Bones in the Sand by Julie Steimle (books to read to get smarter txt) 📕

Jafarr only shrugged with a mischievous grin. He then dumped the sausages into a zip lock plastic baggie in an inside pocket to his coat. She smirked when she saw him then shook her head, looking away.

After breakfast had closed (a consensus which was reached soon after Jafarr asked for some more sausages and eggs), the college students cleared up the cooking utensils and gas grill. The two teenagers took a walk toward south of the dig site like they were stretching their legs. By the time everything had been cleaned up and the young men and women were ready to begin again at the dig, the professors and the FBI agents came out of the silver trailer together. They walked in to the camp.

"Janelle, where are the two, uh...teenagers?" Professor Pratte asked, glancing once at Agent Sicamore.

The young woman glanced around and pointed southward. "They said they were taking a walk."

Agent Sicamore's face stiffened immediately. "They're at the dig site!"

He rushed past them like his feet were on fire, darting to where the bones of the other bodies were still imbedded in the stone. The professors followed him like he had stolen their wallets, and the college students did the same. All of them scrambled over the hill to the tented area where they had been digging. Sure enough, Jafarr was standing exactly over where the first bones of the helmeted man were found. Zormna stood back from him, her green eyes intently on him.

"What are you doing?" Agent Sicamore stormed up angrily.

Zormna quickly put herself in his way and crossed a finger over her lips.

"Where are the bones?" Jafarr asked, looking up from the rock. His eyes were dilated like deep holes, but it was as if he was not seeing the swelling crowd

"These are the bones," Professor Pratte said, stepping forward. "All of them."

Jafarr shook his head, his pupils contracting. But the indigo still gave the impression they were looking into fathomless space. "No, Professor. They aren't. That's a horrible lie, and you don't have a talent for them so you really should quit doing it."  He pointed down to where the helmeted man's bones had originally lain. "Here is where the bones were buried. I know this rock and this spot like I know my own heartbeat. Now where are the bones?"

Those listening went breathless, except for Zormna who still had her eyes on Jafarr. His eyes glazed over again and he teetered on his feet. Zormna leapt forward to grab hold of him so he wouldn't faint or hit the ground.

Agent Sicamore pulled back, staring incredulously. So had the other agents. Both professors exchanged looks, as clearly this was not normal behavior.

 Jafarr didn't fall to the ground, but he did stagger then grab hold of Zormna to steady himself. His eyes immediately regained their focus. Then he walked out from under the tent toward one of the lab tents.

Agent Sicamore leapt forward to stop him. "You can't go in there!"

But he might as well have whistled a song and patted his head while rubbing his stomach for all the good it did. Jafarr pushed past him as if in a trance. Zormna shoved Sicamore aside with a fierce glare. And both teenagers entered the tent where the skull and the lab technicians were already working on the casts.

Almost immediately the student technicians spouted up protests, but that did no good either. Jafarr didn't stop until he saw the skull on the table and the plaster casts on the side. His eyes focused again. He shook his head, pulling back with revulsion. "Scrapes. I certainly hope I don't die here and have my skull on display."

Zormna's green eyes flashed angrily, then filled with tears, her eyes fixed on the skull, barely nodding. She stepped toward the table, reaching out to touch it.

"Don't touch that! The acid in your skin might eat away the preserved hair and skin," one of the college technicians snapped, snatching the skull away from her reach with gloved hands.

She snarled at him, one fist back.

Jafarr grabbed a hold of her hand and pulled her away.

Turning on him, she growled. "But Jafarr, they're treating his head like an experiment. Don't you think we should at least put it back in the helmet? At least that would be respectful,"

The college students blinked at the remark. Professor Pratte noted it in the back of his thoughts for the book he intended to write once this was all over.

Jafarr lifted his eyes back toward the table. "Where is the helmet?"

The technicians didn't move. Their eyes flickered toward Professor Pratte for directions on what to do, as they had been reassured these two would never be allowed in the tent and yet no one had physically stopped them this time.

Professor Pratte glanced to Agent Sicamore.

The FBI agent sighed and shook his head. "We might as well sate their curiosity, Professor."

"But you said this morning..." Professor Pratte started, already weary.

Sicamore nodded with a cringe. "I know what I said, but it seems they'll either find it all now, or they'll rampage around and get it later. We don't want them breaking anything, so go ahead and show it to them."

The professor sighed. With a razor thin look at the teens, he reluctantly nodded to the technician. That man sighed while he glared hard at Jafarr, though he avoided Zormna's sharp gaze. He had been one of the three who set up her tent, and among the men who found her intriguingly beautiful. In fact, he had secretly nicknamed her Fire-fairy. He walked over to a locked chest that was lined inside with foam intended to carry back any artifacts they had unearthed. Within it was the rounded helmet with the cracked and broken visor, stuffed delicately so it wouldn't break and would be easy to take. He lifted it out and placed it on the table.

