CARTER [P3C6] – Secrets under the Sands

The Chronicles of Samuel Carter – Part III: Chapter Six

This is Part Three of the Chronicles of Samuel Carter. If you would like to start at the beginning, please find Part One linked below.

The Chronicles of Samuel Carter

And now for the continuation…

Part III – Chapter Six: Secrets under the Sands

Early next morning, the Octagon was on high alert. Cairo was holding its breath as the sun rose. Earthquake or terrorist attack? They ruled out both as images of a bizarre object that had spawned from the depths of the desert went viral across the globe. Within seconds, the whole world had come to a standstill. Every eye was turned towards this mirage, this Fata Morgana, an event so enormous that no one who laid eyes upon it could escape its effect.

As the day progressed, important people made important calls to tell each other important things in important voices using all the important words, without saying anything, only to escalate matters, and world leaders were quick to assuage the public that everything was under control and that everything was being done to resolve the matter, without having the slightest clue what the matter let alone everything was.

Unimpressed, the sun traversed the sky in its unrelenting march, all the while an avalanche of photos and videos of this massive monument, this inverse pyramid, an exact copy of the pyramid at Giza, stoically floating in the air, throwing its long shadow across the sands from which it had emerged, kept flooding the news and social streams.

In keeping with the immutable character of human nature, sceptics, fanatics, nihilists, opportunists, and no shortage of all kinds of -tics and -ists, slaves to their -isms that had become -wasms overnight, all were irresistibly drawn to this inexplicable phenomenon. Consequentially, a state of emergency was declared, orders were given, and executed. The military established a secure perimeter around the mystery object, in a futile attempt to keep the crowds at bay while determining the threat level, the default assumption deeply and inescapably ingrained into our DNA when confronted with the unknown. Ambassadors everywhere were hard at work to de-escalate notions of secret weapon tests and other outlandish conspiracy theories prone to spiral out of control if left unchecked.

While some hailed its arrival as irrefutable proof of alien life, experts worldwide were quick to dismiss the phenomenon. An optical illusion, a mere magic trick, some unknown artist’s attempt to become famous, a breakthrough in aeronautics by some genius entrepreneur, a secret government project gone awry, whatever the case there was a perfectly logical explanation, or they called it outright fake news, orchestrated to sow dissent, and notwithstanding all this, savvy merchants were ready to sell T-shirts, mugs, magnets, papyri and all the things no one needs but everyone buys anyway.

People wanted to be a part of it, whatever it was. It was enormous, significant, unmissable, the Second Coming, and so compelled, they all wandered into the desert, from everywhere they came, locals, foreigners, worshippers and unbelievers alike, no matter their rank or standing, here they were all equal, equally insignificant in the shadow of this miracle, elated by a sense of wonder and awe one can only experience when in the presence of the divine, some taking selfies, some gazing in astonishment, some breaking down weeping, some falling to their knees praying, some enthralled to venture underneath the gigantic pyramid, raising their arms at the golden tip almost within reach, floating a few meters above their heads in the wavering heat, hoping to be transported to their version of heaven, only to be dragged away by guards. By the end of the day, fences were in place to keep everyone out, which did little to discourage the devout from seeking a rendezvous with eternity.

* * *

Samuel, sore from the camel ride the previous day, felt an intermittent pricking at the nape of his neck as he got up. The sun had not yet risen, and the desert lay before them, silent and patiently waiting, guarding its secrets beneath endless sands.

He wondered about the last time he had felt the energy’s presence inside him, distinctly recalling the moment Jackie emerged from the pod. Since then, it was as if his passenger had receded into the darkest corner within him. Was the professor right? Did Beaumont have the power to control the energy?

“Ze lost pages of the Book of Thoth, they are said to contain a third spell too dangerous for humans to possess, an incantation to bestow unimaginable powers upon those who are worthy,” the professor had told them.

It seemed ludicrous that their fate depended on some lost pages, a work of fiction conveniently buried along with the remains of Alexander the Great. Frowning, he continued his morning routine while the professor was mumbling incoherently in his sleep, Bazi snoring affirmatively next to him.

