Excavation

Having caught his breath, Sam crossed to the mummy and pulled free Denal’s box of matches. Sam struck a match and soon had the linen wrap smoldering. Small flames grew as the old bones and leather inside fueled the fire. Orange flames spat higher and higher.

Maggie, while aghast at the source of kindling, still drew nearer the welcoming heat.

Sam, leaning on a wall now, jerked his arm at the surrounding necropolis. “If nothing else, we’ll never have to worry about running out of wood.”

Ralph sat as near to the flames as possible. After an hour, the heat had finally reached his cold bones. As he sat, he tried to ignore the source of the combustion. A mummified hand sprawled from the flames, quivering slightly from the heat. He glanced away.

Across the fire, Sam had taken apart both rifles and carefully cleaned and dry-fired them. Maggie half dozed in the warmth nearby, one arm around Denal. The Quechan boy stared into the flames, eyes wide and glazed. The day had taken its toll on all of them. Norman stood a few paces off. He had taken a couple of photographs, but Ralph could tell the photographer, as tired as he was, was itching to move deeper into the underground city. But not alone. The blackness, even with the fire, was like a physical presence, a dark stranger at their shoulders.

Norman seemed to catch Ralph studying him. He moved nearer. “How’re you feeling?” Norman asked.

Ralph glanced away. “Better.”

Norman settled on the stone floor beside him.

Before he could restrain himself, Ralph scooted an inch away.

Norman noticed the subtle shift. “Don’t worry, big fella, I’m not making a move on you.”

Ralph inwardly kicked himself. Old patterns were hard to erase. “Sorry…” he said softly. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, right. Can’t be caught sittin’ next to the faggot.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Ralph hung his head. “Okay, maybe it was. I was raised strict Southern Baptist. My uncle Gerald was even a minister with the Church. We get that sort of thinkin’ drilled into us.”

“So what else is new? My parents were Mormon. They weren’t too thrilled to learn I was gay either.” Norman snorted. “Neither did the army for that matter. I was kicked out of both families.”

Ralph could not face Norman. While he had experienced prejudice during his life, Ralph at least had his family around him for support.

Norman stood up, camera in hand.

Ralph suddenly reached out and gripped Norman’s hand. The thin photographer flinched. “Thanks. For back at the river.”

Norman pulled his hand free, suddenly and uncharacteristically awkward. “No problem. Just don’t try and kiss me. I’m not that type of girl.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Ralph said.

Norman turned away. “Oh, man, Ralph, the comedian. I miss the bigoted jock already.”

By the early evening, Henry felt even more out of place. He now trailed behind Joan and Dale as they marched through the deserted halls of Johns Hopkins. At this point in the evening, they were the last ones around. After the endless battery of tests in Joan’s lab, they were retiring to her office to plan the next day’s experiments.

As they walked, the two researchers were still deep in conversation about the mysterious material. “We’ll need a complete crystallography assay of Substance Z,” the gangly metallurgist said in an excited rush, using his new name for the strange element.

Henry sensed the man was already planning in which research journals to publish his findings.

“And I’d like to see how the material reacts in the presence of other radiation, especially gamma rays.”

Joan nodded. “I’ll check with the nuclear lab. I’m sure something can be arranged.”

As Henry followed behind them, he lifted the beaker of the material and studied the crude replica of the Dominican cross. Substance Z. The other two scientists weren’t seeing the forest through the trees. Here was the bigger mystery. The chemical and molecular attributes of the material, though intriguing, were nothing compared to the fact that the material had transformed on its own.

Neither of the other two seemed to place much weight on that fact. The metallurgist had attributed the transformation to the proximity of the material to the gold cross itself, theorizing some transfer of energy or electrons that made the material churn into its new form. “All metal gives off a unique energy signature,” Dale had explained. “With the sample’s acute sensitivity to various radiation, the material must have responded to the gold, changing its crystalline matrix to match the signature. It’s amazing!”