Author's note. This story was previously submitted as part of a chain story.
The day had been hectic, so it was an unexpected piece of good luck when Annabelle found a copy of a new book in her favorite series. She got herself comfortable in her bed and picked up the book. She loved the covers, the beautiful women, and the strong handsome men. Annabelle opened the cover and began to read.
The light was fading. The big red ball had almost sunk beneath the horizon. Ian stood up and stretched. His back ached from spending most of the day bent over in the trench, removing layers of dirt a few grains at a time.
As he stretched, he focused in on a slender woman standing in the remnants of the day's sunlight. He could almost see through the light gauzy material of her garment. It seemed like it was loosely wrapped around her. Her eyes locked on his and he felt his pulse race. Ian felt mesmerized by those eyes. Blue as blue could get. Her dark hair hung down to her shoulders and framed that perfect face.
A sudden crash of breaking glass caused Ian to turn his head in the direction of the noise. Someone had dropped one of the large glass mirrors that were used to redirect the sunlight into dark chambers.
He turned his head back to find the girl. She was gone. He scanned the entire area but there was no sign of her. "Bloody hell!" he said to no one in particular. "Where in blazes could she have gone?"
Disappointed, he gathered up his tools and packed them into a battered black leather case. He slung the case over his shoulder and began to walk over to a cluster of white tents. In his mind, he stared at the eyes that he had seen.
---
This was the dream of Ian Grove's life, to actually excavate in Egypt. He had graduated from Oxford in the class of nineteen-fourteen. World War I had interrupted his life when like so many young men of his generation, he volunteered for military service.
He had spent four years witnessing man's inhumanity against their fellow man — four years of hell on earth in the mud and the gore of the trenches of France. He had been wounded once, and had a slight limp now as a result of a shell fragment injuring his left knee.
After the war had ended, he had been lucky enough to obtain a position at the British Museum in the Egyptology department. He had jumped at the chance to go into the field and take part in a dig.
Ian had been in Egypt for three weeks now and the novelty of living and working in a foreign land still hadn't worn off. He loved the sights, sounds, and the smells of Egypt. He especially found the people especially intriguing. He had met Coptic priests, Mohammedans, Jews, and members of the Orthodox Church.
The work wasn't quite what he had expected. Somehow, he had envisioned just walking up to a previously undiscovered tomb and to just begin exploration. The work, for the most part, was slow and methodical. Brushing away the centuries a little at a time with a trowel and a brush was painstaking work. He soon learned to take joy in small discoveries— a shard of pottery, a polished stone—evidence that they just might be on the right track.
---
Ian walked up to one of the tents where a half-dozen chairs set outside around a large round table.
"Ian! Fancy a gin before dinner?"
Ian dropped his bag to the ground. He removed his pith helmet and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "God, yes! I would love one. Thanks, Bertie."
Bertie chuckled. He was the official "unofficial bartender of the camp." "One gin coming right up."
Ian looked around. "Where is everyone else?"
"Dr. Somerset ran into Cairo earlier. Some cock-up with one of the permits I would imagine. Halliday went with him. Samuels was here a minute ago, and Pepper... I haven't seen Pepper all day. Probably off trying to have a snog some local girl."
"He'll have all of the fathers in the town upon us," Ian laughed as he took a drink from the tumbler that Bertie had handed him.
Both men sat in the chairs around the table and looked at the orange glow of the fading light shimmering on the water of the Nile. Ian felt a strong sense of history as he looked at the river. Moses had been here, and all the great Pharaohs. Julius Caesar, and Cleopatra. They all had probably at one time looked at this very scene thousands of years ago.
Bertie interrupted Ian's thoughts. "How did it go for you today? Find anything?"
"No." Ian shook his head. "I haven't seen anything all week long. I'm beginning to wonder if Dr. Somerset has us in the right spot."
Bertie brushed off Ian's comments with a wave of his hand. "Don't despair, old boy. Somerset and Halliday both know what they are up to. This is my second time with the both of them. They play their cards pretty close to the vest and don't give away much. I did hear Halliday say to Somerset that he thinks we are still a good thousand years above the level that they are looking for."
Ian watched as one of the Egyptian workers lit the lamps around the camp. He switched his gaze to Bertie. "What do you think Baruti has cooked up for us tonight? Lamb and rice, or kabobs?"
"Bloody hell!" Bertie almost choked on his drink. "I wish that man would learn to cook something else. A nice roast of beef with Yorkshire pudding would be nice. I'd even settle for a good steak and kidney pie right now."
"Or an order of fish and chips," added Ian. "I'm not bloody fussy, I'd take anything right now."
Nigel Pepper strolled into the camp whistling a merry tune. As he approached where Ian and Bertie were seated, he called out, "Hello fellow dirt miners! How goes the battle?" He dropped into one of the vacant chairs and looked at Bertie. "Be a good chap and get me a whiskey."
"Where the blazes were you all day?" Ian directed his question at Nigel.
He grinned as he looked back at Ian. "I was doing a little..." Nigel paused for a moment as his brows furrowed. "Foreign relations."
Bertie handed Nigel his drink. "Were your diplomatic efforts successful?"
Nigel took a healthy swallow of his drink. "Sadly, no. The regent of the house came home before my efforts were to be rewarded."
Ian grinned. "So, you're telling us you had to bail out of another second story window."
"Oh, no!" responded Nigel as he shook his head. "I was out the back door, and over the fence."
"I see, a strategic withdrawal," Bertie joked.
Nigel nodded. "It was strategic all right, but, sadly, there was no withdrawal. The impending invasion had to be called off."
Ian stood up. "Well, I think I will go get cleaned up. Are we dressing for dinner tonight?"
Nigel scoffed, "Come now, man! With Halliday and Somerset both gone, we will take full advantage of the situation." He looked over at Bertie. "What say you, Bertie? Since you are senior, and most likely in charge. Not to mention that you are also the keeper of the keys to the liquor cabinet. Do we declare it a 'Come As You Are Night'?"
Bertie lifted his glass. "Well-put, my carousing compatriot! By the power you have just vested in me, I do declare tonight as 'Come As You Are Night'"
"Right, then!" Ian exclaimed as he handed his empty glass back to Bertie. "I'm off then to get rid of some of this dirt and grime."
