The Dig (16 page)

“Pret, stop that!” Irin shouted. “You say that Wil had the same dream?”

Pret looked up at him, wounded. He quietly replied, “He did,” and went silent, gazing at Irin with scornful eyes.

“I am sorry I yelled.”

“It is disrespectful.”

“It is, yes… you were—”

“Talking crazy, I know. I can hear myself.”

“Yes… well, Wil awaits me. I will speak more of this with him.”

“He has always been better than me… with the dreams, that is. When he was a boy, I thought for some reason that he would grow taller than a house. Just keep growing and growing into the sky. He would protect us from not just screamers, but enormous creatures not unlike screamers… but now I know it wasn’t him I imagined. Look at you…” Pret gestured at Irin’s k’yot. “Have your own shell now, don’t you? Which brings me back to those with shells, and those that only
believe
they are shelled…”

Irin walked away as Pret continued. The dome of darkness now sheltered the valley, only the tiny holes—like eyeholes in a house—allowed the sunlight to shine through. Irin stared up at it as he walked, wondering if he could find this mountain-sized rock that Pret spoke of. Could it be true? Could a sky stripe come down to the ground? And if so, why had no one ever heard of such a thing happening?

Irin found Wil waiting for him at the site of the new house mounds. The dirt men had completed their work, shaping the mounds perfectly for the pouring of solid. The protrusions for windows and the door were completed, too, and branches of various sizes jutted from the dirt. The largest, for the air hole, shot up from the top. Smaller ones for eyeholes stuck out from the sides like little arms. On the other side, though he could not see them, he knew there were several in the dotted outline of a door hole for future clustering.

“There you are, Irin,” Wil called. He wiped his cheek on his shoulder then inspected the blood he’d left behind. Wil’s face had always been covered in little black spots. Many Pwin-T people had them here and there, but Wil’s face was speckled with them like no other. He never said so, but it was clear he despised them. When he thought no one watching, he tried to scratch them off, but this just made him bleed, gave him sores, and later scars. Irin pretended to not notice. “Are you going to wear your k’yot every night now that they finally made you one?”

“I came out early,” Irin replied as he peered over the lip of the giant vat of steaming solid. “How long has it been heating?”

Wil climbed down from the pouring ladder and walked to Irin, placing his hand on his friend’s k’yot top. “Since last night. I already checked it—it’s ready.”

Irin leaned into the rising heat and inhaled the scent he knew so well. It reminded him of the taste of blood after biting his lip or sucking on a cut. When he was new, he thought he was made of solid, inside. That everyone was, because of that taste and the scent.

“Shall we begin?” Wil asked with a strange tone. He must have thought Irin was behaving oddly.

Irin studied his friend for a beat, then agreed and lifted the end of the pour tube over the edge of the vat, pushing it into the thick, molten mass. Wil hurried back up the ladder and picked up his end of the tube, aiming it. Irin moved beneath the center of the tube where a bar jutted from the bottom.

“One moment…” Irin said and unstrapped the k’yot top from the middle and tossed it on the ground. He returned to his bar, clutched it with both hands, and said, “Starting.” He thrust the bar forward then pulled it all the way back. He pushed it forward again, back again, and then on the third push the liquid began trickling from the spout in Wil’s arms. Wil directed the solid over the dirt dome with well-practiced movements. Irin completed eight thrusts, ducked under the tube to his opposite shoulder, and began another series. As he continued the thrusts, the material began to flow at a faster pace, oozing over the mound and forming a thin layer that quickly dried and hardened as it slid down.

Irin’s thoughts drifted back to Pret. Wil hadn’t said anything upon his arrival, so it could have been the usual lunacy. But Wil was also known for avoiding discussion of subjects that frightened him.
The caves
. Pret had brought up the caves where other workers extract the teepin and teegrin used to make solid. It was where Irin’s brother, Tilleten, had died when Irin was still new.

Wil had dreamt it several nights prior but had said nothing, opting instead to act strange and stare inexplicably at Irin’s brother whenever he was around them. When Tilliten finally pressed him, Wil said that he was afraid Tilliten would be “hurt… surrounded by solid.”

No one listened. They assumed he was mimicking his father’s routine of declaring foreboding prophecies. But Irin knew that Wil was different, that if he ever found the courage to actually mention something, it was because it was real. What Irin didn’t know was whether the next night could be changed if you knew what was to occur. It certainly didn’t change anything for Tilliten. The cave collapsed on him and he died, surrounded by solid.

Irin switched arms again and watched the liquid seep from Wil’s end. He looked back at the vat of solid to be sure the other end remained submerged. The vat was almost half empty, but the tube was sinking with it. Irin continued.

A while later they had one full layer completed. The door had formed perfectly over its protruding mold, but the window was only half complete. As usual, its underside would need its own pouring and smoothing to complete the shape, and to join the bottom of the main structure into a single dome.

Irin futilely wiped his head with his k’yot sleeve. Beneath it his skin felt irritated and more sweaty than usual. He thought that clothes under a k’yot would likely help with this. He walked to the edge of the hardening dome and looked down at the border trench. The dirt men had dug it deeper than usual, likely a new rule after the overturned house incident. A screamer should not be allowed to raise an entire house, Irin thought.

“It looks good,” Wil observed. “Let me work on your arms.”

Irin unfastened the holdstrip from his k’yot middle and let the heavy jacket fall from his shoulders. He kept it on his lap so as not to get muddy from mixing sweat and dirt. Wil stepped behind him and began massaging Irin’s swollen arms.

“I spoke with Pret earlier,” Irin said.

Wil snorted, “I hope it wasn’t too long…”

“He told me of a dream he had. You know what I speak of?”

Wil was quiet.