Zormna reached out to pick it up, but the technician quickly blocked her hands.

"You have to handle it with gloves," he said.

Sullenly rolling her eyes, she stuck out her hand. "Then give me some gloves."

Nodding, the technician glanced at his professor who seemed to have given him permission to let her touch the object. He extracted some gloves from a box dispenser and handed them over. Zormna jerked them on with a snap.

"You've done this before?" Professor Dumas asked, peering over her, as she was almost a head shorter than him.

Zormna shot him a sideways look. "Picked up a helmet? Who hasn't?"

Jafarr chuckled then coughed unconvincingly.

The professor frowned at him, then her.

Zormna lifted the helmet from the table. She tipped it and examined it, and even held it as if she was going to put it on - something the technicians and the professor held their breath against when they watched her. However, she eventually set it down on the table and fingered the large crack in the front. "It looks like he was killed by debris from the explosion."

She then looked to Jafarr who nodded, pointing to the skull.

"I think the hole in his head should match up with the helmet." He sighed heavily while shaking his head as if he knew the man personally. "Well, that explains why he never came back."

Zormna nodded.

"Who is he?" one of the students who had followed the professors into the lab tent ventured to ask.

Jafarr peered back at him a moment, taking in their audience with wider eyes. Then he glanced at Zormna. "Should we tell them?"

Her mouth thinned into a line. She murmured as if only to him, "The law... but since they already know it isn't from this world, I'm not sure what applies. It's ancient history after all."

He shrugged, peeking once at Agent Sicamore who was attentively watching them both.

The one student who had asked the question stepped from the crowd and said, "We already know it is an alien, if you are worried about that."

Regarding the man for a second, Jafarr looked to Agent Sicamore again as asked, "What have the FBI told you?"

Shooting mutinous looks in Agent Sicamore's direction, the college student replied, "Nothing. That's the problem."

Smirking, Jafarr nodded to Sicamore. "Great. Well then, that means I can tell you anything, and you'll believe me, right?"

But that got a glare from the college boy.

Professor Dumas then cleared his throat. "Perhaps you could tell us at least who that man is or was - and forget the lies you would have to tell us to protect yourselves? Hmm?"

Jafarr smirked at the professor. Then with a bow that seemed out of place in the modern age, he replied, "Alright. I think I can manage that at least. But perhaps... Zormna - wouldn't you rather tell the story? Since he's probably your hero and all?"

Her cheeks coloring, Zormna looked a little flattered as she nodded. Picking up the skull, Zormna placed it reverently next to the helmet. "His name was Arrand. He lived over ten thousand years ago and was a famous pilot."

"Like Amelia Earhart?" another student asked.

Zormna shrugged, comprehending the reference. "Well, in regards to his vanishing, I suppose. But he was famous before then. He had such skill as a pilot that all ship pilots admired him. He once said, 'If someone tells you it can't be done, show him it can. If someone says it is impossible, disprove him by doing it. Never accept the limitations others set on you, and never accept every limitation that you see. Many things are be done before people say they can't be.'" She sighed. "Anyway, he was smuggling refugees from the Great War to...uh...here where they could live out their lives in peace. We lost track of him on his last journey, and no one could find his ship. We had all supposed it vaporized in the blast."

Agent Sicamore muttered some thing. "...like the satellite. They never expected to find it, so...."

Professor Pratte peered back at him, wondering what he meant. And then looked up at Zormna.

"But now that we have found the ship, I think we'd better give him a proper burial, don't you think?" Zormna turned to face her companion.

Jafarr nodded frankly. "Agreed."

She placed the skull back into the helmet, delivering the men in the room a stern glare. "And a pilot really should be buried in his helmet."

With that, Zormna ripped off her gloves and walked out of the tent as if she had the run of the place.

Jafarr smiled after her, watching her go with a sense of admiration for her style. He patted the technician on the shoulder as he smiled at the rest in the room. "And that, my friends, will probably be all you'll hear of the story. Shall we now go see the ship?"

The group around him frowned, but it seemed the next thing to do. Those two would be a menace until their curiosity was satisfied.

Agent Sicamore nodded and led the way.

The boy called Jafarr seemed thoroughly amused at the way things were being handled by the FBI, and he bowed magnanimously to them as he passed by to the tent exit. They all walked to the ship site, the Boy leading the way as if he had known where it was the entire time. Zormna was already there. In fact, she was standing on top of the ship, rapping her knuckles on the metal hull.

Seeing him, she announced loudly, "It's hollow. The crash shield must be in place."

Jafarr nodded as he marched over the sand towards her, calling back, "Come down. I think the professors are scared you'll cave in the ship roof."

Indeed, the men beside him had been gasping at her standing on the bare metal. Most of the ship's one side was exposed to the elements, showing marks of a side door yet not able to be opened because the majority of it was still encased in cement and rock.

Zormna rolled her eyes and jumped down from the top, sliding on the exposed side as if she had done such a thing a thousand times. "I don't