Alien's Concubine, The Read online

  Dr. Sheffield nodded when Dr. Oldman had finished. “You’re right. We’ll send for a container. In the meanwhile, we can study the chamber itself and focus on unearthing the remainder of the temple. Sheila was right. Considering the size of this chamber, we’re looking at an enormous tomb.”

  Gaby felt like rolling her eyes. She could’ve figured out the temple was huge from looking at this one room and she wasn’t even an archeologist, or majoring in archeology! It was easily forty by forty feet and near the top of the temple. The footprint must be staggering!

  She stayed to watch, basically, while they measured, photographed, cataloged, studied, exclaimed, and theorized. This wasn’t exactly her field, but she still found it fascinating. She was relieved that she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the craftsmanship and artistry indicated a civilization more advanced than the Aztecs, the most modern of the ancient civilizations.

  It worried everyone, but it was a find unlike any before and they were determined to follow procedures carefully so that they wouldn’t have their ultimate theories about the place shot down in flames by the scientific community.

  The sense of being watched crept over her from time to time. Each time the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, she would glance again at the statue of Anka. Finally, deciding she was rapidly becoming obsessed, she left.

  She confined her visits after that to exploring the ruins slowly being uncovered. A week after her wild little adventure, the native workers uncovered a third outcropping, supporting the original theory that the building had been built in a very similar fashion to the pyramids of the Aztecs.

  Within weeks of the first discovery, Dr. Sheffield had rounded up twice the number of workers he’d originally hired and the great pyramid began to take shape as yet another level was revealed.

  The container Dr. Sheffield had ordered arrived at the site nearly five weeks later, flown in and lowered by helicopter.

  Gaby hadn’t realized that this was what she’d been waiting for. For weeks, she’d been debating whether or not to return home, chafing at having very little to do beyond assist the other scientists at their work. She would have left directly after the accident if not for the fact that she realized that there was a good chance that rumors would follow her forever afterward.

  No one had even questioned her about the remarks she’d made in the chamber when she’d disputed the theories of the other scientists, which made her feel as if, rightly or not, they were united in an opinion of her that wasn’t likely to enhance her career. Not that she thought that staying was likely to change that estimation of her, but she realized she needed a reason to go that wouldn’t have the appearance of fleeing.

  It would’ve been fortunate if the Museum had recalled her to her duties there, but they didn’t and Gaby wasn’t really surprised. In the first place, good fortune had never followed her. In the second, her assistant, she suspected, was making hay while the sun shone, making the most of the opportunity presented to him by Gaby’s absence to try to worm his way into her position.

  The container, though, that was the break she’d been waiting for. Dr. Sheffield and the others would set about removing the remains in the crypt to examine it and ship it off to the states where it could be studied under optimal preservation conditions.

  And she would accompany it, because that was what she’d been brought for to begin with.

  Or rather, she would accompany him.

  Because she knew who had been interred in the crypt.

  Anka, she realized, would finally be released.

  * * * *

  No one was more dismayed than Gaby when the helicopter, after releasing the guy wires supporting the container, moved to the landing area that had been cleared and leveled in anticipation of their arrival. Not that the helicopter itself was any reason for dismay. That had been part of the plan. They were to remain to airlift the remains out of the jungle once they had been recovered.

  The people the helicopter disgorged when the engine was cut were another matter.

  Gaby knew Dr. Sheffield had been involved in a good deal of wrangling over the find with the local government regarding his plan to remove it from the country for further studies, but he’d indicated that he’d gotten his way. The government official, minister of antiquities, and anthropologist who emerged were completely unexpected, and totally unwelcome, guests.

  They seemed to be laboring under the impression that they would be receiving the mummy Dr. Sheffield expected to discover, and any and all valuables discovered buried with him.

  Dr. Sheffield’s rage was only surpassed by Dr. Oldman’s. Though both men managed to contain their spleen admirably, it was a sullen group that made their way into the temple and along the corridor that had been discovered leading to the chamber and finally gathered there to watch the proceedings. Gaby followed up the rear, wondering if she would even have the opportunity to see the remains let alone study them.

  She hadn’t been inside the temple in weeks, not since the day after her accident, but she found she wasn’t at all surprised to discover that even the corridor leading to the chamber was as richly detailed with mosaic depictions of the history of the race that had built the pyramid as the chamber itself. The place was a marvel in and of itself. The only aspect more amazing than the artistry and craftsmanship of the structure and art was the fact that it looked virtually untouched by time. If it hadn’t been so breathtaking in detail and design she might have wondered if the entire thing was simply an elaborate hoax, but modern man, quite simply, was not capable of producing anything approaching the temple and no one with the money to build such an edifice would have been insane enough to invest it in such an elaborate hoax.

  When they arrived at last in the chamber, Gaby saw that a support framework had been constructed over and around the altar, or crypt—she was not going to accept that it was a crypt until she saw with her own eyes that it actually was one—to carefully remove the slab of stone that sealed it.

