Egypt by Patti Wheeler Page A

here. All it really proves is that this is the location where the shopkeeper’s grandfather was digging for the Queen. But, there’s no proof that the shopkeeper’s grandfather was digging in the right place. He disappeared, so no one really knows.
    As an aspiring scientist, I’m always looking for undeniable proof. Even though I don’t agree with the decision-making process, which is basically “ignore all logic and go with your gut,” I’m with Gannon and Dr. Aziz. It seems much of what an archeologist does is based on gut instinct. Besides, who am I to argue with a man who has discovered 99 tombs?
    We’ve come this far. To give up now would be wrong.
    The discovery of the entryway was not enough to convince everyone to stay. Because of the storm, some believe that a curse is upon us and that anyone who continues working is in danger. There was no changing their mind. In total, seventeen men left camp today. Before they did, they all apologized personally to Dr. Aziz.
    This did not discourage him in the least. In fact, he respected their decision.
    “These beliefs have been passed down for centuries and cannot be discounted,” he said.
    Since we now have a much smaller crew, Dr. Aziz ordered new radar scans taken of the tomb complex and for all of the hallways and chambers to be outlined in the sand with strings and flags.
    Everyone who stayed was far too excited to just stand around. It was getting dark, so we brought in floodlights and took up shovels and started clearing more of the entryway. This went on well into the night, before Dr. Aziz ordered everyone to get some rest.
    I’m seated at the desk inside the tent, writing by candlelight. Everyone else is asleep. I should be sleeping, too. It will be light in a few hours and the next few days are sure to be long.
GANNON
    MARCH 9
NIGHTTIME
    There’s been lots of good progress since the storm. We’re now beyond the entryway and are carefully removing sand and rock using these smaller hand-shovels and brushes so that we don’t damage any of the stonework.
    I haven’t been able to write a word in my journal for almost two days now. I mean, I’ve been so whipped I could hardly lift a spoon to my mouth or water to my lips, much less pick up a pen and scribble in my journal. My hands are raw and blistered and throbbing like they have their own heartbeat.
    Our evenings go pretty much like this:
    When we finish our work we head to the dining tent for rice and beans or falafels with flat bread and some hot tea. After eating, I don’t even have the energy to wash up and usually just stumble into the tent and collapse onto my cot, still wet with sweat and covered in sand. I’m always sleeping like a mummy within seconds and that’s a good thing because it doesn’t give my brain much time to think about curses and all.
    Okay, I’m falling asleep at the desk. Time to hit the cot and catch some Zs.
WYATT
    9:32 PM
    This afternoon we uncovered two intricately carved limestone pillars. The crew is very tired and we’re working a little slower today. Personally, my shoulders and back are in serious pain.
    It’s been tough going, but no one wants to stop. I have volunteered, along with the other fellows and most of the crew, to work another two-hour shift ending at midnight. After some sleep, those of us who are able will wake, wash up, eat a quick breakfast and return to work. The first shift tomorrow begins at 5:00 AM.

    Pillars at the tomb complex
GANNON
    AROUND MIDNIGHT
    Okay, being cursed isn’t my biggest fear anymore. I mean, I’m still worried about it, for sure, it’s just not my biggest concern. What concerns me most are the military police.
    With their dark uniforms and unfriendly faces and huge guns, they’re totally intimidating, no way around it, and even though I’ve been skeptical about these guys from day one, up until now I haven’t said much. But tonight after dinner, I had to go and open my big mouth.
    “Excuse me,” I said, catching the