Elisha's Bones - Don Hoesel [113]
When Espy and I reach the end of the hall, we look out over a chamber of shapes and shadows. It’s too large for me to get a true feel for it; the flashlight reveals a box here, a display case there, a wall hanging opposite us, but too far away to identify. The beam of light refuses to remain on anything and I realize that I’m shaking. My arm is shaking with the rush of discovery, the defining moment when the heart quickens, when the chest knots in some strangled emotion that’s impossible to identify, except to know that it’s good.
“We need more light,” Espy says, stepping down into the chamber.
“Stop.” I croak the word, transfixed somewhere between elation and fright. If there are any traps built into this place, there’s a good chance they would manifest themselves here. I shine the light in her direction and find that she’s taken a single step down to the chamber floor, which I see is cement, but she has gone no farther. I play the beam in small circles away from her position. More of the same. I step down and take her elbow in my hand.
“Don’t go anywhere or touch anything unless I say so, got it?” I don’t expect an answer, and she doesn’t provide one other than to disengage her arm from my grasp.
I turn around and start to search along the entry wall, because Espy has a point about us needing more light. And there should be a source of artificial light for this room. I see that the wall itself is brick, giving the place a bunker feel rather than a tomb. Since there’s nothing to the right of the entrance, I go to checking the left side. It’s there, almost within arm’s reach, and it seems an incongruous thing when I’m thinking of this event as another Tutankhamen discovery. Somehow a light switch doesn’t fit. With a chuckle I step over and flood the chamber with light.
Almost before the deed is done, I see the small hole below the switch, just the right size to accept the ring’s gem, but I can’t stop the switch from completing its arc. There’s a rumbling beneath our feet, like a subway car racing under a pedestrian walkway. I hear the grind of old gears and register movement at the entrance. I grab Esperanza and pull her down, stretching myself to cover her as a mixture of dust and stone and pieces of brick rains down on us. When it’s over, Espy and I are coughing from the debris that wants to nest in our lungs. Finally the dust clears enough to see again, and all I can do is purse my lips and silently curse my own idiocy. Our exit is gone, blocked by a massive stone plug. What irritates me is that this is one of the traps the Egyptians used.
Esperanza, after taking in what has just happened, fixes me with a withering look.
“At least we have light,” I try. And we do. Half a dozen three-bulb fixtures hang from the ceiling, bringing the room to life, and the repository of secret knowledge they reveal forces our dilemma from my mind.
The room is all bricks and concrete, a few sparse wall hangings, a long bookshelf lining one of the walls, and four display cases staggered in the center. Maybe it’s because my experience is in crumbling structures, layers of sediment, and treasures teased from hiding, but I find it all a bit odd.
I stand and help Esperanza to her feet. I begin searching again, propelled toward the nearest display—a hardwood box unit, shallow, with a two-paneled glass top secured with a lever lock. Inside is a tattered scroll, unrolled and tacked on to chemically neutral hard plastic. The writing is faded, virtually gone in some places, but I can read enough to understand that it’s a portion of an early copy of the Bible story that Reese quoted to me. There’s no way to tell for certain its age, but if I had to guess I’d date it back to the fourth century b.c.