Behold
Another night spread across the desert with no tell-tale signs that the dark Mumia Riders were anywhere about, waiting to wage another minor war on the campsite. At the moment, the Americans could have cared less.
Daniels held fast to his own jar, still maintaining his arm as if it were in a sling, and followed his friends towards the campfire where dinner was being prepared. To keep their rations at a fairly high quantity for the journey back to Cairo, they were relying right then on whatever the desert had to offer by way of meals. The putrid aroma of fricasseed rats was hardly appealing, but it was not for the food that they ambled over to the fire.
O'Connell sat with Beni and Jonathan, prodding at the snapping flames with a skewered piece of roasting meat. His expression was rather blasé until he heard the Americans approach. Rumors were spreading among the diggers concerning the "treasure" that O'Connell's party had discovered, and via Chamberlain's translation, the Americans had found out that they had unearthed a corpse, a bonafide Egyptian Mummy. It was great news! Their mission was to make their elated moment last a little longer by showing off what they found.
"Say, O'Connell," Henderson said smugly, "how much do you think these babies'll fetch back home?" He waved his shiny white jar in front of him, letting the fire illuminate its brilliance.
They each sat before the make-shift hearth, making certain that their treasures were well in view. Daniels sidled in last as Burns stated, polishing the little pharaoh head with precision, "We heard you boys found yourselves a nice gooey mummy." He snickered. "Well congratulations."
Daniels said with a fake seriousness, "You know if ya dry that fella out, you might be able to sell him for firewood."
It felt so good to rub it in! Laughing, beaming, he watched O'Connell respond with a tiny mock-laugh, which only encouraged his good mood. He lowered his head over the jar, reveling in the moment even as he made certain there were no flaws or remaining grains of sand to mar his prize.
"Look what I found!"
Evelyn came over to the fire, her hands full of something that chinked together. She stood beside her brother, keeping her hands outstretched excitedly.
O'Connell turned to Beni. "You're in her seat."
Beni forced a light chuckle, thinking he was kidding.
"Now."
"Yep!" The gamin jumped to his feet and sidled over with his skewer.
As if she hadn't even noticed the exchange, Evelyn sat down in the now free seat next to the mercenary, displaying her findings for all to see. "Scarab skeletons," she declared. "Flesh eaters. I found them inside our friend's coffin."
Daniels looked over with mild interest. She rolled one of the rock-like skeletons between two fingers. The hollowed-out shell still caught the light, and it resembled somewhat a large beetle. He idly stroked the side of his mouth, leaning into his hand, then draped his arm over his leg as his listened, curiosity sparked.
"They can stay alive for years feasting on the flesh of a corpse," Evelyn explained. "Unfortunately for our friend, he was still alive when they started eating him."
Daniels' lip curled back in an appalled grimace as he stared at her, wondering if she were joking. She wasn't. His throat muscles constricted as if he wanted to gulp but could not manage it. The notion left a horrible image rolling around in his mind that he couldn't shake.
"So someone threw these in with our guy and they slowly ate him alive?" O'Connell questioned in slight disbelief.
She replied with a smirk, "Very slowly."
Daniels rubbed his lip again, this time a little fidgety, as Jonathan remarked, "Well, he certainly wasn't a popular fellow when they planted him, was he?"
"No," stated O'Connell with mirth, "he probably got a little too frisky with the pharaoh's daughter." He grinned wickedly over at Daniels and the other Americans, who made not a comment.
"Well, according to my readings, our friend suffered the Hom-Dai, the worst of all ancient Egyptian curses, one reserved only for the most evil of blasphemers," the librarian said, her voice growing steadily serious. "In all of my research I've never heard of this curse having actually been performed."
Daniels couldn't help it; he sat engrossed in her every word, not knowing a thing about Egypt himself. Before he hadn't bothered to learn anything of the country because, after all, he was a treasure seeker with no need to know such tales. But to hear one told with such dedication was an intriguing and beguiling thing. His expression was dark as he listened, one eyebrow arched. Unconsciously, he touched his bandaged arm, caressing his rough palm over the dressings. It certainly was an astounding tale, fitting of the City of the Dead.
