Egypt by Patti Wheeler

I could make out the carving. It was the profile of a human face. A woman’s face!
    A chill ran through my arm as I reached into my satchel to retrieve the piece from the shopkeeper. When I compared the two, looking at one and then the other and back again to make absolute sure my eyes weren’t playing some kind of trick on me, I almost fell over.
    I gathered my footing and ran back towards the camp as fast as I could.
    “Stop!” I yelled. “Everyone stop packing up!”
    The men’s shouting quieted and everyone turned to see what I was yelling about. Khalid and Dr. Aziz came out of their tent.
    “We can’t leave,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “We have to stay.”
    “I’m sorry,” Dr. Aziz said, “I’ve given orders. We are to abandon the excavation at once.”
    “No,” I said, trying my best to ignore the nerves that had my stomach doing flips. “We can’t abandon the dig!”
    “Unless you have good reason to do otherwise,” Dr. Aziz said, “we’re departing before nightfall.”
    “Listen to what the boy has to say!” the military police commander shouted, his arms resting on the barrel of his machine gun.
    Everyone went dead silent. I swallowed my fear and spoke.
    “We’re in the right place,” I said. “Cleopatra is here. I’m sure of it.”
    “How can you be certain?” Dr. Aziz asked.
    “I’ll show you. Come with me.”
    We all went up and over the dune and came down into the valley where the entryway stood.
    “What is this?” Dr. Aziz said quietly to himself.
    “Many years ago, there was a man who came close to finding Cleopatra’s tomb,” I said. “His name was Rifa’a Kamil.”
    Dr. Aziz returned his eyes to me.
    “I know of this man, Kamil,” Dr. Aziz said. “He was an archeologist.”
    “That’s right.”
    “If I remember correctly, he went into the desert one season and was never found.”
    “Yes!” I said. “This very desert! We met his grandson in Cairo and when I told him that we were going in search of the Queen, he gave us a relic that had been given to him by his grandfather.”
    I held out the piece. Dr. Aziz took it in his hand and ran his thumb across the profile.
    “Now look at the etchings on the entryway,” I said. “See the center tile?”
    Dr. Aziz moved closer and squinted his eyes. He did a double-, then a triple-take.
    “Unbelievable,” he said to himself. “Truly unbelievable.”
    A smile crept up one side of his face, as he continued to compare the etching on the piece with the one on the entry-way. We all held our breath, waiting for him to speak. Finally, he looked up at everyone.
    “Despite our recent progress,” Dr. Aziz said, “I have been plagued by many doubts. Even finding the steps did not ease my uncertainty. I’ve found steps like this before that have led to nothing. Three others at this site alone. I was beginning to think that my time was up, that maybe I would never discover my 100 th tomb.”
    Again, Dr. Aziz looked at the relic.
    “Are you confident this man was truly the grandson of Rifa’a Kamil?” he asked.
    “I am,” I said.
    Dr. Aziz clinched the relic in his hand and gazed up at the sky, like he was trying to communicate with the heavens or something. Then he looked out over the crew.
    “My friends!” he shouted, “I believe we have been delayed long enough!”
    “Does that mean we’re continuing the excavation?” Serene asked.
    “We have no choice,” he said with a smile. “History depends on us.”
WYATT
    MARCH 7, 12:07 AM
TOMB COMPLEX
    16° CELSIUS, 61° FAHRENHEIT
SKIES CLEAR, WIND 5-10 MPH
    To find a piece that was so similar to the one the shopkeeper gave to Gannon, well, the odds are astronomical. It’s just like that donkey whose foot fell through the hole at the Valley of the Golden Mummies, but this time, instead of a donkey it was Gannon, which, come to think of it, is pretty much the same thing.
    I do have an issue with Gannon’s theory that this relic is proof that Cleopatra is