CHAPTER 7
"Liflatinn lifa." The dead live.
The compass's jewels dazzled, they appeared to radiate light. Indy reached out and touched his prize. His fingers brushed against warm skin. Marion's skin; his lover naked but for the amulet draped from her neck. His eyes met hers, sparkling like sapphires. Indy melted into her, his hands on the nape of her neck, then moving down her back, exploring every contour. Heat and light pulsed from the compass, fusing them together.
Then, the heat evaporated. Marion's flesh turned rigid and cold. Indy's lips pressed against ice as hard as stone. He recoiled and saw Marion's face twisted in frozen agony. Her dead eyes as black as pitch and boring into his.
Indy awoke with a start. His gaze shot across to Marion, sleeping peacefully. He caught his breath then prised himself from the chair, tilting the fedora back on his head. The tiny cabin swayed slightly as Indy stepped up to the washbasin, poured in some water, and splashed his face. He rubbed his neck, it ached from resting his head against the wall. He looked again to Marion on the bottom bunk, a delicate nightdress clinging to her curves. Bathed in silver moonlight, she looked perfect, an Athenian statue sculpted from marble. Indy smiled. He looked up to the top bunk—Sallah lay on his back; head to the side, tongue lolling from his mouth, the Egyptian's snores almost drowning out the constant whirr of the boat's paddlewheel. Indy's smile wilted.
Still, Indy was grateful to Sallah. He'd reacted quickly at the cafe and a potentially ugly scene had been avoided. It made sense for the three of them to stick together—for now at least—and the Euphrates was the least conspicuous way for them to get out of Samawah.
Sallah and Marion were to stay aboard until Nasiriyah—Indy had made the Egyptian swear not to let Marion out of his sight.
Indy, however, planned to alight the paddle steamer early, and pay Ziegler a surprise visit at Warka. Indy chanced that Ziegler might still be in possession of the compass, but if not Indy intended to convince the German to point him in the right direction. He would then reconvene with the others in Nasiriyah in two days time. If Indy was waylaid Sallah and Marion were to continue to Basra where Sallah had a contact who could fly them on to Egypt. Indy would catch them up. Under no circumstances were they to come after him.
Indy picked up his wristwatch from beside the basin; it was a quarter to twelve. He reckoned he had around forty five minutes before the boat's closest approach to Warka. Indy fastened the watch strap around his wrist, grabbed his leather jacket, quietly opened the cabin door and stepped out onto the deck.
The rickety old steamer contained a dozen or so cabins, arranged over two decks with the wheelhouse on the upper deck. Their cabin was on the lower deck, and Indy paced to the bow.
The autumn night was pleasantly warm. But even so, the dark water stretching before him didn't look particularly inviting, and it was a good fifty yard swim to the riverbank.
An arm slide around his waist.
"Leaving without saying goodbye again?" Marion lent into him.
"Just getting some air." Indy kissed her on the head as he pulled her close. "And giving my ears a rest."
Marion laughed. "The snoring! For a minute I thought there was an elephant in the room! But surely you've heard worse? All those nights spent in the jungle."
"In the jungle I'd just shoot anything making that sort of a racket." Indy took Marion's hand. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."
Marion followed Indy up a flight of stairs to the top deck, then up a ladder onto the roof of the boat.
They were upwind of the black smoke belching from the funnel, and Indy led Marion under an Iraqi flag—gently dancing in the breeze—to the very front of the boat's roof.
The blanket above them was spectacular. The southern tip of the Milky Way stretched up from the horizon—diamonds of light speckled across great luminous wisps of gold, blue and purple.
Indy lay down and Marion snuggled beside him as they looked up to the stars.
"It's just so beautiful. And huge. It sure makes me feel small."
"You are small!"
Marion elbowed Indy.
"Ow, jeez." He continued with a smile. "Y'know, what we can see, here, is just a tiny fraction of the universe. There are millions, billions of other stars and planets out there."
"Imagine if there's other life, too. Maybe other people—like us—living their lives, no idea that we even exist."
"I'm not sure about that," said Indy. "They can probably hear Sallah snoring."
Marion smiled. "Maybe they're looking up at the sky, too. Trying to figure out what it all means." she turned to Indy. "Do you think we'll ever know?"
Indy sighed. "For as long as human's have existed we've been trying to make sense of the heavens and work out how we fit in."
