“Bart,” I whisper as though speaking too loud will somehow cause the illusion to disappear. “Bart,” I say again.
He turns, eyebrows up and something about my face must alert him. Because I don’t say another word, but he’s up and racing across the dig site towards where Ethan is conferring over the site map with Tarek.
Ethan’s head comes up, and he’s moving before Bart even reaches him. It’s like some magic has been unlocked and everyone’s aware something big is happening without a word being exchanged. Maybe they can hear it too. But it seems to be calling just to me.
It can’t be more than thirty seconds before Ethan is kneeling beside me. My face is awash with tears. And I’m laughing too.
Because I’ve found something. It might not be a whole something because only a small portion is visible. In fact, it probably isn’t whole. But it’s something. And it’s stunning. And I found it.
Ethan is beaming from ear to ear.
Work on the site has stopped, and everyone is looking towards me, holding their collective breaths.
“What do I do?” I ask Ethan, terrified of doing the wrong thing. Terrified it’s not what I think. Terrified I’ll break it or mess it up somehow.
