Secrets in a sandstorm, p.1
Secrets in a Sandstorm, page 1
SECRETS IN A SANDSTORM
THE PHARAOH’S PROMISE
TJ NICHOLS
Copyright © 2024 by TJ Nichols
Cover art by Covers by Jo
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
CONTENTS
Secrets in a Sandstorm
Foreword
1. Present Day
2. Present Day
3. Present Day
4. Present Day
5. 1942
6. 1942
7. 1942
8. 1942
9. Ancient Egypt
10. Ancient Egypt
11. Ancient Egypt
12. 1942
13. 1942
14. Present Day
15. Present Day
16. Present Day
17. Present Day
18. Present Day
Six Months Later
Other books by TJ Nichols
About the Author
SECRETS IN A SANDSTORM
Max
This is a trip my brother planned with his best friend Harrison. Instead, I’m doing the motorbike ride from Cairo to Tobruk with Harrison in his memory. Getting caught in a sandstorm and taking shelter in a cave wasn’t part of the plan. With nothing to do but wait out the storm, we explore the cave…and the past. This isn’t the first time I’ve been here, trapped by a storm. To change our fate, I’ll have to confront my feelings for Harrison.
Harrison
Max has always been off limits because he’s my best friend’s younger brother. But this trip is testing my resolve, and getting trapped in the cave by the sandstorm feels like we are being pushed together. I’m sure he’s straight, so he has never noticed me the way I’ve noticed him. If I tell him how I feel, I’m afraid of losing everything.
Spanning Ancient Egypt, WW2, and the present-day, Secrets in a Sandstorm brings Max and Harrison together in a forced proximity, bi-awakening, brother’s best friend romance. Read today and be swept up in the storm.
FOREWORD
Author Note
As this story spans several past lives, please note that they do not contain happily ever afters (or the present-day story would not be needed).
Part of this book takes place in North Africa during WW2. There is violence and injury and hopelessness that the main characters struggle with and ultimately succumb to. If you find such matter upsetting, please skip that life.
CHAPTER ONE
PRESENT DAY
MAX
The smudge on the horizon is now a swollen bruise that doesn’t look promising. The guide warned us about sandstorms, but I was thinking they’d be smaller. This one looks as though it will swallow the entire sky and us with it.
We’ve just passed the halfway point between stops and while I don’t have the map—Harrison does—even I can tell we aren’t going to make it to the next stop. The storm is in the way.
I use the radio in the helmet to check in with Harrison. “What do you want to do? Should we turn back?”
Harrison is the one with desert experience from several stints overseas with the army. I’m just the fill in. This was my brother’s dream trip, not mine. Jay and Harrison had talked about this since they were seventeen, both of them getting their motorbike licenses and figuring out how much they needed to save and what they needed to make it happen. It turned out to be more complicated and expensive than either of them thought, and then they joined the army and life got in the way…until it stopped for Jay a year ago.
One bike ride gone wrong.
Riding through the baking desert and camping while keeping an eye out for scorpions and snakes is not my idea of fun. But so far, this trip has been so much more than I thought possible.
Cairo is bustling, a marketplace that doesn’t seem to sleep. It’s soaked in history and a blending of cultures. Jay would’ve loved it. Harrison did. He dragged me through marketplaces, and I made him go to the museum to take in some of the history. A week of being tourists and meeting the guide and paying for supplies before we headed out into the desert.
When Harrison suggested we make the trip for Jay six months ago, I agreed. Mostly because it seemed like the right thing to do. That gave me six months to learn to ride a motorbike and how to do some basic maintenance. I also helped with the final plans; it had been my idea to spend some extra time in Cairo on both sides of the trips. I wasn’t coming all this way not to see the pyramids.
I’m glad we did all of that in the first week, as I’m not going to be able to walk after this. My ass needs hotel recovery time before we get on the plane. I want to soak in a cold bath as I have sand in every crevice possible—and some I previously hadn’t discovered.
I don’t know how my great grandfather spent years fighting out here and lived to talk about it, filling Jay’s head with his tales and inspiring his love of the military and Egypt.
Harrison doesn’t turn his head, as his voice crackles in my ear. “Press on. There should be a ridge and caves to the left.”
I remember seeing something on the map this morning, but because we were supposed to be swinging right, I didn’t pay it too much attention—I was more worried about how many hours we were going to be riding and if there were any stops planned to check out ruins and oases. Of course, Harrison noted the caves. He’s the commander of this trip, the one making contingency plans and ensuring we are carrying far more food and water than we need for a day of travel.
He jokes that I’m the medic of this little mission.
Having completed my paramedic degree, I am the medic. But this is a break from reality…and much better than sitting at home and watching Mum cry on the anniversary of Jay’s death.
