Authors: Bella Forrest
“Are you hungry, Fariss? You should join us,” my father said.
“I have eaten already,” he replied. “But thank you for the invitation.”
“Then you don’t need to wait around here if you’ve other things to do. We’ll be here at least a couple of hours. Why don’t you aim to return by nine-thirty?”
“Yes, sir.”
We left Fariss with the car and walked into the restaurant. It was adorned with beautiful bamboo furniture and cozy lanterns dangled from the ceiling. It was more crowded than I’d expected. We walked up to the woman standing behind the welcome desk.
“Do you have a reservation?” she asked.
“Yes. My name is Samir Haik, and my two friends…” His voice trailed off as his eyes fixed on two men sitting in the far corner of the room—at one of the tables with the best views of the desert. “I see they’ve arrived already.”
“Enjoy your evening,” the woman said.
We headed toward the table and the father and son stood up when they spotted us. Yusuf had graying black hair, a thick mustache and tan skin. He positively towered over my short grandfather. Hassan looked like a younger version of his father. He also had a mustache, albeit much less salubrious than Yusuf’s.
“Samir!” Yusuf said, grinning. He grabbed my grandfather’s hand and pulled him in for a hug. Then he turned to the rest of us. “And who are these angels?”
“Meet Lalia, Dafne, and River,” my grandfather said, gesturing to each of us.
We shook hands with him, then Hassan, who smiled more broadly as he met my eye.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, his Middle Eastern accent thick.
“And you too,” I said politely.
I wasn’t sure whether it was just my imagination, but my grandfather and Yusuf seemed to deliberately engineer the seating so that I was next to Hassan.
After we’d scanned the menus and chosen what we wanted, the waitress came to take orders. For the first half of the meal, we listened to my grandfather and Yusuf speaking enthusiastically about the dig—how long they had been planning for it and trying to get permission, how they had finally succeeded and how it had been going so far. Apparently they had already discovered some artifacts of interest.
It was only after about forty-five minutes that Hassan spoke to me again.
“My father tells me you are from New York?” he asked, glancing at me curiously.
I swallowed my mouthful of salad. “Yes,” I said. “Manhattan.”
“I have visited there once with my parents. I found it a nice place.”
“Yes, parts of it are nice,” I replied.
“How long are you staying here in Cairo?” he asked.
“Just a week this time.”
“Oh, I see…” He looked across the table at my two sisters. “You are not here with your parents?”
“No.” The thought of my father in a Texas jail and my mother stuck in our apartment with my autistic brother suddenly made the food in my mouth tasteless. I worried about how my mother was even going to sort out basic things like groceries.
“Do you live in Cairo full-time?” I asked Hassan, eager to change the subject.
“Yes.”
“Where are you from originally?”
“Born and raised in Cairo,” he replied proudly. “Were you born in the United States?”
“Yes. Though my mother was born in Egypt.”
Our conversation trailed off and we went back to listening to my grandfather and Yusuf’s discussion.
Lalia and Dafne were busy eating. They’d worked up a good appetite from all the swimming they’d done earlier. I caught myself wondering whether Lalia would even have room for any dessert, then reminded myself that she
always
had room for dessert.
Once we’d finished, the waitress took away our dinner plates and we ordered dessert. Lalia requested the obvious, while the rest of us opted for ice cream. Hassan chose the same flavor as me—mango.
Once we’d finished, Yusuf insisted on paying the check. Then we all retreated to the sitting area outside on the veranda and admired the view of the desert. Lalia and Dafne both looked drowsy by now as they slumped back in a sofa. I stretched out my legs next to them, yawning and looking up at the starry night sky and then straight ahead at the endless mass of dunes. A cool breeze wafted over us.
As my grandfather and Yusuf immersed themselves in conversation once again, Hassan gestured with his head toward the dunes. “Shall we take a short walk?” he asked
.
I felt so full, I wasn’t really in the mood for a walk, but the desert did look beautiful in the moonlight.
“Grandpa,” I said, standing up and interrupting his conversation. “Hassan and I are going to go for a short walk. We won’t go far.”
“Okay,” he said. “But be careful.”
