Chapter 3: The Six Arrowheads
Jonas's brow furrowed. "Don't tell me," he speculated, "that thief from last night must have swiped it during the commotion."
Solido stopped patting his pockets, his expression hardening into a mask of theatrical fury.
"It must have been him! The thieves in Egypt are like vermin, they get into everything!" Solido seethed, shaking his fist.
Jonas's eyes narrowed slightly. If it really was that thief, he thought, how could I, with my keen eyes, have possibly missed it?
Unseen by Jonas, tucked neatly into the cuff of Solido's sleeve, was the very wallet he claimed was missing.
"Well, no matter. I'll get the bill," Jonas said with a sigh. He pulled out his own wallet, opening it to reveal a thick wad of US dollars mixed with a number of Egyptian pounds. He handed a bill to the owner.
Solido put on a masterful show of looking embarrassed and grateful—a performance completely betrayed by the greedy glint in his eyes as he stared at the contents of Jonas's wallet.
After getting his change, Jonas cast a disappointed look at Aya, who was now being carefully guarded by her father. It was clear his plans to "discuss his creative process" with her tonight were officially canceled.
"I'm so sorry for the trouble," Solido said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "I'll pay you back as soon as I can."
"Don't worry about it," Jonas waved him off. "So, are you still heading to the ruins for your dig tomorrow?"
"Of course," Solido sighed dramatically. "Now that my wallet's gone, I'll have to work twice as hard."
Jonas grinned. "What a coincidence. I was planning on visiting some of the Egyptian ruins myself tomorrow. Perhaps our paths will cross again."
Solido's gaze dropped, his voice becoming a low murmur. "Perhaps... We'll just have to see if 'Gravity' brings us together again, won't we?"
The next day, Jonas awoke in his hotel room. After his morning routine, he donned a light, unbuttoned shirt over a tank top and a pair of stylishly distressed jeans. He struck a dramatic pose in the full-length mirror, admiring the composition, before heading down to Aya's tavern for breakfast.
After his meal, with a vintage film camera hanging around his neck, Jonas made his way to the pyramids. One couldn't come to Egypt without beholding the legendary structures; it was one of the main reasons for his trip. He raised his camera, framing the magnificent, colossal pyramid in his viewfinder.
Click. Click.
After a few shots, he found himself unsatisfied. He wandered off the beaten path, seeking a more unique and dramatic angle for his photographs.
Suddenly, through the lens of his camera, he spotted a familiar figure. The striking magenta hair was unmistakable. It was Solido, kneeling in the sand, digging frantically with his bare hands.
"Yo, Solido," Jonas called out, approaching him.
Solido jumped, startled, and quickly looked up. Seeing it was only Jonas, he visibly relaxed. A man in his line of work—which was less "archeology" and more "tomb raiding"—had to be constantly on the lookout for the authorities.
"Well, well. I guess we really did meet again," Solido said, resuming his digging without missing a beat.
"Perhaps it was the pull of Gravity," Jonas said cryptically, his tall frame casting a long shadow over Solido.
Solido looked up, confused. "'Gravity'?"
"It's something I read once," Jonas explained. "The idea that all things in the universe are drawn together by an unseen force. You could also call it... Fate."
"Are you a religious man, Jonas?"
"Not at all. I'm an atheist."
"You could have fooled me. You speak like a true believer."
At that, both men broke into laughter.
"What are you digging for?" Jonas asked, his gaze falling on the ever-deepening pit. "Is there some ancient treasure down there?"
"Who knows," Solido grunted, digging with renewed vigor. "Could be nothing. Or it could be a treasure that will change my very destiny."
"Let me give you a hand," Jonas said, putting his camera away and rolling up his sleeves.
Solido shot him a surprised look. "A famous author like you is willing to do manual labor?"
"I wouldn't want to do it for a living, but as a diversion? Why not?" Jonas said, plunging his own hands into the sand.
Solido just smiled and shook his head. If Jonas wanted to be free labor, who was he to argue?
After some time, just as they were both about to give up, their fingers simultaneously hit something hard beneath the sand.
They exchanged a look, and their digging speed doubled.
Soon, they unearthed an ancient, ivory-colored box. From its appearance, it was clear it had been buried for centuries, if not millennia.
Solido pried the box open. Inside, nestled on faded velvet, lay six arrowheads, each etched with bizarre, intricate patterns. One of them was unique, adorned with the carving of a golden scarab beetle.
Jonas picked up the beetle arrowhead, holding it up to the sun to inspect it. Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through his finger.
He looked down. The razor-sharp edge of the arrowhead had sliced his index finger open. Blood instantly began to gush out.
Jonas stared in disbelief, dropping the arrowhead. But the bleeding didn't stop. It wasn't a trickle; it was a torrent. It was as if he'd severed a major artery. Blood pulsed out in sickening spurts, quickly staining the golden sand a deep crimson.
"HOLY S##T! What the hell is this thing?!"
Jonas whipped his head around, his eyes pleading for help from Solido.
But Solido just stood there, watching. Watching Jonas bleed, his face a mask of cold indifference, his eyes hidden in the shadow cast by the sun at his back.
"I'm sorry, Jonas," Solido said, his voice devoid of all warmth. "You were the one who insisted on helping me dig. I never expected we'd actually find something. If this hole had been empty, perhaps our little friendship could have lasted a bit longer."
These six arrowheads were clearly priceless antiques. Selling them could fetch an enormous sum. Enough money to abandon this tiresome life of grave-robbing and return to Italy to start a real empire.
There was no way Solido was going to share that fortune with Jonas. It didn't matter that Jonas had never even mentioned wanting a cut.
Solido couldn't help but recall Jonas's words. "The pull of Gravity." Yes. This must be what he meant. This was his destiny.
"What are you talking about?! Help me stop the bleeding!" Jonas yelled, his mind reeling in disbelief at Solido's sudden change.
Ignoring his plea, Solido reached behind his back and produced a wicked-looking dagger, leveling it at Jonas.
"Now die, Jonas!" he snarled, his face contorting into a greedy sneer. "These Arrowheads are mine! And everything else you have belongs to me now, too!"
Jonas's eyes went wide with shock. He couldn't believe it. Solido was going to kill him, right here, for money. He wanted to scream for help, but the desolate landscape was empty. Solido had planned this.
MUDAMUDAMUDA! In a flash, Solido lunged, the dagger's blade glinting menacingly in the harsh sunlight.
Blood was still pouring from Jonas's finger, but he ignored it. Pushing through the pain, he reacted on pure instinct, his hand shooting out to catch the descending blade.
The razor-sharp steel stopped barely four inches from his face. He could feel the raw, murderous intent radiating from it.
With a grunt, Jonas lashed out with his right leg, a powerful kick connecting squarely with Solido's stomach.
"GUH-AHHH!"
Solido let out a strangled cry, his body folding in half like a cooked shrimp as the force of the blow sent him stumbling backward.