Hey all! I'm back!
Okay, I love this story so much, but after reading through it, I decided to revamp and continue it. I went through all four chapters and fixed any errors in grammar or structure, and I added a few new things to make it all flow better. All and all it's still the same concept and story, but as I've grown more as a writer I felt a nice kick in the right direction would help this one out. I hope to post the next chapter soon. Look for it and enjoy!
Brown-eyedFiction
The pitch-black sky rumbled above him, producing thunder and frightening sporadic flashes of lightning. What was left of the extraordinary storm was slowly dissipating over the horizon, though it refused to go out peacefully. The air around him was searing and desiccated, the heat of the desert scorching what little hydration he had left, leaving no room for any extra boost of energy that would have surely made this call to action so much simpler.
Somewhere deep within the back of his mind he pleaded to whatever God existed that Evelyn and her brother were in the process of heading towards the pyramid, only steps behind him. Desperately he wanted to look back and assure himself of this, but the time was not his to take.
A pained groan echoed beside him, and in result, his steps somewhat decreased in speed as his young partner faltered and tripped along the broken pathway. O'Connell glanced downward, and in that one second that passed between them, the father knew that the life of his son was draining away with paling skin and weakening dexterity. Without thinking twice, the former soldier pulled the small boy off his feet and found that with Alex in his arms he was able to intensify his own speed greatly. Pressing on, he pushed aside the intruding branches and vines of plant life until at long last the golden spectacle came into focus. There was still a light at the end of the tunnel, if only he could get to it in time.
"Dad…" Alex whimpered, "The bracelet."
The tiny voice was pleading with his father, and it was a cry that O'Connell was willing to adhere to, no matter what the cost. His lungs felt as though they would explode with such continuous effort, but the pain was ignored as he stumbled up the stone stairway. Hitting the final step he immediately pushed off, allowing the pair of them to sail through the golden doors in a leap of pure faith. In mid-air, Rick quickly spun so that it would be his own back that would hit the inner workings of the structure first. He was glad he did; instantly the breath was forced from his lungs as the pair of them made a harsh impact with stone and sand.
The world remained at a standstill for a few heavenly seconds, and O'Connell quickly set to gain his bearings with a few moments of catching his breath. Meanwhile, Alex slid from his father's stomach onto the ground beside him, his arm wiggling free from a tortured hold he had no control over. The boy exhaled and O'Connell found focus once more. He leaned upward from his back, studying his son for any abnormalities. Thankfully he found nothing more than an out of breath little boy who was smiling up at him in a mischievous sort of fashion. Damn that kid was so like his mother.
He never remembered the process of breathing being so difficult before, but it still didn't deter him from performing the action in a true Rick O'Connell fashion, "You know, it's not…easy being…a dad."
"Yeah…" Alex agreed, "But you do it real good."
"Thanks."
The sounds of thunder and the dim night atmosphere had evaporated completely now, leaving only the sun shining down on the warming desert sands.
Click.
The pair looked downward at Alex's wrist, watching as the evil golden latch unlocked and fell away from his skin. Suddenly renewed in energy, Alex sat up and chucked the thing as far as he could, not even bothering to watch where it landed. He then fell beside Rick once more, sighing in relief. His arm fell across Rick stomach and the child's head snuggled deeply into his father's side. O'Connell could only wrap his arms around the eight year old and let his head fall backward in mock defeat.
Seconds passed and distantly he could hear two pairs of footsteps closing in on them. It was Evie and Jonathan; he knew it, just as he knew they were probably frantic with worry. The husband in him warned that he should inform Alex's mother they'd made it and that they were still alive; but the exhausted man in him wasn't ready to give up these few precious moments of immobility.
"Uh!"
O'Connell felt his head snap up at a familiar voice crying out in alarm. His eyes narrowed in focus at a figure, Evelyn, hunched over slightly, her hands placed over her stomach. He could see blood dyeing her fingers; he could see a dagger… his heart stopped.
"NO!"
And then he was on his feet, running frantically towards her. He ignored Jonathan's cry as the Brit was thrown against one of the golden dogs; ignored Anak-sunamun as she jerked the small coated dagger from Evelyn's abdomen. The priest's mistress shot Evie a smirk of satisfaction and then simply chose to walk off, leaving the dripping dagger to dribble blood on the russet sands at her feet.
Everything seemed to be going in slow motion from that point on. O'Connell watched as Evelyn turned to watch the woman leave… and then her eyes landed on her husband. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but instead she fell to her knees, still clutching on to her stomach. She then tumbled backwards, though she refused to take her gaze from him. The warm sky above vanished, and even the pyramid and oasis disappeared from behind him.
