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CHAPTER NINE

Life! Strength! Heath!

They took turns in marking the small notch on their stone calendar. Keeping track of the day and month it would be in New York and wondering what was happening in that time. They had become great friends with their two fellow captives and when the nights were long or they found a small amount of extra energy they would talk about each others lives. Nutt and Sukoloff never told of their true homeland but they did tell of their families and their hopes. One of the slaves, named Setti, was perhaps thirty, he thought. His black skin had long ago lost its bloom and was grayer than his long hair and beard. His dark eyes sank into his thin skull, but despite the open sores on his feet he frequently gave a performance of his native dancing to amuse the others. No one knew much about Setti apart from that he had been a slave to one of the upper-class. Whilst there he had learnt to read and write. This knowledge he willingly passed onto Nutt and Sukoloff, mainly because of the dead and dying. These ancient Egyptians believed that after death a man continued to exist as long as his mortal body endured. Soul and body were indissoluble linked � so closely, indeed, that they could not exist apart. As the corpse decomposed, as the skeleton crumbled into dust and became incorporated once more with the earth, the soul became less and less conscious of itself, as a separate entity. Until at last, when the ultimate particles of the body had disappeared, the soul too vanished into nothingness. This was why a copy of the deceased, a statue of the dead, was placed before the corpse. This way, even if the body did decompose, the mummy snatched from its tomb, as long as the statue continued to exist then so did the soul. In the great tomb of the kings and upper-class paintings were made to show the man still alive. Sukoloff wondered about this, were we not the same? Didn�t we keep photos of our dead on the mantelpiece? These people would have no great tombs, statues or paintings, but their beliefs and fears were the same. This was why Setti marked their humble graves. He carved the name of the God Amen followed by the persons name and added, Life, Strength, Heath. At least they died believing this was enough to save their souls, that was all that mattered. Setti wanted as many slaves as he could to write these simple, soul-saving words before he too died.

�� Their other companion was younger and from the directions he gave, he came from somewhere near the Mediterranean. Rarl had been with Setti from the beginning and regarded himself as his brother captive, this being a stronger bond than blood brothers. During the next few months, through the continuous winter of their captivity, Rarl taught them how to live; to smile at another sunrise and never to give up hope. Slowly they overcame the language barriers and with Setti�s help learnt to draw crude Hieroglyphics in the dirt. Like two small children they craved to know more, to write more than just the simple words for the gravestones. But time was against them, Setti often was too tired to tell them more than one simple word in a week. Sometimes they were too hungry to listen when it was taught and the hope Rarl spoke of was fading.

�� Vacily, that rescue? It ain�t gonna come you know,� said Nutt already resigned to his fate.

�� Listen!� said Sukoloff cupping his blistered hand to his ear. �Listen to that!� The evening was still and on such nights the sound traveled from the slave quarters beyond theirs. From over the wall came the sound of children singing. Soft angel voices which could have come from any playground or school. They defied their hunger and pain to sing of puppies; flowers; sunshine and life. A pang of sorrow came to Nutt as he looked at the great Sukoloff. He looked into his eyes and remembered how he had been, head held high, respected by everyone and full of life. He could almost see the vision that Sukoloff must see every moment. A young woman walking towards them smiling with a blond baby in her arms. The tiny hand reached out towards them and the sparkling voice called out, �Dee Dee! Babee rubs you.�

�� Nutt wiped a tear from his face as he watched a soulless old man reach out towards the shadows and he placed a hand to his shoulder. He remembered seeing Alex Henn do the same and he had sensed unspoken words pass between them. He knew he would never be allowed to comfort this man, his Russian nature kept all emotion firmly locked away, but he had to try.

�� Leave it!� Sukoloff said struggling away from Nutt�s touch. �I was just thinking, that all. They sing so sweet, you know?� he said covering his grief with a feeble smile.

�� Brings back memories of Mr. Tzavros,� Nutt said trying his best not to sob. �Everyone reckons he was a misery and dint know how to laugh. I used to see him. If kiddies was about he�d stop an watch them and smile.�

�� You�re right,� Sukoloff said smiling. �His eyes always lit up and he�d grin so wide Steele used to say something like, �Christ! You do have teeth.� Every chance he got he�d play with my Angel...� His voice croaked on saying her name and he turned his back on Nutt.

�� We have to do something about Pia,� Nutt said rapidly changing tack. �We know what is planed for the president an all. Can�t you try that telepathy stuff again an warn em?�

�� Bayfield and Tretow are dead. Anyway the long distance TT didn�t work... That�s it!� Sukoloff shouted so loud that Nutt backed up and began nervously blinking. �The scroll! I can see it in my mind. I can see the first line and I know what it says. We wrote it! That�s how we can save Pia. Write to them!�

�� That were us? One problem, where do we get paper from, not to mention a stamp,� asked Nutt.

