Behind the Desert's Veil

The sun rose on the horizon, shedding the first rays of morning light onto a barren, lifeless country. No trees, no houses, no roads, just miles of dry, yellow grass carpeting a seemingly endless flat landscape. From the air, Grant gazed down upon this arid environment, daydreaming. and pondering what could cause a country to be so completely devoid of life. The small plane jerked violently and he hit is head on the window. He sat back quickly in his seat, holding his forehead just beneath his thick, brown hair. He glanced pointedly over at the pilot in the seat next to him. The man merely raised a hand and uttered in a heavy accent, “Sorry. My bad.”

Grant shook his head and looked at the map in his hands again. There certainly was a whole lot of nothing in this country. He sure hoped he’d able to find what he was looking for here. He’d hate to have been brought all the way out here on some wild goose-chase. Grant was only in his early twenties, so he hadn’t been on too many of these types of trips so far, but he did feel he was starting to become used to them. He glanced back at the map. Though, this certainly was the farthest he’d ever had to travel for one. He peered out the window a little more cautiously this time and could see a change in the color of the landscape ahead. He looked out the front window and pointed.

“Is that it?” he questioned the pilot.

“What?” the pilot returned, seemingly not hearing him.

Grant turned to him. “I said, is that it?” he repeated in a louder voice.

The man shrugged unhelpfully. “I don know,” he muttered, again in his heavy accent.

Grant stared at him in exasperation. He was really starting to wonder about this guy. He pointed to his map. “That’s it,” he confirmed himself.

The pilot shrugged again. “Okay.”

The plane dipped forward quite suddenly. Grant had to drop the map and hang onto something, praying that they were landing and not crashing. He couldn’t be too sure by the state of this rickety old aircraft. A few minutes later, they touched down on the short dead grass with a bounce and soon rolled to a stop. Grant thought he was going to be sick. A cloud of dust had jumped up upon impact, blocking Grant’s view of the new landscape. This place could probably use a little rain. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before the pilot leaned over Grant and popped open the cockpit next to him, revealing only more fine dust clinging to the air. “Okay, we’re here,” the man stated, nearly indistinguishably. “Everybody out.”

“Thanks,” Grant muttered with a side glance, suppressing his motion sickness. He picked up his backpack and stepped off the plane, almost hitting his head again. He was just so eager to get off of this death trap. He fanned some of the dust away as he stepped into the bright sun, immediately feeling the heat of his new environment. It didn’t do much to settle his stomach. He could feel himself already starting to sweat, the grit from the dust cloud sticking to his skin. Off to a great start. He felt the crunch of dead grass underneath his shoes as he shielded the sun from his hazel eyes and looked around. There really wasn’t much to see, just the same brown arid landscape he’d noticed from the air. It certainly wasn’t pretty to look at, but he supposed all his expeditions couldn’t be in picturesque locations.

“You forget this,” he heard the pilot call out behind him.

Grant turned to look at the man, a little confused. “Huh? What’d you...?”

He stopped short as he saw a small metal case flying toward him. Grant hastily brought up his arms and caught the falling object in his fingers, fumbling with it before finally securing it safely in his hands. He let out a sigh of relief and then shot a glare at the pilot who’d thrown it. “Are you crazy?” he scolded. “Do you have any idea what’s in this thing?”

In response, the pilot merely reached over and pulled the flimsy metal door closed. Grant grumbled a bit in exasperation. This guy had been nothing but difficult this whole trip, like he really just didn’t want to be here or something. Grant tucked the case under his right arm and shoved his free left hand into his pocket. He froze as he realized it was empty. He checked the other pocket and found the map wasn’t there either. The engine of the plane began to rev back up at that moment.

“Hey wait a minute,” Grant called, approaching the plane hurriedly. It began to move and he was forced back hastily away from the sweeping wing. “God, watch it!” he scolded as the aircraft began to roll along the grass. Without looking back, the pilot soon took to the sky until he was just a distant speck, leaving Grant all alone. Grant shook his head in disgust. That guy had sure been in a hurry. He now understood why the others hadn’t wanted to fly here with him.

