Title is taken from a quote by Edgar Allan Poe
Daniels, Burns, Henderson/The Mummy: (c) Stephen Sommers
Exquisite Horrors of Reality
Part 2 - Daniels
He turned his head sharply in Henderson's direction, saw the look of agitation the man was wearing. Daniels snorted gruffly, crossed his arms. "Don't tell me to give it a rest! I done had it tryin' to figger out where to go from here. He ain't gettin' the help he needs here, an' that damn ship ain't goin' anywheres soon. So what's your plan now, Henderson? Ya got any better ones aside from waitin' fer our own executions inside this Goddamn fort?"
Henderson looked ready to grab the man's throat, but he kept himself reined in. It almost disturbed Daniels how calm he was. "I don't know, Daniels. I'm outta ideas. But please, by all means, if ya got any suggestions, I'm happy to hear 'em!"
"Yeah, yeah." Daniels gritted his teeth, searched the room for a chair to sit in. He sat down heavily when he found one, swallowing as much air as he could to steady himself. He knew very well that Henderson was right, that he needed to take it easy before his mind completely detached itself from reality. But he couldn't help himself: he was worried sick over Burns.
"I'm at a loss at what to do fer him. It's frustratin', alright?"
"Ya don't need to tell me that twice, Daniels."
Daniels ran his hand down his face, couldn't keep any part of himself still. The jitters that snuck into his body were fighting him for control over it. "Goddamnit, Henderson. I don't know what to do..."
Although they essentially operated as a trio in everything they did, Daniels had always been closer with Burns than with Henderson on a personal level. Burns was one of very few people who could successfully diffuse Daniels's hair-trigger temper, and keep it from reigniting. Like a salve on a burning lesion, Burns's calm demeanor cooled down Daniels's simmering emotions before they could pop any veins. Burns was the listening type, took things more seriously than Henderson, and Daniels was grateful that Burns had no problem hearing what he had to say, no matter how crass or egomaniacal it sounded.
There would be no placating words coming from Burns now. In fact, he could hardly form words at all. Burns's downgrade from healthy adult to helpless invalid was more than just an unwelcome shock. The eyeless sockets, bleeding mouth and ethereal moans of pain haunted Daniels, and he knew he would carry the pitiful sight of his marred friend to his grave. How did we not see this shit comin'? It had to be the curse on the chest that Dr. Chamberlin issued his dire warning about. In his heart, Daniels did not want to believe that, but he could fathom no other explanation for this absolutely freakish cataclysm of nature.
However, he would not let his jarring disbelief and hidden repulsion at Burns's condition keep him from looking after him. Daniels had volunteered to clean and bandage up Burns's empty orbitals to the best of his ability, and he also allowed Burns to ride with him on the journey back to Cairo when it became too difficult for him to stay up straight in his own saddle. Daniels considered it a fair trade-off for the ailing man, who had spent so much time putting up with Daniels and his boorish mouth. As mentally numb as he was from all the bizarre shit that was happening, Burns's well-being was first in his mind.
He became antsy in the chair, jumped up suddenly as if beset by a painful spasm. For all the anger he had at what happened to Burns, there was more than enough panic and terror to accompany it. It was the biggest test of his bravery yet, no more showing off and acting like he was part of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. Channeling the likes of Doc Holliday or William Quantrill or Crazy Horse would not be enough.
This was the real, undead deal.
His worrying mind got the better of him, and he headed towards the door. "C'mon, let's go check in on 'im."