needed. The American Native Historical Archeology Department needed help for some digs. It took a lot of persuasion accompanied with a little of her money in the right direction to find herself out in the heat, dust and dirt, digging with small tools along with the special brushes.
She found she fit in with this group. It surprised her, but she liked them all. The younger students were serious, dedicated with aspirations of finding the great secret, no matter how small. The older students, working for their Doctorates, were quiet, looking at a hoped for future, yet totally engrossed in each artifact, each stone or piece of wood. This was doubly important to them. Then, there were the teachers—whoops, Professors, Advisers or some Aides. All of this group had attached themselves to the dig because of the prestige, the chance to publish, the funding to get out of the small offices or the lecture halls.
From late teens to almost retirement age, they all fit together due to their interest in what the earth told them about history. They were a somber, hard working group. No one shirked carrying heavy loads or cleaning tools.
In the evenings, at the campsites or in the local bars, no one got loud, no one made uncalled for passes. She knew that some people paired up, but this wasn’t a Match.com dig site. These interesting, educated people had something to discuss. The best part was the lack of interest in the other guy’s life. They care for the solicitous treatment of the history of the first people who lived on these lands. They didn’t have interest in the current background of the people around them.
Diane worked in the dig through the hot summer into the winds of autumn. Their professors told them that with winter, they would move down into the desert for those who wanted to work in blistering heat in the day, and cold nights on the hard packed soil. Because they often stayed out in camp for days, she only went home on weekends to do laundry or to sleep in a soft bed. She bought food at the local large grocery store, out on the edge of town, food for the camp with a steak to cook at home to have a nice change.
Diane went through all her mail, again, mostly junk. This allowed her time to go on line so that she could pay bills to keep the house in safe mode. She needed to get rid of the week’s worth of dust. She had invested a little of her money, so she would track it on line just to see how it was doing in these rough times. She was glad not to hear from the squeaky clean law firm, so maybe it was nothing to worry about. Noble just had her jumpy.
Diane spent an afternoon on her laptop, paying what bills she could on-line. She decided to transfer more funds to her Internet bank account. She also made up her mind to take out a substantial amount of cash. She hadn’t promised Noble that she would live here for any long amount of time, even though he had seemed to hope she would stay here.
She sat with hot tea on the front porch steps, feeling the cool winds that were pushing the brown leaves, announcing winter was on its way. She had already signed up for the dig in the desert, but sitting here, she began to put her life together, thinking of her time at the digs among the intelligent workers. Now she realized she was just filling time so she wouldn’t think.
It was time to think. She was marked by a shifter, and she wasn’t sure what that really meant—except intelligent people didn’t believe in such beings. On top of that, Noble told her that a rich maniac who wanted to live forever and would try anything to reach his goal was chasing them. He thought he could get it through their blood. No, none of this was real. It might be her world, but she didn’t want it. She wanted the real world where the only place all of this happened was on the B grade movies on TV.
It didn’t take her long to dig out her special belt. Diane, then headed to town to the bank. It was short work to draw out five thousand,
She found she fit in with this group. It surprised her, but she liked them all. The younger students were serious, dedicated with aspirations of finding the great secret, no matter how small. The older students, working for their Doctorates, were quiet, looking at a hoped for future, yet totally engrossed in each artifact, each stone or piece of wood. This was doubly important to them. Then, there were the teachers—whoops, Professors, Advisers or some Aides. All of this group had attached themselves to the dig because of the prestige, the chance to publish, the funding to get out of the small offices or the lecture halls.
From late teens to almost retirement age, they all fit together due to their interest in what the earth told them about history. They were a somber, hard working group. No one shirked carrying heavy loads or cleaning tools.
In the evenings, at the campsites or in the local bars, no one got loud, no one made uncalled for passes. She knew that some people paired up, but this wasn’t a Match.com dig site. These interesting, educated people had something to discuss. The best part was the lack of interest in the other guy’s life. They care for the solicitous treatment of the history of the first people who lived on these lands. They didn’t have interest in the current background of the people around them.
Diane worked in the dig through the hot summer into the winds of autumn. Their professors told them that with winter, they would move down into the desert for those who wanted to work in blistering heat in the day, and cold nights on the hard packed soil. Because they often stayed out in camp for days, she only went home on weekends to do laundry or to sleep in a soft bed. She bought food at the local large grocery store, out on the edge of town, food for the camp with a steak to cook at home to have a nice change.
Diane went through all her mail, again, mostly junk. This allowed her time to go on line so that she could pay bills to keep the house in safe mode. She needed to get rid of the week’s worth of dust. She had invested a little of her money, so she would track it on line just to see how it was doing in these rough times. She was glad not to hear from the squeaky clean law firm, so maybe it was nothing to worry about. Noble just had her jumpy.
Diane spent an afternoon on her laptop, paying what bills she could on-line. She decided to transfer more funds to her Internet bank account. She also made up her mind to take out a substantial amount of cash. She hadn’t promised Noble that she would live here for any long amount of time, even though he had seemed to hope she would stay here.
She sat with hot tea on the front porch steps, feeling the cool winds that were pushing the brown leaves, announcing winter was on its way. She had already signed up for the dig in the desert, but sitting here, she began to put her life together, thinking of her time at the digs among the intelligent workers. Now she realized she was just filling time so she wouldn’t think.
It was time to think. She was marked by a shifter, and she wasn’t sure what that really meant—except intelligent people didn’t believe in such beings. On top of that, Noble told her that a rich maniac who wanted to live forever and would try anything to reach his goal was chasing them. He thought he could get it through their blood. No, none of this was real. It might be her world, but she didn’t want it. She wanted the real world where the only place all of this happened was on the B grade movies on TV.
It didn’t take her long to dig out her special belt. Diane, then headed to town to the bank. It was short work to draw out five thousand,
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