Their makeshift camp between the rocks beside the path that led down into the heart of the desert had provided little shelter against the cold winds during the night. Shaking off his stiffness, he stretched and rubbed his hands together, contemplating the reason behind his passenger’s reclusiveness when his gaze fell upon Jackie’s face, her eyes closed, her chest heaving at a steady rhythm. She was still asleep, as was Adrian.

He stood staring at her face. Was she the same person that had called him all these months ago? He remembered how he had run after the limousine outside his apartment in London, he remembered how the tinted window lowered slowly, and he remembered seeing her for the first time, her long red hair, her alabaster skin, and her eyes so dark, so bottomless, eyes he was sure to drown in if he were to gaze into them for another second. Lost in his reverie, his brushing became erratic, slowed until it stopped, toothbrush stuck in his mouth, he found himself staring at a sleeping Jackie, gazing into her black eyes, all black, staring back at him.

The sleeper awakens.

It only lasted a moment or forever, and then she opened her eyes.

“Can’t wait to get back on that camel?” she mumbled with a yawn.

There was that pricking sensation again, that unshakeable feeling of foreboding, when everything seems as it should be, and no matter how hard you focus, something remains just outside your peripheral, something out of place, something you can’t quite see, until you finally realise that your whole world has come undone, and your reality unravels before your very eyes, knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.

“I, uh, yeah, sure. The sooner we get there, the better, I guess,” he turned away and started packing, denying what he had seen.

Adrian grunted in response to Jackie’s attempt to wake him. The professor muttered something in German that sounded like Frühstück, eliciting a slobber from Bazi, and moments later, everyone was up and about, no breakfast in sight.

Thorne and Bellatrix had left Cairo the night before, tracking the Weasel into the desert. The thugs Bellatrix had disposed of all sported the same tattoos, acolytes of the Circle. Whether they had tried to kill the Weasel or them or both, they couldn’t know, and they didn’t want to stick around to find out. Everything led to one specific location out in the eastern desert, a triangular area too large to exactly pinpoint where to start their search and searching it all would take years. At this point, they stipulated following the Weasel was their best bet, hoping he would lead them to Beaumont.

“Thorne, come in. What’s your status?” Jackie asked over the comm.

The comms crackled with static.

“Thorne? Bellatrix? Come in,” Jackie repeated.

“—En route. ETA three hours, give or take, as the Weasel runs,” replied Thorne.

“Understood. We won’t make it before sunset. Stay out of sight and wait for us,” answered Jackie. “And try not to make a mess this time,” she added.

“The only mess was that explosion. Mine were all clean cuts,” said Bellatrix matter-of-factly.

“You should have seen her, she—” said Thorne, his voice turned into garbled static, and the comms went dead.

The sun’s first rays danced across the desert, and with it came an absence of sound so complete it was deafening. Then the ground shook and trembled, and rocks crumbled and tumbled around them as they descended the winding mountain pass unscathed.

As suddenly as it had begun, the earthquake had stopped, the sounds returned, and the sun rose undeterred, its radiant light unable to dispel the shadows that lay heavy on their minds.

“Thorne, Bellatrix?” Jackie tried the comms but received no answer.

“This was no ordinary earthquake,” said the professor.

“What makes you say that?” said Samuel.

The professor shrugged. “Ze timing is quite suspicious, ja?”

“Father,” Jackie and Adrian said at the same time.

“Zat means Beaumont found ze tomb. We’re too late,” lamented the professor.

“We don’t know that. Besides, he doesn’t have Sam. He doesn’t have me. He needs us. We are the key,” said Jackie.

“And we are going straight to him,” said the professor.

“Yes, Father will be waiting for us,” said Adrian.

“And when we meet, he will—” Jackie stopped, her eyes clouded and distant.

“He will die,” concluded Samuel.

---

TFTD Community

Thank you for reading, and to all new subscribers, welcome and thank you for joining. Come and say Hi and hang out with other TFTD readers on our Discord.

If you enjoy my writing, why not upgrade to a paid subscription? You can subscribe for as little as a month. As a paid subscriber, you get immediate access to the whole archive, including the Page Turner podcast and an ebook of my flash fiction collection.

There are always three links at the bottom of each post: “like,” “comment” and “share.” Spread the word, leave a comment, your responses attract new readers. Share it with a friend and click that ❤️ so more people can discover my stories.