�� We are trained to infiltrate. We are trained to...�

�� I know, we is trained to nick. Do you reckon the priests place?�

�� Sukoloff nodded and began to walk towards the wall only to be stopped by Nutt. �My turn I think. I know I ain�t trusted but let me prove I�m a good agent. What do I need?�

They walked slowly, roped neck to neck, towards the quarries. Sukoloff could feel every movement, every painful stagger from Setti pulled the rope tighter around his own neck. Over the thunderous shouts of the overseer he could still hear Setti�s rasping breath and pitiful whimper. Through the rain and mud they marched for two hours until finally they reached the quarry. Using crude tools they began their daily job of digging and moving stones to find the gold and copper which would adorn the rich.

�� Briefly he wondered if Nutt had successfully managed to gain access to the priests dwelling. If he had they would begin their writing as soon as they returned from this fearsome work, if they weren�t to tired. He looked to the sky in the hope of finding one small break in the clouds. One beam of sunlight would help Setti to get through another day, but the rain continued to fall.

�� By nightfall they returned and fell exhausted into the filthy straw. Rarl lay as close as he could to Setti, trying to warm him enough for his rags to dry.

�� Can�t we do something?� asked Nutt as he heard Setti�s harsh breathing.

�� We mustn�t do a thing. Even if we could, he needs anti-antibiotics and vitamins,� said Sukoloff moving closer to Setti. He held his withered hand and wiped the dust and discharge from his eyes. He told him of the light he would soon see, of the land beyond and the wondrous peace which came with death.

�� Before the sun rose Setti was free. They threw a small amount of salt onto his body, wrapped him in a rough cloth, and buried him in a shallow grave. One week later Sukoloff placed his first attempt at writing on top of the grave.

Setti. Life.

Until Eternity.

�� That�s it ain�t it?� Nutt said as Sukoloff carefully placed the stone. �We can�t send the warning now, can we.�

�� We know a few words. We know Catline will eventually figure it out. Let�s hope it�s in time. I�m hoping the message will get to Woods. He�s like I was, a Class One. We can use the scroll not only to warn, but like a message in a bottle, as a hope of rescue. For you anyway.�

�� I have to get back to that building, Vacily,� said Nutt becoming exited.

�� Too dangerous. Once we have written the scroll then you can sneak it on to one of his shelves. Until then, no,� Sukoloff said firmly.

�� I have to! You see I had a bit of a sneak round and... Well there was some big scrolls hidden in a crack in the walls. They were maps... Star maps?�

�� They did study the stars and...�

�� No, I think they are the maps of the worm-holes. There are red tracks spidering out of Orion. Each goes to a map of the world and beyond. The map of the world as we know it. I distinctly read the word America. It�s all written in modern Egyptian. If I can get a few more looks we might figure out how to operate it. Maybe there�s a hole around here. We could get back,� he said excitedly.

�� OK, but wait until spring,� Sukoloff said pointing to the mud and the tracks within it. �Wait until it�s dryer and you can cover your footprints. I dread to think what they�ll do if they catch you.�

�I didn�t think it rained here.�

�There were times, rare times. This is one.�

Spring was a long time arriving and pneumonia struck down many of the slaves including Rarl. Despite Sukoloff�s constant warnings Nutt nursed him, cooling his brow with muddy water and sharing his rations. They began to long for the return of the sun even knowing this also meant the return of flies and more deaths.

�� The gentle Rarl became stronger and to their relief was taken from their compound to work beyond the gate. He had the chance of some kind of life out there. The slaves who lived in the outer circle of the settlement were allowed to marry, although any children would also be slaves. They missed his broad smile, his hopeless attempts at humor, above all they missed his talks about the spirits and his assurance that each life had a purpose.

�� Each day became the same, work, eat and sleep. Only sometimes would they write one more perfected word onto the scroll. They found many problems, many words they had no idea how to write and they longed for Setti.

�� What about October?� asked Nutt again, trying to distract Sukoloff from listening to the gentle lullaby sung by one of the mothers passed the gate.

�� There isn�t an October. We�ll have to make do with the third season and hope for the best,� he snapped.

�� Rarl is well,� said Nutty becoming an expert in changing the Russian�s moods. It worked, a smile crossed Sukoloff�s face at the mention of his fellow slave, then a puzzled look took its place as he asked, �How do you know?�

�� Just do,� he said shrugging before he stood and walked off into the darkness.

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