Neither Lalia nor Dafne made any move to come with us. They were too full. So Hassan and I left the sitting area together and descended the veranda steps. Grains of sand filled my shoes as soon as we reached the bottom. We walked slowly forward. Now that we were away from the shelter of the veranda, the breeze was stronger.
“Watch out for snakes,” Hassan said suddenly.
I jolted back. “Snakes?”
“Yes. Cobras. They tend to come out at night.” He reached for my hand and pulled me closer to him.
Oh. Nice move.
I rolled my eyes.
We remained close to the streetlights that bordered the desert as we ventured further along the sand.
“Have you gone with your father on a lot of digs?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Will you be there tomorrow also?”
“Oh, certainly,” he said, smiling.
“I’ve never stayed the night in a desert before. Do you have any advice about what I should pack?”
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not really. The camp is well-stocked. Plenty of water and even toilet accessories. You’ll find packets of toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, shampoo… pretty much everything a man or woman could need. The tents are also very comfortable—and spacious. The toilets are a little walk away, however—the only real inconvenient thing about the experience.”
“I see.”
Hassan averted his eyes away from me again, and stopped in his tracks.
“You see something over there?” he said, squinting as he stared into the distance.
I followed his gaze. I walked closer, straining to see. If my eyes weren’t mistaken, they were tanks. And there was a crowd of people surrounding them.
“They’re tanks, aren’t they?” he said.
“Looks like it,” I replied. “I guess they’re from the army?”
“I guess so. They just seem to be standing around and talking. Shall we move closer and see?”
I looked back toward the restaurant, now quite far behind us, and then back at the tanks. They weren’t all that much further. I shrugged. “Okay.”
As we moved closer, I heard voices more clearly. I’d been expecting to hear Arabic, but to my surprise, it sounded like the crowd of men were American. Before we were close enough to make sense of what they were saying, two of the men left the crowd and approached us. They wore dark beige uniforms and thick belts around their waists held an array of odd objects. Each carried a boxlike device with a red flashing light, a sharp spear-like weapon carved from wood and a silver gun with an odd bulbous barrel.
“Can we help you?” one of the men asked, his voice gruff.
Hassan looked taken aback. “We were curious as to what you’re doing out here.”
“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself about.”
There wasn’t anything Hassan or I could think of to respond to that. I looked past the men toward the crowd behind them, now all silent and looking us over, before we backed away and took our leave.
“Americans,” Hassan muttered once we were out of earshot. “Odd.” He was quiet for the next minute as he pondered it over, then shrugged it off and pointed back to the restaurant. “Shall we return? They might be starting to worry.”
I agreed that was a good idea. I was still feeling nervous about cobras.
Dafne and Lalia looked a bit more lively as we returned. They sat cross-legged on either side of a coffee table and were playing snap. Dafne must have brought it with her in her bag.
“Did you have a nice walk?” my grandfather asked.
“Yes,” I said. “We came across a group of American soldiers, or so they seemed to be, standing by a bunch of tanks.”
“Americans?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes,” Hassan replied. “We approached to see what they were up to but they gave us a non-answer.”
“That is odd,” Yusuf said, looking out toward the desert. “Hopefully it’s nothing to worry about.”
We speculated some more about the American soldiers, then decided to call it a night and left the restaurant. Fariss was already waiting outside for us.
“Well,” my grandfather said, hugging Yusuf and Hassan, “we will see you early tomorrow.”
My sisters and I shook hands with Yusuf and Hassan, then got in the car. Lalia had fallen asleep by the time we reached home. She was heavy for her age, but with the help of Fariss and my grandfather, we lifted her out of the car. I shook her gently.
“Laly, get on my back,” I said.
She opened her eyes drowsily, then I helped her climb on my back and we entered the house. I headed straight for our bedroom and insisted that she brush her teeth before falling into bed. I was feeling hot and sweaty, so I took a shower and changed into a nightgown before joining Lalia on the mattress.
I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling, my sister’s snoring in my ears.
I thought about the dig tomorrow, then about my mother, my brother, and my father, but for some reason as I drifted off to sleep that night, it was those odd American soldiers we’d found in the desert who were on my mind.
