The Buried City

Donna Gambio was waiting for her husband to get home. The day had been scorching hot and due to her husband’s outdoor excavating work, he would probably be exhausted. She was cooking dinner for the two of them, a surprise dinner to bring him the most blessed news that she had received earlier that day when she visited Prophet Arlan. She rubbed her belly and smiled. Their dream would become reality. Although, the smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she thought of the other news that Prophet Arlan had shared with her. It was a news so horrid that it couldn’t have been more in contrast with the news of their coming child. She wasn’t going to think about that now though, she told herself. He couldn’t be right about every prophecy that he foretold, could he?

The door slammed open and an enthusiastic man with the name of Alonso Gambio stepped through the door. Sweat was pouring down his face that carried an expression as if, she thought, he’d found the biggest treasure in the world. She was not far off.
‘My dear Donna, my lady, come into my arms. I have incredible news to share with you,’ Alonso said.
You are not the only one, Donna thought and smiled. The thought of him being exhausted had never been a plausible one for he was too passionate about his work. ‘Tell me darling what is it?’ she asked.
He sat her down at the table, ignoring the candles and the tablecloth that she had made for special occasions. He looked her deep into her eyes and she felt a child again, going on a new adventure. ‘I found it,’ he said.
Donna stared at him and an unsure smile started to form on her face. ‘You found it?’
‘I found it!’ He screamed elated. ‘We found it,’ he corrected himself. ‘We finally did it. We have found the entrance.’
Donna couldn’t believe her ears.
‘The Prophet was right,’ he told her, thrilled with excitement. ‘The entrance to the buried city!’
Prophet Arlan had indeed foretold a prophecy of “The Buried City”, somewhere below Vilardo, the city where they lived, and that Alonso would be the one to discover it. This all happened nine years ago and Alonso dug deeper and deeper all around the city with no success until Prophet Arlan pointed them towards the south entrance of Vilardo. It was there that they started digging last year and he had been right. Alonso never had a single doubt during this time that he would be the one to find it. Not a single day of doubt. Donna loved that about him.
‘But how do you know it is the buried city?’
Alonso laughed out loud, ‘Because it is literally inscribed on the entrance door! Well, not “The Buried City” of course but the big gate, as was foretold, stands there with the carving of “Falerii Novi” on it.’
‘You’ve seen this?’
Alonso grabbed his wife by the shoulders trying not to shake her in his excitement. ‘With my own eyes!’ He walked back and plunged himself into the chair at the table and exhaled the biggest exhale of accomplishment. Then, for the first time since he had come home, he looked at the table and noticed the special setting. ‘Did someone already tell you this news? No! Was it Alfredo? No, he wouldn’t.’
Donna watched Alonso talking to himself and shook her head smiling. He finally found it. Donna wasn’t sure if the timing of her news would be fitting to tell at this time, not to steal any attention away from Alonso’s achievement, but she thought maybe it would add to it. What were the odds to have two marvelous new adventures start at the same time?
‘I am pregnant,’ she said out of nowhere.
Alonso who was balancing his chair on two legs was blasted backward by the shockwave of those words and Donna could only see his legs fly over his head. She put her hand in front of her mouth. He tried pulling himself up but felt a little dizzy and crawled towards her with eyes as big as when he discovered the gate.
‘Wh-What?’ was all he could muster.
‘I’m pregnant,’ Donna said again, starting to like the sound of those words. ‘We are having a baby.’
Alonso’s face took multiple forms, different emotions were fighting for attention and at one point she thought an alien was going to burst through his nostrils to show her that her husband had been possessed all along until his expression settled on a most peculiar one. She couldn’t really read what the emotion was and started to doubt the timing of the reveal. Alonso was making a sobbing sound while looking at the floor, but when he raised his head Donna saw that he was laughing, crying and that he looked up towards the ceiling thanking God. Donna relaxed and started to laugh as well. Alonso jumped up as if he got propelled by the power of new life, he swung his arms behind him and rushed forward as he hugged Donna in an embrace so tight that it squished the air from her lungs. ‘My darling, darling wife. Congratulations! What incredible news!’ Alonso couldn’t believe his luck. He felt like the wealthiest man in the world although their house was one of the tiniest in the city. ‘How did you know?’
‘I went to Prophet Arlan this morning,’ she told him.
‘You had an appointment? Why didn’t you tell me! You must have been so nervous.’
‘Linda made the appointment for me, Arlan always does whatever she asks of him.’
‘It is true,’ Alonso grinned, ‘she could even make him lose that robe of his and dive naked from the waterfall screaming: I’m a little girl!’
‘That is so unkind, Alsonso, he did that once and that was 25 years ago.’
‘I didn’t mean it in a bad way,’ he said.
Alonso heard those words of a small Prophet Arlan back then whilst jumping off the waterfall and he beamed at the thought. At that time Arlan was considered a strange boy, that would dress up as a girl every now and then. On some days when they played as kids, Arlan wanted to be called “she” instead of “he”. Alonso thought it was strange at first but he kind of got used to it. Later on, Arlan didn’t even have to tell him because he could sense if he felt more like a male or female that day. It was kind of natural. But it wasn’t the only peculiar thing about Arlan. The strangest thing was when he foretold the death of Fausto, their friend, a premonition that would label Arlan as “The Prophet” from then on. Alonso remembered it very vividly. They were sitting in the school hut when Arlan had leaned in and told Alonso about his dream. He told him that Fausto was to fall off the steep mountain cliff overlooking the city and that he would plunge to his death. The city of Vilardo was built next to this enormous mountain and every person Alonso knew had at least once ascended it. The boys all hiked there regularly. He told the dream to everyone but Fausto. It was a strange thing to do to be honest. But that Saturday, four days after the dream, Arlan and Fausto, and a classmate Miguel, went up that mountain and only two came down. Well, came down the same way they had gone up. And who do you think was lying at the bottom of the steep hill? Everybody knew that Fausto was a daredevil and climbed certain parts without rope where no one would tread even with one attached to them. It was after Fausto’s death that people looked at Arlan as one that could see into the future. It was then people started calling him Prophet.
‘Alonso, my love? Is something worrying you?’ Donna asked.
Alonso shook off his thoughts and smiled. ‘No, my dear, let us eat dinner and celebrate this night to never forget. Tomorrow, I am going to show you the gate to Falerii Novi.’
But at those words, Donna’s stomach twisted and she felt nauseous.
Alonso jumped up and held her. ‘Are you feeling alright my dear?’
‘Yes it’s just, I cannot go.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked aghast.
Donna wasn’t sure what to say. It was about the other news that Prophet Arlan had shared.
‘I…’ she tried to speak.
‘What could be so bad my love?’
‘I’m afraid of that place.’
Alonso didn’t understand.
‘Prophet Arlan, he, he…’
‘Yes?’
‘He foretold my death.’
Alonso gaped at her and was at a loss for words. ‘Your death?’
Donna nodded and started weeping.
‘He is not supposed to share any such visions with the person whom it concerns? He must be wrong! What did he say?’
Donna was holding her belly in comfort. ‘He told me about the darkness, enclosing me. Preventing me from breathing. Claustrophobia.’
Alonso had a hard time thinking. ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ he said.
‘I said the same thing.’
‘So how did he explain all this nonsense?’
‘He said,’ Donna tried to speak as she shivered.
‘Tell me, dear, what is it that he told you?’
She looked at Alonso with cheeks wet from her tears. ‘He told me that I would be buried alive.’

