Ahmed drove out of Cairo. He had booked a room at a resort hotel in Hurghada, planning to take advantage of this rare holiday to enjoy the Red Sea breeze there.
The radio was playing a humorous news program. Apparently, there wasn't much other news to talk about this morning, as the two hosts kept joking about the fire that had happened in France yesterday, saying that Napoleon had blown off the Great Sphinx's nose with cannons, and now the Pharaoh's wrath had finally reached the cathedral on the Île de la Cité.
The host's tone was hilarious, and although Ahmed was absolutely unwilling to admit that he was a gloating person, he was also amused and laughed.
" Napoleon... Pharaoh's nose... Hahaha!" The more he thought about it, the funnier it became. He couldn't help but slap the steering wheel hard, and then his laughter stopped abruptly because he saw the dark wall on the distant horizon through the car window.
"Bastard! Bitch! Mongrel!"
Ahmed cursed the Cairo Meteorological Bureau staff and their ancestors in his mind. If he had known a sandstorm was coming, he would never have chosen to take a vacation at this time.
He knew he couldn't go to Hurghada, so he figured he'd just have to go home and sleep. But the sandstorm hit much faster than he expected; the light outside the car dimmed rapidly, and sand lashed against the windows with a soft rustling sound.
Ahmed nearly collided with another car while making a U-turn; visibility was now less than five meters. He reluctantly pulled over, praying the sandstorm would pass quickly.
The radio hosts had obviously heard about the sandstorm, but before they could even make a joke, the signal dropped. After two hissing sounds, all that was left on the radio was white noise.
The car suddenly lurched. Ahmed thought it was an earthquake, so he immediately opened the car door, covered his mouth and nose with his clothes, and tried to run to the open grassy area nearby. He saw a light flash in the darkness in the distance. Although the sandstorm obscured his vision, he could still tell that it was coming from the direction of Giza.
The sand in the wind stung his face. He reached out and scooped up some sand, which he then rubbed in his palm; it seemed to be warm.
Fortunately, the sandstorm came and went quickly, and no earthquake occurred. As the sandstorm receded, the clouds were drawn back like a stage curtain, and the sunlight poured down again, illuminating the world.
Ahmed returned to his car, and the voices of two radio hosts came on again:
"This is the Pharaoh's anger. It must be because too many tourists have disturbed their peace. What else can opening up tourism bring besides increasing garbage?"
"Money, of course!"
"The Pharaoh has no shortage of money."
"But the government is short of money."
"Oh yes, the government is short of money, but where has the money gone?"
"Uh... of course the money was spent, for example, on... desert control, yes, desert control. You know we live in the desert, we lack water!"
"Oh yes, we're short of water! The ocean is hundreds of kilometers away, and only the pitiful Nile through our city. It's fucking desperately short of water!"
"Alright, that's enough, the Pharaoh's turning in his grave!"
"They'd better climb out soon, then our tourism department can make a fortune! Oh wait, the Pharaoh's coffin lid seems to be long gone."
"Even if the Pharaohs came back to life, they would still have to manage the desert. What do you think they would do?"
"I guess... the Pharaoh will make all Egypt use Alipay!"
Ahmed, tired of listening to these two idiotic hosts spout nonsense, turned off the radio.
"Dehydrated?" He picked up a bottle of mineral water, looked at the pyramid pattern printed on the bottle with a bit of amusement, then opened it, took a sip, and spat it out the car window to rinse the sand out of his mouth.
Just as he was about to restart his trip to Hurghada, Ahmed's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, frowned, and answered it:
"Hello, Director."
Where are you, Ahmed?
"I'm on my way to Hurghada."
"They haven't gone far, have they?"
"No, I'm stuck on the outskirts of Cairo because of this damn sandstorm. Hey, something sounds off. Don't tell me your vacation was canceled. I booked a non-refundable hotel room."
"My vacation's canceled, bro."
"Oh, damn it! I'm not your brother, I don't support 996, if you cancel my vacation I'll take my pants off and march in the street!"
"That's big news— Cairo's best detective ran naked through the streets on a sandstorm day!"
"You're not serious, are you?"
"I'm not kidding you. Just now, there was a minor earthquake in Giza, and an underground chamber was discovered inside the pyramids. Some tourists died inside, and the military and police have now cordoned off the area."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Pyramid expert Alef is already on his way. I don't want other departments to steal our thunder and cause any trouble for us, so I need an experienced and reliable detective to accompany Professor Alef down there and take decisive action if necessary."
"Shit!" Ahmed cursed in English.
"I understand English, Ahmed. Go now. I grant you the highest authority to make decisions on the spot. As for your attitude, we'll deal with that when you return and report back."
Ahmed looked at the highway entrance not far ahead and reluctantly turned his car around. When he arrived in Giza, his car was stopped by heavily armed soldiers.
He flashed his badge and casually asked, "Why is it you? Shouldn't this be the police's job?"
After verifying his identification, the soldier returned it to him, saying, "We're only responsible for guard duty, according to orders from above."
Ahmed knew the soldiers knew nothing, so he crossed the cordon and headed towards the pyramids.
The tourists were gathered in an open area, where military and police were distributing drinking water to them and warning them not to leave without permission.
Seven or eight tourists were gathered in one place, along with two police officers with camels and a staff member in a scenic area uniform.
A familiar police officer saw Ahmed and came to greet him.
"What happened?" Ahmed asked.
"When the sandstorm started, a minor earthquake occurred, which opened the entrance to the underground palace at the base of the Pyramid of Khufu. At the time, a group of tourists were inside the pyramid, and several of them went down."
"Then?"
"He died inside."
How did he die?
I don't know.
Who discovered it?
"Them," the officer said, pointing to two patrol officers with camels.
Ahmed walked over and saw two patrol officers with their heads down and a puddle of vomit on the ground.
The officer said to the two patrolmen, "This is Inspector Ahmed. Please repeat what happened earlier."
"We were patrolling behind Menkaure," one of the patrol officers said. "The sandstorm came without warning; we'd never encountered anything like it before. After the sandstorm passed, we heard tourists shouting around, so we went over to ask. They said they'd discovered an underground chamber inside the pyramid, that someone had gone in, and that they'd heard screams. So I stayed outside to maintain order, while Basaimu and Abdullah went in to find the tourists. Basaimu, tell your superior, what did you see?"
The patrolman named Basaimu looked up and stammered, "They're all... all dead! The people inside are dead! There are... ghosts!"
"How many died? How did they die? Tell me everything you saw." Ahmed really couldn't understand how this guy became a policeman.
"Four, four or five... he... they..." Basaimu suddenly vomited again.
The person next to him wearing scenic work clothes said, "Let me do the talking."
"Who are you?"
"I am the on-duty administrator here, mainly responsible for preventing tourists from climbing and damaging the pyramids. My name is Abdullah Rashad Rashid Buzblahi Izjerahi Tsarasha Mudzhal."