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There’s a small solar station set up with enough power to run two computers which Gail and I are assigned to use. Our job is to copy the notes taken by the professionals so that there are both paper and digital copies.
Savannah and Ryan are assigned today to help in the cleaning of artifacts. A much sexier job than the one I’ve got but I’ll probably get to do that tomorrow. Professor also told us to expect to get to try our hands out at different jobs on the site. The purpose of our trip is to give each of us hands-on experience with all aspects of the work, both the mundane and the exciting.
I don’t mind the work though it is tedious. The notes are concise but exact, detailing out the timeline of the finds that they’ve uncovered to date.
As I type the handwritten notes on the artifacts, I imagine how each piece would have been used. What life would have been like and who might have once been the owner. What happened to them? Did they love? Have kids? Are their grandchildren several times removed still living in the area? It wouldn’t be unusual; a lot of Highlander clans have lived and died without ever going far from home.
9 June
Still going through topsoil. Remnants of wood and bits of shell.
10 June
Smooth stones in a line uncovered. A wall? N. 25 E 2.5 Pictures taken. Labeling Unit 1
The notes are written in a neat print, line after line. It’s fascinating, to me at least. As I work, the day slips past without notice. They’ve found so many fascinating things. Metal pieces that probably belonged to a gun. The hilt of a sword and more pieces of wood than you can shake a stick at, literally. Those pieces are being fitted together to figure out what they were before the passage of time rotted them to their current decayed state.
I move the rock I’m using to hold the notebook open and turn the page. The wind is strong, like a poltergeist trying to rip the pages from my hand. It takes a minute to get the rock in the right place so I can see the page I’m working on transcribing but still not lose the book to it.
My eyes burn with fatigue, so I look up from the screen. Stretching my arms over my head, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Only now do I realize I’m alone in the tent.
Gail and Ryan are walking hand in hand higher up the hill. The archaeologists are crouched around something over by the dig itself. Savannah and Professor Galmatin are with them. Curious, I stand and go to join them.
The sky, which was so clear and beautiful when I last paid attention, is now covered with thick rolling clouds, dark and threatening. Lightning flashes behind them as if warning of the impending storm. The wind blows harder. The clouds moving in are led by one huge cumulus that looks like the head of a raven. I shiver from more than the cool air.
“This is fascinating,” Abby says, “but we need to pack up and get to shelter before this storm breaks.”
“What did you find?” I ask, looking over their shoulders.
“I’m not sure,” Abby says, standing up. “I’ve never seen a piece like it. We’ll take it back to our labs and run tests on it, then we’ll know more.”
Lying in the dirt is a smooth stone about the length of my forearm and maybe three times as thick. The stone has clearly been worked, having an unnatural look to it, and runes are carved along its length.
Something pulses in my head. A low buzz echoes in my ears, like the static between radio stations. I kneel next to the object and reach one trembling hand towards it. When I touch it, a burst of energy erupts in the center of my head. Blinking rapidly, I swallow and shake my head to clear it.
“Everyone, pack it up. This storm is breaking soon! We need to protect the gear and finds,” Abby says.
As if in response, a large, cold raindrop plops onto my extended hand. I stand up and turn reluctantly away to help with packing up the materials.
The dig site becomes a rushed bustle of activity. The expedition's vans are a hike away, left back where we also are parked so everything that can’t withstand the storm has to be hauled back. Luckily, they have a utility vehicle that will carry the heavy stuff.
“This is so cool,” Savannah says, as we work to load equipment onto the utility vehicle.
“Right?” I agree.
As we work, fog drifts down the mountain covering our feet. It’s a heavy, thick fog unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It’s so intense that it looks like we’re walking through a viscous, milky substance. Everyone’s feet are gone, lost to the mist. The wind blows harder until I have to lean into it to keep from feeling like it's going to blow me over.
“That’s it! Everyone, head for the vans,” Abby calls out.
No one argues with her. We’re all ready to get out of here before we get blown off the hillside. I’ve seen some storms in my day but this one is going to be a doozy. As a group, we follow the trail of the vehicle.
“Does this happen often?” Gail asks.
“Storms, yes,” Clyde, one of the archaeologists, says. “But haven’t seen a fog like this before.”
The darkening storm clouds swirl over the crest of the mountain reaching across the sky. They're so heavy that the bright and cheerful day becomes an early dusk. We hike fast but the rough terrain causes us to be spread out. The wind picks up more until it’s whistling around us. There’s a high-pitched whining as lightning dances behind the dark clouds and thunder rumbles like ancient giants awakening.
“Quinn, stay close,” Savannah says, holding out her hand.
