My second story, woohoo! Milestone! This is meant to be a one shot, but it didn't turn out that way. It'll probably only be two or three chapters at most, or until I find a good stopping point. I of course am committing a writing sin. I'm not exactly disguising my voice with Quatermain's voice, just voicing my own opinions.
Return
…Where in God's name am I? Who in God's name am I?
Those were my first coherent thoughts upon my return to the land of the living. My name is Allan Quatermain, although I did not know it at that time.
Imagine my situation: I have no idea who I am or where I am. It's dark and cramped, not to mention I'm dressed in my best suit. Not the best conditions for acting very intelligent.
I don't remember much from just then; only impressions. All there was was the knowledge that if I didn't dig myself out of my own grave it would soon be again serving it intended purpose.
I had a splitting headache—being resurrected does that to you—and some idiot up above me was yelling nonsense. Looking back, the reason for my headache was also the reason I was able to HAVE a headache at all.
Finally, I reached the surface. I grabbed onto the nearest solid thing around. It felt familiar—smooth and cool, I knew its contours. It was a Winchester—"modified, American style."
I remembered Tom Sawyer then, and everything came back in a rush. Brains aren't meant to take this kind of abuse all at once. I almost lost my grip on the rifle. My head was about to split, but I hung onto that thought. After a while, though, it scared me. Tom would never, EVER, if his life depended on it let his guns out of his sight. Had something happened to him after I…died?
I couldn't worry about that at the moment. I would get myself out first. Everything else had to be second priority. I pulled my other arm up out of the small hole I had already opened, and this time my hand was grabbed by another. The man—who happened to have very sweaty palms—pulled me up and out of my grave. I opened my eyes, letting them adjust to the bright sunlight. From my surroundings, I now understood why the man's hand was sweaty. We were in Kenya. I took a great whiff of the familiar and comforting air.
I remembered my manners and turned to my rescuer, saying, "Thank you." It seemed rather anticlimactic, but it didn't matter anyway. The man smiled and pointed a withered finger at his own lips and shook his head. I switched into the native tongue and repeated my sentiments of gratitude.
He smiled wider this time. "Africa has been in debt to Allan Quatermain for so long. Now her debt is paid." The man looked old enough to have been the one to originally bless me.
I stood up and more fully took in my surroundings. I was annoyed because the undertaker had spelled my last name wrong, again. It wasn't important, though. I apparently wouldn't have to worry about that for some time now, it seemed. Oh well. The undertaker was a white man from England, like me, and took no stock in the African's magic, but was deeply superstitious. I could go haunt him before I sought out the League. Strange how I knew that whatever I did, I was going to follow my newfound companions. Sure, I had been on other exploits and made friends, and some were still alive, but with the League I had found something I had been willing to die for. I suppose that counted for something.
The Britannia Club hadn't been rebuilt yet—for good reason, too. Our mission with the League had only lasted for a few days, and my burial and subsequent resurrection couldn't have happened too long after that.
My rescuer had run off, surprisingly fast for his advanced age. But then, some would say the same about me. He ran from hut to hut, spreading the news that bloody Allan Quatermain had been resurrected. The village was getting excited, almost as much as when a particularly juicy piece of gossip was making the rounds.
The last thing I noticed was the sky. Usually, it was lonely, without a single cloud. Now all you could see of the sun was a few glimpses between clouds. A moment of anticipation, and then for the first time in years in this part of Kenya, it rained.