  No one was prepared for what they found when the slab was finally removed. They quickly discovered, though, that it did not merely rest on top as they’d originally supposed. The stone had been cemented to the base with some sort of mortar that was surprisingly resistant to time and they had had to wait while tools were brought in to chip it away and break the seal. Almost more stunning than finding that the slab was cemented to the base was the discovery once the seal had been broken that the crypt was a perfect vacuum.

  It sucked air in an audible whoosh when the seal was finally broken and the slab lifted. Gaby felt her skin prickle all over when she heard the sound, like a giant inhalation of breath. One glance at the other observers was enough to assure her that she was not alone. Everyone in the room exchanged uneasy glances.

  It still took an effort to refrain from surging forward as the stone slowly rose upward and then was walked sideways and lowered to the chamber floor. No one else resisted. The rest of the archeology team and the government representatives stampeded forward, jostling each other for a position that would allow them to look inside as Dr. Sheffield illuminated the interior.

  A collective gasp of awe rose from the group staring down into the cavity revealed. Drawn by their reaction, Gaby moved forward and tried to peer over the shoulders blocking her view, but she saw fairly quickly that it was a waste of effort. Short of shoving someone out of the way, she could see very little beyond the glint of light on bright metal.

  It was still enough.

  Stunned as she was, she knew it could only be a sarcophagus.

  In South America?

  She was carried away again with the tide that withdrew, reluctantly, as Dr. Sheffield ordered everyone back so that a couple of the students would have room to work chains beneath the casket to lift it out.

  Gaby found as she was buffeted by the tide of people moving back that she was shivering. Shock, she wondered distantly? She lifted her head to look at the statue of Anka.

  It’s you, isn’t it?
>
  From out of nowhere a sense of loss settled over her. Her throat closed, making it painfully difficult to swallow.

  That was why the statue had been wrought in such life-like detail. The god, Anka, was no figment of fertile, primitive imagination. They’d deified a man.

  Chapter Five

  Had Anka been the god of all things to them, Gaby wondered dazedly? Was he responsible for the city, the temple, the amazingly advanced civilization they’d discovered?

  Where had he come from?

  Whatever Dr. Sheffield and Dr. Oldman said to the contrary, the influence of ancient African civilizations couldn’t be ignored.

  Even his name.

  Which no one but her, she realized, believed was actually his name.

  But the other things? The temple that was strongly reminiscent of the tombs of the ancient Egyptians—that, if they were right, pre-dated those tombs. The sarcophagus? Granted, she hadn’t actually seen it, but she’d seen enough to know it had been fashioned of gold.

  He was holding an Ankh. Even Dr. Sheffield had acknowledged that much.

  In the back of Gaby’s mind, though, the only thing of any importance at all was the fact that he was dead—long gone from her world.

  Why did that make her feel like crying when she’d never really believed he existed at all?

  Because she had believed, she realized.

  In spite of every effort to reason the dream away as nothing but pure imagination, she’d actually believed she’d felt his touch like a lover. Warmth quivered through her at the flicker of memory through her mind.

  Shaken at last from her self-absorption by a shoulder buffeting hers, Gaby realized she was still in the way of the workers trying to secure the coffin and raise it. After looking around the chamber a little dazedly, she moved away from the other observers and found a position near the doorway that led into the chamber.

  The edges of the doorway were ragged with broken rock from where the team had hammered down the stones that had sealed it, but she scarcely noticed the jagged stones digging in to her as she leaned against the frame for support.

  It came to her that she’d expected they would find Anka entombed here, even while she’d tried to deny it.

  Why?

  Did she actually know the things she thought she knew? Or was it just … trauma from her experience combined with a gradual mental breakdown from the harsh conditions she’d endured here for so many weeks?

  And if she did know, how did she know?

  She wasn’t psychic.

  She didn’t believe it was just a matter of having denied something she’d known all along about herself because it defied reason and she was a scientist. Maybe such things did actually exist, but not within her.

  She found herself hoping the government people would relieve them of the mummy. If they didn’t, she would have to examine the remains and she didn’t think she could be professionally detached about it.

  Her heart was in her throat when they at last secured the chains and began to slowly and carefully lift the sarcophagus from the crypt. Like everyone else, she suspected, she held her breath, but she doubted it was for the same reason.

  She stepped aside as the container was brought in and moved into position to receive the sarcophagus. By the time they’d shouldered past her and she could resume her previous position, the casket was clear of the vault, gleaming in the beams from the flood lights.

  She stared at it unblinkingly, holding her breath as they moved it over the container and began lowering it, as if by doing so she was somehow helping to prevent disaster. The men hadn’t even had the chance to remove the chains when everyone surged forward again to get their first good look at it.

  Awe lit the faces of every member of the archeology team, save that of Sheila, and the government representatives. On their faces, Gaby saw pure avarice. She was almost surprised they didn’t grab the beautifully wrought casket of gold encrusted with gems and toss the remains onto the floor.