Alonso was pacing towards the foot of the mountain approaching Prophet Arlan’s hut to demand an explanation for the terrible vision he had foretold to his wife. It was pitch dark outside since the mountain stood tall in front of the moon. A small flickering light came out of Arlan’s hut.
Alonso stepped through the door as he noticed the Prophet cleaning his dishes.
‘Miss?’ Alonso said.
‘Yes my dear, welcome, what is it you are looking for at this late hour?’ the Prophet said.
‘I demand an explanation to the vision you shared with Donna.’
‘The explanation should be found within you Alonso, congratulations by the way.’
‘I’m not talking about that, although thank you, I’m talking about the vision that she would be buried alive.’
‘Those are not my words,’ the Prophet explained. ‘It is only the interpretation that Donna has.’
‘Then what did you tell her?’ Alonso demanded.
The Prophet took a seat and pointed to another chair for Alonso to sit in. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. She then looked at Alonso and told him: ‘I see her darkness, her body covered in dirt, trying to breathe, dying. I am sorry, it is a vision not necessarily of her death but moments before it. It shocked me as well.’
‘This is no excuse, how could you tell her that? And right after giving her news of the baby.’
‘I do have to admit that it is not my intention to share any such information with anyone, not after what happened years ago. But Donna pressured me into telling.’
‘I don’t believe you, about any of this.’
‘You did when I foretold about Falerii Novi,’ the Prophet said.
‘You became a Prophet after Fausto’s death,’ Alonso said, ‘Some think you pushed him off.’
‘People believe what they want to believe. Not everyone trusts in prophecies.’
‘Did you do it?’
‘Do what?’
‘Push that boy.’
‘Ever since I was little I had visions in my head of a buried city. Did I lie to you when I told you about this?’
‘No you didn’t’
‘Then why would you start doubting me now? When it is a prophecy you do not want to hear?’
Alonso contemplated that for a second. ‘Have you ever been wrong?’
‘I tell what I see, how you interpret it is something else, but no, never.’
Alonso stood up and started walking towards the door. ‘Tomorrow I will return, with my team. I want you to tell us our future. If they are as troubling as you say Donna’s is, then we have to keep those people away from the excavation site. Who knows how unstable the buried city is and what’s behind the gate.’
‘I accept, I know this is important to you. You know my methods well. Tomorrow morning you bring the people whose future needs to be told. I will take your handprints on paper and study them afterward. The next day I will know more.’
Alonso left, partly satisfied that he could take measures if need be. They were dealing with unknown things down there. No telling of what they would find. He would do everything possible to safeguard the lives of his men, and most importantly, that of his wife and unborn child.

