Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
It was difficult to stand in the area he’d been assigned.
Dr. Brennan and her team of five research students all moved in a practiced rhythm, tracing the seam of the coffin with gloved hands.
They often blocked his view, forcing them both to step to either side and crane their necks in order to see.
Along with the gloves, the team also wore plastic safety glasses, which the two of them had been instructed to wear as well.
Scratches crisscrossed the lenses of Oliver’s pair, and he reasoned as merely observers, they had been given the worst ones.
“The seam along the left side has been cleared of sand.” That came from one of the other two men in the group, thin with an unruly tangle of blond hair and a patchy beard. He held a tool with a thin metal blade.
“Thank you, Dominic. Lucien, how is your section?”
The other man appeared to be somewhere in age between Dylan and Dominic. He was strikingly handsome with a serious expression and a pair of black-framed glasses under the safety glasses.
“More tiny stones and harder debris in this area,” said Lucien as he worked a similar tool to Dominic’s along the seam near Dr. Brennan.
“Be careful you don’t damage or pit the wood,” Dr. Brennan instructed.
“Working on it.” Lucien’s expression was focused as he tried to clear what seemed to be a particularly stubborn blockage.
“Left side of the head is cleared,” said a young woman with dark blond hair piled into a bun on the back of her head.
Dr. Brennan nodded. “Very good, Vera. Samira?”
Samira, who had been the one to translate Amenmose’s name, nodded from her place opposite Vera. “Right side of the head is clear.”
“Thank you.” Dr. Brennan moved from the base and walked around, bending now and again to inspect the seam. “Now we’re just waiting on Lucien.”
“Let me see,” Dylan stated, moving beside Lucien. He was taller than Lucien, with broader shoulders and big arms.
“I can get it, just give me a minute.” Lucien’s face had reddened slightly, his focus more intense.
Dylan snapped the end of a glove impatiently. “Just stand aside so I can see it.”
“There’s just…” Lucien grimaced slightly. “One stone wedged in here.”
“Then let me try to get it.”
“I’ve…almost…” Lucien grunted quietly, and a small stone bounced across the cement floor.
Oliver watched the stone disappear into the shadows. It had spent thousands of years in that spot and had traveled thousands of miles from Egypt to the United States. Would it now spend years in that corner?
“That got it.” Lucien straightened up and sent a quick glare toward Dylan.
“Hopefully you didn’t damage the lid in the process,” Dylan said.
He gave Lucien a little more space, but not quite enough. Dylan was apparently the dick of the group. Good to know.
“Lucien, please retrieve the stone and place it in the sample box,” Dr. Brennan instructed.
Lucien pressed his lips together but did as instructed. When he returned to the coffin, he put more space between himself and Dylan.
“Time for the bars,” Dr. Brennan said.
Each team member selected one of the crowbars from the workbench. They returned to their places and carefully pressed the flattened ends of the crowbars into the seam they had cleared.
Dr. Brennan took a moment to survey the group. “Are you ready? It’s important to not drop the lid once it has been raised. We don’t want to damage the body or any artifacts inside.”
Everyone nodded. Dylan counted down from three, and they all pressed down.
A few things happened fast.
Oliver heard the grinding scrape of metal against wood, followed almost immediately by the hiss of adjusting pressure.
It was like the body inside released a breath it had been holding ever since it had been entombed.
Dust and a dense cloud practically erupted from the small space between the lid and the coffin’s side, coating each team member.
Vera shrieked in surprise and jerked backward.
Her grip on the crowbar faltered, and the lid wobbled.
Oliver reacted immediately. He moved into the cloud and grabbed the abandoned crowbar.
The dust felt thick against his face. He closed his eyes against it but could feel it settling on his skin in a slightly tacky coating.
He pressed down on the lever, stabilizing the lid.
The weight of it surprised him. It had obviously been constructed from solid wood.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Vera said as she wiped at her face. “What is that stuff?”
“Keep the pressure!” Dr. Brennan called, voice strained as she leaned on her own crowbar. “Vera, now that you’ve got free hands, insert the foam spacers. Quickly.”
A mixture of dry and damp scents filled the air. Oliver turned his face away as he wondered what he’d just inhaled. A virus from thousands of years ago and for which there was no known cure? Some kind of poisonous booby trap?
Vera whispered, “Thank you,” as she placed a piece of foam about an inch thick in the gap they had produced. He nodded, focused on maintaining an even amount of pressure on the crowbar.
