The Intern, Part 1
A crowd of hopeful Arizona State University students gathered around the bulletin board outside Dr. Isis Nassar’s lecture hall. She posted the semester’s final scores. There was a cluster of students who anxiously waited to scan for their grades. Hopefuls who wanted their scores to be high enough to get selected for the internship slots.
Dr. Nassar, head of ASU’s archaeology department, sought three interns with the highest averages. Interning with her would open doors in Trevor Jenkins’ post-graduation career options. He wanted one of those internships for himself. Near the middle of the crowd, he heard Richard Atkins whoop in joy.
He knew Richard from elementary school, and they had become best friends. They even chose the same majors at the same university together. Although they had separate dorm rooms, they were still neighbors and always saw each other.
Damn.
It was down to two openings now. Trevor arched his back and stood a little taller to see over the crowd when he heard a deep timber near the front shout his joy.
Double Damn. Now, there was only one spot left. The butterflies in his stomach started doing somersaults.
Trevor inched through the anxious crowd and hesitantly approached the bulletin board. His heart pounded so loud that he was sure everyone heard it. Trevor’s breathing became more labored; he gasped for air like he ran a marathon. His finger trembled as he skimmed down the list in search of his name. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly released it, before opening them to read the grade next to his student ID number.
In shock, he reread it again, shouted, “Yes!” and pumped his fist in the air. He did it; Trevor got the last spot. His eyes skimmed further down the sheet of paper to the professor’s instructions.
Attention:
All interns report to my lab on Monday the 15th at 8 a.m. sharp!
Dr. Isis Nassar.
This news deserved to be celebrated because Trevor was now on the road to success. He thought as he strode back to the dorm. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Hey dude, can you dig it? Richard walked past him and plopped into the chair near the bed. “We are going to intern with Nassar.”
“I know. We need to party because Monday is right around the corner. Once we start the internship, we might not have time to go out for a while, so let’s have some fun.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.”
If you were an ASU student, one of the best bars in town was the Pedal Haus Brewery. It only hosted small and quiet crowds who preferred a more intimate environment. This was the place to relax with a brewsky without all the noise. The DJ was playing Stir Fry by Migos. Trevor relaxed even more, sat back, and listened to the music. The rest of the weekend flew by in a blur.
The notes of the radio alarm jarred Trevor awake; at first, he was irritated and wanted to crush the clock. Then he remembered that this was the day. He rushed out of bed and into the shower; dried off, shaved, dressed, and hurried to the university.
Trevor entered the lab at 8 a.m. and interrupted the doctor’s conversation with Richard and Allan Ventner. He’d seen him around the campus and in the classroom but never got to know him personally.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Jenkins,” Dr. Nassar slid black-rimmed glasses down her nose, peering at him above the rims. One perfectly plucked eyebrow raised.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was on time.” He couldn’t stop the minute flash of irritation that sped across his nerves.
She looked down at him. “I expect my interns to be here at least 15 minutes before schedule so we can discuss any administrative tasks. Do we understand each other?”
His face heated. The burn traveled down his neck until both his neck and face felt like they were on fire. “My apologies, doctor. It won’t happen again.”
“Good. Then, let’s get started. The three of you will write research papers on the uncovered objects in excavations. You will also catalog the items and the library by properly arranging books and magazines on the shelves. I’ve been invited to an excavation in Egypt at the end of the year. As a reward, one of you will accompany me.”
His body froze. Egypt? That would be the dream of a lifetime. Little by little, he came back to life. Trevor’s heart had stopped, but there was a faint beat—one, then two, now a robust and steady beat. He struggled for air, gulping like a fish out of water. Egypt was why he wanted to be an archaeologist: to sift through time’s sands and discover ancient artifacts. He would win that trip because it was his holy grail of archaeological sites.
The weeks flew by as he worked tirelessly. He cataloged the artifacts and wrote articles for the archaeological journals. Trevor loved learning the history of each piece and shared that knowledge with others who loved reading about them.
Dr. Phillip Morton discovered a fascinating piece dated from the Mesopotamian age at a recent excavation. It was a statue carved out of an unknown black crystal. When he first saw it, Trevor thought it was Obsidian, but it registered an eight on the hardness scale. Obsidian is a softer stone that measures only 5 or 5.5.
There was much speculation about the stone. Some thought it could be a meteorite, which was as good a guess as any since it was the only one of its kind so far. A woman’s face took shape in the smooth, glassy rock—high cheekbones, full lips, almond-shaped eyes. It was a classic beauty, and one would think she was human, except for the curved horns on her head. The intricate carving displayed the curly waves of the woman’s hair.
