Cat and I continued to work with Ryan. In August, I finished my second novel, Message in a Bottle, and my sister called later that month to tell us that she and Bob were getting married. Soon after that, Micah and Christine got engaged as well, and would be married the following summer. Micah's business continued to grow, and he'd even begun a second business, one that manufactured entertainment centers.
Though Dana had begun getting headaches again--she'd been prone to migraines long before she'd been diagnosed--her CAT scans continued to come back negative. Nearly five years had passed since she'd first had the surgery--at which point she would technically be in remission. My sister was married in a beautiful ceremony in Hawaii. For a moment, just a moment, all seemed right in my sister's world. She had the life she'd always dreamed of; she was married, had children, and even had horses she kept at the ranch.
Then, while on her honeymoon, Dana suddenly suffered another seizure. And when she got back, the CAT scan showed something it hadn't in years.
My sister's brain tumor was growing again.
CHAPTER 16
Valletta, Malta
February 11-12
In the previous four days--since the morning before our trip to Agra--we'd spent a total of five hours visiting both the Taj Mahal and Lalibela. Our flight time, by way of comparison, was nearly ten hours, or twice as long.
It was this slowing of the pace--and the extent of our travels to that point--that left both Micah and me feeling lethargic by the time we landed. But Malta, with its European flavor and atmosphere, energized us almost immediately.
The island was gorgeous, with white rocky cliffs plunging to the blue Mediterranean. The sky was cloudless, crisp and winter bright--it was our first stop where the temperature was cool--and after donning our jackets we boarded the buses and made our way to the various sites.
Because of the size of our group, we were split into three sections; ours would head first to the Hypogeum, an underground temple complex discovered in 1902 that was found to contain the remains of six to seven thousand bodies. The complex is a labyrinth, consisting of chambers built over three levels, and descending to a depth of nearly forty feet. Dating back to nearly 3,600 B.C., it is far older than either the Pyramids or Stonehenge. It is, in fact, the oldest known structure of any kind in the world, and had been carved from the limestone using the simplest of tools: bone, flint, and hard rocks.
Combined with the ruins in other parts of Malta that we'd visit--the Tarxien Temple, which is the oldest known freestanding statue of a deity, and the megalithic temples aboveground, which are the oldest freestanding stone buildings ever discovered--it represents one of the earliest advanced civilizations in the world. Yet no one knows who these early people were, where they came from, what happened to them, or where they went. The civilization seems to have vanished as mysteriously as it arrived.
Despite this fascinating history of the lost inhabitants, it was Malta itself that Micah seemed most interested in. As we drove along paved roads in which everyone obeyed traffic laws (by then, it seemed downright strange), I could see Micah smiling.
"You know what this reminds me of?" he asked.
"What?"
"My trip to Italy," he said. "Right after I graduated from college, when Tracy and I went biking around. It looked just like this. Well, parts of it anyway. That trip was a blast."
"Gee, really?" I feigned surprise. "Exploring, meeting new people, having fun? That doesn't sound like your kind of thing."
He smiled, no doubt thinking back to our Mission Gang days. "Did I ever tell you what happened when we first got to Europe?"
I shook my head.
"Well, Tracy and I flew into Madrid, but because we each had free miles on different airlines, we weren't on the same flight. We were supposed to land at about the same time, but when I went to his gate to meet him, he wasn't on the plane. The thing was, Tracy had everything in his suitcase--the guidebook, directions, maps, even the tools I needed to put my mountain bike back together. And I'm in a foreign country. No one spoke English, I couldn't read any of the signs, I couldn't even figure out who to ask to find out why Tracy hadn't arrived. I didn't even know where the city was in relation to the airport."
"What did you do?"
"I finally found some guy who spoke English and he helped me. I found out that Tracy got delayed, missed his flight, and that he'd be coming in the next day. But I still had nowhere to go. I didn't even have a credit card back then. I finally found a couple of mechanics who helped me put the bike together, and after they pointed me in the direction of town, I just started pedaling. It took an hour to get downtown, and I still didn't know where to go, where I was going to sleep. I finally found a Hard Rock Cafe, and figuring I could at least find something in English, I went to get something to eat. And after that, things got a little easier."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I asked my waitress if she wanted to go out that night. So I went out on a date."