Reluctantly, he drew his attention back to the reality of where he was. He looked back down at the grass as he tried to picture the map in his head. He quickly decided that under his feet and to his right could only be the seemingly endless expanse of dry land, the Falla Plains. He turned to his right and could see where the grass ended and miles of seemingly endless sand began. Unmistakably, the Shyloch Desert. A desolate wasteland of dead hot sand as far as the eye could see. To his knowledge, even lizards and scorpions took care to avoid it. And that was exactly where he was going.

Grant stood there for a few moments, not really sure what to do. He had prepared himself for this trip almost to a fault, and yet a part of him had thought he’d never make it this far. At this point, the reality of the situation had dawned on him. He was both terrified and exhilarated. He glanced around again, suddenly he had no idea where he was. The map sure would have helped. Thanks pilot. It was pretty empty out here, but the village somewhere. He couldn’t be to far… There. His eye was drawn to the distant shapes of what looked like a cluster of earthy mounds protruding from the dry grass. These quaint huts could only belong to the small village, Quatallo, resting on the very edge of the plains with a perfect view of the desert. It was kind of faraway though. The pilot couldn’t have dropped him off a little closer? He took a deep breath, shouldered his bag, and walked toward the village. It looked a little more primitive than he’d been anticipating, but he supposed he’d have to get used to it. This was the only settlement for hundreds of miles.

From first impressions, the people of this village looked nice enough, though perhaps seeming a little odd. None of them seemed to notice Grant as he approached, but continued with their everyday chores as if he wasn’t there. Grant had read all about these people before making this trip. These villagers were quite well known for their many tales of the desert lying just beyond their houses. These were often frightening tales, depicting the desert as some evil or cursed land. They’d tell stories of giant demonic vultures accompanied by ghostly thunderheads swooping right out of the sky, descending upon unsuspecting victims before disappearing into thin air. They’d tell stories about the spirits of the dead walking the sands on particularly hot days and of ghoulish creatures of the night lurking around after the sun had disappeared over the horizon. It was these sorts of stories that really gave the Shyloch Desert its mysterious and often eerie reputation. The real kicker was, most of the villagers seemed to believe these stories to be more than just stories. To them, it was reality. Supposedly, anyone who entered the desert would never return alive... at least, that’s what they believed. Grant knew he’d have difficulty getting anyone here to follow him into that desert, be it day or night. Why they chose to live so close to something they feared so greatly was beyond him.

This desert was known throughout the world for its tales of mystery. Many of those who’d heard the warnings of the villagers relished the chance to disprove them. Small groups of people with more daring that brains used to come out here all the time on dune buggies, trying to see just how fast they could make it through the sands. It usually took not more than two to three days to reach the village of Shambo on the other side, and that was with the high speeds of their vehicles and no rest-stops. There were occasional reports of heat exhaustion and dehydration, but other than that, they usually made it through unscathed. It appeared there was nothing supernatural about this arid land after all…

....That is, until a few years before Grant’s arrival when one man had decided to take it up a notch. Grant still remembered the article, detailing how the adventurous Biron Schaffer had wanted to make it all the way through on foot, without any help or supervision. The story goes that after his father, the wealthy George Schaffer had passed away, Brion had been riddled with grief and was supposedly going out there to “find himself” or something to that effect. But, it was unknown whether he’d “found himself” or not, for after he’d departed, no one else was ever able to find him again. The trek should have been safe enough and more than manageable with the amount of supplies he’d taken, but for whatever reason, he simply never arrived at Shambo. Many searches had been made, but all had been unsuccessful. Not a trace of him could be found. It was almost as if the desert had swallowed him up, leaving no evidence he’d ever been there in the first place. This seemed to register quite heavily with the Quatallo people and it also sparked new fears in those who had previously been skeptics. They’d begun to wonder whether there really was something to the desert’s curse. Needless to say, the flow of people running through that wasteland had all but ceased. People just weren’t willing to take that risk anymore.

