Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [94]
Mohammad moved swiftly now, and I almost had to trot to keep up with him. He never looked back. After all, why should he? Even I thought I was being totally ridiculous. Why would he ever think that one of the little sheep he had been guiding all week would take it on herself to follow him? Nevertheless, I kept up, holding back just far enough to have a chance of not being seen should he turn around, yet always keeping him in sight. It wasn’t difficult. Karnak was full of tourists, most roving in small packs led by guides, but a good number wandering about on their own, pointing and snapping photographs.
He led the way back through the hypostyle hall, where the forest of columns dwarfed the tiny mortals skittering around their bases. Here he stopped, standing beside a column as though he was waiting. Uncertain, I hesitated beside a wall. Between the columns and the tourists, it wasn’t hard to duck out of sight. I decided to wait where I was, behind him, but in the shadow of a wall. I didn’t need to bother. He never turned toward me and focused only on the path ahead. Every once in a while he glanced at his watch. The shadows grew longer. I was starting to get bored. What was he doing just standing there? I began glancing away from him for longer periods, enchanted by the ruins around me. Then suddenly he was gone. Sprinting forward a few paces, I caught sight of his broad shoulders again. Relieved, I dropped back, keeping my focus on him.
He turned down a narrow path running beside the great obelisk of Hatshepsut. The twilight was waning fast, and the walls and columns cast long shadows that stretched to greet the night. I glanced at my watch. It was almost time to meet back at the giant scarab, but I couldn’t stop now. Mohammad slowed, and I quickly slipped into the shadow behind a pillar. Just in time. He gave a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching him and then stepped under a chain that said the equivalent of “No Admittance” in about six different languages. I hesitated. Then I did the most foolish thing I’d ever done in my whole life. I followed him.
Someone told me once that your brain knows you are going to do something before you are consciously aware of it. Some study had shown that the brain lights up a significant amount of time before its owner acts on a decision. My friend was pondering what this said about our free will, and whether our conscious decisions were actually all that conscious. I very naturally scoffed at this notion, but all I know is, I was bending under that chain and creeping after Mohammad while my conscious mind was still screaming for me to get back to the group and telling me what an idiot I was.
Behind the high, crumbling walls, away from the tourist paths, the dusk had fallen in earnest, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust. In the soft white light of the rising moon and the distant glow of electric lights, I could see the crumbling walls of the temple forming a ragged honeycomb of rooms beside the obelisk. Fallen rocks and other debris as yet uncleared by the restoration teams littered the ground and made walking hazardous. The deep bass from the sound and light show started vibrating over the rocks, thrumming in the distance. Uneasily, I picked my way along a broken walkway, stumbling a little.
I could no longer see Mohammad, and Kyla would be worried by now, wondering where I was and if I was hurt. I jumped at a scuffling sound near my feet and thought of snakes slithering out to soak up the last heat from the rocks before seeking out the local rodent population. That did it. I decided to turn back.
The sudden sound of voices changed my mind. Off to my right, somewhere beyond a jagged wall, I heard a faint moan and then Mohammad’s voice shouting, “What have you done?”
As quickly and silently as I could, I picked my way across the rocks until I could peer over the