“Several thousand?” Mualama interrupted him. “That is much too broad an estimation. Narrow it down.”
Lago picked up a notepad from the side of the pit. He thumbed through, searching for the notes he had taken when he’d been briefed by Mualama. Then he took a ruler and measured the stone’s depth.
“I’d say this had been buried here somewhere between two and three thousand years.” He looked up. “But that can’t be, Uncle. It must have been buried recently and… ”
“Why do you say that?”
“The other geological time indicators we found on top. They indicate that this site has been disturbed sometime after it was originally established. Do they not?” Lago asked.
Mualama nodded.
“But… ” Lago pointed at the stone. “How can that be? If it was so hard for you to find it, who else could have?”
Mualama knelt next to the red stone. “What do you think this is?” Lago shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You must tell me,” Mualama said. “Your head professor will not be pleased if I do not test you.”
“I graduated two years ago,” Lago noted. “I no longer have a head professor.”
“What do you think it is?” Mualama repeated.
“A marker?”
“Yes,” Mualama said. “But what kind?”
“Of a special site?”
Mualama smiled. “I do not know, so I cannot say if you are right or wrong. Yes, I do believe this is a special site. But I have my own guess what kind of marker this is.”
“Yes?”
“I think it is a grave marker.”
Mualama smiled. “Bring me the end of the cable from the Rover’s winch.”
Once his nephew brought him the cable, Mualama formed a large loop, which he laid next to one end of the stone. “Come,” he called to Lago. “We need to dig around so we can get this under.”
After an hour of work they had the cable around the end of the stone, four inches in. Mualama ordered his nephew back to the winch. He gave Lago a thumbs-up, indicating for him to start the winch attached to the front bumper of the Land Rover. He then grabbed the end of the metal pipe he had taken off the roof of the Rover.
The cable was taut, the winch whining, but there was no movement.
“Hold!” Mualama yelled.
Lago hit the lever, and the winch halted. Mualama dropped to his knees and used the trowel to dig a hole under the edge of the stone. He excavated as far as his arm could reach. Then Mualama slid the pipe into the hole.
“Again!”
The winch powered up. Mualama put all his weight on the pipe, his feet coming off the ground. With a loud sucking noise, the stone lifted ever so slightly. “Hold!”
The tension went out of the cable and the stone dropped back down. Mualama repositioned the cable, making sure it was secure.
“Once more,” Mualama yelled.
The winch pulled, and this time the stone lifted four inches, then froze. Mualama was afraid of breaking it. He had taken photos of the surface from every angle, but he knew the stone intact was a magnificent find regardless of what else they found.
“You must lift with the winch,” he instructed Lago, “then I will move it to the left.”
“How are you… ”
“Just lift when I tell you,” Mualama said. “Now!”
The winch pulled once more, and the stone came up. Mualama gripped the pipe in his large hands, waiting as the end near him went up six inches. Then a foot. When it was two feet up, he slid his leg under it and pushed the pipe as far as it would go to the right.
“What are you doing?” Lago yelled in alarm.
“Keep the winch going!” Mualama put more of his body under the stone. He slid the pipe around to the right side of the stone. Then he pressed against the pipe.
The stone moved very slightly to the left; only the part that was up moved. The edge was now three feet up. Mualama’s feet slipped on the dirt underneath. He desperately kept his grip on the pipe. He slid it farther down the right side. The stone was now angled.
Mualama looked… the far left edge was just over the lip of the pit. He strained, putting every ounce of strength he had into pushing the pipe along the right edge. A foot of the far left was now over the lip.
The close edge suddenly came free and the stone dangled precariously, held by the cable but free of the pipe. Mualama placed his back against the bottom of the stone, his body bent double as he tried to push it sideways.
“Are you all right?” Lago’s voice seemed to come from far away.
“Keep”… Mualama had to pause to take a deep breath between each word… “the… winch… going!”
Mualama shifted his feet, slowly moving to the left, most of the weight of the stone taken by the winch. He felt the scarred skin on his back against the hard rock, the inner surface rough, unlike the smooth top, and tearing into his back.
The cable around the stone shifted and the stone dropped six inches, knocking Mualama flat. He was lying on the earth underneath the marker.
“Uncle!” Lago screamed.
Mualama twisted on his side, trying to see, just a little daylight coming in the part of the opening that was now clear… not enough for him to climb out of. He was trapped. The cable was more toward the middle of the stone now. The stone was resting on the lip.
“Is the cable holding it?” Mualama yelled.
“What?”
“Is there any slack in the cable?”
“Yes.”
“Pull up to the edge of the pit.” Mualama spoke slowly and carefully so that Lago would understand. “Then extend the metal brace on the front of the Rover. Run the cable over the wheel on the edge of the metal brace. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Are you okay?”
“Just do it, please.”
Mualama waited. He heard the wheels of the Rover move, then metal clanking. Mualama used the time to maneuver the cable to the exact center of the stone. “I’m ready,” Lago finally yelled.
“Pull!” Mualama yelled. He heard the whine of the winch, and the stone lifted, quickly now, straight up. Mualama kept his hands on it to make sure it didn’t slip either way. It was clear of the edge on all sides.
“All right! Stop the winch!”
The stone stopped moving.
“Now,” Mualama said, “back up the Rover until the stone clears.”
“All right.”
“Slowly!”
Mualama kept his attention focused on keeping the stone steady as Lago backed the Rover up. He was so close, the last thing he needed now was to have it slide on top of him.
After a minute of very slow maneuvering, the stone was clear of the pit.
“Stop!” Mualama yelled. “Lower it,” he ordered as Lago got out of the Rover and came to the front. Slowly, the heavy marker went down until it lay on the ground next to the hole they had dug.
“What now?” Lago was staring at the marker.
Mualama picked up the shovels, tossing one to Lago. “We dig some more. The stone was a marker for something that lies underneath.” Mualama shoved the tip of the spade into the dirt. Reluctantly, Lago joined him.
Less than ten minutes after they began, Lago’s shovel hit something solid. They hurried to uncover the object. When they were done, they both climbed out of the hole and stared down.
“What the hell is that?” Lago murmured as they could now see the entire object.
A black metal pod, seven and a half feet long by three in diameter, lay in the dirt, the surface still shiny after thousands of years in the ground and unmarked where the shovels had struck it.
“A coffin,” Mualama said.
“But for who?”
“Let us find out,” Mualama said.
Repeating same process, they managed to lift the coffin out of the pit, placing it on the ground next to the marker.