Atlantis Gold

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Selam Hasim was lost.

He knelt on the stone floor of the chamber, somewhere deep within the great pyramid, and smoothed out a map on his knee while aiming a flashlight with his other hand. Drops of perspiration fell from his forehead onto the paper, pattering softly in the near silent space. The confusing array of mapped passages, rooms and chambers made his head spin as he tried to reconcile where he presently found himself with the hand-drawn diagram.

The room he thought he must be in had two exits, while the space he actually found himself in clearly only had one. So that must not be it, he thought, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a shirtsleeve. Unless Hamar made a mistake with the map. He shoved aside the grim thought and glanced at his wristwatch. The time of day meant little to him, for down here in the depths of the fantastic Egyptian structure, it was always dark. But the fact that nearly two hours had elapsed since he’d left his expedition’s camp was most disconcerting indeed. He needed to get back before his associates noticed he was gone.

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