‘Here, help me with this.’
Carrasco moved to the far side of the sarcophagus as Hiram set the flashlight down nearby, the beam cutting through the musty air and illuminating them as he reached down and curled his fingers beneath the lid. They looked at each other and Hiram nodded once, twice and then a final third time. On the third nod both he and Carrasco heaved with all of their might against the weight of the sarcophagus lid.
In the gloomy darkness the rumble of rock against rock echoed like the growl of some unspeakable beast as the lid shuddered across the top of the sarcophagus. Hiram drove his boots into the ground and pushed hard as he leaned his weight behind the lid, Carrasco likewise pushing with all of his might, and they saw it slide clear as with a deafening crash it dropped onto the stone steps and cracked in two. The crash echoed through the temple as though the building were protesting the violation of its most valuable secrets.
Hiram grabbed the flashlight and directed the beam into the interior of the sarcophagus, and he heard Carrasco mutter of prayer under his breath and make the sign of the cross on his forehead and chest as he stumbled away.
Inside the sarcophagus lay the bones of what looked like a child, its bones huddled up in a foetal bundle and its desiccated skin drawn taut across the skull. The eyes were hollow pits and much of the remains had long since decayed to dust, but he could see strands of wiry black hair poking from the skull cap. Hiram leaned in and saw the tell-tale glint of gold woven into the fabric of the child’s ancient clothes that glittered in the flashlight beam. But his gaze barely lingered on the gold, drawn instead to the bulbous and conical skull.
‘Sweet mother of Mary,’ Hiram finally whispered as he looked down at the contents. ‘I found it.’
‘We should leave this place immediately,’ Carrasco said quickly from nearby the temple entrance. ‘This place, it is not of this earth.’
Hiram stood up and directed the flashlight beam at Carrasco’s face.
‘You will speak nothing of this,’ he said in a tone that crackled like thin ice, ‘and you will do exactly as I say. Bring the bearers up here but not into the temple. I will package these remains and you and your men will carry them back down the mountain.’
Carrasco shook his head, beads of sweat and worry glinting on his forehead.
‘No, I cannot,’ he blubbed. ‘To move the remains would bring the bearer’s soul great torment!’
Hiram reached down to his belt and drew his service revolver. The sound of the mechanism clicked loudly as he cocked the weapon and aimed it at Carrasco.
‘Do you want your men to carry these remains down the mountain, or yours?’
Carrasco threw his hands up either side of his head, his features twisted with anxiety as he turned and hurried towards the temple exit.
Hiram watched Carrasco flee and then he turned back to the remains before him. He could barely contain the smile that spread across his even features as he saw his fortune glitter like gold before him in the flashlight beam. He had spent many years searching the jungles in the hope of making his name with a great discovery and now that time had come. Nobody, anywhere in the world, would be in any way prepared for what he had found.
Hiram lowered his pistol and slid it back into the holster at his waist, then hurried towards the temple exit. He would need to carefully document the remains first and take photographs before ensuring that the contents of the sarcophagus were properly wrapped and sealed, for there was no way he could allow his bearers to see what they were carrying. Most would run for miles rather than…
Hiram stopped at the entrance to the temple as he saw Carrasco’s body lying on the steps before him, his eyes staring lifelessly up at the sky and his left temple a bloodied mess where it had been crushed by the blow of a weapon. Hiram’s hand flashed to his pistol but it never made it to the weapon as a new sound reached his ear. The unmistakable click of a pistol hammer as it was drawn back, and Hiram felt the tip of the weapon’s cold barrel pressed into the side of his head.
‘Do exactly as I say,’ a voice said, ‘and you will get to live the rest of your life in peace.’
III
‘What’s an australopithecus?’
‘Why did the Tyrannosaurus have such small arms?’
‘If we evolved from monkeys, how come there are still monkeys alive?’
Dr Lucy Morgan stood in the central hall of the Field Museum and raised her hands to forestall the flood of questions rushing upon her from the excited group of children she was shepherding between the exhibits. She turned to face them and replied with a voice quiet but commanding enough to gain the complete attention of her charges, her long blonde hair blowing in the light that beamed through the museum’s massive windows.
‘An australopithecus is an extinct form of human that evolved in Africa seven million years ago,’ she explained. ‘The Tyrannosaurus did not much use its arms for the purpose of hunting, mating or eating and so over time the arms devolved compared to the rest of its body. Finally, we did not evolve from monkeys but alongside them. Our species has changed over millions of years, but so have the apes at the same time — the monkeys of today do not look like the monkeys of seven million years ago.’
One of the children, an inquisitive boy with spectacles and floppy brown hair, frowned as he looked at Lucy. ‘How did the Tyrannosaurus clean its teeth then?’
‘It didn’t,’ Lucy explained. ‘The first warning you would have got that a Tyrannosaurus was nearby would have been the stench of all the meat rotting in its mouth.’
A ripple of delighted disgust chortled through the crowd of children as Lucy led them between large glass cabinets filled with the remains of human ancestors. During her career with the Field Museum, Lucy had excavated many of the remains herself, most usually out on the plains of Africa where so many ancient human ancestors had been discovered. Arranged as they were in the glass cabinets it was easy to see the gradual changes that had evolved ancient human ancestors into modern Homo sapiens. Through the glass Lucy could see other visitors to the museum examining the remains, peering in and pointing at the various species on display. Grandparents and children, tourists, a man in a blue suit, people of all ages keen to learn about history.
‘How do you know that these are not just really old monkeys?’ asked another child, a young girl who was clasping one of the museum’s brochures. ‘They all look the same.’
Lucy smiled, having heard the same questions many times over during the tours she gave to schoolchildren when they visited the museum.
‘There are many features that distinguish our ancient ancestors from us and from the monkeys along with whom we evolved. Probably the most obvious is the changes in leg and pelvis structure as our ancestors descended from the trees and began walking upright on the open plains, but for me the most compelling evidence is the position of our spines. Reach around to the backs of your necks and press where you can feel your spine where it enters the skull. Can you all feel it?’
The children all reached around behind their necks and Lucy could see them all nodding and smiling as they probed the bones of their spines.
‘Well, now look at the monkey skeletons or those of our very oldest ancestors. Where do the spines enter the skull on them?’
The children peered at some of the fossils inside the glass cabinets and their sharp eyes quickly notice the difference.
‘The spine is going into the very back of their skulls,’ said the child with the glasses.