The artist’s detail was so good; its waves almost looked alive, like Medusa’s snakes, slithering and crawling across her face as if they were a part of her instead of a separate feature. It was horrifically beautiful and raised goosebumps on his body. His hands still held the ice-cold statue as he admired and feared what he was appraising.
A manuscript came with it, and he translated the Assyrian text. It revealed that the stone was an effigy the represented Lilith. There were many stories about her. She was Adam’s first wife but refused to be subservient to him or any man. So, God ousted her from the Garden of Eden, turning her into a succubus that preyed on men in revenge.
Chills ran up his spine as if someone had walked on his grave. Allan barged in and pulled Trevor from his stupor. Now, his attention turned to Allan. The guy looked rough. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his gaunt face was bruised.
“What the hell happened to you, dude?” Trevor asked.
“Not sure. I feel like shit! I haven’t been sleeping well because I’m also having nightmares,” Allan said.
“Are you coming down with something?” he asked.
“I don’t think so; I don’t have any symptoms – just tired all the time and nightmares.”
“Well, I think you should still see the school nurse to be on the safe side,” Trevor said.
“Yeah, maybe you are right,” Allan said.
A week later, Dr. Nassar entered the lab.
“Are either of you friends with Allan?” She asked them.
Trevor and Richard looked up from the catalog pictures they were working on.
“We both are, but you’ve known him longer, right?” Richard said, glancing at Trevor.
“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out. Why?” Trevor asked.
“He’s a no-show today, which is unlike him. Have you two talked to him today? Did he mention if anything is wrong?”
“We saw each other briefly, and he looked sick, so I told him he should see the nurse,” Trevor told her.
Dr. Nasar pressed her crimson-full lips together for a few seconds and then asked Trevor, “Would you mind terribly going to check on Allan to ensure he’s alright?”
A sense of unease skittered down Trevor’s spine, and he suddenly needed to see his friend. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all,” he said.
Outside, Trevor marched across the campus, worried about Allan. He knocked on the door inside the dorm, but there was no answer so he turned the knob, but it was locked. He saw Milton Straight, the resident advisor. “Hey, Milton. I need you to open this door, please. I want to make sure Allan’s alright.”
“Why? What do you think is wrong?” He asked.
“I’m not sure. Allan didn’t attend his classes or make it to Dr. Nassar’s lab; no one has heard from him. It’s not like him.”
Milton inserted the key card and opened the door. Trevor pushed past him and abruptly stopped. Allan was still in bed. His eyes were open, blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, and his skin was waxy and translucent. He knew Allan had been sick, but it never occurred to him that his life was in danger.
Later, they heard the doctors didn’t know what killed Allan, and they couldn’t find anything when they did the autopsy. Trevor couldn’t wrap his head around it. How can the medical profession not know what killed Allan? That one thought bounced around in his head, and he couldn’t get rid of it.
To make matters worse, a few days later, Richard entered the lab, looking precisely like Allan did. He had the same dark circles under his eyes and bruising on his yellowish, haggard face.
“What the hell? Are you alright?” Trevor asked.
“No, I think I caught whatever Allan had. I feel like crap, and I can’t keep anything down. Haven’t been able to sleep either.” Richard hesitated, looking down at his feet for a few seconds. Then he looked at Trevor. “I’m scared, man. I don’t want to die like he did.”
Icy shivers traveled up Trevor’s spine. “You better go see a doctor, and fast, because Allan was complaining about the same thing before he died.”
Fear became Richard’s dominant expression, and Trevor watched as Richard repeatedly tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. He finally said. “Okay, I will. Thanks.”
After work, Trevor went to the university’s nurse’s office to check on him. Richard wasn’t there anymore. They moved him to Banner’s Medical Center, a few miles away. Trevor marched to the parking garage where his baby, a 2023 apple red Mustang, was parked. Trevor slid behind the wheel, revved her engine, and raced to Banners.
He approached the receptionist’s desk. “Hi, I’m here to see Richard Atkins?”
“He’s with the doctor now, and his brother is in the waiting room if you want to join him.”
Trevor knew Richard had a brother, Andrew, and met him numerous times. So, he went to join him. Andrew was a taller and more slender version of his brother. Where Richard looked more comfortable out in the field, Andrew looked more at home in an office.
“Have you heard anything yet?” Trevor asked.
“No, nothing. Just that the doctor is in the room with him.”
Trevor sat in one of the hard chairs and settled in to wait for news from the doctor. Two hours later, he came out to see Andrew.
“Are you related to the patient? He asked Andrew?”
Andrew stood up. “Yes, I’m his brother. What’s wrong with him?”
“The prognosis isn’t favorable right now, but we are doing our best to figure it out.”
Trevor shot out of his chair, his heart racing. Oh God. Richard’s going to die.