As Grant passed the first little hut of Quatallo, he suddenly found himself surrounded by the children of the natives, all jumping around him and chattering in their native language. It must have been a while since they’d had any visitors. While Grant found their friendly behavior toward a complete stranger such as himself amusing, he was also a little annoyed by their ruckus. He would have preferred the chance to be alone so he could contemplate his new surroundings in peace. However, he didn’t have the heart to quiet them, not that he knew there language well enough to do so if he’d wanted to. Yes, despite all his preparations, he’d never quite been able to grasp their language. He’d been hoping he could have depended on the others for that, but it looked as if they hadn’t arrived yet. Typical.

The children’s chatter aside, Grant did his best to concentrate on why he was here. Again, after poor Biron’s disappearance, many searches had been made to recover his body. While the searchers hadn’t found what they’d been looking for, they had managed to find something no one had noticed before. Resting in a seemingly random spot in the desert was an interesting little stone structure about the size of a small house. No one knew where it had come from or who’d built it. As interesting as Biron’s disappearance had been, that was not what had drawn Grant out here. He was there to unlock the mysteries of that ancient structure. It may not have seemed like much, but to Grant, this could be a big break for him and his friends. The Shyloch Desert had never been believed to house any sort of human life. If they could prove that wrong, it could mean great things for them.

Grant walked out to the edge of the village, the group of children following him the whole way. He gazed upon the vast Shyloch Desert in wonder. This was such a place of mystery, no wonder people had once found themselves drawn to it. The Falla Plains may have been flat and boring, but this landscape was contoured with a multitude of hills and valleys. Even though it was mostly all sand, there was still something quite extraordinary about it, something almost mesmerizing about the shape of the land itself and the way the sand flowed around it. He quickly rummaged in his bag and produced a pair of binoculars, anxious to see if he could spot the ancient structure from here. As he searched, he took a step forward into the hot sands of the desert for the first time and was met by a sudden eerie silence. He quickly lowered his binoculars and turned around. The children who had been just moments before singing and laughing around him had all retreated back to their village and were watching him in silence a safe distance away, their eyes as round as quarters. They were afraid. Even the sand must have been cursed to them. Grant smirked at their superstitious fears and returned his attention to the desert. There was nothing to fear here, but the drying heat of the sun... At least, he was pretty sure. He resumed his search for the structure as he waited for the rest of his team to arrive.

Grant plunged his shovel into the sand once more. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, exhausted from the work and heat. Good lord was it hot out! Last he’d checked, it had been in the high-nineties, heading toward a hundred and showing no sign of stopping there... and that had been early in the morning. At the very least, he’d managed to find a little bit of shade now. He looked back up at the large stone structure he was digging next to, casting a slight shadow over him and his work area. Who knew this fascinating discovery could cause him such a headache?

After the rest of his team had arrived in the village and they’d gotten reacquainted, they’d all been eager to get started as soon as possible. Despite the enormity of this desert, it hadn’t taken them long to find this structure they’d been hired to investigate. They’d simply followed the coordinates they’d been given by the search teams. It truly was a strange site to see this man-made block just sitting out here randomly in a never-ending sea of sand, like an artifact from the past time had forgotten to wash away. However, as exciting as it was to finally see this thing up close, the real trouble was what to do with it next. It was essentially just a large, sand-colored stone box, half buried and barely distinguishable from the rest of the sand. In all honesty, it was a little boring. It was about the size of a small one-room house, showing no distinguishing marks or points of entry. Grant had to question whether it had really been worth flying all the way out here just for this. Still, he knew looks could be deceiving and someone obviously had had to find this fascinating enough to fund their excavation. They had a job to do and that was all that mattered. But, the only way they could get this job done was to somehow get inside the structure and that turned out to be easier said than done.

Currently, Grant and his companions were digging at different spots around the structure, trying to uncover enough of it so that someone might find some kind of entrance, but so far they hadn’t had such luck. Grant himself had already dug up quite a pile where he was working, but as tired as he felt, he was not about to give up until…

His shovel came to an abrupt halt as it struck something hard.