I
t was
the day we were due to leave for the dig and we had to get an early start. Yusuf and Hassan would be pulling up outside at 8am sharp. We didn’t have time for breakfast, so after we had washed, dressed and packed up some belongings, we headed downstairs. Bashira had prepared some containers of hot food for the journey, but apparently there would be plenty of food once we arrived at the site. There was a large caravan that served as a kitchen and dining room, according to my grandfather.
Yusuf and Hassan pulled up in a black car exactly on time. We all transferred to my grandfather’s shiny white truck, Fariss in the driver’s seat. Soon we’d reached the end of the roads and Fariss began driving the truck over the sand. After half an hour of the bumpy landscape, I was feeling sick. I fixed my eyes straight ahead through the windshield. We had to close all the windows and put the AC on because the sand was flying in.
By the time we arrived at the site, it was noon. The first thing we saw was a spread of large dark green tents erected on a raised area of sand. Arriving at the top gave us full view of the entire camp. Up close, the tents looked sturdy and secure. They were made of thick material that withstood the desert wind. There were also long caravans parked here and there, and I spotted a toilet sign at the very edge of the camp, away from the tents. There were wooden tables fixed into the sand and digging equipment scattered everywhere as people wearing hats and long-sleeved shirts milled about large holes that had been dug into the ground. I made sure my sisters were wearing their hats and headscarves that Bashira had provided as we climbed out from the vehicle and looked around.
“Let’s get set up in the tents first,” Yusuf said. “This way.”
We followed him toward the cluster of tents. He entered the third one that we passed. It was much larger inside than I’d expected. It contained five spacious compartments that were to be our bedrooms while we stayed here. They were comfortable looking, with mattresses on the ground, covered with clean white linens and pillows. Each compartment also contained a cabinet filled with snacks and lots of bottled water.
“As you see, you have a room each,” Yusuf said.
We dumped our stuff in the tent and then walked back outside.
“Girls,” my grandfather said, pointing to the group of static caravans in the distance. “The toilets are over there. They have showers there too.”
I needed to use the bathroom, so I went there with my sisters. It was surprisingly clean inside. The floors were stark white, as were the rest of the furnishings. We used the bathroom, washed our hands and then splashed our faces with water. It had been a long, sticky journey.
When we exited the caravan and crossed the baking-hot sand dunes, my grandfather and Yusuf had already joined the diggers and were overseeing the work they were doing.
“Over here, girls,” my grandfather said on spotting us. He pointed to a wide wooden table that had been fixed in the sand. It was covered with stone objects and ancient-looking artifacts.
“This is everything we’ve unearthed so far that is of interest,” Yusuf said, looking over the table with fascination.
Dafne’s eyes positively lit up as she gazed down at the stone carving of what looked like an eye. She began talking animatedly with my grandfather, while I took Lalia’s hand and we ventured further into the dig site, snaking around holes and looking down at the people digging there. Lalia asked me countless questions—what the names were of the tools they were using, how deep they were going to dig, if there were any snakes or scorpions around—and I tried to answer as best as I could. I kept looking at her and smiling. She didn’t know how cute she looked in her headscarf and oversized sunglasses. I had left my phone in the tent, but I made a note to take a picture of her to show to our mother when we returned.
We wandered around the rest of the site until 2:30pm when it was time for lunch. We headed to a particularly large caravan about half a mile away from the main tent area and, entering, found a long dining table. A delicious aroma wafted toward us from the kitchens round the back. We all sat down to eat and then everyone headed back outside to continue work. We remained outside until evening, and Hassan, my sisters and I even had a go at unearthing some artifacts ourselves under my grandfather’s supervision. As night began to fall, we headed back to the large table where all the artifacts had been piled up. It was fascinating to see everything together in one place.
People had started building a bonfire about thirty feet away from the tents, and Hassan beckoned me over to sit down beside him. My sisters, grandfather, Yusuf and a whole crowd of people gathered round the fire. I was surprised when Yusuf pulled out a giant sack of marshmallows. Soon we were all toasting marshmallows while sipping date and banana smoothies.
We chatted around the fire until about 9pm. By this time, my head was beginning to feel strangely light. I clasped a palm to my forehead. It felt hot. I must’ve stayed outside too long today. I wasn’t used to this heat. I felt like I was coming down with a migraine. I set down my empty cup on the sand and backed away from the fire, which was hot against my face.