"That bad, huh?" O'Connell mused.
"Yes," she responded. "Well, they never used it because they feared it so." Her tone changed, grew more shadowy. Yet she wore a vague smile. "It's written that if a victim of the Hom-Dai should ever arise, he would bring with him the ten plagues of Egypt."
She looked over the faces before her one by one, letting her meaning sink in. Daniels met her eyes, his gaze a bit vacant as his mind shifted back to the chest they had found only that morning.
"Ten plagues?" O'Connell asked in astonishment. "You mean all ten plagues?"
Beni said quietly, "Like what that Moses guy did to that Pharaoh?"
She nodded. "That's one way of putting it."
Jonathan sat back, thinking and counting on his fingers. "Let's see, there were frogs, flies, locusts..."
Burns picked up where he left off. "Hail and fire."
"The sun turning black," said Henderson, staring at a scarab skeleton he held.
Daniels appeared to be in his own little realm, and for the moment it looked as if he wouldn't join in the conversation, but soon he added with a blank expression, "Water turning to blood." He held his injured arm closer.
Suddenly Evelyn laughed at their dismal countenance, thinking them all foolish. Stifling a bubble of laughter, she yanked a stick out of the fire and offered the steaming, charred mass to the lot.
"Fried gizzard, anyone?"
"What do you suppose was inside?"
Within their tent, Burns sat cross-legged on his bunk, holding his alabaster jar to his ear and gently rattling it, listening to its contents echo inside. Daniels was laying on his blankets with his head propped up on a rolled pack, right arm draped across his eyes as he tried to sleep, without success. His wounded left arm was beginning to hurt again, and he held it still over his stomach.
Huskily he replied, "Sounds like sand."
Burns perched his glasses on the tip of his nose as he gazed at the jar. "Why would there be sand inside?"
"I dunno, because we're in the middle of the desert?"
"But it's sealed," Burns protested, trying to twist the pharaoh head and remove the stopper. It was shut up tightly with wax, and so many years left it like rock. "Sealed pretty well, at that. Nothing could have gotten inside, and you'd have to be super-strong to open it without breaking the thing."
"Why don't you ask that girl?" Daniels said. "She thinks she knows everything."
Burns shrugged, unseen by the other. "I'm sure if it were important Chamberlain would have told us."
"Mmm," Daniels agreed without thinking on it.
Suddenly they heard approaching footsteps, and someone's shadow fell across their tent flaps. Daniels snapped alert, sitting up, and simultaneously he and Burns drew their guns and aimed at the mouth of the tent.
It was only Henderson, who stooped inside with his palms raised to show he was no threat, obviously. Daniels let out a rush of air and leaned the back of his shoulders into his pack. Henderson wore a slight grin, chewing on his tobacco casually.
"A little jumpy, aren't we, boys?" he asked around his mouthful, coming to sit down on his pallet. He checked to make sure his jar was still hidden safely with his belongings, just out of habit.
"Cautious," Burns answered, even though his face was a mask of taut nerves. He returned his weapon home to its holster.
"As long as you don't start wearing black, Henderson," Daniels said, "you'll be fine."
Henderson made a small sound of acknowledgment in the back of his throat, staring outside as he said, "I don't think those Bedouins are coming back. They would have been here by now."
"Unless they were waiting for you to go to bed, too," Daniels remarked. "Three birds with one stone." Though he didn't sound at all worried, still he hid his revolver within easy access under the pack he was using as a pillow. The other gun he left strapped to his side.
"Damn," Henderson said. It was just a word, not meant as anything. He spat out his wad and juice into the ready spittoon and laid down, staring up at the temporary ceiling. "So," he inquired, "what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"
Daniels looked over at him incredulously. His response was blunt. "We go back down."
