His wife joked that she couldn't turn on the television without seeing him talking into a microphone. She also joked that he’d never taken so much care of his appearance before. That was a blatant tease, because he’d always tried to stay attractive for her. She was clearly the 'looks' of their partnership, but he didn't look so bad for a guy in his late forties. He'd avoided the bookish look of his coworkers, took lots of exercise, jogging mostly, and did the best with what he'd been dealt. He wasn't Harrison Ford, but his features were not that dissimilar. Ethan's forehead was broader, his nose rounder, his chin more pronounced, but their overall coloring and physique were similar.
In truth, Ethan was glad the documentary makers were finished this season. They had packed up their cameras a fortnight ago. Now Ethan's cut-off camouflage pants and white high-collared sun shirt were competing for wrinkle honors. It was hard to tell which was dirtier. Probably the shirt. Thankfully the camera would never see the state of his socks and hiking boots.
I should really change clothes before the lecture.
He wouldn't have time if he wanted to catch Joanne. He didn't want to hold up the boat a second longer than he needed.
Jesus, he missed Maria and the kids.
The whole family thing just wasn't something he'd expected to happen in his life. And to think that it all started because of his dropped shopping list! It was so random. He'd dropped the list and Maria had found it. To save time, Ethan always wrote out the list in the exact order he would find the items if he walked his normal route through the supermarket. He'd dropped the list in aisle three, and Maria had picked it up. From the fresh creases in the paper, she later explained, she knew someone had just lost it.
She said that anyone who had such a well-organized and prioritized list had to depend on it. She noticed that every item was in the order that the person would find if they walked a particular route through the store. Judging from where the list was, she knew where the person would probably be next. Her analytical mind had worked it out perfectly. She had found him two aisles away, staring around at the floor and mentally cursing having lost the list.
She walked straight up to him and held out the folded note. 'Yours, right?'
Ethan asked how she knew. She explained.
He pointed to the list, clicked his fingers and took something off the shelf. 'You were just in time. I was about to walk past the mixed beans.'
'I couldn't help read it,' laughed Maria. 'Looks like you like Mexican food.'
'I do. And I'm Ethan.'
‘Maria.'
He asked her out on a date. They had Mexican food. They got married and had babies. Now their babies were two and five years old. Joshua and Grace.
He kept that shopping list with her old phone number in his wallet. Small things could turn into big things. Ethan had never forgotten that. Dropping that shopping list had led to the greatest treasures a person could find.
He quickened his pace across the dig. He couldn't wait to get home.
Libby slid her back down the huge tree trunk, sucking down great gasping breaths.
What was going on! What had killed Perry? And Joel. What had happened to Joel? They had run in different directions. Whatever had killed Perry must have chased Joel. That particular one, anyway, because Libby was convinced there were several. In fact, more than several — dozens!
Every time she glanced over her shoulder, more appeared in the canopy behind her.
They moved practically invisibly through the foliage. If she hadn't seen their devastating effect, she could have almost convinced herself it was the wind moving the canopy.
It wasn't the wind. The wind didn't tear people apart.
What should I do? There was no point circling back to reach the balloon-raft. They hadn't even secured the tethers. It was only a matter of time before the wind moved the raft. If she even managed to relocate where they’d landed, there was little chance the raft would still be there.
Subconsciously she must have already decided where she was heading. It came to her now.
The Plaza.
The Plaza had security guards. They were there all the time, even between seasons to guard against looters. The guards had machine guns. She'd noticed them four days ago.
She checked the tiny compass embedded in her watchstrap. One of her responsibilities had been navigation. She didn't have her GPS, but if she kept heading south-south-east, she should find the Plaza. It wasn't that far away.
There was no time to rest. Already the canopy movement was catching her up. She pushed herself up and stumbled on, head down, shoving the fronds from her path.
The Plaza was her only chance.
Ethan found Joanne listening to her iPod in the east bunker.
She hasn't packed yet. Typical.
She sat cross-legged on the stone floor in front of her laptop. A pair of tripod lights illuminated the section of wall she studied. Chin-in-hand, eyes alert, she stared over the laptop screen at the wall. She seemed tireless when it came to using her Sy-hack program.
Joanne's work involved decrypting the pictograms scattered all over the site.
He'd known she'd be here. The blocked lower sections of the east bunker were inaccessible, but there were plenty of pictograms in the antechamber for her to study. The carved pictograms formed what they were broadly calling a codex.
This was Joanne's expertise. Ethan wouldn't be surprised to see a sleeping bag shoved in one corner. She had pulled all-nighters in here before, not even bothering to walk back to her tent. She broke the rules because she knew he was fond of her. He'd come to see her less as a research assistant, and more like a favorite niece.
The kid would live here if I let her. She never wants to go home.
As usual, she would be the last person to reach the boat. She was always the first off when they arrived and the last person back onboard to go home. He gave her a few more seconds of deep thought before stepping into her peripheral vision.
'Sorry, Boss,' she said, jerking her earphones free. 'Have you been calling my radio?'
Ethan tapped the walkie-talkie on his hip. 'No. But don't let the Sheriff catch you out of radio contact. She'll skin you.'
Joanne winked like she had it all under control. 'Claire and I have reached an understanding. She lets me work my way and I stopped putting those giant cockroaches in her sleeping bag.'
Ethan chuckled, not completely sure that Joanne was joking. He liked that Joanne and Claire were friends. They were both people who habitually spent too much time on their own. Their friendship had been a good thing, if late in starting. Ethan asked, 'You didn't show up for her practical joke?'
Joanne leaned back with her palms flat on the cold stone behind her. She smirked up at him. 'Gold coins? She's been planning that for weeks. I think that everyone on the site knew about it a fortnight ago. I knew you wouldn't fall for it. I tried to convince her to use something better, like a gold mask or something. That would have made more sense.'
Ethan avoided mentioning how he had fallen for Claire's prank, instead asking, 'How's the decryption? I'd like to have something interesting for the last lecture of the season.'
'What time's the lecture?'
'Nine.'
'So let me get this straight — you'd like me to solve all the mysteries of the Plaza by nine am?'