Anticipation began to well up inside Grant as he quickly dropped his shovel and knelt down to wipe some of the sand away by hand. He was beginning to feel that maybe this digging hadn’t been a wasted effort after all. His redeemed spirits were short lived however as he cleared the sand away and realized he’d merely hit hard rocky earth, melding seamlessly into the stone of the structure. He was frustrated and disheartened, knowing this had all been a wasted effort after all. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. He guessed he’d just been caught up in finding something other than sand. He sat down by his sand pile in defeat, wiping the sweat from his forehead and cursing whoever had put this thing here. After taking a quick swig from his canteen, he decided to see how the others were doing.

“Any luck?” he called to no one in particular, trying to hide how beaten down he felt.

Pete, who had been working closest to Grant by the corner of the structure, stuck his shovel into the sand, obviously as exhausted as Grant. “No,” he responded, wiping the sweat from his brow as Grant had. “I just got bedrock here.”

“Yeah, me too,” Grant grumbled back tiredly. He got to his feet and decided to check on the others around the structure, but found they’d all had just as little success as he or Pete. “We might as well stop,” he told Pete as he circled back around to where he was waiting. “We’re not getting anywhere here. We’re just wasting our energy.” He leaned back against the structure, feeling the sweat run down his face.

Pete looked irritated as he threw down his shovel. “Well that’s just great,” he growled as he began to stock off to the dune buggies.

“Where you going?” Grant inquired.

“I’m taking a break,” Pete called back irritably over his shoulder.

Grant nodded, trying to keep his cool. “Yeah, good idea. We need to regroup. Come up with a new plan. Look at the structure from all angles...”

“I don’t care about that damn thing,” Pete snapped back. “I’m just taking a break. That’s it.” Clearly the heat had put him in a bad mood.

Grant threw up his arms, a bit irritable himself. “Fine, just a break it is then.”

After letting everyone know they were resting, Grant and the others met back by the dune buggies where Pete was already seated, all of them down beaten and anxious to find any sort of shade from the relentless sun. Grant took another swig from his canteen as he tried to relax a little, no one saying anything loud enough for him to be able to hear. All their initial enthusiasm seemed to have melted away from the sun, leaving only exhaustion and potential hostility in it’s place. None of them had ever worked in such stifling conditions before. Aside from Pete, whom Grant had known since childhood, he had two other good friends of his working here with him: Smith and Clara, all four of them sitting relatively close to each other. Pete was the tallest with broad shoulders and light, sand colored hair. He had his arms crossed, looking more annoyed than anything. Smith, in contrast to Pete was the shortest one here, with a thin body and light brown hair like Grant’s. He was sitting close to Clara, who had her blond hair tied back in a pony-tail under a baseball cap. Both of them looked as if they’d rather be anywhere else than this sweltering environment. All the others here were basically strangers to Grant, volunteers who’d likewise been hired by the same company that had funded the trip.

Grant eyed some of these workers. He knew he should have known them by name, but he’d been in such a hurry to get going, he’d never really taken the time to get to know any of them. They all seemed to come from different walks of life, but at the moment were all equally exhausted. One of them, a scrawny looking man, caught Grant’s attention, for he seemed more jittery than tired, tapping his foot nervously and constantly looking over his shoulder. The man saw Grant looking his way and quickly calmed himself down. Grant was just trying to figure out where it was they’d picked this guy up, when Pete broke his concentration.

“So, what we going to do about this thing anyway?” he asked aloud, moodier than ever.

Grant dropped his train of thought and glanced over at his friend. “Why? I thought you were taking a break,” he inquired wryly.

Pete grumbled a bit. “I just want to get this thing done with, alright? The sooner we can crack that thing open, the sooner we can get the hell out of here.”

Clara downed some of the water from her canteen before resting her elbows on her knees, shaking her head. “You seemed so excited about this trip before we left. What happened?”

Pete glared back at her impatiently. “It’s the heat, what do you think? No one said it was going to be this hot here.”