Not that she was happy about Harrison and me taking the trip. She called it dangerous, and when we left, she cried and said she didn’t want to lose her other two boys. Harrison and Jay were friends for so long, he’s part of the family. I can’t imagine him not being around.
I hope this trip isn’t also a goodbye.
“With a bit of luck, it will die down or sweep past us,” Harrison adds. “The guide said the wind can be temperamental.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m pretty sure Harrison’s mention of luck cursed us as the storm-caused bruise has darkened and expanded to fill the horizon. We won’t be turning toward the coast as scheduled unless we want to ride straight into it.
To our left, the ridge is clear, but I see no sign of caves.
That doesn’t deter Harrison as he makes the decision and heads toward it without checking in. He knows I’ll follow.
“Keep your eyes peeled for a cave,” he says like I’m not already scanning the rocks for any sign of a gap.
The sandstorm seems to chase us, herding us toward the ridge. The sand whips around my legs and finds a way to burrow beneath my clothes. It’s in my mouth and my boots, rubbing my ass crack.
“There,” Harrison says with a nod.
I was searching for a cave, a big half circle opening like in cartoons. I don’t know what he’s seen, but there’s so much sand in the air that if he takes off, I’ll lose him. If he thinks he’s found shelter, though, I’ll follow him. Not that I have much choice as I don’t want to be out in the storm. He glances behind to make sure I’m with him.
“I’m right behind you.” And the storm is right behind me, like it’s hunting me.
The noise and wind and sand are getting to me. It feels wild and savage and alive, even though I know it’s not.
We’re almost on top of the cave before I see it, a narrow crack in the rock face. That is not a cave. How can we shelter in that?
Will the bikes even fit?
If they don’t fit, we’re fucked. The wind will pick them up and carry them away or bury them or fill them with sand. Or all of the above. I can’t ignore the little bit of fear forming in my chest and growing with each breath.
Any shelter is better than none, and we can move the supplies off the bikes.
We’ve got radios—not that they’ll be of any use in the storm—and emergency beacons and such.
We are carrying two days of food and water at Harrison’s insistence.
The storm can’t last that long, can it?
For a few seconds, with the storm at my back and sand stinging my skin, I wish I’m back in Cairo, sitting at the bar of the hotel and reminiscing about all the shit Jay and I did as kids. Harrison had shared some of the shit he and Jay had gotten up to when I was underage and not part of their fun.
Harrison slows, and it looks as though he’s planning on driving straight into the crack, but he changes his mind at the last second and stops. I pull up next to him.
He looks at me, the visor of his helmet hiding his face. “It’s going to be tight, but I think we’re out of time.”
I turn to see the storm bearing down on us.
Did we piss off one of the ancient gods by accident?
In those seconds, as I stare at the storm, I’m sure we’re about to be erased from existence.
Harrison walks his bike to the crevice and disappears into the darkness. I follow—the handlebars kissing the sides of the opening—and pray that the cave is deep e nough for us to wait out the storm.
CHAPTER TWO
PRESENT DAY
MAX
Three meters into the cave, it’s clear the bikes aren’t going any further as it narrows—I’m not sure we’re going any deeper. Outside, the wind is screaming, and sand is pushing into the cave. Is it possible to be buried alive in a cave?
My heart is beating fast, but the only choice we have is to go deeper and hope like hell there’s nothing else sheltering in the cave. I’m not sure which is worse, being eaten by a wild animal or being skinned by a sandstorm, and I don’t want to find out.
“Grab the saddlebags,” Harrison says, still wearing his helmet because there’s enough sand whipping around to be hazardous to our eyes. “And climb over.”
He holds his hand out for the bags. It takes me a couple of goes to get them free. I’m always calm in an emergency, but it’s not usually me having the emergency. This time, it’s all out of my control.
I do as he asks and pass them to him before climbing over his bike to join him.
He hands my bags to me and nods. “You all good?”
With the helmet on, he can’t tell if I’m freaking out or cool. I nod. “I’m good.”
He’s staring at me. His gaze is drilling into me. “Seriously, Max. If you’re about to panic, I need to know.”
I’m not about to lose my shit and do something dumb. “I’m concerned but not panicking.”
“So about a seven out of ten on the ‘we’re fucked scale’?”
I laugh. It’s a rating we’ve been using since we were kids. Though back then, the things we were worried about now seem like three or fours. “Yeah, about that.”
“Right, I’m going to attempt to squeeze through. I don’t want both of us getting stuck. Can you wait?”
I don’t want either of us getting stuck, but I don’t have any other ideas. “Sure.” I’m not going to get buried alive in a couple of minutes. “Wait, what if there’s something in there?”
I’m envisioning giant snakes or beetles that will strip his flesh. I may have watched one too many horror movies growing up.
“I’ll take my chances because the storm will definitely kill us.” Harrison removes his helmet and holds it out to me, keeping his head turned away from the wind. He pulls the bandana from around his neck up to cover his mouth and nose. He pulls a small flashlight out of a pocket in his pants and flicks it on, leaving me holding his helmet.
