A Wind of Change (A Shade of Vampire #17)(14)

Dafne and Lalia looked a bit more lively as we returned. They sat cross-legged on either side of a coffee table and were playing snap. Dafne must have brought it with her in her bag.

“Did you have a nice walk?” my grandfather asked.

“Yes,” I said. “We came across a group of American soldiers, or so they seemed to be, standing by a bunch of tanks.”

“Americans?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Hassan replied. “We approached to see what they were up to but they gave us a non-answer.”

“That is odd,” Yusuf said, looking out toward the desert. “Hopefully it’s nothing to worry about.”

We speculated some more about the American soldiers, then decided to call it a night and left the restaurant. Fariss was already waiting outside for us.

“Well,” my grandfather said, hugging Yusuf and Hassan, “we will see you early tomorrow.”

My sisters and I shook hands with Yusuf and Hassan, then got in the car. Lalia had fallen asleep by the time we reached home. She was heavy for her age, but with the help of Fariss and my grandfather, we lifted her out of the car. I shook her gently.

“Laly, get on my back,” I said.

She opened her eyes drowsily, then I helped her climb on my back and we entered the house. I headed straight for our bedroom and insisted that she brush her teeth before falling into bed. I was feeling hot and sweaty, so I took a shower and changed into a nightgown before joining Lalia on the mattress.

I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling, my sister’s snoring in my ears.

I thought about the dig tomorrow, then about my mother, my brother, and my father, but for some reason as I drifted off to sleep that night, it was those odd American soldiers we’d found in the desert who were on my mind.

Chapter 4: River

It was the day we were due to leave for the dig and we had to get an early start. Yusuf and Hassan would be pulling up outside at 8am sharp. We didn’t have time for breakfast, so after we had washed, dressed and packed up some belongings, we headed downstairs. Bashira had prepared some containers of hot food for the journey, but apparently there would be plenty of food once we arrived at the site. There was a large caravan that served as a kitchen and dining room, according to my grandfather.

Yusuf and Hassan pulled up in a black car exactly on time. We all transferred to my grandfather’s shiny white truck, Fariss in the driver’s seat. Soon we’d reached the end of the roads and Fariss began driving the truck over the sand. After half an hour of the bumpy landscape, I was feeling sick. I fixed my eyes straight ahead through the windshield. We had to close all the windows and put the AC on because the sand was flying in.

By the time we arrived at the site, it was noon. The first thing we saw was a spread of large dark green tents erected on a raised area of sand. Arriving at the top gave us full view of the entire camp. Up close, the tents looked sturdy and secure. They were made of thick material that withstood the desert wind. There were also long caravans parked here and there, and I spotted a toilet sign at the very edge of the camp, away from the tents. There were wooden tables fixed into the sand and digging equipment scattered everywhere as people wearing hats and long-sleeved shirts milled about large holes that had been dug into the ground. I made sure my sisters were wearing their hats and headscarves that Bashira had provided as we climbed out from the vehicle and looked around.

“Let’s get set up in the tents first,” Yusuf said. “This way.”

We followed him toward the cluster of tents. He entered the third one that we passed. It was much larger inside than I’d expected. It contained five spacious compartments that were to be our bedrooms while we stayed here. They were comfortable looking, with mattresses on the ground, covered with clean white linens and pillows. Each compartment also contained a cabinet filled with snacks and lots of bottled water.

“As you see, you have a room each,” Yusuf said.

We dumped our stuff in the tent and then walked back outside.

“Girls,” my grandfather said, pointing to the group of static caravans in the distance. “The toilets are over there. They have showers there too.”

I needed to use the bathroom, so I went there with my sisters. It was surprisingly clean inside. The floors were stark white, as were the rest of the furnishings. We used the bathroom, washed our hands and then splashed our faces with water. It had been a long, sticky journey.

When we exited the caravan and crossed the baking-hot sand dunes, my grandfather and Yusuf had already joined the diggers and were overseeing the work they were doing.

“Over here, girls,” my grandfather said on spotting us. He pointed to a wide wooden table that had been fixed in the sand. It was covered with stone objects and ancient-looking artifacts.

“This is everything we’ve unearthed so far that is of interest,” Yusuf said, looking over the table with fascination.

Dafne’s eyes positively lit up as she gazed down at the stone carving of what looked like an eye. She began talking animatedly with my grandfather, while I took Lalia’s hand and we ventured further into the dig site, snaking around holes and looking down at the people digging there. Lalia asked me countless questions—what the names were of the tools they were using, how deep they were going to dig, if there were any snakes or scorpions around—and I tried to answer as best as I could. I kept looking at her and smiling. She didn’t know how cute she looked in her headscarf and oversized sunglasses. I had left my phone in the tent, but I made a note to take a picture of her to show to our mother when we returned.