Some Things Never Change -- by Dan Dobbs

Some Things Never Change

by Dan Dobbs

Peter sat on the dry pink clay near the opening of the cavern, intermittently wiping sweat from his brow and taking long pulls from a water jug. He did not look up. The vast cloudless azure of the sky, which had seemed like the perfect antiseptic for his overexposed brain when he arrived on the dig, now seemed more like a cold, indifferent master-intelligence on the verge of expelling him from the garden for incompetence.

Peter, his fiancé Sera, and their friend Jack had been on-site for over three weeks, excavating the side of a small canyon in the Badlands region that had flash eroded during a late spring flood. When they arrived on the site, Peter had been optimistic. The conditions seemed perfect, and there had been other successful digs in the area. If he found what he was looking for, he'd have one hell of a master's thesis by the end of the summer, one that would get him published and give his name some exposure.

Now, with two days left before they ran out of supplies, Peter was beginning to think the whole trip was cursed. He had been certain they would uncover some ancient relics that revealed something about the culture of the mysterious ancient people who were thought to have flourished in the region, but so far he'd turned up nothing. He was looking in the right place. He knew that. Two of his professors had wanted to join him on the dig, but couldn't due to prior commitments. He was supposed to give them a full report of his finds as soon as he returned. He wasn't looking forward to giving them the bad news, and then listening to them sympathize with him, when they were really wondering to themselves if he was incompetent in the field.

Peter turned and looked behind him at his shadow, which was growing longer by the minute, and then focused on the shape of his fiancé, who was crouched just inside the small entrance to the cave. She was brushing off a possible fossil, concentrating, her little tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth. Peter was glad she'd been able to make the trip. Three weeks of celibacy mixed with the frustration of an uneventful dig and the annoyance of Jack's endless theoretical musings would have been too much to bear. He and Jack probably would've ended up killing each other. Besides, Sera was an invaluable resource. Though her training was in Computer Science, her parents were both archeologists. She'd been digging in the dirt since before she could walk.

As he watched her, Peter wondered if the trip had had an affect on their relationship. Sera had seemed a little detached for the past week, as if she were brooding over some terrible news and was trying to spare the rest of her party the misery. Peter had asked her about it a few times, but she simply withdrew more whenever he brought it up. He wondered if the change of environment, the sense of aloneness and isolation they had all been living with, had made her reevaluate things.

"Hey guys, get down here. I think I found something."

Peter did not respond to the sound of Jack's voice immediately, but whistled lightly to himself instead. He'd heard that phrase a hundred times in the last three weeks. Invariably, it turned out to be nothing more than an odd-shaped rock or a useless piece of metal. He knew Jack meant well, but he was too thorough, too slow and methodical for Peter's taste.

"You think he finally found his willie?" Peter said.

"Don't make fun of him," Sera said, still examining the fossil.

"I'm tired, Sera. Five times a day I hear him say that."

"At least he's eager."

"Like a five year old."

"Let's go," Sera replied in a weary monotone.

"You first."

Sera squeezed through the entrance, bending her head down low to almost waist level, and proceeded down the fifty-foot tunnel to the "Great Room" of the cave. Peter followed closely behind, admiring the view of Sera's posterior. He wanted to say something that would change the strange dynamic between them that had been evolving all day. He thought about kidding her about her tail, but then figured it would just piss her off. Sera had been born with a cephalo-caudal extension, a small tail that was removed at birth. He used to kid her about it, tell her he finally found a girl who was 'one in a million'. She'd been sensitive about it at first, but then accepted it as 'term of endearment', on the condition he didn't tell anybody about it.

Peter followed Sera into the brightly lamp-lit inner chamber and stepped down onto the rock slab floor. Jack was standing about halfway up the far wall, balanced on a large pile of rocks, investigating a small indention. His voice was charged with excitement.

"Hey. I found something. I haven't fully extricated it yet, but it looks like some type of metal box. And it’s stained blue, I think...."

"You sure it's not a rock?'

"Positive. It's symmetrical, and I think there's a ridge that runs along the top. Come take a look."

"I think...I think...." Peter muttered under his breath.

"Let me see it." Sera trotted across the chamber as Jack navigated his way down the pile of unsteady rocks.

"You're sure it's metal?" Sera asked as she stepped onto the pile and felt her way up.

"Feels like it. I didn't dig it out all the way. Thought I'd better wait for the pros. Didn't want to screw anything up."

Sera reached the top of the pile and leaned close to the cave wall, gripping it with her left hand. She shifted her feet on the rocks, and then brushed some dirt away from the small indention.

"I see it. You're right, Jack, this is definitely inorganic." Sera traced the outline of the indention with her index finger, peeling clay and dirt away, and carefully tested the snugness of the embedded object.

"Peter, we've got something here. Would you get me the two-headed chisel?"

Peter retrieved the heavy chisel from the dusty floor and scrambled half-way up the rocks to hand it to her. Sera turned and, as she was reaching for the chisel, lost her footing, and spun around. She balanced precariously for a second, and then tumbled face first onto the pile, and rolled head over heals before landing on her back on the cave floor.

Peter scrambled down the pile and met Jack at the base, just as Sera hit. She rolled onto her left side, and moaned, clutching her stomach.

"Sera, you okay?” Peter touched her shoulder and she rolled away from him, then sat up and rocked back and forth, her hand still on her stomach.

"Shit. I'm cut."

"Is you're head alright?" Jack asked as he stepped behind her and visually inspected her for cuts and bruises.

"My head's fine, but I think I scraped myself on one of the rocks." Sera leaned back and untucked her shirt from her khaki shorts, then unbuttoned her shorts. There was a deep jagged cut about three inches below her navel.