A little while later, Micah turned back to me. He'd been busy videotaping the drive; in the end, Micah would shoot six hours of video that he'd never end up watching. On the trip, however, you would have thought he'd been filming a documentary.
"Hey Nick--have you ever heard of the Hypogeum?"
I nodded. "I've read about it."
"Isn't it just supposed to be a tomb?"
"For the most part. But it's the oldest one ever discovered. That's why it's special."
He seemed lost in thought. "You know what I want a picture of?"
"What's that?"
"A picture of me lying down in the tomb. You know, pretending I'm dead. Wouldn't that be cool?"
"I think it would be kind of disgusting."
He gave me an airy wave. "Disgusting, cool--same thing."
Alas, Micah wouldn't get a chance to have his picture taken amid the dust and microscopic remains of the humans once buried in the Hypogeum.
The Hypogeum was entirely different from any other site we'd visited to that point. For starters, it was located beneath a building entirely unremarkable on the outside. It could have been a restaurant, business, or home--like the buildings on either side of it; the only reason we knew it was a museum were the words stenciled on the glass doors.
Inside, we were met by a very serious guide, who explained what we could expect: The Hypogeum was essentially sealed, to prevent decay by the elements. We would walk down the steps, and should watch our heads. We would be told where remains had once been discovered. We would see a short movie about the Hypogeum first. Tours were scheduled every hour and it was imperative that we all stay together and move quickly. We should try not to interrupt, for there wasn't enough time to answer questions. We would not be allowed to take pictures. If we did, he would confiscate our cameras.
"This guy's like a prison guard," Micah whispered. "He doesn't even smile."
"Who? Mr. Cheerful?"
"I think he's sizing us up, trying to figure out who's going to follow the rules, and who isn't."
"I think he knows you're in the latter group. He keeps looking at you."
"Yeah," he said. "I noticed that. For such a happy guy, he's really pretty perceptive."
We were led into the climate-controlled, computer-enhanced, video-monitored control room and told to sit in the seats to watch the movie. There was no choice in the matter. You had to watch the movie. Our guide was taking attendance.
This, essentially, is what we learned over the next fifteen minutes: Not Much. No one knows who built it. No one knows why. No one knows what happened to the people who built it. No one knows where they came from originally. No one knows why it was designed the way it was. No one knows what the civilization was like. All they knew was that it was built long before the Pyramids.
The lights came on.
"This way, please," our guide announced. "Come, come. We will start the tour in one minute. You don't have much time, so try to stay together. Do not ask too many questions, it will only slow us
down."
And with that, we were led into the Hypogeum. It's essentially a cave, and we weren't allowed to touch anything. We walked on a ramp that had been built six inches over the floor, ducked our heads, and listened to the guide talk nonstop for the next forty minutes. And this is what we learned: Not Much.
Everything he'd said seemed to have been lifted from the movie.
Nonetheless, it was a momentous feeling to wander through the oldest ruins known to mankind. And adding to the sense of gravity was our group itself. Our guide had intimidated them all. It's kind of eerie standing in a cave with twenty people--most of whom were friends by now--and not hearing so much as a whisper for an extended period of time. It was the quietest moment on the tour.
From there, we went on to the Tarxien ruins, which were located right in the middle of downtown. This time, however, instead of a building, we were led to a small vacant lot, with a few large stones scattered throughout. Machu Picchu, it was not.
"This is it?" Micah asked.
"Oh, come on. It's not that bad. At least you can shoot video now."
"There's nothing to shoot. This looks . . . boring. How long are we supposed to be here?"
"I think an hour."
"That's a long time, considering no one knows anything."
He was right; it was a long hour, despite the fact that we had a new guide, who actually seemed pleased to see us. Every description began with the phrase, "We think this might be one of two things . . ." or, "We're not exactly sure what this was used for . . ."
We also began to frequently hear the word replica.
As in: "This is a replica of the pillar, which we think might have been important because of . . ."
After the first few minutes, and no fewer than a dozen "replicas," Micah raised his hand.
"You keep saying the word replica," Micah observed.
"Yes," our guide nodded. "It's a replica."