Excavation

Harried by a mob of beasts, Norman and Ralph backed through a tomb’s doorway, ducking under its low lintel. The musty stench and odor of cinnamon filled the narrow space. It accentuated the cloying closeness of the cramped tomb. Beyond the doorway, pale creatures mewled and growled from hungry throats.

Swinging the flaming torch, now burnt down to the knobbed knee of the mummified leg, Norman drove back the scrabble of creatures from the doorway. So far the flames, feeble as they were, kept them at bay. “C’mon, Ralph,” Norman begged. He risked a glance backward, his glasses sliding down his sweat-slick nose.

Deeper in the tomb, Ralph fought his rifle, struggling with the bolt. “Goddamn worthless piece of shit,” he swore. “Still jammed.”

“Well, unjam it!” Norman cried.

“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?” Ralph attacked the rifle with more vigor, his muscles bunching in his thick arms, but with no better success. When Ralph raised his face, his expression was answer enough.

“Fuck.” Norman poked his torch into a pale face that got too near. With a wail, the foul visage vanished. “What now? I’m running out of leg!”

“Hold on.” A rustling and heaving sounded from behind. Norman dared not look back. The beasts were getting bolder and making grabs for his torch as the fear of the flames waned. Ralph appeared at his side, voice strained. “Move out of the way!”

Norman stepped aside as the large man dropped a bundle at the doorway. It was a desiccated mummy, wrapped in a fetal position. “Light it,” Ralph ordered.

Norman brought his flaming brand to the dry wool bandages. Smoke billowed, filling the narrow space. The bright flames, like the light of salvation, bloomed upon the mummified corpse. More smoke choked the chamber. Norman’s eyes stung; he coughed coarsely.

“Stand back,” Ralph warned, then kicked the flaming bundle through the entryway. It skidded to a stop right outside the doorway and blazed brighter.

The creatures scattered, squealing like startled swine.

Norman backed a step, sighing in relief. That should buy them a bit more time. “Can you get the rifle working?”

“I don’t know. There’s a shell jammed tighter than shit. I can’t jimmy it free.” Ralph shook his head as he stared at the flames. “Our only hope is that the others see the fire and come investigate.”

“But they won’t know the fire means we’re in trouble. What if we tried screaming for help?”

Ralph glanced back, hopelessness in his expression. He shook his head. “Wouldn’t do us any good. The acoustics in this place will only bounce the noise all around.” Ralph glanced to Norman. “But I’m open to any other bright ideas.”

Norman chewed his lower lip, turning in a slow circle, looking for some answer among the scattered pottery and tokens of the dead. “I think I do have a bright idea,” he exclaimed, passing his torch to Ralph, then fishing through the camera bag slung across his back. He hefted out the flash unit and held it up. “A really bright idea!”

“What are you thinking?”

Norman waved away the question. “I need to get to that window slit.” He pointed to a narrow gap in the brickwork near the ceiling. It was much too small for the beasts to get through, but it would suit his needs fine. “I need a boost. How strong are you?”

Ralph frowned. “I could lift four of your scrawny asses.”

“One scrawny ass will do.” Norman settled his camera bag on the floor. “Gimme a knee up.”

Crouching, Ralph helped Norman climb from knee to shoulder.

“Now up,” Norman said, kneeling atop Ralph’s shoulders and balancing with one hand braced on Ralph’s head.

With an explosive exhalation, Ralph heaved straight up, shoving Norman toward the high roof. Once his feet were steady, he hissed at Norman, “Hurry up with whatever you’re doing.”

Norman pulled up to the window’s sill and peered outside. The view stretched all the way to the gold statue. Perfect.

“Hurry!” Ralph said from below.

Norman felt his balance shift under him. He grabbed the window’s edge to keep from falling. “Steady there, big boy!”

“Get going! You’re not as light as you look.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?” Norman said with feigned offense.

“Enough wisecracks already. You’re not funny!”

Norman grumbled, “Everyone’s a critic.” He freed his flash from his vest pocket. Holding the flash up, he triggered the bright light in quick bursts-three short, followed by three long flashes, ending again with three short. Then Norman waited a few seconds and repeated the signal.

The incandescent light was blinding as it reflected off the surrounding tomb walls. Norman squeezed out one more sequence of signals, then switched off the lamp, conserving the bulb. It would have to do.

With a final glance at the gold statue so tantalizingly close, Norman dropped back.

“What were you doing?” Ralph asked as Norman awkwardly hopped from his perch. Ralph rubbed his bruised shoulders.

“Making a 911 call.” Norman pushed his flash unit back into his pack. “An old-fashioned S.O.S.”

Ralph glanced up at the hole. “Smart,” he mumbled.