Burns asked of him, stashing away his jar, "You believe there's still treasure down there?"
"Damn straight," he replied deftly. "I don't think we've even begun to scratch the surface here, fella's. Let's not forget there was once an entire city standing inside this volcano, and I'll wager you--"
He was quickly cut off by Henderson. "No. Oh, no, Daniels. No more of your bets. They cost us too much."
Daniels couldn't help but to glare at the other's rude interruption. "Hell, Henderson, if you're ready to pack up and head home then by all means, go ahead. You're still guaranteed your fair share of the profits. But I'll be damned if I back down now. We've come too far."
"That's not what I meant," said Henderson, but he gave the tiniest of nods to show his agreement. "We didn't travel all this way to grab what we can and run."
"You're god-damn right we didn't," said Daniels strongly.
Burns appeared thoughtful for the moment, stretching out on his bunk. Then he sighed, rather pensively. He said wistfully, "I'm getting tired of the desert. I want to go home."
Henderson exchanged a look with Daniels, his eyes holding a sort of sorrowful camaraderie, a gaze to suggest pity for his friend. But regardless, Daniels was unmoved. He was home-sick, just like the rest of them, and he did care what his friends thought, but he was in this journey for the duration.
He asked, "Wouldn't you rather return home rich?"
Burns smiled to himself. "That was the plan."
"It still is," responded Henderson, eyes caught once more on the off-white material above their heads.
Daniels gave a smile. "Then it's settled," he said. "Tomorrow we'll go deeper into the City, find old Seti's treasure chamber, and make this a journey for the record books."
He settled in for the night, crossing his ankles as he stretched out, not really comfortable, but feeling confident and ready for anything. Burns and Henderson were with him on this, and they were in it to the end. "We are gonna be rich, boys. Come hell or high water."
It was an oddly chilly night, the stars that blanketed the sky were sinister and uncaring. Nothing seemed right, but everything seemed dark--tonight the world was afire with rage.
It was a feeling more than anything else, an eerie sensation that clawed at his gut and rang in his ears without noise. Daniels shivered and held his wounded arm to his body. His eyes saw nothing at the moment, caught in a dreamless state and held by that dismal, penetrating feeling. A feeling like ice. Foreboding, heavy and real. Something was coming, but what? Those black-clad Mumia Riders again? He didn't hear them. He couldn't hear their horses or their guns.
Cold. It was so very cold, something that struck him queer being in the middle of Egypt. Something was going to happen, soon. He just knew it. Suddenly his eyes fell into focus, and he could see...
Where was he? There were walls all around, stone pillars engraved with heiroglyphics and ancient artwork. It was a temple. There stood the tall statue of Anubis, God of the Underworld, but in full frame, not partially buried as they had found it. Hamunaptra? Yes, it had to be. He was inside the ruins, but as he strained to see what he assumed was familiar, it changed. It alternated between two worlds waiting to collide: the dilapidated, crumbled remains they had discovered, and a city that once was, dark and very dangerous.
Suddenly, the whispers returned, mocking and laughing. An image flashed through his mind, something he had never seen before, yet it played out as if it were a memory. A stone coffin...a man, completely wrapped in bandages, wriggling, pleading...someone, human, but wearing a mask made to look like a jackal...scarabs. There came the sound of a lid coming to rest, the boom of a coffin being eternally sealed. It resounded in his ears, and suddenly Daniels felt as if he could no longer breathe.
Then the scream, agonizing and vengeful, a ghastly roar that shook to the very core of the earth itself. The fear. The Curse...
"NOOOO!!"
Daniels stirred, eyelids fluttering, and he suddenly jerked awake, feeling the tightness in his chest dissipate as the memory of the dream swiftly faded into consciousness. A dream, he reassured himself. It was only a nightmare. He passed a hand--not even realizing that it was his injured arm--over his face, feeling feverish and sweaty. Things quickly settled, returned to normal.
But not for long.
"You must not read from the book!!"