"Evelyn!" he yelled, looking at her once more as the air around them became dark and desolate. The cries of Alex and Jonathan faded leaving only O'Connell running aimlessly toward the dying image of his wife, lying in a pool of her own shimmering blood. He kept calling to her and he kept running, but he'd nonetheless was failing to reach her.
"R-Ri…" her lip trembled as she opened her hand to him, her arm outstretched from her position on the ground. "D-Don't leave me…"
"Evelyn!" No, please… he pleaded, don't take her away… not again…
Her eyes were fluttering now, telling him she was fighting for her life and losing. Her voice was so far away, but her words were fierce and sent tremors throughout the course of his body.
"Why d-didn't you…s-save me?"
Rick could feel tears traveling down his cheeks. "No, Evelyn!"
He watched in horror as her trembling hand fell to the ground and became still. Her eyes remained open, her expression haunting, staring at him in anguish and suffering.
"Evelyn! EVELYN!"
He suddenly felt himself falling… falling until…
Thud. He landed unkindly on the ground below.
The white hot of the world dissipated until his eyes were able to focus. He was on a wooden floor, enclosed in the pitch black of nightfall. O'Connell groaned, sliding his hands up beside his shoulders. He pushed himself up and looked from where he'd fallen.
It was a bed. He had fallen out of bed…so that meant…
It was a dream.
He got up into a sitting position and rubbed his temples. No doubt landing face first on the floor would leave him with a bruise on the only part of him that hadn't been injured: his head.
He got to his feet, using the footboard post to gain his balance before falling to a sitting position on the bed. His hands traveled to his side where a fresh set of bandages were placed. He could tell they were new, because they itched like hell.
His hand continued its journey down to his thigh, where a much larger bruise had developed, so sensitive that Rick couldn't even touch it without groaning in pain. His hand jumped to his left shoulder and clutched onto it. It felt like it had been dislocated, but more than likely he had just pulled a muscle. He rolled it trying to loosen the tenseness that had developed.
After a few moments, his hands fell at his side, as he tried to figure out just where he was. He stood once again, and walked over the bedside table and the faint glow of an oil lamp flickering against the vast darkness of the room. Leaning over the light, he spotted a ratted section of thick paper set underneath the lamp's base. It was old, disheveled and had a slight tear in the top left corner. A map?
It was dotted in lines and circles, and names were scattered about it. The Jordan River… Karnack…Philae… and there was a freshly written name just south of the Jordan. Someone had written Ahm Shere.
Suddenly it hit him. He looked upward at the ceiling of the room he was in and noticed it too was wooden, the walls, the ceiling, and the floor, all of it was timber.
He was in the dirigible. Specifically, O'Connell was in the hull of the dirigible.
His thoughts gathered and memories struck at him like cold spikes digging into his skin. The golden pyramid…the Scorpion King…Imhotep… all of it came back to him in a wave that overtook his mind and shattered the remnants of his unconscious, sleepy mind.
Nothing stood out more though, than his wife. The events of his dream were in actuality a truth to him, though the dream itself however, was much more morbid that the events of real life. Evelyn had died in his arms, and she'd told him that she loved him.
Rick felt himself lean against the wall. After what he would no doubt say was his worst moment in life, there had been a miracle. His son, like his father had done so many times before, had played the part of God, and by use of the Book of The Dead had brought Evelyn back to life. What angered O'Connell most was that while her husband had gone off to avenge her life, Alex had come with an idea that Rick himself had never considered. While O'Connell dealt with his anger and pain in a more destructive way, little Alex had done something productive. Thanks to Alex, she was alive, and Rick O'Connell had been no part of that.
He abruptly punched the wall, his eyes fierce with anger as tiny splinters of wood cracked under the pressure. Droplets of blood ran through his fist and hit the floor silently. He stayed there for a moment, empty thoughts flashing through him, before he pulled his hand away, looking at the crimson mess he'd made of his hand. It reminded him of her blood, of her shaking under his fingertips as her life was slowly ending right in front of him. His mind clouded and the image of her holding her abdomen in silent agony, tortured him to no end.
Her words echoed in his mind, haunting his soul; his very being, "Don't leave me…"
Rick felt himself collapsing onto the floor once more, covering his head, closing his eyes to make it go away. But it wouldn't, and maybe it never would.
No, it's not real, it's not her….
"You let me die…" the voice cried out in censure, "You gave up on me!"
"No!" he shouted back. But as her voice was repetitive in his head, he sunk closer to the ground. "Evie, please…"
"I thought you loved me…" she spoke with such agony in her voice that his chest was tearing in two. O'Connell was now on his knees. He shook violently, his throat becoming hoarse and his head throbbing against his skull. He couldn't take anymore…it was too much… the guilt was too much for him to bear any longer.
He then slowly got to his feet, and then forcibly carried himself up the stairs that would lead him to the upper level of the dirigible.
He had to find her…
~BEF