Chapter 7
GEORGIA
When we finally crest the last dune and the camp comes into view, my breath catches.
It’s just tents. That’s all. A cluster of sand-colored canvas structures arranged in a rough semicircle, with a larger central tent that must be for dining and meetings.
Solar panels glint in the sun. A generator powers it all.
There are supply crates stacked under tarps, a cooking area with propane tanks, portable toilets discreetly positioned at a distance.
It’s organized. Well-equipped. Exactly what I’d expect from a well-funded operation. But it’s also utterly, completely isolated.
There’s nothing else. No buildings on the horizon. No roads except the tire tracks we just made. No power lines or cell towers or any other sign of human civilization. Just sand and rock and endless sky in every direction.
I’ve been at multiple sites, but never one this remote. Never one that feels like it could be the only source of humanity on the planet. We are truly in the middle of nowhere.
Ella, mercifully, has fallen asleep in her car seat, exhausted from her earlier meltdown. I’m grateful she’s not awake to sense my sudden spike of anxiety.
What am I doing? I’ve brought my fourteen-month-old daughter to a desert camp four hours from the nearest city, with no cell service and no easy way out if something goes wrong.
But then I see the excavation site beyond the camp—a slight depression in the landscape where the sand has been carefully brushed away to reveal stone. Even from here, I can see the geometric patterns, the deliberate placement. Something was built here. Something significant.
My archaeologist’s heart starts racing. Henry was right. There’s something here.
Khalid parks our SUV next to the other one, which has already disgorged its passengers. Calvin gets out and stands with his hands on his hips, surveying the camp. Khalid walks past him to greet a group of people who must be the camp staff. Six of them total.
“Welcome!” A woman in her fifties with a warm smile approaches our vehicle as I climb out. “I’m Fatima, the camp manager. We have everything ready for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, offering my hand for a shake. “Dr. Georgia Halford.” I gesture to the car seat, “That’s my daughter Ella. She’s asleep.”
“Ah, the baby! Yes, Mr. Aarons told us. We’ve set up a special tent for you. extra space, closer to the facilities. And we have a playpen and some toys. I have my own grandchildren, and I know exactly what’s needed.”
The joy in her voice eases some of my anxiety. Hearing what seems like excitement over having a toddler around makes me realize how worried I was that the staff wouldn’t accept Ella. “That’s incredibly thoughtful. Thank you.”
“Come, let me show you around before the little one wakes.”
Lois offers to stay with Ella while I get oriented, so I follow on a quick tour.
The camp is impressively organized. The central tent serves as a dining area and meeting space, with tables and chairs and even a small library of reference books.
Each personal tent is equipped with a cot, storage, battery-powered lights, and surprisingly decent ventilation.
Mine is larger than the others, as promised, with space for Ella’s portable crib and playpen. There’s even a small rug on the ground. It’s not much, but it’ll help keep the sand at bay.
“The latrine facilities are here,” Fatima continues, pointing to a discreet area. “Shower tents here—solar-heated water, quite nice actually. Kitchen there. We’ll provide three meals daily plus snacks. Any dietary restrictions, you let me know.”
“This is amazing,” I tell her honestly. “I’ve worked on digs with far less infrastructure.”
She beams. “Mr. Aarons was very specific. He wanted everyone comfortable. Especially for the baby.”
Especially for the baby? Now, that doesn’t sound like him.
Or maybe it does. He made it clear from the beginning that he would do whatever was necessary to get me on this dig.
I glance across the camp to where Calvin is talking with Khalid and Edmond, his posture rigid, his gestures clipped. He’s still wound tight from the sandstorm incident.
The memory makes me wince. Like an adult. God, what was I thinking? Yes, he was freaking out, but I could have handled it with more grace. More tact. Instead, I snapped at him in front of everyone, and it probably just reflected poorly on me.
He’s my boss. He’s funding this entire operation. And I might not like everything he says or does, but so what? I’m getting paid a boatload to do my dream job, and I got to bring my daughter along. I can suck up any annoyance.