The shouting made Daniels prop himself up on one elbow to look at Henderson in bewilderment. His partner was sitting up as well, hands shaking; he looked like another roused from a nightmare. What the hell is going on?
Burns was awake also, pale and unsteady, but he swung his legs over the side of the cot to stand, alarmed. Suddenly, another mysterious, unknown wind began to blow, swinging the lantern that hung in their tent. Daniels was swiftly on his feet. Burns put on his glasses and the Americans rushed outside to find O'Connell, Evelyn and Jonathan already up.
Daniels froze beside Burns, Henderson bumping into him as they all stared up at the sky in amazement. Dawn wasn't far off, the blue-black sky slowly brightening at a snail's pace. But a shadow was forming across the horizon, blotting out the scant light as it swept towards them like a raven tide. Daniels' mouth fell open, eyes wide with shock.
Closer and closer it flowed, small shapes detaching themselves, becoming more distinct. It looked like--bugs! Daniels could have sworn they were locusts, but he suddenly didn't care to stay and evaluate them.
The Americans turned and fled just as O'Connell bellowed, "Run!"
There followed an odd, buzzing rush of sound as the insects flooded into the camp. Daniels ran as fast as he could with the others, sense enough remaining to keep his wounded arm still, hearing the cries of some of the diggers fade away behind them. They raced to the temple door, sliding a little in the soft, loose earth, each slowing only to snatch up a torch. Burns, first inside the door, stopped to hand a torch to Daniels, lighting it with his own.
Henderson slipped through the door, grabbing a flaming torch just as a horde of chirping bugs (grasshoppers!) flew into the ruins, soaring everywhere, seeping inside, as if following them.
"Get a move on, fellas!" Burns said briskly as Henderson led them further and further inside, too scared to figure out where exactly they were going.
"Where they hell did they come from?!" Henderson asked in a frightened tone, brushing away cobwebs and dust from his escape path.
"I ain't waitin' around to find out!" Daniels said loudly, close at his heels. Three native diggers were rambling nonsense words behind them, hell-bent to stay with the American leaders.
The whole ruckus seemed to resound savagely inside the close quarters of the ruins, every word and footstep a whir of sounds that left them more shaken, unable to comprehend any of what had just occurred. Their torched did little to alleviate the black atmosphere, and Daniels made certain to stay close behind Henderson, not wanting to lose sight of him in the impeding darkness.
Fear of the strange, sudden swarm made the Americans over-zealous in their need to escape the plague of insects, and none of them seemed to noticed just how deep into Hamunaptra they had gone. Down one corridor, around a series of bends and turns, and they were soon in unfamiliar territory, their original excavation site lost. It seemed they had been running for hours, with no destination point and no thought of stopping. They were going nowhere fast.
Suddenly, as if that thought struck him, Henderson came to an abrupt halt, and Daniels careened into his back, nearly losing his torch. Panting, a bit wild-eyed, he asked, "Why the hell'd ya stop?"
Both men seemed to realize instantly that they'd never seen this particular chamber before. Their eyes followed the lights of their torches as they gazed about the new room anxiously. It was a large, sphereical chamber almost similar to all the others save for the vast columns all around, featuring grand designs of the winged Isis and the feather of Ma'at, ancient goddesses they knew only by name from skimming a tour book.
Oddly enough, there were no exits, no other way out.
"Where are we?" Henderson asked, perplexed and frightened, actually expecting an answer. Daniels had none to give, sorely missing the expertise of their Egyptologist right then.
"I dunno," was all he could say, uncertainty making him rock on his toes, full of the animal instinct of fight or flight. His whole body was tense, not sure which to respond with.
Being lost inside the cursed City on top of everything else made Daniels hotly nervous, and the babbling of the diggers with them made him of a sudden edgy and uncomfortable, unable to think rationally. He rounded on the three men with a snarl.
"Will you shut up!" he yelled, his voice booming, rattling in his own ears. They didn't understand the words, but the tone was quite distinct; they held their tongues.
