Archaeologists had identified several sites in Asia where the plague had ravaged the population. Entire villages had died and been reclaimed by the earth. It was in these places that Katherine hoped to find Patient Zero — figuratively at least — and to answer two questions: what really was the cause of the Black Death, and why had it appeared, seemingly from nowhere, to nearly wipe out humanity?
She tucked the report under her arm, and with Stafford in tow, she headed for the dig. This particular site, a village that had completely vanished from history during the early fourteenth century, had been a godsend. They had found dozens of remains in small clusters, families that had died in their homes with no one left to bury them. Over the years that followed, seasonal rains had caused the earth to swallow them up where they lay.
Satellite imagery and ground-penetrating radar had given them a rough map of the village, and now strips of engineer’s tape showed where houses had once stood. Several of these had already been excavated, the remains catalogued and removed, but there were a few more at the north end of the village that were still being probed. Katherine walked between these, monitoring the progress of her graduate students and the archaeologists that were working with them, curious to see what new discoveries would be made, but any excitement she might have felt was tempered by the fact that Han Li was hovering nearby.
The Chinese doctor glanced up as she approached. “Dr. Geller, good morning.”
His English was perfect, his manner as quiet and dutiful as always, but Katherine thought she detected a hint of agitation. She wondered if the data in the report had already reached him, but a moment later she realized that his anxiety arose from another source. Several of the team members were working in a new area, outside the map of the village. A new grid of tape was being laid out just beyond the eastern perimeter, and several of the team members were eagerly watching the proceedings.
“What’s going on over there?”
“A discovery has been made,” Han explained.
Katherine pushed past him and approached Bill Smythe, the ground-radar technician who was overseeing the new operation. “Bill, why are you setting up here?”
Smythe made no effort to hide his excitement. “We found something. There’s a large void here, less than two meters down.”
It took a moment for her to process. The void could be a root cellar, not the likeliest of places to find the bodies of plague victims, but if there were remains inside, they would have been shielded from the elements — possibly even mummified. Katherine made an effort to quell her rising enthusiasm. It was better to be surprised with success than with disappointment. “Find a way in. The rest of you have work to do.”
Fifteen minutes later, Smythe reported back that he had found what appeared to be the original entrance to the cellar, a staircase that descended into the void. Laborers used picks and shovels to loosen the earth, and in short order, they created a hole large enough to accommodate a person.
Before descending into the dark space, Katherine donned a HEPA respirator mask and latex gloves — the same bio-safety level-two equipment worn by the team as they dug up the village. It was a precautionary measure, and not just because of the very remote chance of exposure to Yersinia; there were other pathogens — bacteria, viruses, fungal spores — that might be lurking in the sealed environs of the cellar. Thus equipped, she lowered herself into the opening, with Han and Stafford right behind her, the latter recording everything with a handheld video camera equipped with a brilliant LED spotlight.
The descending staircase was uneven, littered with fallen dirt and rock from the excavation, but the space beyond was untouched by time. Katherine directed the beam of her flashlight into the dark depths of the enclosure, and realized immediately that this was no root cellar.
It was a tomb.
The chamber was filled with statuary — dogs, dragons, traditional representations of the Buddha — but there were also elements that, to Katherine’s uneducated eye at least, did not appear to be Chinese in origin. Weapons of war — swords, lances, bows and quivers full of arrows — were prominently displayed, along with life-sized ponies, saddled but riderless. The pieces appeared to have been arranged with feng shui—Chinese geomancy — in mind; the statues formed a maze designed to confound evil spirits who preferred to travel in straight lines.
Han placed a restraining hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “Dr. Geller, I must insist that we withdraw until I can advise the Ministry. This is a significant archaeological find, and has nothing to with your research.”
Katherine gazed back at him. He was right; this tomb had probably been laid long before the outbreak of the plague, and it was unlikely that it would yield any clues relating to their search.
Nevertheless, her curiosity was burning. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. “We should collect environmental samples as a baseline. And while we’re at it, we can make sure it’s safe for the archaeological team.” She patted his arm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “Don’t worry; I won’t touch anything.”
Katherine felt his hand slip away, and realized that he was as eager to plumb the tomb’s depths as she.
They moved through the maze, leaving a trail of footprints in the layer of dust on the earthen floor but otherwise disturbing nothing. The path wound around the outer edge of the enclosure, then spiraled in toward the center where they found a bier, upon which lay an ornate sarcophagus with a terra cotta effigy, presumably the occupant of the funerary container. Han played his light across the familiar looking ideograms inscribed on the sarcophagus, but shook his head signaling incomprehension. Then he turned his beam to an object that had been conspicuously placed alongside the bier.
“This doesn’t belong here.” He reached out and placed a gloved hand on it, as if to confirm its solidity.
Katherine directed her light onto it as well. It didn’t look like a Chinese artifact; the symbols on its exterior were vaguely familiar, but definitely not in the style of the ideograms on the sarcophagus. It showed considerable decay and looked like it might have been damaged prior to its placement, so a positive determination of its purpose was impossible. Like the identity of the tomb’s occupant, the object would be something for the experts to figure out, but it was a mystery that had no bearing on her own research.
She was about to turn away when her light fell on Han’s fingers. She gasped behind her mask.
A black film clung to the latex membrane of his glove. He saw it as well, and his face twisted into a perturbed frown.
It was probably nothing, just centuries old dust. Nevertheless, Katherine felt her pulse quicken. “Let’s get out of here.”
They negotiated the maze back to the entrance where the rest of the team had gathered, eagerly awaiting a report on their discoveries, but Katherine gestured for them to stay back and called for a specimen kit.
Both of Han’s gloves were now almost completely covered in the black film. Using forceps, she peeled them off his hands and dropped them into a plastic bag, only then allowing herself a small sigh of relief. Whatever the substance was, it was now safely sealed away.
“Dr. Geller!” It was Stafford. The graduate student had been recording her activity with his video camera, but now he seemed to have forgotten all about this task. He had one hand extended toward her, and she saw the same black film on his gloves. But he wasn’t showing her — he was pointing at her. “Your face.”