Grant snorted. “Well you obviously weren’t paying attention then.”

Pete merely grumbled in response.

Smith cleared his throat quite suddenly, obviously something on his mind. “When...when you say ‘crack open,’ you didn’t mean that literally, did you?” he questioned in his normal, nasally voice. “You do know we’re not actually supposed to damage it in any way, right?”

Pete narrowed his eyes at him. “Cool it, will you? You know what I meant.”

Smith nodded, avoiding eye-contact with him. “Yeah... yeah I knew that.” He seemed kind of jittery himself today, not that he wasn’t always a bit flighty. He then muttered something under his breath that no one could quite catch.

Pete stood up defensively. “What was that?” he demanded heatedly, obviously interpreting it as some sort of insult. Grant had always known Pete to be a bit impulsive.

Clara stood up to match Pete. “Hey, you cool it,” she returned in defense of Smith. “He didn’t say anything to you.”

“Yeah he did,” Pete insisted glaring back at her. “Come on Smith, you got something to say?”

Smith looked a bit uneasy, as if trying to decide whether he should stand up too.

Grant merely stared, surprised at this sudden burst of hostility... even from Pete. He decided to step in, feeling this was dangerously close to spiraling out of control. Clara and Pete could both be a little bull-headed and clashes between them usually didn’t end well. “Why don’t we all cool it?” he announced. Both Pete and Clara turned to glare at him. Oh boy. “It’s just too hot to be arguing like this,” he added quickly, not wanting their anger directed at him. “It was just a misunderstanding, right?”

Pete and Clara both looked back at each other for a moment, and surprisingly sat back down, each with their arms crossed. Grant really hadn’t thought that was going to work, but was glad it did. Feuding was really something they didn’t need right now.

Smith suddenly spoke up again. “Look, all I said was it wouldn’t help anyway.” All eyes turned back to him.

“What wouldn’t?” Grant asked.

“Cracking it open,” he explained. He gestured back to the structure. “We’ve all been thinking it, right? That it’s just a block and nothing more?”

Everyone fell silent.

Grant looked back and forth from the structure to Smith uneasily. “You’re kidding, right?” he questioned.

Smith shrugged. “It’s a possibility. It could have been the start of something unfinished, or the remains of something long gone. It could just be a sculpture for all we know.”

That scrawny volunteer stood up, looking just as anxious as ever. “Are you saying we came all this way for nothing? That there’s nothing inside there?”

Smith shrugged again. “It’s a possibility,” he repeated.

Grant could feel the moral of the group dipping to an undesirable level. Why couldn’t Smith just keep his mouth shut. “Now wait a minute,” Grant uttered hastily, feeling the need to do some more backtracking. “They wouldn’t have hired us here for nothing, right? I’m sure we got something here.”

“They could have made a mistake,” Smith added. “It happens all the time.”

Grant shot a glare at Smith, beginning to lose his patience. “Dude, you’re not helping.”

“Well, maybe he has a point,” Clara chimed in, resting her elbows on her knees again. “There’s no use in even staying out here anymore if there’s nothing to find. Maybe we should just take a few pictures and go.” Pete said nothing as he kept his arms crossed.

Grant turned to her in exasperation. Really Clara? You too? “Look, they wouldn’t have sent us here to take a few pictures,” he objected, though beginning to have doubts himself. “There’s got to be some reason why...” He paused in mid-sentence as he stared back at the structure.

Pete glanced back and forth from Grant to the structure, seemingly confused by the sudden pause. “What? What you looking at?”

Grant continued to stare at the structure. Something about the pattern in the stone wall had really caught his eye. “What is that?” he questioned aloud.

Clara now followed his gaze as well. “What? The structure?” she inquired.

Grant shook his head impatiently. “No, what’s on the structure?” he persisted.

Pete stared at it a moment longer. “Sand?” he finally offered.

“No, not sand,” Grant returned shortly. “The pattern, guys, look at the pattern.” He traced his finger from where he was standing along a very faint line in the wall. “You see that line don’t you? What does that look like to you?”

