Free Egypt by Patti Wheeler Page A

worse, we haven’t slept now since before the storm hit. The air inside the tent is terrible and hot and swirling with dust, making it really hard to breathe. My outlook on this whole thing isn’t good and I’m not the only one.
    “I can’t take it anymore!” James yelled, as he paced the inside of the tent.
    “Stay calm, James!” Serene yelled. “There is nothing we can do!”
    “All this noise! It’s driving me crazy!”
    I thought he’d totally lost it and was afraid he’d run out into the storm and never be seen again. But Serene came up with a great idea and grabbed two pillows from a cot and handed them to James.
    “Lay down and put these over your ears!” she yelled.
    James took the pillows and dove onto the cot and pressed them over his head.
    That’s when I heard someone pounding at the door.
    “Open up!” a voice shouted from outside. “It’s Dr. Aziz!”
    I quickly undid the knot and opened the canvas flap. Sand started pouring in so fast I could hardly see. Dr. Aziz jumped through and we quickly closed the flap. He had a small plastic container with some food and a jug of water.
    “Here’s some food and water to get you through the night!” he shouted over the wind. “I just got a radio call! The storm should pass by morning!”
    “I hope so!” I yelled. “We’re going crazy in here!”
    Dr. Aziz noticed James lying on the cot with pillows pressed over his head.
    “Is James going to be okay?” he asked.
    “He’ll be fine!” Wyatt said. “How’s the rest of the camp holding up?”
    “A few tents have been destroyed! I’m not sure how much longer the other tents will last! I’ll check in tomorrow morning! I have to get supplies to the other men!”
    Dr. Aziz left and I think I’m going to join James and ride out the rest of this storm with pillows over my ears. This wind is driving me absolutely insane!
WYATT
    MARCH 6, 7:22 AM
    TOMB COMPLEX
    9° CELSIUS, 48° FAHRENHEIT
    SKIES CLEAR, WIND CALM
    I woke to an eerie silence. The wind had stopped. The dust had settled.
    Serene, James and Gannon were all asleep, everyone with pillows over their heads. It felt like I was waking from a terrible dream. My head was throbbing, my ears ringing. My lungs burned with each breath. Our tent leaned awkwardly to one side. The support poles were twisted and bent. The roof had collapsed and was slumped in the center.
    The air was cold. Colder than it has been any morning since we arrived. Stepping from the tent, I pulled my jacket closed, buttoned it up over my neck, and went walking around the site.
    Outside, everything had changed. The camp was torn apart. Drifts of sand, some as high as twenty feet, stood where tents used to be.
    The sun was just peeking over the eastern dunes as I walked in the direction of the steps. When I got to where I thought they had been, I looked around, but saw nothing. Everything we have worked so hard to uncover, the staircase and walls that might very well have led to Cleopatra’s tomb, it’s all been buried by the storm. Lost in the desert. Almost as if it never existed.

    A camel after the storm
GANNON
    After experiencing a storm like that, it’s a miracle archeologists ever find anything in this desert. I mean, it consumed the excavation site whole, concealing everything under deep hills of sand.
    Serene said we were lucky, that it could have been worse, which is really hard for me to believe, but apparently this storm was minor compared to the storm Egyptians fear most. It’s called a “Khasmin” and it packs 100+ mile-per-hour winds and can last for 50 days! I can’t even imagine.
    The decision now is whether to continue the dig or abandon this place altogether. After this whole ordeal, I can’t help but think that maybe there’s a reason Cleopatra has never been found. Maybe she’s not supposed to be found. Maybe her secrets are meant to remain just that—secrets, for eternity!
WYATT
    11:27 AM
    When we entered Dr. Aziz’s tent this morning, we