The next day, I had little to do. The Queen's Tomb project wouldn't need me again until they reach the cave-in. At that point, I would return and do as detailed a reading as I could. No one wanted workers to get hurt, so if I could offer assistance in making that a reality, I was glad to help. For my usual fee, of course.

Truth be told, however, I would have done that part for free, if Jeff let me. I cared about people and I could be a bit of a softy. I always worked for free in rescue situations.

Jeff, being Jeff, was just as happy for me to have the day off than not; either way, he spent time with his books and notebook. He was a writer and, while he would rather have been working on a computer, the sand and dust would wreak havoc on the device. So, he wrote longhand.

My hobby? Drawing. If I could see it, I could draw it. My artistic abilities were particularly helpful when mapping inside the ground beneath my feet; I 'saw' what was there in my mind's eyes and so I could transfer it onto paper.

I'd become fascinated with the idea of trying to draw the eyes that I saw. Despite all my skill, which was considerable, I was unable to capture everything about them. I eventually had to abandon my obsession after having worked on it for six hours straight, almost skipping lunch.

Making sure that I took care of myself during these periods of hyper focus was one of Jeff's jobs. He found it amusing sometimes to see if he could do something that would snap me out of it if I'd been at it a while. I didn't find it as amusing, but I understood the necessity of it.

Today, he tried to mix my lunch colors. He brought me a generous portion, in a bowl, of kushari, a classic Egyptian dish that the workers were enjoying. It was a spicy mix of rice, macaroni, and lentils topped with tomatoes and green onion. Very colorful indeed!

It didn't bother me that my food wasn't on a tray and, to his surprise, I asked for seconds, made even spicier than the first. As I said, I sometimes only wanted things a certain way, I didn't always need them. It varied from day to day.

He let me work from about nine in the morning to three in the afternoon before letting me know that it was time to stop.

"Hey, Tony," he said, sticking his head into my tent. "Let's go for a walk."

That was one of the 'key phrases' we'd agreed on that said, "Hey, you're done obsessing now."

I looked up from my twenty-sixth attempt at the eyes. I had been focused on close work for so long, I had a hard time seeing him at first. Yeah, it was time to stop for the day.

"Okay. Let's go and take some pictures around the dig. I can work from them later. I have to just admit that these eyes do not want to be drawn."

"Good job, my man," he said as I stepped out. The afternoon sun was very bright after working in the tent all day. He handed me a pair of wrap around sunglasses and a floppy hat. Not the height of fashion, but functional. I liked functional.

We took a stroll around the dig. There were several areas of interest; the Queen's Tomb we were beginning to dig, the King's extensive set of Chambers that had been mapped out the last time I'd been 'rented' as human ground radar, and the hustle and bustle of the camp itself.

I pulled out my phone and started taking pictures of things I found interesting. Photography was something else I seemed good at, having an eye for composition and the interplay between light and shadow that seemed a natural ability. I probably could have sold them just by themselves, but I enjoyed drawing more. So, I would take a picture, then draw it, then make prints to sell.

I kept the original if I really liked it and had a dedicated space with an entire categorizing system at home for doing so. I made pretty good money as an artist, though it didn't even compare to the hundreds of thousands, sometimes a million, that I raked in a year from the sight.

I remembered when it was that I first learned I was developing my skill. I was about fourteen, just starting high school. I hated school. Well, that wasn't totally true. What I hated were the kids at school. I'd been the target of bullying ever since my autism had begun to make me 'different' and 'weird' instead of 'special'. So, you can well imagine that I kept the existence of my gift a secret.

As a young child, I had had many friends. Kids in kindergarten, first, and even into second grade, were very accepting of my disability. It was about the age of seven or eight when things began to shift. By the end of third grade, I was alone and the social pariah of the class.

Because I had high anxiety, coupled with the stress of the situation, I couldn't focus on school during the day. Therefore, students said I was stupid and teachers tended to label me as deficient because I couldn't remember assignments or lessons. The fact I spent more and more time in my head didn't help.