Pete raised his eyebrows as he must have seen it too. “What? That?”

Grant nodded, his eagerness rising again.

Pete squinted his eyes. “What, you’re not saying that’s the entrance, are you?”

Grant grinned, now beginning to approach the structure. “It could be,” he responded simply. He had a very good feeling about this, but he just wanted to make sure. “Come on, let’s take a look.” Pete followed him, while Clara and Smith remained where they were, each seeming torn on whether to follow or inform the others on what they were missing. Grant and Pete both slid into the small pit that had been dug next to the ruins and stopped in front of the sand-colored stone wall. Grant laid his hand on the rough surface, trying to figure out where he’d seen the line. From this distance, it blended in so well with the rest of the stone, he wasn’t surprised it had been missed. Finally, Grant located the seam of the entrance again, tracing his finger along it. “There you are,” he muttered.

Pete squinted his eyes again and leaned in real close. “You sure this is it?” he questioned skeptically. He shook his head. “I don’t get it Grant, it just looks like part of the wall. How is this supposed to be a door?”

“It’s been buried a while,” Grant returned absentmindedly, still examining the faint crease. He tried to chisel some of the sediment away with his nail, but it wouldn’t budge. “Hmm,” he murmured to himself.

Pete scoffed. “What’s hmm?” he questioned impatiently. “You going to tell me what this is or not?”

Grant finally turned to him. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is it... or at least it was.” He pointed back to the crease. “You see? There used to be a little gap here, like for the door to open, but the sand sort of filled it in and I guess it just compressed over time to form this solid mass.”

Both Smith and Clara peaked in from outside the pit. “Hey,” Smith’s voice called. “Did you guys find something?”

Pete turned to him eagerly. “Yeah, Grant said he found a way in,” he returned.

Grant turned to him sharply. “Uh... I might have found a way in,” he corrected hastily.

“What does that mean?” Clara inquired as she and Smith both slid into the pit as well. Several of the volunteers were now peeking in curiously too.

Grant rubbed his head, starting to get a headache. His patience was starting to wear thin. “Look, I think I’ve found the entrance,” he explained, “but unless we can remove the sediment, it’s not going to open. Take a look.”

He stepped aside as Clara stepped forward to inspect the supposed entrance for a while. She had studied forensics years before coming on this trip and her eye for detail was a valuable asset here.

“Well?” Grant inquired, getting a little tired of waiting.

Clara finished tracing her finger along the crease and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I think you’re right. I think we do got a door here, but like you said, it’s going to take some work to get it open.” She turned back to the stone wall. “Someone hand me some brushes.”

Grant remained where he was. “I... think that’s going to take more than just a few brushes,” he returned skeptically.

She glanced back at him. “Fine, then how about some chisels?”

Grant shrugged. “It could work.”

She turned around fully and folded her arms impatiently. “What? You got a better idea?”

Grant scratched his chin, trying to decide if it would work or not. “Well... why don’t you try the chisels first while I go get something that might help.”

Grant returned a few moments later as he retrieved his small metallic case from the dune-buggy. He’d really taken a gamble on bringing this along, but it seemed it may have a use after all. Clara, Pete, Smith, and a few of the volunteers were still working on chiseling out the sediment from the door by hand while the remainder of the volunteers just sat around fanning themselves from the heat. Grant slid back into the shallow pit. “So, any luck?” he questioned as he approached.

“Well, no thanks to you,” Pete growled as he seemed to be trying to push his chisel a little farther. There came a snapping sound as he must have bent it too far. He pulled back the useless handle and looked up to the sky in exasperation. Clara and Smith stopped as well, each looking worn out. It was just getting too hot to keep working like this.

“Alright,” Clara conceded, wiping her forehead as she turned to Grant. “What’s your idea?”

Grant held up the case in his right hand. “I brought a little something I thought might come in handy.”

A wry grin spread across Pete’s face at the sight of the case. “Well, it’s about time,” he commented.

