Iowa Huberman and the Great Conqueror's Lost Tomb

Chapter 1

From his securely seat-belted position in the back seat of his favorite neighbor's Jeep Wrangler, Kevin Huberman gave his eyes a moment to rest.  It had been another exhausting weekend for both dedicated adventurers on board, but now they were nearly home.

His eyes were closed, but Kevin couldn't possibly sleep. The Jeep's vent pumped heat at his face and made him sweat. The boy subconsciously waved away a buzz in his ear and felt the bumps of their path across Western Kenya. Kevin allowed his vision to flicker back and got a look outside of his window. Cornfields and wind turbines. The highways in rural Iowa were as smooth as butter. It was early April in the mid-west, and snow still sat in depressed piles in the ditch along the road. Earlier in the year, those mountains of snow could have compared to the great dunes of the Northern Sahara. 

"Mr. George?" 

A frail but strong hand, its skin leathery and tanned, reached up to tilt the rear view mirror to face him.

"Ah, you're awake!"  A kind pair of eyes said from the reflection.

"I haven't been able to sleep very much," Kevin admitted. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you may! I've known you long enough to expect plenty of those, Iowa Huberman," Mr. George winked. 

Iowa Huberman was a silly moniker Mr. George had thought of when he found out about Kevin's adoration of Indiana Jones. Since then, Mr. George had coined it as Kevin's adventuring pseudonym. He found the nickname to be incredibly clever, but Kevin didn't think it sounded as good as the one it drew inspiration from. 

"Mr. George, do you think everything in Iowa is going to fade away eventually?"

"What do you mean, Kevin?"

"Well, even Ancient Egypt faded away eventually, and they were way more powerful and influential than anyone in Iowa is ever going to be."

"I see what you mean," Mr. George said plainly, but the long wispy strands of hair that tangled together upon his brow quivered, something that made Kevin know that he had asked a good one.  "I guess everything and everyone fades away eventually, Kevin. To people like us - archaeologists, adventurers, and mystery-seekers alike - its the things that get left behind that matter. That's one thing that the ancient Egyptians seemed to understand very well. Maybe one day the people of Iowa will wake up and realize they must build a great architectural wonder to astound the minds of the future!" 

"I guess we do have the world's biggest truck stop," Kevin said, "and all of the wind turbines. Are future civilizations going to be puzzled at the mystery of why the ancient Iowans built thousands of giant fans to keep their corn cold?"

Mr. George chuckled and shook his head, "Perhaps they'll figure we were just keeping it all from popping."

The Jeep bounced, and Kevin grabbed the handle above his window instinctively. Smiling, he closed his eyes again and listened for danger. The ground didn't rumble with the sound of an approaching herd of stampeding wildebeest. There were no cackles of an approaching clan of hyenas on the prowl.

"Just a pot-hole," Mr. George assured the boy from the driver's seat and then tapped the dark GPS screen mounted above the dashboard.  The screen light popped on and displayed their vehicle travelling down a blue line that represented Highway 20,  "And it looks like we'll even have you back home in time for dinner!"  

"Can you imagine what my parents would say if they heard about the things we found out there this time?"  Kevin asked, reaching into the bag by his feet, he pulled out a small golden figurine that fit into the palm of his hand.  It was a camel, with two red rubies set for eyes.  Mr. George had concluded the figure would have been crafted over two thousand years ago, likely during the reign of Merneptah, who they now suspected had once had an odd obsession of camels and camel-themed artwork.  Kevin was excited to add this invaluable piece of treasure to his collection.