Morning came quietly, a soft blue glow beaming through broken shutters. Leila groaned and rolled onto her side.
Her entire body ached, and her legs felt like lead, but today would be their last day on the back of a camel. Tonight, she’d be home—in Xander’s arms. Now that she had anchored on that thought, there was no way she could go back to sleep.
Still lying on the pile of blankets, she scanned the room. Its shabby state looked even less appealing than it had in the dark. The walls were splotched with spots of who-knew-what, the border of the green wallpaper faded and peeling, the wooden shutters cracked, hanging open on one hinge.
A long, disgruntled growl cut the silence. With a grimace, she curled into a ball, clutching her stomach. It was no use. Amina’s plans to ration the remaining bread had fallen through and the last piece had been eaten yesterday. There wouldn’t be anything else until they reached Saint Catherine. Without food or water, it was going to be a long day. But maybe they would get there without incident. They were so close.
Leila sat up and ran a hand through her hair. She tugged at her tangles for a few minutes, then twisted the strands into a loose braid. Frowning, she wiped her greasy hand on the front of her clothes. She probably smelled worse than the camels.
The first thing she was going to do when she got to Saint Catherine was take a nice, long shower. Except she didn’t have any money with her for a hotel room. And she had to get a hold of Xander before anything else.
A smile crept over her face. The shower could wait. Not for long, but it could wait.
“Who are you thinking about?” came Amina’s yawning voice from the other side of the room.
Leila scooted back and leaned against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her. “How’d you know I was thinking about someone and not something?”
Amina propped herself up on one elbow and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “Just a guess.”
“A good one.” Leila pulled at a loose string on her sleeve. “I was thinking about my boyfriend, Xander.”
After a wide yawn, Amina pushed herself up and sat against the opposite wall. “What’s he like?”
Leila hummed, unsure where to start. There was so much about him, she could go on for hours. “Well, he’s smart. Funny.”
“Handsome?”
Leila grinned. There was no denying that. “Very.”
“You must miss him.”
Leila nodded, hoping she would soon get a chance to tell him so. Please be in Saint Catherine.
Amina had fallen silent and stared out the open window. Leila studied her a moment, wondering if she was thinking of someone as well.
“What about you?”
Amina rolled her head back toward Leila and one side of her lips tugged upward. “I have no one. Who would want me? My bad leg only scares men off.” She shrugged.
It didn’t seem fair. Everything worked against Amina. Leila drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs. “What happened? To your leg, I mean. Er—if you don’t mind me asking.”
“I was eight.” Amina stopped and stared at her hands. The silence dragged for so long, Leila thought that was all she was going to say. Then she went on, “I saw Abdullah that day, in the market. He was talking to someone, a veiled lady. I overheard them making plans to meet later, at night. I was so giddy, I couldn’t believe my righteous big brother would do such a thing. Instead of telling our parents, I waited until night, pretended to sleep, then followed him when he left.”
A smile Leila couldn’t stop spread across her face. That sounded like something she would have done as a kid.
“But the walk turned out to be much longer than I expected. He didn’t go to someone’s house. He left town, out into the desert.”
Leila’s pulse picked up. Her mind screamed for young Amina to turn around. So much could go wrong.
“Even though the path grew harder to navigate, I kept following him. I was small and nimble. I could squeeze between rocks and stay unseen whenever he looked over his shoulder. I followed him all the way to the gorge, a good two-mile hike over winding paths and rocky terrain.”
“That’s dedication.”
“For an eight-year-old, I know.” Amina smirked. “Well, he finally stopped at a clearing. I kept hidden behind a boulder and watched. But the lady wasn’t alone. She had two other people with her. I saw Abdullah give her something, but it was wrapped in cloth. Then I slipped. Lost my footing and slid out from behind the boulder. The lady pulled out a gun and came after me.”
Leila held her breath.
“Once Abdullah realized it was me, he stopped her. Begged her to let me go. And she did. She backed off. Abdullah grabbed me, walked with me for a few minutes, then blew a fuse. He was livid. Which I understand. The terrain was dangerous, it was the middle of the night, and that lady almost shot me.” Amina shook her head. “Once he was done screaming at me, he ordered me to keep walking. By then I was bawling. Could barely see. And I fell. Ten, twenty, thirty feet.”
Leila clenched her eyes shut. She knew the exact feeling. It was still fresh in her mind.
“My leg never healed right. Our doctor did what he could, but my parents couldn’t afford surgery or anything. I guess that’s what’s driven me. Since about that time, I’ve wanted to become a doctor. Then I would help others who couldn’t pay for medical needs.”
If only there was a long lost inheritance waiting for Amina to claim. Leila sighed. “Too bad your brother took the journal. I’d love to have another look at it.”
Amina rummaged through her bag and pulled out a bottle, a roll of paper stuffed inside.
“He gave it back?” Leila’s eyes widened.