In the morning, Alonso led a group of eighteen people down to Prophet Arlan’s hut. They all placed their hand in a bowl of paint and placed it firmly on the scrolls that were laid out before them. Prophet Arlan hung them up to dry on strings that went from left to right all the way up into the pointy part of the hut. One at the top, two below, three below that until all eighteen hung there to dry. They left the hut, some jokingly associating the whole process to a children’s painting workshop. Excavations were delayed that day and everybody took a break taming their excitement over the opening of the gate that would hopefully start the next day.

A day passed and Alonso woke up next to his wife who had calmed down a bit. He stroked her belly and told her that he would do anything in his power to protect their little family. Donna stood there on their front lawn waving him goodbye when he took a stroll towards Prophet Arlan’s hut to find out what the future held for them, all of them.
When he approached the hut he immediately felt that something was off. The door stood open, which in any case might not raise brows, but Arlan was very keen on his privacy and during the time he knew him his door was always firmly shut. He knocked on the door and stepped through it. The hut was empty.
‘Prophet Arlan?’ There was no sound. He walked into the resting quarters and found an empty bed. Where could he be? It was then that he noticed small movements in the corner of the living quarters. There he saw a man softly rocking back and forth, mumbling to himself.
‘Prophet?’ he called.
The Prophet raised his head and Alonso noticed a fear in his eyes that he had never seen before. Over his fear lay an expression of dismay.
‘Are you alright, Arlan?’ he asked him and tried to address him as a friend to comfort him.
‘I don’t understand,’ Arlan muttered.
Alonso looked around and saw the handprints hanging on the strings in his hut. He looked at Arlan who was holding one of his own.
‘Have you studied them?’ Alonso asked gently.
Arlan didn’t move and Alonso walked towards him to help him stand.
‘I don’t understand Alonso,’ he said again.
‘What did it say?’
Arlan stood up and looked Alonso in the eyes. ‘They all say the same thing.’
‘The same thing? You mean, the darkness?’
Arlan nodded.
‘You mean all my men would be prone to be buried alive if we open the gate?’
Arlan murmured something about interpretations but he nodded. ‘I studied the hands and they all tell of suffocating in the dark. I tried looking for an answer and I think I might have found it,’ he said, ‘but it cannot be.’
‘What is it?’
Arlan walked towards the hands hanging above them all towards the ceiling of the hut. He pointed at them, ‘Look at the shape. It’s a triangle.’
Alonso gazed at the Prophet’s artwork. ‘Yes it is, but what does that mean?’
‘I think you haven’t found the buried city after all,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have found what is called “The Pyramid of Death”. The one spoken of in our ancestorial scrolls. The Pyramid that kills all.’
Alonso noticed that Arlan was turning pale as sugar.
‘Come now, those are metaphors right?’
Arlan shook his head. ‘The Pyramid of Death has been told upon generations, you know this.’
He couldn’t believe it. How could the pyramid be underground and how could they have found the entrance first? It didn’t make sense.’
‘You open the gate, we are all dead. And I led you to it.’
‘Stop it Arlan, this doesn’t make any sense,’ and he pointed out what he had just been thinking.
‘Wait,’ Alonso said as he went even paler than Arlan. He felt himself trembling. It wasn’t his knees though it was the ground. He walked outside and looked around him. Both men were standing outside of Arlan’s hut and their gaze focussed slowly on the enormous triangular mountain looming over the city of Vilardo. The ground started rumbling and as if God snapped his fingers the side of the mountain started to melt and roll down the slope. The top exploded with a bang so loud that all sound was drained away from their ears. A massive smoke plume shot upwards to the sky as the mountain rolled down towards the city. Arlan screamed and Alonso embraced him. “The Pyramid of Death”, was the last thought that went through Alonso’s mind as the avalanche of rocks came towards them in blinding speed and buried them beneath layers of rubble that would forever entomb the people and the city of Vilardo until a next-generation would find them, along with their own fate. Over, and over again.