The Apocalypse Contract

CHAPTER 4 - ROGER

Professor Roger Edward Heathcliff Pritchard was not particularly happy to be in the sweltering heat of the Iraqi desert. He would much rather be in his basement office back in Cambridge. But his friend Thomas, the curator of the Cambridge Museum of Archeology and Anthropology, had insisted he was needed on this dig.

"Bloody hell, this heat will be the death of me," he barked to Kasim, "how much longer must we wait here?"

"Not long, not long. My cousin Yazen, he be back soon. You see." Kasim stood on the sideboard of their disabled truck and squinted in the direction Yazen had headed.

"I still say we should have gone with him. If he can make it, so can we."

"Yazen, he runs all day. Never gets tired. No worries. See? He comes now."

Roger looked where Kasim was pointing but saw only some dust drifting on the wind. "You've gone barmy, chap. There's nothing there." A moment later a car appeared over a rise, a plume of dust trailing behind it.

Kasim laughed and waved an arm in the air. The car continued toward them until skidding to a stop only inches away, the grills of the two vehicles nearly touching.

"You must be Professor Pritchard," the driver called as he climbed out. "I heard you ran into a spot of trouble." Roger was immediately struck by the man's attire. His scuffed leather boots, workman's clothing, and pith helmet might have been selected specifically to mark him as a British archaeologist.

"Yes, the damnable lorry broke down."

"It's the sand. Gets into everything, cocks up the works. That little Yazen chap is on his way into town to fetch a mechanic. Reginald Billingsford, at your service. I'll take you to the dig site."

They shook hands, then fetched Roger's bags from the lorry to the car. They filled the boot and most of the back seat. "It looks like close quarters back there, Kasim. Can you squeeze in?"

"No worries, boss. I wait here for my cousin."

"Are you sure about that?" Roger worried about leaving the young man alone in the desert as the sun went down.

"You go. I take care of truck."

Roger clasped Kasim's hand. "Ashoofook Bukra. Assalam Alaikum."

"Wa Alaikum Assalam," Kasim replied.

Roger climbed in next to Reginald, and they pulled away in a cloud of dust and sand. Roger looked back to see Kasim waving goodbye. He waved back and hoped that he hadn't been untruthful with the young Arab, that he would in fact see him again soon.

"You speak their language." Reginald observed.

"Only a little. I started learning Arabic on the way out. It's rather my specialty, languages. Mostly dead ones, though."

"So I gather. Well, we have plenty to keep you busy then. Prendergast says we've found some new variant of cuneiform. It's all over the walls in the lower chambers."

"It's not cuneiform," Roger insisted.

"The devil you say."

"Prendergast sent pictures back to Cambridge. I wouldn't have come if it was cuneiform. You've found something very different."

"Well, you can argue that with Prendergast. I'm just the rocks and bones man."

Roger just grunted in reply. He had already had his fill of arguments with Professor Prendergast. The man was a pompous gas bag.

"This is it. The thriving metropolis of Kouyunjik, city of kings." Reginald stopped the car among a cluster of dust covered tents and mounds of dirt. "It's seen better days."