But, at home, I studied on my own, as was soon well ahead of my classmates such that I was bored in school so I refused to do the work. I dared not bring my at-home-work to school because I knew that would only make things worse. The only thing that kept me going was art class. No one bothered me there and I excelled. Mr. Adamson and I bonded and I was immensely sad when he died.

In the end, I convinced my parents to let me take the General Educational Development, or GED, test to graduate high school at the age of sixteen. It wasn't too hard for me to talk them into allowing some community college classes after that.

All during this time, I was constantly honing my sight, taking hikes and sketching what I found.

Then, came the cave-in. Some spelunkers were trapped when the cave they were exploring collapsed. My parents knew of my gift, of course. It didn't take long for me to persuade them that, if I had this amazing 'god-given gift', as they said, I then had a 'god-driven responsibility' to use it for good.

We'd approached the head of the rescue team and, armed with many sketches of the ground in the local area, I laid out my case for helping.

"You mean to tell me that you can see 'into' the ground?"

"Yes Ma'am," I answered respectfully.

She studied the drawings I'd brought. Specifically, I'd brought some I'd done the previous year of the cave. She seemed impressed, but still not quite convinced.

"I tell you what. Care for a little test?" she asked.

"I'd be willing to be tested, yes," I said, shifting my weight. The word 'test' didn't sit well with me, but this was important so I tried to ignore it.

"Okay. You and I are going to stay here. I'm going to send," she looked around the room before indicating a man at the door, "Charlie there out to bury three things. When he comes back, he'll show you where he buried them and you sketch what you see."

"That sounds fair," I said, agreeing to the challenge. I would be able to do it easily. In fact, I'd be hard pressed to not go overboard. I'd have to really focus on quick sketches and not the detailed work I usually did.

It took sixteen minutes for Charlie to return. I was still feeling anxious, but my mom was there with me and she always helped.

I followed Charlie out of the trailer and around behind it. Nearly everyone on the rescue team had heard about the test by now and they, too, followed.

"You all give him some room now, okay?" my mom said, insisting people take a few steps back. I was surrounded, but soon, drawing what I saw soothed me.

In the first hole, I saw a set of keys. Four keys on a ring, as a matter of fact, the top one smaller than the rest with the word 'Master' on it. It was obviously for a Master brand padlock.

The second hole was empty.

The third hole had two things in it. A Miller High Life beer can and a Skilcraft pen. I sketched quickly, drawing all three on the pad of drawing paper I carried with me almost everywhere.

When I was done, I dramatically ripped it from the book and handed it to Charlie.

"Good god," he muttered. He looked at the team leader, his eyes wide and jaw slack. "This is exactly what I buried!"

"That's just what's on the surface," I said. "Deeper down, there's a perched water table on impermeable rock," I explained.

The team leader blinked. "Okay, you're on the team. You got time to work today?"

"Yes Ma'am. For this, I have time to work any day," I reassured her. "What are we looking for?"

"We need to know what the cave-in looks like. Can you sketch that?"

"If I can stand over it, I can sketch it."

"Hmm. No, that's too risky. What we need then is to find a new way in."

"Okay, I can start from behind the cave-in and work around the edge of the cave to see what I can."

"Time is of the essence. We can manage to squeeze rudimentary supplies to them to keep them alive and somewhat sane, but the sooner we get them out, the better," the team leader explained.

"Of course," I agreed. "I just need to know where to start."

"Let's start over them. We had them move away from the rock slide."

We hiked to the rescue site and I climbed up the hill, picking my way through safe zones to map from just behind the cave-in toward the cavers. On the way, I found a split in the rock that led to another yet-to-be-discovered cave. It took me all day to find a place where we could enter it. From there, it'd be a tight fit, but I thought that experienced spelunkers could navigate it.

But, that only rescued three of the five. Technically only two of them; the third volunteered to stay with the other two cavers who had injuries that didn't allow them to walk, much less climb, far. I let the team know what I'd found, gave them the sketches and location they needed to get started, and went to work studying the other side of the cave.

After another day, I'd found nothing.

The only thing left to do was to analyze the cave-in itself... and that would be dangerous.