  Without even being aware that she’d done so, Gaby moved closer for an unobstructed view as everyone reluctantly moved back so that Jimmy, the student designated to record the findings on film, could get some shots of the sarcophagus before it was sealed in the container.

  Tears blurred her eyes as she stared down at it. She wasn’t even aware of them until the image blurred and she had to blink to focus.

  The lid of the casket had been as faithfully wrought as the statue, she saw, wondering almost idly how the artists had created it. Had they made a mold of his body and used it to pour liquefied gold? Or were they just that skilled in working precious metals?

  She saw when she finally dragged her gaze away that Sheila was studying her face, not the golden coffin. For several moments they merely stared at one another. Sheila was the first to look away.

  * * * *

  Stepping from the plane in Miami, Gaby mused, was almost like stepping off a time machine, almost as jarring as it had been to step off the plane when she’d first arrived in South America. It would take a while, she realized, to reacquaint herself with civilization after the months she’d spent in the jungle.

  She felt strangely detached, not joyful as she’d thought she would feel, not even relieved to be back.

  When she’d deplaned, Gaby waited while the ground crew unloaded the container she’d accompanied back, feeling a bizarre sense of unreality, almost as if she’d escorted a head of state to his final resting place. A half a dozen representatives of the South American country where Anka had been discovered deplaned before her. Most of the museum staff was present to witness, and even some local politicians. Photographers converged on them, held back by an inadequate line of security that was made up of two airport security officers and two Dade county police officers.

  Finding herself under such heavy scrutiny was unnerving to say the least. Publicity wasn’t anything she’d ever sought, even when she’d had occasion to work with the police department upon the discovery of twenty or thirty year old murder victims.

  She was too apathetic to be as unnerved as she might have been otherwise, though. She didn’t entirely understand the depression that had settled over her, the sense of loss. It made no sense to her, but she couldn’t seem to shrug it off.

  She was glad she was back, she decided when she had at last made it through the ordeal of customs and watched the container escorted off to the museum. Everything had been prepared for the all important opening of the sarcophagus and studies of what it held, but she wouldn’t begin her examination before the following morning. She had tonight to rest and prepare herself.

  Her apartment seemed alien to her, not the welcoming comfort and security of something familiar. She wondered as she stood in the center of her living room why she’d ever thought the décor she’d chosen was homey. The place, decorated in ultra modern chic, looked antiseptic.

  But then what did she know of homey?

  It was appalling to realize that the place looked almost as institutional as the Home for Girls where she’d grown up … except more, somehow. Instead of looking clean and bright, the whitewashed walls, pale beige carpet, white upholstery, and chrome and glass tables and display cabinets made the place seem cold, impersonal.

  Maybe it was personalized space, though, she thought dully? Colorless, like she was.

  Dropping her bags in the middle of the floor, she wandered from the living area to her room, stripping her clothes as she went and dropping them piece by piece on the floor in an untidy trail. When she reached her bathroom, she turned on the shower full blast, waited until the water was the next thing to scalding and climbed in, standing under the blast of water and allowing it to scour her.

  There was no food in the refrigerator, naturally. She’d cleaned it out before she left, and not much more in the cabinets.

  She wasn’t really interested in eating anyway, she decided. All she wanted to do was to fall across her wonderfully soft mattress, wrap herself in the fluffy comforter, and sleep.
>
  * * * *

  “As flattering as I find your grief, Moonflower, even oddly pleasing, I confess I’ve never entirely understood your race.”

  The voice, entwined with her dreams, thick with a Hispanic accent, didn’t entirely rouse Gaby at first. “Go ‘way,” she muttered groggily. “I don’t want to dream about you anymore.”

  His chuckle, deep, caressing, aroused her as his words hadn’t. “You know it wasn’t a dream.”

  Still drunk with sleep, Gaby shoved herself upright, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and stared at the man standing at the foot of her bed, feeling terror slowly claw its way up her throat. She couldn’t find her voice. She merely gaped at the stranger for endless moments, trying to command her body to leap from the bed and run. She’d no sooner accepted the reality of the intruder, though, than she became so excruciatingly aware of the fact that she’d fallen into the bed completely naked she found herself waging an internal battle with exposing herself versus self-preservation.

  The man lifted his arms, staring down at them thoughtfully … almost as if he’d never seen them before. “This body displeases you?” he asked doubtfully. “I confess, I was not too taken with it myself. This man is a pathetic specimen.”

  “I’ll scream!” Gaby managed finally, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

  The man tilted his head. “Why would you do that?”

  Gaby’s jaw slid to half mast. “What are you doing here? How did you get in? What do you want?”

  His dark brows rose. He stepped forward out of the shadows so that the light spilling from the bathroom fully illuminated him at last.

  She hadn’t imagined the Hispanic accent. He was swarthy, his untidy, straight, black hair almost shoulder length and he looked more Indian that Spanish—slight of build. She doubted he was even five and half feet tall and her brain instantly produced the deduction that he was Mexican—not Cuban as she would’ve thought considering the sizable Cuban population in south Florida.