“All right, now that we’ve got the first level spacers, let’s give it another lift.” Dr. Brennan looked at Oliver. “Thank you for assisting. If you could stay in place for this next effort, I would appreciate it.”
“Of course,” he said.
They all slowly lowered the lid until it rested on the spacers Vera had applied. The team adjusted their crowbars, and Samira showed him how his should be angled. Vera had gathered larger spacers in preparation.
“Dylan, let’s proceed,” Dr. Brennan said.
Dylan counted down again. Oliver pressed down on the crowbar, giving it his all. The lid lifted even farther, but then suddenly shifted, sliding off to the opposite side from where he stood.
“It’s falling!” Dr. Brennan shouted. “Grab it!”
Oliver reached to grab the edge of the lid.
His bare fingers stuttered along the edge, and then dipped inside.
He felt something soft and gritty under his fingertips, covering a hardness he could only assume was bone.
Jerking his hand back, he quickly wiped his tingling fingertips on his jeans.
The others stopped the lid from sliding off, but they struggled to keep it in place.
He gripped the edge close to him and peered into the gap between the lid and coffin.
A portion of the arm was visible in the bright overhead lights.
In the dust and dirt near the elbow, a smudge showed where he had touched it.
He swallowed hard and managed to look away.
“Vera, the transfer table,” Dr. Brennan said through gritted teeth. “Quickly!”
Oliver watched over his shoulder as Robin helped Vera wheel a solidly built metal table covered with a thick layer of protective foam toward them. His muscles trembled, and he pressed his lips together. He focused on a spot on the wall across from him. He did not want to look into the coffin again.
Once the table was situated at the top, the team slowly shuffled sideways, carrying the lid up along the length of the coffin.
They let out more than a few whispered curses, grunts, and huffs as the soles of their shoes scuffed and scraped across the dusty floor.
When the lid was clear of the coffin, they settled it onto the foam.
He stepped back, flexing his fingers. The pads felt scraped dry from holding the thick wooden lid, but it hadn’t been able to erase the feeling of touching the body.
“That could have gone better.” Dr. Brennan glared at Vera, who ducked her head, cheeks red. “Is anyone hurt? Oliver?”
“Me? No. I’m okay. I’m sorry I jumped in. It was a knee-jerk response.”
“No apologies necessary. You saved the lid.” She turned to the open coffin and spread her arms. “Now then. Let us take a first look at Amenmose, scribe to Isry.”
Oliver shifted and stood at a bottom corner of the coffin, out of everyone’s way but still beside it.
Robin, apparently also emboldened, stood beside him, hands stuffed in their pockets as if to keep from touching anything.
His heart pounded and sweat prickled along the back of his neck as he watched Dr. Brennan bend over the body.
A trace amount of sand lay in the bottom.
Hieroglyphics ran along each interior wall, and he marveled at the intricacies of them.
Had they surrounded Amenmose with stories to carry him off to the other side?
Was it because he had been a scribe himself?
Or was it some kind of dire warning, detailing a curse to any who disturbed his rest?
Had they all been poisoned by whatever had been inside that cloud?
Amenmose lay in perfect repose, his feet and legs bound with strips of what Oliver assumed were linen.
Narrow hips widened to a well-proportioned chest and shoulders, all tightly wrapped.
The arms lay on the chest, crossed at the wrists.
Bandages wrapped the head, slight indentations over the mouth and eyes.
“Amenmose is in excellent condition.” Dr. Brennan smiled.
Oliver let out a quiet breath, and he straightened his back, suddenly aware he’d been slightly hunched.
“Something’s included.” Samira gestured to the side of the body. “A scroll.”
Dr. Brennan cocked her head. “Yes, I see it. A pair of forceps, Samira. Seal the scroll inside an airtight container. We’ll work on that tomorrow. For tonight, I want a cursory examination of the body.”
“We should discuss the material released when we broke the seal,” Vera said.
Dr. Brennan glared at her again. “Yes, we should. Were you able to capture a sample?”
“Um, no, I…” Vera blushed. “I wasn’t prepared for it.”
“Neither were the rest of us, but we held our positions. See if you can find some residue of the material within the interior and gather a sample.”
Lucien gestured to a spot near where Oliver had been standing. “What’s this?”
Dr. Brennan shifted position, standing close beside Lucien and leaning down, her face inches from the edge of the coffin. Oliver clenched his fists as his breathing quickened.