Chapter 19

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Yasmin looked over at him.

“Who is this?” she said more sharply than usual. The stress was clearly wearing on her.

“I’m Chris. Samuel asked me to stay with you until he gets here. He wants to talk to you. Well he actually came to speak to your grandfather, but since he's not here—" 

“About what?” Yasmin snapped.

Kami touched her elbow reassuringly and Yasmin sighed.

“About what?” she said in a calmer tone.

“All of it—the excavation site, what’s going on here. He thinks we can help each other.”

“So you know what happened to those bugs?” Yasmin asked.

“And what the black things are?” Kami added.

Chris nodded.

“So, what are they?” Haji asked.

“They’re—it’s kind of like, they’re hard to explain.”

“Where’s this Samuel anyway?” Haji asked. “And who is he?”

“He's my uncle,” Chris said. “I’ve lived with him since I was eight. He's trying to figure out why the entrance is blocked off." 

"How old are you Chris?" Kami asked.

"Eleven," he replied.

He looked over nervously at the officers and rubbed his hands on his slacks.

“I don’t like this,” he murmured. “It’s too big of a risk.”

“So where are you from Chris?” Haji asked, trying to distract him.

“Here. There. All over,” he replied, still staring anxiously at the officers. “We live the nomadic life. It all depends on Samuel’s latest theory. Egypt for now. Oh, there he is.”

Kami saw a man walking toward them in the distance, a tall, stooped figure of a man. As he neared she could see more detail. He appeared to be in his mid to late forties. The man’s hair was a sweaty mop, ragged, unkempt and shoved aside like it annoyed him to have to deal with it, but it would be even more annoying to take the time to cut it. It stood up on one end, reminding her of an absent-minded scientist.

A round pair of horn-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his beaklike nose, and scraggly patches of scruff covered his chin. His shirt, only half tucked in, stuck to him like a second skin. It was covered in perspiration and food stains. She had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t changed his clothes for days. He probably ate, worked, and slept in the same clothes. She smelled him as he drew near. He reeked.

“We need to talk, but not here. I need you all to follow me,” he said in hushed, furtive tones. His eyes looked wild, like he’d seen something that seriously freaked him out. 

Yasmin folded her arms.

“What’s going on here?”

“Shhh, not here. I have some pictures you need to see.”

“You don’t understand,” Yasmin said. “I have family—"

“Who are missing,” Samuel finished her sentence. “Yes, I know. You have to trust me. We can help each other.”

“But I can’t just leave. My grandparents may come back at any time. As soon as they remove the barricade, I’m going home.”

“That’s not going to happen anytime soon,” Samuel said flatly.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“I overheard them talking. Your grandparents aren’t the only ones missing. Everyone in the village has disappeared.”

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Guesses as to what happened to the village?

Years ago, my husband was writing a screenplay and would pick his cop buddy's brain for details. In exchange, his buddy made him promise to name a character after him. Well, my hubby set his writing aside, so when I wrote the book, he made me promise to name a character after this cop buddy. So now I present to you Samuel T. Towers! Bet his cop buddy had no clue what he was getting into with that request! ;)

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