“He spoke of a ypritl. He says there is a giant one that will one day destroy the valley.”

“I had the same dream,” Wil admitted. “He thinks it real because we both had the dream. You know he grows crazier every night.”

“He did mention you growing taller than the valley, or something of the sort…”

“Yes, and I protect the valley from screamers the size of the moon. You understand my reservations believing this new dream.” Wil switched to Irin’s other arm.

“He said you came to him about it first.”

More silence.

“Wil?”

Wil moved away from Irin, “It can’t be real, Irin. It’s… it’s devastation. Complete. Nothing left.”

“And if it’s real?”

“If it’s real we all die. No new are ever born. Since the last outside tribe joined us, it would mean the end to all people. If it’s real, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“We could leave the valley,” Irin said.

“There would be no time.”

Irin stood up. “What do you mean? When does it come?”

Wil looked at him with despair.

“Speak!”

“
If
it is real… single half batch full batch. During daylight.”

Irin had thought the prediction to be far in the future, that he would have the opportunity to work on the oldest men: discuss new expeditions to seek potential locations for a second city, assemble the smartest and bravest, to
plan!
Panic burned through his head. Sixty-nine nights before absolute destruction.

“Irin, please. It was just a dream. If you tell others, they will either mock me like my father, or be frightened, and with nothing they can do about it. Let us pretend we never discussed it.”

“We have to go.” Irin said as he paced. “Everyone has to leave the valley.”

“And go where? We can’t take houses with us! Beyond the valley, it is only screamers! Others have tried to explore further. Everyone learns as they grow from new to old, Irin… Pwin-T is safety, but Pwin-T is prison.”

“B
AFFLING… ALL OF IT…”
T
UNI
said with a look of wonder.

“What?” Dr. Rheese said from the kitchen area as he took the teabag from his cup. “You didn’t grasp all the fascinating details? Beakwings, screechers, and kwottletwigs? It all seems quite straightforward to me.” He smiled and tasted his tea.

Pete dropped his pencil along with his till now unfailing diplomatic manner. He turned to Rheese. “Doctor, I’m not exactly sure about the point of your constant sarcasm and belittling remarks. This is
your
discovery, and the investigation into its origin
should
be your highest priority, I would think.”

“Absolutely,” Rheese replied. “I suppose I’m just not all that excited about the color of the rocks on the ground or the gummed rantings of some supposedly long-dead old man. The point of this Matthew’s visit to our humble dig site, as I understood it, was to verify the
age
of the artifact. I do not think we are any closer to that goal than we were before his arrival. Hell, it could be another ‘triple-batch-half-batch’ before we get anything useful out of this.”

“It won’t be that long, Doctor,” Matt replied.

“You anticipate something of magnitude in your next viewings, do you?”

“I anticipate not being here. Dick.”

“I think we all need to get some sleep,” Pete cut in. “I’ve got good notes on all of this evening’s new information, and it’s nearly midnight. I’m planning to wake Matt at the crack of dawn. Anyone else who wants to sit in, get yourselves together early, ’cause I’m not playing alarm clock for anyone else.”

Rheese returned the artifact to its plastic case and locked it in the safe.

“Generator off, ten minutes,” Enzi announced, and left the motor home.

Tuni fetched her toiletry bag from her suitcase and returned to wash her face in the RV’s sink. As she entered, she saw Matt and Peter standing in the back. Matt had a pillowcase over his head, tied around the neck with a string.

“Tell me honestly,” he asked Peter. “Does this look stupid?”

“It’s good to know you have a sense of humor about your situation,” Peter replied as he shucked off his pants.

“Beg pardon, gents!” Tuni blurted as she averted her eyes.

“Afraid this is fieldwork, Miss Saint James,” Pete declared. “We have to get used to the close quarters.”

“Are you saying I should feel free to change into my nightdress right here?” she asked in a coquettish voice.

Matt stood still and listened; the pillowcase remained on.

“Absolutely. There’s no gender discrimination out here,” Peter assured her.

She sighed. “Very well…”

Matt jumped into action, fumbling with the shoelace around his neck and ripping the pillowcase off his face. Pete and Tuni burst into laughter.

“Sorry, Matthew,” she said. “I’m just washing my face and returning to my tent to get some privacy from you dirty-minded men.”

Dr. Rheese poked his head out from the high bunk beside Tuni and said with singsong pleasantness, “Would you all mind shutting your gobs and turning off the bloody lights? Thank you.”

Tuni shuddered at the unwanted glimpse of gray-haired chest. Hurriedly drying her face, she turned for the door. “Ta-ta, all.”

She spotted Enzi standing by the big, rubber-wheeled generator.

“Are they done in there, Miss Tuni?” he asked.

“I believe so, yes.”

Enzi turned a knob and flipped a few switches. The rumbling engine went silent, and the light tower quickly dimmed. A moment later they met halfway between her tent and the equipment trailer.

“So, Enzi, how do I know an elephant isn’t going to come rampaging out of the woods and trounce my tent with me in it?”

“No elephants ’round here, miss. That one not belonging, for sure.”

“Thanks, I’ll take your word for it.… So what do you think of all this? The artifact and the people Matt tells us about?”

Enzi raised his eyebrows and shook his head slowly, an expression of overwhelm on his face.

“It is too much, you know,” he said. “Like he going to another world and leave his shell on the seat in there. He is like wizard—and he read my mind, too. I hope he will tell me my future before you both go away.”

Tuni chuckled. “I don’t think he can see in that particular direction.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder and whistled. “Backwards only.”

Enzi frowned, deep in thought, and nodded.

“So where do you sleep?” she asked.

“Right over there in the trailer. I keep ramp down and shotgun close by. You safe out here, okay?”