The Dark Spirits Beneath by Kason Laufenberg (lightweight ebook reader txt) 📕

90's alternative playlist. The lead singer's breathy voice filled her ears, as it resonated from the black cylinder, perched with care atop the edge of the archaeological test pit. Producing music, which served the primary function of breaking up the awkward silence and the monotony of the tense, and disgruntled pair while they work. Piercing the air, it carried out in sharp contrast to the setting, the melody succeeding in serving this purpose, in addition to recklessly shattering the noiseless vacuum that defined this arid, drab desert landscape.

Layla continued to stroke the silver pendant as she listened, and made a solid attempt to allow each of these other things to take her mind over if even just a little. To tether her back down to reality. To now. And all the while, trying to shake off the familiar feelings of terror from the dream, and a chapter of her past, Layla was unfortunately all too familiar with, though not particularly fond of revisiting. "It... was just a bad dream, I think. I guess I was a little tired. I'm fine now."

James rolled his eyes and adjusted the frayed brim of his cherry-red ball cap, which boasted the words University of New Mexico, and the familiar shield logo of their school's mascot, the Lobos. "Good. Then how about getting your ass over here, Sleeping Beauty, and helping me already!" he sarcastically fired back without hesitation, that cocky smirk gracing his face again. "I've been working on this same pit, alone, for hours, ya know!" He proceeded to nonchalantly dump a pail full of excavated dirt into one of the sifting screens in front of where Layla has been sitting, causing a cloud of dirt to carelessly fly into the air, and Layla to surge into a fit of disgusted coughs and angry glares.

"Okay, okay... You've made your point already!" Realizing she was not going to garner any sympathy, Layla put the notebook down onto the canvas folding chair, and leaping to her feet, strolled over to give her rude and self-centered colleague a hand with the cumbersome screen. "I help plenty, by the way."

James just glared and rolled his eyes again, as both of them began the work of sifting through the material. As the dust billowed and gathered in the growing heap underneath, the two students moved their heads in close to assess their most recent findings.

"Oooooo... look at this! Two chert projectile flakes, a jasper flake, and alone, a tiny shard of clay pottery," James was of course the first to speak up, making sure to punctuate his lack of enthusiasm through his lyrically sarcastic tone, "very exciting."

"Alright, Indiana Jones, you've made your point!" Over the past few years working alongside her colleague at the University, Layla had learned to be quick on the draw when it came to formulating her responses to James' particular brand of snark. "Besides, you know you can't expect to discover a lost civilization every single time you dig," is what Layla actually ended up finishing saying, though what she was really thinking was more along the lines of, Jesus! Must I always be the pragmatist among you, damn people?!

"Yeah, yeah... I know," James relented, for just a moment, much to Layla's surprise, and catching her off guard. "I guess I'm just a little tired, too," he sighed, having somewhat dropped the sarcastic facade. Removing his hat, he anxiously stroked his sweaty, chestnut-colored hair. "Seriously, though... We've been out here every day for, what... the past two weeks?... on Ruiz's damn excavation, and all we have to show for it is crap like this?!"

Even Layla couldn't deny that what James was saying was true. This had become grueling, unrewarding work, for sure, but what other choice did either of them have? Grad students, as a rule, usually have little in the way of free will, especially when it comes to efforts in advancing their own careers and professional connections. This was true at the University of New Mexico, just as it would be just about anywhere else. Case in point, if your advisor wants you working on his project studying the prehistoric Hopi Puebloan populations, in the middle of the blisteringly hot, high desert, well outside of the comfortable, air-conditioned metropolis of Albuquerque, you have little to say in response, aside from for how long and where do you want me to put the shovel. But still, this particular project had become more than a little disheartening, even by grad student standards.

Feeling a bit deflated, Layla lazily continued assisting James, as they both returned the heavy wooden and wire mesh screen, properly catalog the minuscule bits of artifacts, and resumed the excavation, starting the whole process over again. It wasn't long into resuming the dig, that Layla scrambled to her feet again, this time her energy focused on retrieving her pack from the shaded tent area nearby. "I don't know about you, but I could use a water break. Be right back." As she stretched and climbed out of the pit, Layla didn't even have to turn around to know that James' eyes rolled dramatically at those words, too.

Once at the tent, Layla bent down and began rifling through her own field pack. Pushing aside a thin yellow notepad and a dusty pair of binoculars, she removed a dented teal aluminum Hydro Flask water bottle, which sloshed conspicuously as she extracted it. Assuming it to be at a minimum half empty, Layla shrugged and returned to her feet anyway. Bottle in hand, and throwing the pack's strap over one shoulder, she started the short trek back to her colleague at the pit. "Hey, James, you got a granola bar or somethin..." But mid-stride and mid-sentence, Layla's breath escaped her, and she found herself suddenly and abruptly frozen in place, a mere five or so meters from James and the waiting pit. Frozen, because she heard an unmistakable and potentially deadly sound that, in truth, both of them had been expecting to hear all day.

The