Amina flashed a mischievous grin. Her cheeks dimpled. “No.” She slid the pages out and unrolled them. “He has no idea I have it. Back in the cave, I tore out a page from my notebook and made a decoy. I put it in his bag while he was asleep.”
Abdullah would not be amused. Leila held out her hand, hoping she wasn’t being too pushy. “May I?”
Amina handed them over. Gripping the papers lightly between her fingers to prevent any crinkling, Leila stared at the hieroglyphics. Was this really worth the trouble? Yes, her translation was correct. The tomb was located in the mountains of the Sinai Peninsula, more particularly near Saint Catherine. The collection inside belonged to Amina. The tomb itself was not to be touched.
Part of the hieroglyphics still remained a mystery. Whose tomb was it? Where exactly could they find it? The Saint Catherine area covered a huge, hard-to-navigate region. There had to be more clues. Clues she was certain she could figure out in the library at the Saint Catherine monastery.
“Anything new?” came Amina’s voice.
Leila shook her head. “No. I was just looking where I had left off. But I’m definitely going to need more help with this.”
Amina leaned forward and hugged her legs, cradling her chin between her knees. “Abdullah is probably right. None of it is real. I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”
Leila traced a finger down one side of the page. Someone had gone to great lengths both to hide the tomb and to make sure the right people found out about it. And the timing couldn’t have been better, when the family needed it the most.
“It wouldn’t hurt to look.”
“But that journal is nearly a century old,” Amina mused, pinching at the pilling on the blanket. “If it’s real, anyone could have found it by now.”
Leila rolled up the parchments and slid them back into the bottle. “You’re not thinking of giving up, are you?”
“I honestly don’t know what to do now.” Amina pushed herself to her feet and limped to the window. Leaning against the wall, she peered outside. “We’ve come this far, but everything is going wrong.”
Hating that Amina was feeling so discouraged, she frowned. “So? We’ve just had some bad luck. Doesn’t mean you should stop. I’ll get the translation finished. I won’t leave Saint Catherine until I do.” With one determined thrust of her hand, she tucked the bottle back into Amina’s bag.
“Thank you.” Amina smiled softly. “Really. We should get going.” She pushed away from the wall and Leila held up the bag for her. Amina took it and shrugged the strap over her shoulder. “The sooner we arrive in Saint Catherine, the better.” She opened her bag and pulled out her water bottle. Frowning, she held it up for Leila to see. The murky, brown water sloshed against the plastic.
“We have about half a bottle of this mess between us. We’ll have to find a well before we leave. I’m almost afraid they’ll all be dried up, though.”
“I’ll come with you,” Leila offered, her mouth aching at the sight of liquid. Neither of them should wander out alone, anyway.
They crept down the stairs, unsure if Abdullah was already awake. The couch was empty.
“He must have had the same idea,” Amina said. “Maybe we’ll run into him outside.” She hobbled to the door and pulled it open.
Leila took a step after her, but hesitated in the doorway. No, she wasn’t forgetting anything. She didn’t have anything to forget. Then why the goosebumps? With a shake of her head, she stepped outside and eased the door shut.
Streaks of sunlight peeked over the rooftops, birds fluttered overhead. The absence of modern noises made Leila all the more aware of the light rustling of dried leaves and their footsteps echoing off the plaster walls as they walked side by side through the empty streets.
Leila tugged her headscarf tighter around her chin, the cool air nipping at her cheeks. Not even the two layers of clothing she wore could stop the chill. It was strange to be cold after a week in the relentless sun.
Her gaze lingered on the shadowy corners and alleys as they crept past. Her skin prickled. She should have stayed at the house. Nothing felt right in this village.
Half-expecting someone to be watching, she examined every window they walked by, most of them broken and grimy. A shadow fluttered against a rough, brown wall ahead of them.
She jumped back, then let out a slow breath. It was simply some forgotten laundry draped over a rope hanging across an alley.
“What are we going to do if the wells are dry?” Leila whispered, her voice sounding several decibels too high in the silent streets.
“We’ll have to tough it out,” Amina sighed. “We should be able to make it to Saint Catherine.” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself this was true.
“If we don’t get there by tonight I think I’m going to go crazy.” Leila raised her eyebrows. “This place is giving me the creeps.”
Amina nodded in agreement. “It does feel strange here. I keep expecting to see people.”
Another shadow flickered in the corner of Leila’s eye. She halted midstep.
The shadow was tall and thin, moving quickly along the wall until it vanished around a corner. The shooter? Abdullah? Or someone else? Amina limped on, apparently oblivious to the danger.
“Stop,” Leila hissed.
Amina turned half-way and furrowed her brow in question.
Heart pounding furiously, Leila took a slow step forward, searching the corners and the streets. The shadow had vanished. But it hadn’t been some fluttering laundry or birds. It had moved with purpose. Or was she already going crazy?
“What is it?” Amina whispered.
Leila held a finger to her lips and Amina’s mouth snapped shut. The distinct sound of soles scraping against cobblestone came from an alley ahead of them.