'Oh no. They are country people and very pious. They would never do that.'
Shaking his head sadly, Zaita commented, 'The days are over when people left the jewelry of their dead in the grave.'
'Those were the days!' sighed Dr. Booshy.
They walked in darkness and silence as far as Gamaliya, passing two policemen on the way, and then drew near Nasr Gate. Zaita took a half cigarette from his pocket. Dr. Booshy was horrified by the lighted match and reminded his companion, 'You couldn't have chosen a worse time to have a smoke.'
Zaita paid no attention. He walked along, muttering as though to himself, 'There's no profit in the living and very few of the dead are any good!'
They walked through Nasr and turned along a narrow path lined on both sides with tombs, enshrouded in awesome silence and heavy gloom. After they had gone a third of the way down the path, Zaita said, 'Here's the mosque.'
Dr. Booshy looked about carefully, listening a moment or two, and then moved off toward the mosque, taking care not to make a sound. He examined the ground near a wall at the entrance until he came across a large stone. From under the stone he lifted a small spade and a package containing a candle. He then rejoined his companion and they continued on their way. Suddenly he whispered, 'The tomb is the fifth one before the desert path.' They hurried on, Dr. Booshy gazing over at the graves to the left of the path, his heart pounding wildly. Presently he slowed down and whispered, 'This is the tomb.' Instead of stopping, however, Dr. Booshy hurried his friend along while giving instructions in a low monotone. 'The walls of the burial place overlooking this path are high and the path isn't safe. The best thing for us to do is to skirt through the graves from the desert side and then climb over the back wall of the tomb to where the grave is in the open courtyard.'
Zaita listened carefully and they walked in silence until they reached the desert path. Zaita suggested they rest on the roadside curb, from where they could see the path. They sat side by side, their eyes searching the terrain. The darkness and desertion were complete. Behind them as far as the eye could see graves were scattered over the ground, and although this adventure was not their first, Dr. Booshy's nerves and pounding heart were weighted with fear. Zaita remained quite calm. When he was sure the path was clear, he instructed the doctor, 'Leave the tools, go to the back, and wait for me there.'
Dr. Booshy rose quickly and crept between the graves toward the wall. He kept close to it, feeling his way carefully along in the darkness that was broken only by starlight. He counted the walls until he reached the fifth. He stood still, looking about him like a thief; then he sat down cross-legged. His eyes could detect nothing suspicious nor did he hear a sound. However, his uneasiness increased and he grew more and more anxious. Soon he saw Zaita's shape appear a few arm's lengths away and he rose cautiously. Zaita eyed the wall for a moment and then whispered, 'Bend down so I can get on your back.'
Putting his hands on his knees, Dr. Booshy did as he was told, and Zaita climbed on his back. He felt the wall, gripped the top, and sprang up lightly and easily. He dropped the spade and the candle into the courtyard, extended his hand to Dr. Booshy, and helped pull him to the top of the wall. Together they jumped down and stood at the base gasping for breath. Zaita picked up the spade and the package. Their eyes were now accustomed to the dark and they could see fairly well by the faint light from the stars. They could even see the courtyard quite clearly. There, not far from them, were two tombs side by side, and on the other side of the courtyard they could see the door leading out to the road along which they had come. On each side of the door was a room, and Zaita, pointing toward the two sepulchers, asked, 'Which one?'
'On your right…' whispered Dr. Booshy, his voice so low that the sound scarcely left his throat.
Without hesitating, Zaita went to the sepulcher, followed by Dr. Booshy, whose whole body was trembling. Zaita bent down and found the ground still cold and damp. He dug his spade carefully and gently into the earth and set to work, piling up the soil between his feet. This was not new to him, and he worked briskly until he had uncovered the flagstones that formed a roof over the entrance to the vault of the sepulcher. He drew up the hem of his gown, gave it a good twist, and tied it up around his waist. Then he grasped the edge of the first flagstone and pulled it up, straining with his muscles until it stood on edge. With Dr. Booshy's help, he drew it out and laid it on the ground. He then did the same with the second flagstone. The uncovered hole was now sufficient for the two of them to slip through and he started down the steps, muttering to the doctor, 'Follow me!'
Numb and shivering with fright, Dr. Booshy obeyed. On such occasions Dr. Booshy would sit on the middle step and light a candle, which he would place on the bottom step. He would then close his eyes tight and bury his face between his knees. He hated going into tombs, and he had often pleaded with Zaita to spare him the ordeal. However, his colleague always refused him and insisted he participate in each separate stage. He seemed to enjoy torturing Dr. Booshy in this way.
The wick of the candle was burning now, lighting the interior. Zaita stared stonily at the corpses laid out in their shrouds side by side throughout the length and breadth of the vault, their order symbolizing the sequence of history, the constant succession of time. The fearful silence of the place spoke loudly of eternal extinction, but brought no echo from Zaita. His gaze soon fixed on the new shroud near the entrance to the vault and he sat down beside it cross-legged. He then stretched out his two cold hands, uncovered the head of the corpse and laid bare its lips. He drew out the teeth and put them in his pocket. Then he covered the head as he had found it and moved away from the corpse toward the entrance.
Dr. Booshy still sat with his head between his knees, the candle burning on the bottom step. Zaita looked at him scornfully and mumbled in sarcasm, 'Wake up!' Dr. Booshy raised his trembling head and blew out the candle. He raced up the steps as though in retreat. Zaita followed him quickly, but upon emerging from the vault he heard a fearsome scream and the doctor yelping like a kicked dog, 'For God's sake have mercy!' Zaita stopped short and then rushed down the steps, icy with fear and not knowing what to do. He retreated backward into the vault until his heel touched the corpse. He moved forward a step and stood glued to the floor, not knowing where to escape to. He thought of lying down between the corpses but before he could make a move he was enveloped in a dazzling light that blinded him. A loud voice shouted out in an Upper Egyptian accent, 'Up you come, or I'll fire on you.'
In despair, he climbed the steps as ordered. He had completely forgotten the set of gold teeth in his pocket.
The news that Dr. Booshy and Zaita had been apprehended in the Taliby sepulcher reached the alley the next evening. Soon the story and all its details spread, and everyone heard it with a mixture of amazement and alarm. When Mrs. Saniya Afify heard the news, she was overcome with hysteria. Wailing in distress, she pulled the gold teeth from her mouth and flung them away, slapping hysterically at both cheeks. Then she fell down in a faint. Her new husband was in the bathtub, and when he heard her screams, panic struck him. Throwing a robe over his wet body, he rushed wildly to her rescue.
28
Uncle Kamil was sitting in his chair on the threshold of his shop, lost in a dream, his head resting on his chest. The fly whisk lay in his lap. He was awakened by a tickling sensation on his bald head, and he lifted his hand to brush off what he thought was a fly. His fingers touched a human hand. Angrily he seized it and groaned audibly, lifting his head to seek the prankster who had wakened him from his pleasant slumber. His gaze fell upon Abbas, the barber, and he could scarcely believe his eyes. He stared in blind confusion. Then his bloated red face beamed in delight and he made as if to get up.
His young friend protested at this gesture and hugged him tightly, shouting emotionally, 'How are you, Uncle Kamil?'
'How are you, Abbas?' the man replied in delight. 'Welcome indeed. You made me very lonely by going away, you bastard!'
Abbas stood before him smiling while Uncle Kamil gazed at him tenderly. He was dressed in a smart white shirt and gray trousers. His head was bare and his curly hair gave him a decidedly appealing look. All in all, he seemed extremely fit.
Uncle Kamil looked him up and down admiringly and said in his high-pitched voice, 'My, my! Oh, Johnny, you do look good!'