“Dr. Halford?” Fatima is looking at me with concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes—sorry. Just… taking it all in.”
“It’s a lot, I know. But you’ll adjust. Everyone does.”
She continues the tour, introducing me to the other camp staff. There’s a cook, two assistants, a maintenance technician, and a communications specialist who manages the satellite phone and internet connection, which I’m told is limited and not entirely reliable.
The last tent is a smaller one near the excavation site itself. “This is the work tent,” she explains. “For your artifact processing, documentation, storage.”
Inside, I find a work station that has lighting, storage containers, documentation supplies, and even a setup for digital recording. Three people are already there, organizing equipment.
“Dr. Halford!” A young man in his twenties bounds over, hand extended. “I’m Omar, your lead technician. This is Yasmin and Tariq. They’ll be assisting with excavation, documentation, and preservation.”
I shake hands with all three, immediately impressed by their eagerness and professionalism. I’ll have to ask them later about their work histories, although I know that if Calvin has hired them, that means they’re the best of the best.
“This is an incredible team,” I tell them. “I’m lucky to have you.”
“We’re lucky to be here,” Yasmin says. “When we heard about this site, about the potential temple complex… Dr. Halford, this could be extremely significant.”
“Let’s hope so.” I move to the table where preliminary surveys and photographs are spread out. “What do we know so far?”
For the next twenty minutes, I’m lost in the work. Omar walks me through the initial findings. There are pottery shards dating to the second millennium BCE, architectural fragments suggesting a large structure, symbols carved into stone that match patterns found at other temple sites in the region.
It’s everything Henry theorized. Everything I hoped for.
My hands are trembling as I examine a photograph of one particular carving. It’s two figures, intertwined, surrounded by symbols of fertility and devotion. The words of the vendor who gave me the charm return. He said this place was rumored to house a lovers’ temple.
It also means Henry was right.
“Dr. Halford?”
I look up to find Omar watching me with curiosity.
“My mentor… he spent years researching this area. He believed there was a temple dedicated to lovers here, a place where couples would come to receive blessings for their marriages. Everyone thought he was reading too much into fragmentary evidence. But this…” I gesture to the photographs. “This proves he wasn’t.”
“Then we’ll honor his memory by doing this right,” Omar says firmly.
The words settle something in my chest. Yes. That’s exactly what I’m here to do.
We discuss the excavation plan: where to start, how to proceed, what protocols to follow. I’m so absorbed that I don’t notice how much time has passed until I hear Ella’s wail from across the camp.
“I have to go.” I gesture apologetically.
“Go,” Yasmin says with a smile. “We’ll keep organizing here.”
I hurry back to find Lois walking a screaming Ella around the camp perimeter.
“She woke up confused,” Lois explains over the noise. “New place, strange sounds. She’s overwhelmed.”
“Here, let me.” I take Ella, who immediately clings to me like a koala. “Shh. I know. It’s weird here, isn’t it? But Mama’s here. You’re safe. We’re gonna have fun here. We’re camping for six whole months!”
Six whole months. That’s nearly half of her lifetime so far. Camping one night with a toddler is hard enough, and the doubt I felt earlier starts creeping back in. This place is amazing, but my mind keeps racing towards all the things that could go wrong with having Ella here.
It takes fifteen minutes to calm her down, walking circuits around the camp, pointing out interesting things. Look at the tent, look at the sand, look at the pretty sky. Eventually, she settles, hiccuping against my shoulder.
“Better?” I ask.
“Mama,” she whimpers.
“That’s right. Mama’s got you.”
I glance toward the center of camp and see Calvin watching us from outside the main tent. His expression is unreadable, but he’s definitely staring.
The guilt surges back. I need to apologize. Properly. Even if he’s cold about it, and he probably will be, I owe him that much.
Once Ella is settled in our tent with Lois reading to her, I steel myself and walk across the camp.
Calvin’s tent is identical to the others from the outside, but when I knock on the support pole and he calls me in, I find it’s slightly larger. Probably the second biggest after mine. He’s sitting at a small folding desk, laptop open, satellite phone beside him.