"That's gonna need stitches," Peter said.

"Yeah, it's not too bad, I'd say three or four sutures. You're lucky your head's o.k. I'll go get the first-aid kit." Jack turned and headed for the exit, and then paused at the mouth of the tunnel. "Think of it this way, Sera, now you have matching scars - one in the front and one in the back."

Sera's eyes followed Jack as he disappeared into the tunnel. Jack's thoughtless comment made her want to scream. He was not a man who was used to keeping secrets. She stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact with Peter. Maybe he didn't make the connection.

"Sera, how the hell does Jack know about your tail scar?"

Sera turned and looked up at Peter. "Oh, I told him."

"You've never told anybody about that. It embarrasses you."

"Yeah, I know, but we were talking about..." Sera tried quickly to come up with a believable lie, but then turned away from Peter. He'd already seen it in her eyes. It was too late. He knew.

Peter paced to the other side of the rock pile and sat down on the stones. He was silent as he attempted to deal with the emotional shock and the sickening adrenaline rush that accompanied the hard realization. After a minute of frustrating inner dialogue and failed rationalizations, he stood up and began to pace.

"Why?"

"Oh, Peter, if you possessed the ability to stand outside yourself for one day and evaluate your actions, the question wouldn't be 'why', but 'why didn't it happen sooner?' You're completely self-absorbed. If you're not ignoring me, you're barking commands, and the worst part is, you're not even aware of it."

Peter kept his cool and thought for a second.

"Okay, why Jack? Why that worthless little fuck? Huh? Why him?"

"Because, Peter," Sera's voice was mocking and sarcastic, "he's slow...and methodical... and he takes his time."

"You're a heartless cunt, you know that?"

"Yeah, and if you're ego was closer to the size of your dick, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Peter picked up a rock the size of a brick and eyed the back of Sera's head. He thought about it for a second, and then smashed the rock against the wall behind him. He paced as the anger surged through him, making his hands tremble and his ears ring.

Sera shifted onto her knees and tried to stand. She knew that if Jack came back with the first-aid kit now, Peter would confront him, but she had been so distracted by the previous moments' revelations that she hadn't noticed her left knee. It was purple and swollen to the size of a softball. She put her weight on her right leg and gingerly tried to take a step.

A current of pain shot up her calf. She sat back down and waited as Peter's uneven panting and escalating rage filled up the room.

Jack returned through the tunnel and Peter started in immediately.

"Well, if isn't Happy Jack."

"What's up?" Jack looked at Sera and she shook her head as huge tears began a slow march down her cheeks.

"Don't act so fucking innocent, you fucking weasel. I know what's been going on."

Jack set the first-aid kit down by the tunnel entrance and eased over towards the wall.

"Pete, let's deal with this later. We've got to take care of Sera first. She's hurt."

"Later, yeah, okay. Later."

Jack walked over and placed his hand on Sera's forehead. As Peter watched, an uncontrollable swell of rage overtook him.

"Get your hand off my fucking fiancé!"

The first blow struck Jack behind the ear and sent him spinning to the ground, disoriented. Before he could regain his balance, Peter was on top of him, unleashing a flurry of punches. Jack shielded his face and managed to bring his knee up to his stomach and kick Peter in the shoulder. Peter retreated briefly, giving Jack enough time to roll over and crawl up the rock pile. Peter followed, tripping over the loose stones, and tried to grab Jack's legs as he climbed. Jack got another quick kick that caught Peter in the nose. Enraged, Peter eyed the rocks to secure a path, took three quick steps and jumped on top of Jack, pinning him to the rough, uneven surface.

Peter sat up, grabbed a large rock and lifted it over his head. Jack frantically reached around, searching for something to block the blow. His hand gripped the chisel just as Jack brought the rock down. All Peter could do was bring his arm forward. Just as the rock struck Jack on the forehead, he let go of the chisel, sending it twirling high into the air. Peter had enough time to look down in disgust at the deep bloody gash on Jack's head before the base of the chisel landed cleanly between his second and third cervical vertebrae, snapping the spinal cord instantly. Peter's body straightened, then wrenched in a violent spasm, before collapsing on top of Jack.

Over two hours passed before the shock subsided enough for Sera to delicately untangle her body from the fetal position and try to decide upon a rational course of action. Neither Jack nor Peter had moved a muscle. If they weren't dead initially, they were dead now. Sera put the thought out of her mind and got to work. She cleaned and dressed her wound and tightly wrapped her swollen knee in an ace bandage.

After a few moments of consideration, Sera rearranged the rocks along the side of the wall into a series of secure steps. As she slowly ascended, she made sure not to look over at the bodies. Once she was high enough to reach the indention, she quickly unearthed the metallic object with her fingers, placed it in her pocket and headed for the tunnel as fast as she could.

Sera stumbled out of the tunnel and into the dusky blue of twilight, which had annexed the landscape and turned the comforting pinks and reds of the canyons a uniform ominous gray color that reminded her of bleak cityscapes and inexpressible nightmares.

She hobbled to the tent and, after several tries, made contact with a human voice and arranged for air transport out of the canyon.

About a half hour later, she remembered the object in her pocket and pulled it out for examination. It was rectangular-shaped, about 2 inches by four inches, and 21/2 inches deep. The top of the box was ridged and the corners were slightly rounded. Sera shook the box, then turned it over, and discovered a torn section of light bluish parchment pasted to the side. She dusted it off and found that there were ancient markings on the parchment. She could make out four distinct symbols. Sera stared at them for awhile, wondering what they might mean, wondering what that ancient culture might have been like, wondering if people then were as cruel, thoughtless, impulsive and emotionally imprisoned as they were today. The symbols looked like this: S-P-A-M.