Just as things grew silent and they all began to fathom the goings-on and surroundings, Henderson asked, "Where's Burns?"
Daniels exchanged a startled look with the other American. Always the one to voice his thoughts as if life were a series of dark jokes, he said, "Helluva time to play hide-and-seek." However, Henderson could see the worry that creased his brow. Then suddenly, as if on cue, they heard it--one of the most agonizing, gut-wrenching screams they had ever heard. It echoed off the walls, vibrating and stabbing, filtering down from the ceiling and chambers above. The tortured wail sent shivers down their spines, and the Americans stood back to back, uncertain and afraid. It was a frightening sound, filled with pure terror and trepidation.
"What the hell was that?!" Daniels' voice went high with baleful unease.
"It sounds like--" Henderson's brows knit together as his voice cut through the tremor; the scream died away as the recognition hit him. "Oh, my God," he whispered.
It was Burns!
Daniels turned a full circle, arms held out in disbelief. He looked at Henderson with horror in his eyes. "I thought he was right behind me," he admitted, his voice quivering with fear--and guilt.
In that moment, neither men took notice of the diggers scrambling around the room, looking for a means of escape. Their thought was that the bugs and the source of the scream were coming closer, trapping them inside the chamber and making them all easy pickings.
"Burns!!" Henderson called out, hoping to hear his friend respond. He didn't. Henderson started towards the door, the way they'd come, Daniels following hurriedly. "We have to go back for him!"
But before the words were even out of his mouth, one of the diggers found and pulled an old lever that was against the far wall, beside one of the columns. There came a grating, mechanical sound...tap...tap...tap... and the door suddenly sealed before Henderson. Both Americans set upon it, but it was too late. It shut with a rolling, hollow thump.
"Dammit!" cursed Daniels, fury curbing any fear. He turned to regard the diggers with a lethal glare, seeking to order them to undo whatever it was they had done. They didn't have time for these old Egyptian games, not with Burns in danger.
Before he could do anything, there came another sound of systems working within the masonry, some sort of ancient device revolving, and one of the other columns began to rise up into the ceiling, turning in a spiral. Behind it lay another exit. Sprays of dust came drifting down around them. The native culprit said something eagerly and bolted for the new corridor. The idea that they had sprung yet another booby-trap on themselves made Daniels react; he leapt towards the man.
"No! Wait, dammit!"
The warning was lost on foreign ears, his reaction too late to do any good. All Daniels could do was grab a hold of one of the other diggers before he followed.
As soon as the digger ran into the slight enclosure within, he triggered another ancient defense mechanism. An enormous blade, a crescent-shaped axe, swung from hiding from a slit in the wall, slicing the man in two. He barely had time to cry out once before there was a gurgling noise, then nothing at all. The deadly metal arc continued to swing like a pendulum until the momentum died. Their torch lights fell on the man's mutilated body.
"Oh, Jesus," Henderson moaned faintly. For all his bold and icy countenance, Daniels had to turn away.
The gruesome silence that ensued was shattered by the third digger in hysterics; the man began clawing at the walls and columns, desperate for escape. One of the symbols under his groping hand gave under the pressure, and there came yet another turning of a wheel. Daniels tensed, waiting. Thankfully, their original entry was once more revealed. The Americans knew that if they didn't get out now, they may not ever. Daniels didn't much feel like dying down there and made the first move towards the doorway.
Unfortunately, the crazed digger wasn't so smart. With one more press, the door began to close again.
"No!" Henderson shouted to the man, but Daniels grabbed his friend by the shoulder and drug him to their last chance.
"There's no time," he growled. "Leave him!" In the rumbling, chaotic noise, Henderson knew he was right. With a trap as swift as Seti's creation, berserk stragglers were doomed.