“What’s wrong, River?” Hassan asked.
“I think I’ll make it an early night. I have a headache.”
“You should return to the tent and drink lots of water,” my grandfather said.
Yeah, and then need the toilet all night long…
I looked toward Lalia. “Are you coming to bed now? Or will you come later with Dafne?”
She was already standing up and walking over to me. She clutched my hand. “I’ll come now,” she said. Her cheeks were bright red. I felt her forehead—it felt hot too. Her breathing was unsteady.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need your inhaler?”
“I think I’m okay,” she said, a little too breathlessly.
“Come on, let’s go back… Good night,” I called to everyone sitting around the fire.
“Good night,” they called back, many of whom I hadn’t even spoken to yet.
We returned to our tent and stepped into our compartment. The first thing I did was look for Lalia’s inhaler. I prepared it, then watched as she breathed in. Her breathing returned to normal after that.
“Feel better?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
“Now, before we sleep, do you need the toilet?”
“Erm…” She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Nope.”
I sighed.
I’ve heard that before.
Although my head was beginning to feel like an oven, I decided to take her to the bathroom anyway. Rather now than in the middle of the night. We moved away from the tents and crossed the stretch of sand toward the ladies’ toilets. We walked inside the caravan to find it empty. It turned out that Lalia really didn’t need to go, so we soon made our way back to the tent. I took it for granted that she would want to share my compartment, so I led her into it and zipped us inside.
“You don’t look so well, River,” Lalia said, looking at me in the dim lighting of the electric lamp at the end of my mattress.
“I’ll be fine in the morning,” I muttered, lying down.
Lalia settled down next to me and after a few minutes, I’d fallen asleep.
A
clammy finger
prodded my left cheek. I opened my eyes to see my sister’s round face, dewy with sweat, directly above me.
“I need to pee,” she whispered in a pained voice.
I groaned. “Okay.” When I sat up, my head felt like it was splitting in two. The migraine had intensified tenfold since I had fallen asleep.
“You okay?” Lalia asked, looking up at me worriedly.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, wincing and gripping my head as we stumbled out of the compartment.
I didn’t have a watch on and I had forgotten to look at my phone before exiting, but it must’ve been late because Dafne breathed heavily in the compartment next to us, and on the opposite side my grandfather snored.
As I stepped outside onto the sand, my head felt so faint I could hardly walk. I made it as far as the bonfire—which was still crackling with a few people sitting around it—before I had to stop and kneel on the sand.
“River!” Lalia squealed.
“I’m okay, I just have a really bad headache.”
“Are you all right?” Hassan called from the fire.
I looked up, squinting and trying to see through the pain. He approached and bent down, touching my shoulder.
“I have a bad migraine,” I managed.
“Then what are you doing out here?” he asked. “Go back to bed.”
“My sister needs the toilet.”
“I’ll take her to the ladies’ and wait outside for her. You stay here.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking at him gratefully.
He took Lalia’s hand and began leading her across the dunes toward the ladies’ caravan. The path was lit by dozens of solar flashlights dug into the sand to form a pathway from the tents to the toilets. They reached the caravan. Lalia climbed up the steps while Hassan waited. I could see that he had turned to face me.
I tried sitting cross-legged. Slowly, I was feeling less faint, although my head still hurt like it’d been hit with a hammer. I must’ve spent way too long in the heat. Even though I’d worn a thick headscarf, I just wasn’t used to this harsh climate.
I looked over at the bonfire. Hassan’s father still sat by it with a few other diggers I had exchanged a few words with earlier. Back at the ladies’ toilet, I was relieved to see Lalia had exited and begun descending the steps. She reached for Hassan’s hand and they began walking back toward us.
I had to make it back to the tent. Fixing my eyes on my feet, I stood up slowly so that the blood wouldn’t rush too quickly from my head.
A yell and a scream pierced the night air.
My gaze shot back toward the direction of the toilets.
Shock paralyzed my body as a dark figure collided with Hassan and my sister. It was moving so fast, I could barely even make out what it was. It lifted them both off their feet and dragged them away so fast that after a few seconds their screams had faded into the distance.
I thought standing up again must have caused me to hallucinate, but when I looked back toward the spot where they had been standing, they were gone.