He looks up, and his expression doesn’t change. Professional. Neutral. Cold. “Dr. Halford. What can I do for you?”
It’s not the formality of my name, but rather the way he says it that stings. But I deserve it.
“I wanted to apologize,” I say, staying near the entrance. “For earlier. In the car. The way I spoke to you was inappropriate.”
He leans back in his chair, studying me. “You think so?”
“I do. You’re my employer, and regardless of the circumstances, I should have shown more respect. I’m sorry.”
Surprise briefly flickers across his face. “But you meant what you said.”
It would be great if he could just take my apology and leave it at that, but if he needs more explanation before we can move past this, then I’ll give it to him.
“Yes. I did. I could have addressed things in a more professional way. Away from the others. With more tact. Or… I could have not addressed it at all.”
“Hmm.” He turns his attention back to his laptop, typing something. “Is that all?”
The dismissal is clear, and it rankles. But I hold my ground.
“Calvin—”
“Mr. Aarons,” he corrects, not looking up.
Wow. Okay. We’re doing this. Apparently, my apology wasn’t accepted.
“Mr. Aarons,” I say carefully, “I understand if you’re upset with me. But we’re going to be working closely together for six months. We need to find a way to communicate effectively.”
“I agree. That’s why I expect professional boundaries, moving forward.”
“Of course. Absolutely.” I pause. “Are you… do you want to replace me on this project?”
That gets his attention. He looks up sharply. “Can I?”
“Technically, yes. There’s probably someone else who could—”
“But there’s no one as qualified for this specific region.
No one as familiar with the theories about this site.
No one available who could start immediately.
” His voice is flat, matter-of-fact. “We both know that. So, no, Dr. Halford, I’m not replacing you.
You’re here because you’re the best person for the job.
But that doesn’t mean I have to like being publicly corrected by my employee. ”
The words land like stones.
“Understood,” I manage.
“Good. Was there anything else?”
“No. That’s… that’s all.”
I turn to leave, then pause at the entrance. “For what it’s worth, I genuinely do want this project to succeed. Not just for me, but for you too. For your grandmother.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond, and I leave the tent feeling worse than when I entered.
Outside, the sun is blazing. Dr. Akkhad waves at me from across the camp, gesturing toward the meal tent. It must already be lunchtime. The morning passed so quickly with Fatima showing me around.
I wave back but don’t immediately head in that direction. Instead, I stand outside of Calvin’s tent, staring out at the desert, at the excavation site, at the endless expanse of nothing.
We’re stuck here together. Calvin and me, unable to escape each other for the next six months. And we’ve already established a dynamic that’s… not great. He’s cold. I’m defensive. He’s controlling. I’m combative.
This will turn into a disaster if we don’t figure something out.
But then I think about the photographs in the work tent. The carved figures. The evidence that Henry was right. The possibility of uncovering something truly significant.
That’s what matters. Not my hurt feelings. Not Calvin’s wounded pride. The work.
I’ll focus on the work. I’ll be professional.
I’ll do my job brilliantly, prove that I was the right choice, and at the end of six months, I’ll take Ella home with a college fund secured and a publication that will revive my career to the point that people will be knocking my door down for consultations and talks.
And in the meantime, I’ll ignore Mr. Aarons as much as humanly possible.
Feeling confident in the plan, I head to the dining tent, where the camp staff is serving a lunch of rice and grilled veggies and meats, and Ella is sitting on Lois’s lap, munching on some crackers.
There’s a joyous mood about the team as they get their plates and settle in, the excitement of what’s to come palpable.
Except Calvin enters a moment later, takes a plate, and sits at the far end of the table from everyone else, his attention fixed on his phone despite the terrible internet connection—which convinces me that half of the time he’s only looking at that phone in order to avoid human contact.
As if he feels me watching him, he suddenly looks up. Our eyes meet briefly across the tent, and I make sure that I’m the one who looks away first.