His saddlebags rest at my feet with sand piling up against my boots. Despite my helmet, the wind is howling like we’ve done something to offend the local gods.
There was no storm in the forecast. Harrison and the guide checked before we headed out, as this is the most remote part of our journey. Is our guide caught in the storm? Did he set up camp only to have it tossed aside? If he’s dead, will anyone search for us?
My thoughts become more morbid with each passing second. My breath echoes in my ears, and the helmet becomes too tight. It’s panic, that’s all.
I consciously slow my breaths and think of something else. The ruins we stopped at to eat our sandwiches in the shade of a stone wall. Harrison sitting next to me, lips curved in a smile at something I said, eyes hidden by sunglasses. I don’t know what—I think we were talking about what it might have looked like back when my great-grandfather was here and wondering if he’d ever sat there with his friends. I don’t remember him as I was only five when he died. But Jay did.
I take a step and watch the sand shift, filling in my footprints as if I never existed.
The beam of a torch bounces toward me, and the knot of tension in my gut eases.
Harrison sticks his hand out of the gap and beckons me closer. I lean in, and he flips my visor up. “It widens out after a few meters. Give me the bags and helmet.”
He’s shouting at me to be heard. I give him a thumbs up to show I understand, then pass him his things. Out of the storm and into the dark. It’s fine. I take off my helmet, pull up my bandana, and follow him, trusting him.
The way I always have.
I try not to think about all the times we got into trouble. The broken push bikes and bones from homemade jumps and stunts gone wrong. Forts constructed in the bush that resulted in splinters and cuts and insect bites. At some point, I started shoving plasters into my pocket before we headed out because someone was going to need them.
The rock wall brushes against my back and stomach, and my arms are spread as I inch along, which makes the bags and helmet that much heavier. I focus on the light coming from his flashlight, not the way the rock is now pressing against me.
He said it widens out.
It’s not getting closer.
But I’m bigger than he is.
What if I don’t fit?
The storm is screaming, and my heart is pounding. My panic is hitting a nine, and that’s not good. Panicking will only make this worse. That I can reason with myself is a good sign. Maybe I’m not panicking at a nine, even though the rock is embracing me and it’s dark except for the pale beam of light leading me deeper.
With each shuffling step, the noise dies down.
Isn’t that nice? Now I can hear myself think.
That means the sand won’t be attacking me. I’m sweaty, and my jacket is catching on to the rock. I’m breathing hard. Until today I never thought of myself as claustrophobic, but I’m getting a taste of fear, and I don’t like it.
Before I can worry about what it means, the rocks release me. I’m through. I put the bags and helmet down and take several deep, slow breaths. After the noise of the storm, the cave is eerily quiet, and the howling seems far away.
But it's bloody dark.
Harrison directs the beam of light at my feet. “All good?”
“Yeah. Was a little tighter than I was expecting.” He could’ve warned me.
He laughs. “All the better for keeping the sand out.”
“You’re not worried about having to dig our way out?”
“That’s a problem for when the storm passes. Right now, it might be a good idea to have a bite to eat and check this place out.”
“Check for scorpions and snakes…” If we wander too far from the crevice, will we be able to find it in the dark?
“I doubt there’s much food for them in here.” My eyes are getting used to the dim interior.
Harrison crouches and rummages through his bags. The beam of light spills over the floor toward me.
He pulls something out with a satisfied grunt, then there’s a snap, and he’s bathed in a green glow. “This will give us about six hours.” He walks over and wedges the glow stick into the rock near the crack. “When the storm blows itself out and dawn comes, there’ll be daylight to guide us.”
“Yeah.” Of course. Assuming we aren’t buried alive in here.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “That was the least convincing, yeah, I’ve ever heard. The storm will pass, and we’ll be back on the road tomorrow.” He presses another stick into my hand. “I suggest you hang it around your neck.”
I do as suggested because if we’re glowing, it’s going to be harder to lose each other.
He snaps and shakes another and follows his own advice. His face is lit up in a lurid green glow. The angle of it makes him appear sinister, with sharp cheekbones and hollow dark eyes.
I must appear the same to him. A creepy apparition, lurking in the cave.
He runs his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “I wish we had a bottle of something to drink.”
“And a deck of cards,” I quip.
“Strip poker?” He grins, looking like a maniac. He’s always been the life of every party.
Jay was my brother, but it was Harrison who I admired. He had his dreams, and he followed them. And he encouraged me to follow mine. In high school, when they were talking about joining the army, I claimed that was what I wanted to do also. While Harrison saw through my need to belong, Jay accused me of copying. For a couple of years, things had been rough between Jay and me. He and Harrison had been adults, and I’d still been a kid.
That space is what I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and to go after it.