Indy rested his head beside Marion's and pointed to a bright orange star, due west of the Moon. "That's Alpha Tauri, the brightest star in the constellation Taurus. You see, there's the bull's horns."
Marion watched as Indy subtly traced out lines in the sky. "Doesn't look much like a bull to me, just a bunch of random dots."
"Yeah, well, four thousand years ago, these random dots were pretty important to the Sumerians. They were a way for the people to understand the will of the gods. Failure to show them respect could mean the difference between life and death. At least, that's what they believed."
"Life and death?!"
"Sure. They called Taurus the Bull of Heaven. It was supposedly prized by the supreme god, Anu. One story tells how King Gilgamesh angered Anu's daughter, the goddess Ishtar. You see, Gilgamesh was arrogant and stubborn."
"I know the type."
Indy smiled. "He spurned Ishtar's advances, so—enraged—the goddess convinced her father to unleash the Bull of Heaven. It wreaked havoc across Gilgamesh's kingdom, destroying crops and causing great fires and floods. The story says Gilgamesh eventually slaughtered the Bull, banishing it back to the heavens. So to punish him, Anu took away the one thing Gilgamesh valued more than power and gold. The god killed Gilgamesh's best friend, his one true love; Enkidu."
Marion snuggled close to Indy. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, listening to his heart beat. She'd never felt so content. So safe.
The moon's reflection fragmented as an oar sliced silently through the inky water. Three hooded figures were silhouetted on the rowboat as it pulled alongside the paddle steamer.
Moments later; Wajid and Lut hoisted themselves onto the boat's lower deck. Wajid then helped pull Omar aboard. Omar gestured to the roof of the boat —his men quickly scaled the stairs.
Wajid paced the first deck, peering through grime stained windows into the dark cabins beyond.
Lut ascended ladders to the roof. A few metres before him—beyond a fluttering flag—he glimpsed the beautiful American girl, lying asleep, alone; a brown leather jacket draped over her. The tall, scrawny Arab grinned and moved towards the sleeping angel, sliding a large hooked blade from his belt. He crouched beside her and brought the knife to her soft, pale cheek, then down to her slender neck—he hooked the tip of the blade under the leather jacket and slowly peeled away the makeshift blanket. Lut's eyes widened, following the jacket down her body; the girl's bare shoulder, the swell of her bosom beneath a flimsy nightdress—the barrel of a revolver; the girl's eyes snapped open.
"Sorry, I'm not that kind of girl."
A booted foot slammed into the side of Lut's face.
Indy grabbed the gun from Marion and lead her across the rooftop as the rangy assassin groaned in semi conscious agony. The pair approached the ladder at the side of the boat, Indy peered over the side and a blade whipped past his face, catching his cheek, Indy recoiled as a second assassin—this one more powerfully built that the first—pulled himself onto the roof.
Indy turned to Marion. "Run!"
Marion started to back away, Lut staggered to his feet and moved towards her. Indy raised his pistol, but another swipe from Wajid's dagger caught Indy's arm and he dropped the weapon.
Indy looked at his arm, just a flesh wound, then he swung a fist at Wajid, connecting with the monstrous Arab's nose. Wajid replied by thrusting the blade at his assailants throat—Indy grabbed the Arab's arm, the knife tip just inches from his jugular. Indy slammed his knee into Wajid's groin, the assassin doubled over—he dropped the knife and it fell from the roof—as Indy landed another blow, and then another, to Wajid's face. Wajid staggered backwards and Indy kicked him in the groin again, felling the half-giant.
Indy glanced around—Marion was trapped at the starboard end of the roof, the blades of the powerful paddlewheel whipping around behind her. Lut moved toward Marion swinging his hooked dagger, the Arab laughed as each swipe of the blade elicited a panicked jump from his quarry. Indy dashed toward Lut, unfurled his whip and cracked it at the bastard—it coiled around the assassin's neck and a quick yank pulled Lut from his feet. Landing hard on his back, Lut desperately pulled at the coiled leather, unable to breathe.
Then Wajid's thick arm clamped across Indy's throat. Wajid tightened his grip and it was now Indywho was fighting to breathe. Indy brought up his hands and clawed at the Arab's face, he squeezed his fingers deep into Wajid's flesh, ripping the skin from his cheeks; the Arab cried out, and tossed Indy across the rooftop.
