The Fifth Kind: Arrival

Chapter 1

Egyptian Desert, present day

The sun was dying.

It hung low and bloated in the sky, casting a deep, fiery glow across the horizon. Fatima watched for a moment too long before blinking away the glare. Even the thick goggles she wore to shield her eyes from the desert sands couldn’t fully mitigate the imprint left on her retinas.

The lingering tension from a recent border skirmish with Libya permeated the air like a vapor. Not far away, the scorched remains of tanks and trucks bore witness to the conflict. And with that, a humbling realization washed over her: this was merely one more conflict the desert had silently observed since the age of the pharaohs.

Dr. Arthur Murray, the lead archaeologist on the dig, was a brilliant yet abrasive Egyptologist. Hailing from northern England, he carried a chip on his shoulder, in no small part due to his humble background. His shunning from mainstream academia and the inevitable resentment that followed had turned him into an imposing and terrifying figure. But his reputation as something of a tyrant hadn’t scared Fatima off from recognizing the great opportunity she’d been handed. She’d soon learned there was another word suited to describe Murray: Obsessive.

In the fleeting moments of tranquility amidst the frenzy of his research, Murray often found himself ensnared by the enigmatic world of Sir Edward Stuart, a late-nineteenth-century English explorer and amateur archaeologist. Stuart bore a thirst for knowledge as vast as the desert itself. From an early age, he had devoted his life to studying the ancient texts of renowned scholars like Herodotus, Pliny the Elder, and Ptolemy. Slowly, an unyielding conviction had taken shape within Stuart’s mind that three divine tablets—gifts from the gods themselves—lay scattered across the far reaches of the globe. According to the ancient sources, once these three tablets were mounted in the throne room of a once-mighty civilization, it would unlock a power so awesome it would rival even that of the gods. He had documented his findings in a worn leather journal that never left his side.

A decade ago, the mysterious tome had found its way into Murray’s possession, delivered by an unknown sender. Intrigued and yet skeptical of the secrets it held, Murray had embarked on an odyssey of authentication, each passing year only deepening his certainty that the tablets were real, their unearthing poised to redefine the limits of human understanding. Stuart’s writings hinted that the first of these celestial relics lay entombed beside the true first pharaoh, a clue that had set Murray’s mind ablaze with obsession. And it was this obsession that had guided him and his team to the ancient tomb in which they now stood, on the precipice of a discovery that he believed could forever alter the course of history.

Murray’s gaze bounced between the GPS navigation device in his hands and the endless dunes. “I don’t understand,” he growled, leafing through the journal. “This has to be the place.”

Ahmed, a local undergraduate from the University of Cairo, motioned to a hunk of rock poking out from a nearby crest of sand. “Over there!” he shouted.

Murray and the others hurried over. Arriving first, Fatima dropped to her knees before the object, ignoring the heat searing her legs. A cursory examination revealed strange-looking hieroglyphics carved into the rock.

Murray got down next to her, swearing from the effort. After a brief look, a smile began to spread over his lips. “These are pre-First Dynasty,” he exclaimed. “Let’s get to work, people. We’ve got a pharaoh’s tomb to find.”

The rest of the team consisted of two junior archaeologists, Emma and Nikolai. Emma was from Idaho and Nikolai from Southern Russia. They had worked together on a dig in Siberia where they’d found the tomb of an ice mummy. The discovery had made headlines around the world, but it had also caused a rift between Emma and Nikolai as they had argued over who deserved the credit.

Days passed under the punishing Sahara sun as the team dug deeper and deeper, shifting away mountains of desert sand. Finally, after a week of hard work, they struck gold. “I think I’ve found something,” Emma said, her voice filled with excitement. 

Nikolai let out a deep sigh. “This looks like the door to a tomb.”

Fatima felt a flutter in her chest as she looked at the stone slab covering the entrance. Brushing away the last of the sand, they saw an early form of hieroglyphs on the tomb door, etched into the stone, the lines sharp and precise. The images depicted ominous figures, such as the god of death Anubis, and warnings in bold, stylized text making it clear that any trespassers would be cursed. The symbols were colored in dark hues, the paint chipped and faded with age. The overall effect was one of foreboding and danger, as if the tomb itself was warning those who would dare to disturb its resting place.

Murray, Ahmed, and Nikolai strained to pry open the tomb’s door as Fatima observed, her superstitions burgeoning. She was suddenly overcome with a feeling they were disrupting something that was never meant to be disturbed. Her thoughts turned to her grandfather, a firm believer in the omnipresence of black magic. Fatima could almost hear his voice telling her to leave this place. With some effort, she fought to suppress her concerns, determined not to let the old ways stand in the path of science and progress.

Employing crowbars alongside a series of ropes and pulleys, the archaeologists struggled to displace the solid stone slab covering the entrance. With a final push, the door yielded at last, releasing a billowing cloud of dust with an audible groan. Coughing and flailing their arms, they endeavored to dissipate the airborne particles before cautiously stepping inside.

Their boots brushed against the stone floor as the team navigated the winding passageways of the tomb, the aroma of antiquity pervading the stale air. Their flashlights projected unsettling shadows on the walls of the confined space—many of them looking unfinished, the images and inscriptions only half-painted.

In the center of the main burial chamber stood a single sarcophagus, its stone cover etched with ancient writings. The archaeologists gathered around, scanning the inscriptions, searching for any indication of the tomb’s true occupant.

Like the script on the tomb door, this was a language Murray had never seen before. He flipped through the pages of his journal, searching for a clue to its origin.

“Find anything?” Nikolai asked.

Murray only grunted.

“Some of these inscriptions show rays of light descending from above,” Emma noticed. “Maybe it’s a high priest.”

“I didn’t spend the last three years scouring the desert and shoveling sand to find a high priest,” Murray reminded them curtly.

“We came to find Egypt’s true first pharaoh. Clearly, this is not him.” But even as Fatima spoke the words, she also knew that Murray was not one to be denied.

Quickly, they set to work using metal tools to pry the stone lid from the sarcophagus. The sound of scraping and grating filled the chamber as they worked, the glow from their flashlights casting eerie shadows on the walls. The lid finally gave way with a crack. It slid off to one side, kicking up a cloud of dust that billowed around them. They all coughed and waved their hands in front of their faces, trying to clear the air.

“Right,” Murray said. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

He pressed forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. As the dust settled, they caught their first glimpse of what lay inside the sarcophagus: a figure, mummified and shrunken. But it wasn’t the body of a lowly priest, as they had expected. This was something else entirely.

The figure was dressed in a tight-fitting suit, its surface dull and powdery with age. But as Murray brushed away the dust, they could see that the material was actually shiny and metallic.

Placed next to the body was a helmet, its visor blackened with time. Emma and the others gasped in shock. A stunned silence engulfed them as they stood motionless, staring at the impossible figure lying before them. There were simply no other words to describe what they were seeing.

He looked like an astronaut.