Clara merely stared back at Grant tiredly. “Oh, I hope that’s not what I think it is.”

“Relax,” Grant reassured her as he approached the structure. “This will work.” He had always had a bit of a fascination with pyrotechnics. There was just something about them that really drew his eye. A few years back, he’d even spent a little time in the military training in the development of artillery. But he hadn’t stayed long as he’d quickly realized that that sort of life just hadn’t been for him. He kind of didn’t like what he’d known the artillery to eventually be used for. Since then, he’d worked to try to produce something that would be a bit more useful outside of combat. Something that wouldn’t be used to hurt people, but for excavation. The results weren’t exactly perfect yet, but he was still pretty confident with what he had here.

Smith suddenly stepped in between Grant and the stone wall as if trying to shield it from him. He, like many, weren’t as comfortable with such explosive materials. “Oh no,” he protested. “Maybe... maybe you didn’t hear me before, but we’re not supposed to damage this structure in any way. If you think I’m going to let you blow this up...”

“Hey now,” Grant returned defensively, holding his case back as if trying to protect it from Smith’s words. “Who said anything about blowing it up? This is precision equipment right here.”

Smith bit his lip, looking anxious. He was always a big fan of architecture and a little overprotective of relics like this. “Now... now why don’t I believe you?” he uttered in his attempt at sarcasm.

Grant hesitated as he remembered the incident Smith was probably thinking of. Last time he’d used this stuff, there’d been a little bit of collateral damage. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “If you’re referring to last time, I told you, I already took care of that. I adjusted the formula so it’s much more predictable now.”

The couple of volunteers who had been helping with the door exchanged nervous glances. “Should we be concerned about this?” Grant heard one of them say.

Grant looked over at the man for a moment and then knelt down with the case. “Here, let me show you.” He opened the case and produced a tiny tube no larger than his thumb. “This is about all we’ll need, one for each edge of the door I think. This wouldn’t even hurt you if it went off in your hand, but it should be enough to knock the sand loose.”

“But...” Smith began to protest again.

“Ah, come on Smithy. Just let him do it,” Pete interrupted, wiping his brow again, seeming eager to see the explosives in action himself. “If it means we can open it up faster, let him demolish the thing.”

Smith grumbled a bit, obviously knowing Pete was joking, though also still seeming concerned that something like that might actually happen.

After finally convincing Smith, Grant ended up securing six charges to the door: one for the top, one for the bottom, and two for each of the sides, a small wick attached to each. When he’d finished, he looked behind him to see his friends and the volunteers watching him intently at a bit of a distance. They obviously didn’t really trust him. Grant was a little annoyed with their lack of faith in him, but in all honesty, he was a bit uneasy himself. He looked back at the small charges. He didn’t really think they could possibly hurt anyone, but it did occur to him that the structure might not be as stable as he’d assumed. One wrong move and... He banished the thought quickly. He’d already come this far, he was sure there was nothing to worry about... and if there was, he’d just buy Smith a soda or something.

He looked back at the others again eagerly. “Ready?” he inquired. No one said a word, but continued to watch him uncertainly. Grant shrugged, a little disappointed in them. “Well I’m ready,” he muttered to himself as he returned his attention to the wick in front of him. He reached into his pocket and produced a lighter which he lit with a simple flick of the thumb. This was going to be interesting. He brought the small flame to the wick and it ignited with a spark, traveling up and splitting off to the other wicks. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his friends back up a bit more. Really? He thought. There’s no need to... He changed his mind quite suddenly as he saw the sparks near their targets faster than he’d expected. He took a few hasty steps back himself. Better to be safe than sorry. He raised his hands to cover his ears and turned his head a bit as each of the sparks disappeared....

Nothing.

Grant uncovered his ears after a few seconds of waiting. Really? What had happened? He could see the others uncovering their ears as well. “Was that it?” he heard Pete call, sounding disappointed.

Grant shook his head, feeling more than a little disappointed himself. Had he somehow botched up the formula? “No,” he called back, beginning to approach the structure. “I must have messed up or...”

BOOM!...