“Sorry, mate. This won’t take long,” Xander muttered to the casket as she went back to the now-empty sarcophagus. Again, she peered inside. Empty. Lips pursed, she slid her fingers around the edges. They were smooth and appeared to be flush with the sides of the stone. The inner stonework had been left blank, leaving no further indication of the possible whereabouts of the entrance to Neferkheri’s tomb.
“Nothing,” Leila shook her head.
“Let’s move the whole thing,” Xander said. He disappeared into the tunnel to summon Soliman.
Leila took more pictures of the inside, waiting for him to return. Although Soliman wasn’t too thrilled with the idea at first, he also wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him before. The three of them positioned themselves at one end of the small, yet heavy, structure and shoved it toward the corner. Stone grinding against stone created a deafening echo in the chamber, drowning out their grunts.
Again, there was nothing.
The three of them examined the newly exposed area, none of them expressing their disappointment as they inspected for possible differences in the stonework or inconsistencies in the surfaces.
Xander crouched, running his fingers over the stone floor. With a frown, he closed his eyes and shook his head.
Soliman raked his fingers through his gray hair. “We may have hit a dead end here. We’ll have to keep working on the translations. Maybe there’s some kind of hint.”
“We could also start looking through the neighboring tombs. If there is a tunnel network, one of them could be connected as well,” Xander suggested.
Soliman sighed. “We should at least put our friend back together. Then I’d say we call it a night. I’ll see to arranging a radar, then we can start running some tests in a few weeks.”
They returned the coffin to the sarcophagus before replacing the stone lid. Once it was in place, Xander headed back to the antechamber and Leila gathered up her brushes. She entered the tunnel behind Soliman. Even though they didn’t find what they wanted, it didn’t feel like a complete waste of time. There was bound to be something in the hieroglyphs.
A crack like thunder shook the ground.
Soliman whirled around and shoved Leila aside. Stone slabs crumbled from the ceiling.
Leila screamed, tumbling back into the burial chamber within a cloud of dust. Rocks and debris flew through the air and pounded against her exposed back and limbs. She cringed with each stinging bite.
When the rubble settled, Leila lowered her arms from her face. The only sound came from her panicked breaths. She coughed as her mouth filled with the dry grit floating in the air, leaving a chalky taste on her tongue. Seeing only pitch blackness, she clicked on the lamp from her hard hat now sitting askew. She gaped at what used to be the opening and the blood drained from her face. Large, jagged rocks filled the tunnel. Her only exit was blocked.
Chapter Fourteen
Leila was trapped. Probably forever. The tomb had now become her grave. Her heart dropped into her stomach. What if Soliman and Xander hadn’t made it out of the way in time? It could take her hours to find their crushed and broken bodies.
One thing was for sure. She wasn’t going to get out by sitting there. She forced herself to stop gaping at the wall of rubble and sprang forward.
“Soliman!” she shrieked. “Xander! Can you hear me?” Her hands were instantly covered in dust and scratches as she dug, screaming their names. No answer came. She jumped away as a small avalanche crumbled toward her. She wrestled and kicked at the rocks. They wouldn’t budge.
Sweat trickled down her brow as she took in deep breaths, debating on how to continue. She wasn’t sure if she was making this worse or if she was helping. Determined to keep trying, her robe and headscarf got tossed to the side. She took out her picks and trowels and frantically hammered away, chips of stone flying in all directions.
Coughing fits came in waves, her burning throat finding no comfort in the dust-filled air. The rocks stubbornly stayed in place. After digging and hammering and kicking for what felt like ages, she lowered herself to the floor to give herself a moment to think.
Her light illuminated the dark rectangle of Thutnektbet’s sarcophagus. “Well, it looks like it’s just you and me,” she panted, wiping her damp hair from her face.
Her cheeks filled with the thick, heavy air and she let it out in a puff. She glanced around the tomb, her hand rubbing her upper arm to relieve her already aching muscles. There had yet to be any sign of someone digging from the other side. If Soliman and Xander had escaped unscathed, they wouldn’t leave her here. Would they? If that had been their intent all along, to get rid of her, their job was finished. Had Soliman tried to push her under the debris, rather than away from it?
With a groan, she rubbed her temples. It didn’t make sense. Even if Neal was right and they were behind her father’s death, why would they want her gone, too?
Either way, she couldn’t sit here and rely on them to get her out. She had to keep working.
Before she could get to her feet, her gaze fell on the wall opposite where she sat. Her mouth dropped open. Some of the outer layers of the walls had also crumbled when the tunnel caved in, now leaving large portions of exposed stonework. She stood to inspect the damage.
The plaster had flaked off in chunks and now littered the floor as if someone had dumped out the contents of a large jigsaw puzzle. She knelt and picked up one of the pieces and turned it around, examining the depiction of a servant carrying an urn full of water on her head. The hieroglyphics would be irreparable. Many fragments had been reduced to nothing but dust.
Leila lowered the piece back on the floor and glanced around the rest of the chamber. Her light fell on the back wall where the sarcophagus had stood before they had moved it. She stared, frozen. Instead of the wall, the masonry had completely vanished.
Forgetting all about digging herself out of the burial chamber, she approached the gaping hole and studied the jagged edges. A few loose pieces of brick crumbled off and clattered into the blackness with a lonely echo. She inched closer to the opening and shined her light inside.
Another plastered wall blocked her view. Leila’s heart sank, but after a moment of staring, she furrowed her brow. The wall was at an angle. She aimed the flashlight downward, and instead of the floor, impeccably squared steps descended into the earth.
She bit down on her lip. A staircase. A staircase behind a wall. It must be an emergency escape for the ancient workers. Except an escape route would go up, not down. Heart thumping wildly, she glanced back toward the blocked tunnel. Even though she didn’t exactly desire to go farther underground, the stairs beckoned to her to find out what was at the bottom.
A quick peek wouldn’t hurt.
She lifted one leg over the remains of the wall, holding her breath until her foot met the top stair. She gradually added her weight on her foot to make sure the step was solid. Certain it wouldn’t collapse beneath her, she swung her other leg over the wall and made her way down the stairs.
The ceiling was high enough she was able to stand upright as she descended. The air was warm and still. Was she the first person to breathe it in thousands of years? Her heart pounded when she reached the end of the stairway and entered a tunnel, the end of which her flashlight couldn’t reach. She continued slowly, not daring to touch anything or walk too loudly, but the sound of her breathing and her careful footsteps echoed softly off the walls.
The beams from her headlamp and flashlight revealed walls covered from floor to ceiling with colorfully painted hieroglyphics over a pure white plaster. The glimmer from some of the trimmings made her wonder if they were painted with gold. The tunnel was a treasure trove in and of itself.
Leila took in wall painting after wall painting until she came to a stop when the tunnel ended with a closed doorway. She studied the markings around the door, which was adorned with images of the ancient Egyptian goddess Isis. The deep hues of reds and blues covering her stretched-out wings were brilliant, even under the cold beam of her flashlight. The tips of the wings pointed to the middle where an oval had been carved with a group of symbols inside. She didn’t need a textbook to tell her whose royal name was written in the cartouche. Neferkheri.
“I don’t believe it.”
She gaped at the handles on the double doors, made of a metal that had been molded into the form of papyrus reeds. A rope wrapped around both handles, tightly knotted in the center. A seal of clay was the finishing touch.
Her jaw dropped as if it were made of lead. This was it. She found it. Neferkheri’s tomb, sealed since the day the ancient Egyptians slammed those doors shut.
And here she was, staring at them like an idiot.
