Dup Shimati … Dup Shimati … Dup Shimati …
In my head the words sizzled the way fire-hot coals do when they’re being extinguished by rain. I wandered off without really looking where I was going. What was Desert Man’s name? He didn’t say. Who was he? How long was he alone in the desert? I didn’t get any of the answers I’d been hoping for.
He was delusional, severely dehydrated, and scared, that’s for sure. His perception warped, he could no longer distinguish between what was real and what was unreal. Or so I kept telling myself. Tommy’s Dig It post was turning out to be some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. But if Tommy knew more than he was letting on, he was doing a great job feigning innocence.
I regained my bearings once I reached the outer edge of the camp. I forced myself to stop and retrace my steps, setting out to find Minh and Luke. My mind kept wandering as I walked through the busy camp. I ran an absentminded hand over my hair. My ponytail was a mess, my hair clinging to my cheeks with sweat. The top of my head felt like I’d been sitting under one of those heat lamps at a hair salon for so long that it had fried my brain. I gave up and extracted my cap from my back pocket, placing it over my head. Heatstroke was worse than a bad fashion choice.
Instead of finding anyone I actually wanted to see, I ran into Tommy. The expression he was wearing made me uncomfortable in my own overheated skin. The guy never smiled, I swear—at least not when I was around. Tommy’s face was half hidden under a low-sitting cap, dark hair curling from underneath the tight fabric. As he neared, he showed no signs of acknowledgment. I played along. Maybe being invisible to Tommy Ortiz wasn’t such a bad thing: I could wear my ill-fitted cap in peace, not caring what it looked like.
“Alif?” My name rolling off Tommy’s tongue stopped me in my tracks.
I lifted my head to look at him as he flinched in surprise, like I was a robber attacking him from the shadows. “Didn’t recognize you at first,” he said, unsettled for some reason.
“Oh, hey.” I gave him a brisk nod, trying to look and sound busy. “How did the evacuation go?”
“They came and took him away. He’s not in good shape, but he’ll live. Too much excitement for the camp though. Ever since the chopper took off, Dr. Scholl’s been ushering volunteers back to their stations, but they’d rather talk than work. It’s like herding cats, I swear.”
His confiding in me was so unusual that I stumbled on my words, struggling to sound casual around him. “It’s not like it’s every day a random guy walks out of the desert and raves about some hidden treasures or whatever.”
“What did he say to you, exactly?” Tommy’s eyes zeroed in on me. He looked so interested in what I had to say that it gave me a boost of confidence. I didn’t even waver when he took a step closer. Despite my rattling heart, I stood my ground.
“Not much. Nothing coherent anyway. Though he did mention a voice of the universe that sings. He called it Dup Shimati, and then…” I was about to say that the man started to whimper and cry and how it had been my exit cue, but I stopped, reminding myself that I wasn’t supposed to have been in the tent with him.
“And then what?” Tommy prodded.
“And then they carried him away,” I lied.
“Dup Shimati, huh?”
“Yes, the fate of the universe. Or something like that.” I tried to sound quirky or at least funny, but mostly I just came off like a five-year-old attempting to dazzle a teenager.
Tommy didn’t look dazzled. A frown of concern was tugging his mouth down at the corners. “Something’s off about all this. First we have that freak accident, then a bunch of volunteers just up and leave the dig, and it’s not only that they refuse to come back; it seems everyone else around here is now against working the site. And now this guy … On the way to the chopper, he told us that he was with some tourist group from France, that his name was Noam Delamer, and that he was in Dubai for a hotelier conference…”
“What part of that story do you find strange? Sounds kind of reasonable, all things considered.”
“I looked up the conference and … well, it took place two years ago. Two years.”
“That’s impossible. I mean, he does look awful, but not two-years-lost-in-the-desert awful. If he was lost in the desert for that long, he’d be dead.”
“I know. But then again, there have been very rare instances of people wandering the desert for even longer than that.” Tommy’s eyes were intense, as if testing me, his expression carrying just a hint of something.
I stared back at him blankly. Then it dawned on me. “Was that an Exodus reference?”
“I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Actually, I did appreciate it, but I was simply too stunned by the fact that Tommy Ortiz had made a joke that was perfectly tailored to my specific taste to reply. I let out an awkward laugh, but it was too late, as the moment had already melted away. Tommy became distracted and tight-lipped once more, announcing we should head to dinner. At least he’d made no mention of walking in on my make-out session with Luke last night. I was grateful for that.
I followed Tommy to the cafeteria, which was already filling with the camp’s residents and abuzz with excitement. I looked around, feeling cagey and hoping to avoid running into that girl I’d tricked earlier. Thankfully, she was nowhere to be seen. Not counting Tommy, I was the first of my group to get to our table. A couple of volunteers I remembered from breakfast were quick to join us, and soon Minh arrived, disheveled but in a good mood, followed by the rest of the gang pulling up. We ate our dinner and enjoyed one another’s company, and even Tommy looked like he was relaxing.