The Anubis Plague полностью

Emergency lights flashed in intermittent patterns, giving Abbas Faez a headache that rivaled the discomfort of a full-blown migraine. It was getting late, nearly ten o’clock, and it had been raining off and on since the sun had gone down. The weather was an anomaly and gave him the chills. He attempted to blink away the pain and pressure pushing on the back of his eyes but failed to achieve the bliss he desperately sought.

The tall, thickly built construction boss snarled at the incoming headlights. Their illumination sent the beast into a near rampage. He lifted one of his calloused hands, and he blocked out the pair of lights the best he could. But the damage was done. He sighed, breathing hard out through his nose. The man — the expert — that had just arrived wasn’t to blame for Abbas’ condition. Dehydration and a lack of sleep were at fault here. Abbas drank too much for his own good — and not water.

The newcomer climbed out of his well-maintained silver SUV, and he quickly popped an umbrella, not that the device did much to protect the man from the elements. His bottom half was immediately doused by a combination of the deluge and the sharp gusts. Abbas was beginning to think the gods of old had cursed this job. A week before, a sinkhole had opened up beneath the southern corner of a picturesque nine-hole golf course, swallowing a chunk of the eighth green, as well the bordering road, Othman Ibn Effan. Once Abbas and his people had cleared a large portion of the earth and rock, a second, more significant section of land had fallen in, taking a backhoe and its operator with it.

Even a man of Abbas’ rough background and character understood the historical importance of their find. They had spotted the discovery after rescuing the backhoe’s operator from being buried alive. Abbas’ team had been working through the night to clear debris until they had come across something that ground their efforts to a halt.

“Hello,” the expert said, holding out his hand, “My name is Dr. Hassan. I’m an Egyptologist with the Ministry of Antiquities. I’m here to take a look at your ‘significant discovery.’”

That was the term Abbas had used to describe what he had found, though he had said it in a much less condescending way. For that reason, he decided not to shake the man’s hand. He simply tipped his head back and muttered. “Follow me.”

He didn’t have the time or patience for pleasantries, especially with a person who carried himself in the way that Hassan did. All people like Hassan cared about was their job — in this case, to build a golf course. That was a bust, now that they had found something of historical significance — Abbas knew that immediately. This would not be the first time people had been stopped from doing their jobs in the name of history. He knew that the find below their feet would take months, perhaps years, to properly sift through and catalog.

The last time something like this happened was five years ago. That discovery had been nothing more than a hole in the ground that some thief had crawled into — and died in — 2,500 years prior.

It had caused a mild panic amongst Egyptologists and archaeologists, but had turned out to be nothing extraordinary.

This is different, he thought, visualizing the immense structure. He knew he and his team were done for good here — so was the golf course, more than likely. This one might be special.

Abbas led Hassan down off the road. To enter the golf course, one needed to step over a thigh-high, temporary barrier constructed of yellow tape and road cones. Abbas’ muddied boots sloshed across a narrow, muddy stream while Hassan avoided it with every ounce of his being. The construction foreman could tell that the expert was comfortable operating in a clean and controlled atmosphere, whereas Abbas was more used to conditions such as this.

Except for the rain, Abbas thought, choosing his steps wisely. The earth had already been difficult to navigate. Add in the rain, and it made it nearly impossible to do so without losing your footing.

Hassan started to go down but grabbed onto Abbas’ arm for support. The larger man allowed the expert to right himself before shrugging out of his grasp. The pair made their way down a switchbacking trail, descending thirty feet before reaching a single large tent. Abbas’ crew had set up shop here as the rain came in. Now, it was the only somewhat-dry place within what had quickly become an archaeological excavation instead of a construction site.