Indy landed another blow to Wajid's bloody face, the Arab fell to his knees and Indy kicked him hard in the head, knocking Wajid unconscious.
Lut had freed himself from the whip and was staggering to his feet. Indy lunged at him and wrestled for control of the knife. A scrappy tussle as Lut slammed Indy into the side of the funnel—but then a flagpole whipped Lut across the head, knocking him from his feet.
Indy threw a relieved smile at Marion and took the flagpole from her. "Head back to the cabin, wake Sallah." Marion nodded, hurried to the ladder and climbed from the roof.
Lut came toward Indy with the knife, Indy spun the flagpole and rammed it into the Arab's gut—Indy ran hard, thrusting Lut backwards on the end of the pole—the Arab slammed into the side of the funnel, the pole pierced right through Lut's abdomen and out of his back—cracking through the rusting metal of the funnel. Black smoke pumped through the oozing, bloody puncture in Lut's stomach, as the writhing Arab gasped his final breath.
Indy hurried across the roof and reached for his revolver—Wajid's foot connected hard with Indy's chest, sending the archaeologist reeling. Indy scrabbled back as Wajid paced closer. The Arab then kicked Indy in the face, sending him flying backwards, landing hard on his back at the rear of the boat; the top of the huge paddlewheel whirring directly behind him. Wajid slammed his foot onto Indy's chest. Through pain, Indy grabbed Wajid's foot with both hands and twisted it hard, Wajid cried out and stumbled onto Indy, who grabbed the great assassin by the shoulders and thrust him from the roof. Wajid screamed as he plunged into the metal blades of the paddlewheel, his body mangled in the wheel spokes. Blood churned with the river water as pieces of the Arab were fed out into the Euphrates.
Indy grabbed his gun.
He arrived on the lower deck and burst into their cabin. Sallah lay sleeping, snoring as loudly as before.
No sign of Marion.
Indy moved back out onto the deck, he stopped in his tracks—Marion was stood at the bow. An older, weaselly little Arab held a knife to her throat. With his other hand Omar playfully twisted Marion's hair in his fingers. Then he pulled it sharply, causing her to yelp out in pain.
"Put down the gun, Doctor Jones."
"OK, sure, just take it easy." Indy slowly lowered his gun to the deck. "You and your buddies, you're... associates of Mr. Ziegler, right?"
Omar smiled. "Kick it to me."
Indy stood. "Ziegler's quarrel is with me, not the girl." He kicked the revolver across the deck, toward Omar.
Omar continued toying with Marion's hair. "Indeed, so this pretty little thing will not be missed. Compensation, for the unfortunate deaths of my... associates." Omar lent in close and sniffed Marion's hair. Marion shivered as the Arab's thick, wiry moustache brushed against her neck.
Indy fumed. "Let her go!"
Omar smiled again, flashing those yellow misshapen teeth; his knife tip drawing blood from the terrified girl's neck.
"I promise you, Doctor Jones, I will take good care of her."
Indy's eyes met Marion's. Through her fear, he could see a strength, a determination. She was planning something. He watched as Marion's right hand subtly slid behind her back, towards Omar's groin. A moment later and Omar's grotesque smile snapped into an expression of acute agony. He shrieked in pain and released his grip on Marion. She elbowed him in the stomach and Omar dropped to the deck.
Marion ran into Indy's arms. But they'd only bought themselves seconds. Omar had regained his senses and grabbed Indy's revolver. Marion's eyes widened in surprise as Indy lifted her and tossed her over the side of the boat.
"Jones...?!"
A heartbeat later and Indy had leapt over the handrail too.
The water's chill took Indy's breath away. Then a bullet whipped over his fedora. He pulled the hat from his head and grabbed Marion's hand. "Deep breath!" The pair dived under the surface as Omar fired blindly into the blackness of the water.
When the revolver's chambers were empty Omar screamed obscenities and hurled the gun into the river. He turned; before him towered a broad chest, Omar looked up—it took him a few beats to recognise the Egyptian digger. A beat later and Sallah's fist landed hard in Omar's face.
Indy dragged Marion onto the riverbank, they caught their breath and watched as the steamboat retreated into darkness. Indy replaced his hat and climbed one of the sand dunes that lined the riverbank. Beyond, an endless desert was illuminated by moonlight.
They would walk from here.