Daniels slipped under the door, the stone just brushing the top of his head as he passed through. Henderson quickly followed, all but shoving the last of the digger through with him. The other didn't make it in time, his cries cut short as he was sealed up inside the chamber. Thinking now was a good time to worry about their own skins, the Americans left him behind, following the halls in hopes of finding their lost comrade and fleeing the damned City.
They became completely turned around in the twisted maze of corridors and chambers. It all looks the same. Daniels put his hand against the wall, feeling the sand fall from under his fingers. They were groping in the dark, trying the proverbial needle in a haystack. The remaining digger rambled something softly, pressing nearer to him. Daniels glared at him until he ceased his whining and backed off.
Henderson came to sliding halt without warning, squinting to see down the multitude of dark halls. "Which way did we come?"
"You tell me," Daniels quipped. "You're the one who brought us down this far, O' glorious leader."
Henderson turned to give him a heavy look. "Do you want to go first, Daniels? Go right ahead." He inclined his head and "polietly" offered to let Daniels proceed ahead of him.
Instead of apologizing as he knew he should have, Daniels grimaced and pressed on. They cautiously began down another stretch, everyone's panting breaths reverberating and loud. Occasionally one of the torch flames crackled and sputtered, the orange glow reflecting off the glittery sand beneath their feet. Suddenly, some strange sound caught Daniels' ear, and he held his breath to listen; he motioned to Henderson to be still.
"Did you hear that?" he asked, customary brow raised.
Henderson shrugged. "Hear what?"
It came again, a little louder this time. It was like a metallic chatter, a twittering sound similar to some odd-sounding bird heard from a distance.
"I heard that," said Henderson; his eyes were baffled, but the tremor in his voice was foreboding.
Daniels cocked his head to peer down the corridor, waving his hand for them to go on. A few silent steps and they came to a fork, a decision to proceed straight or turn right or left, with nothing behind them but shadows.
The same sound returned, intense and swarming, gaining ground on them, which made Daniels uneasy. He shifted on his feet, anxious. The digger grabbed the sleeve of his injured arm, but Daniels snatched it away. Suddenly the three of them discovered what was producing the funny noise.
The clicking sounds became more and more insect-like as a dark mass came skittering down the hall before them, each little body iridescent and sparkling like fine amethyst. It was a wave of more bugs--large beetles with pinchers that flexed open and closed. seeking prey. One thought dawned on Daniels and Henderson at the same time. Scarabs. They exchanged a shocked and frightened look.
The words left their mouths simultaneously. "Flesh eaters!"
Daniels clipped his friend's heels as they both ducked down the length to their left and ran before the scarabs drew any nearer. But they were out of luck when the horde of beetles seemed to give chase. The terrain sloped a bit uphill, and soon the way ahead opened into a new chamber. Daniels wasn't sure why, but Henderson hollered a warning.
When they reached the opening, the footing quickly plummeted downwards, and Daniels saw two forms looming up ahead, against the wall. Instinctively, he grabbed his revolver from his side holster, only to realize it was just O'Connell and Jonathan.
"Run, you sons'a'bitches!" Henderson screamed at them like they were idiots for lingering. "RUN!!"
"Go," Daniels heard O'Connell tell Jonathan as he rounded the corner beside them, his heels skidding as he followed Henderson down the flat decline.
What followed was a hectic chorus of screams and feeble pleas, but Daniels drowned out all that hubbub, never realizing that they had lost their last surviving digger or even how. The walls and turns were growing familiar, and all Daniels could think of was getting the hell out of the City.
Suddenly a hand clamped down on his arm, the force of being stopped so swiftly spinning him about and bringing him face to face with Jonathan. Nerves strung, thinking he were some new threat, Daniels couldn't stop himself from poking the muzzle of his gun in the other's chest, eyes full of warning to back down.
"Whoa, there!" the Englishman yelped, startled and prancing backwards from the aim. He released the American's arm with a gulp. "Bloody Yank." He hadn't meant to express that thought out loud.
Daniels swallowed and lowered his weapon as Henderson came up behind him, huffing. The tall American asked, "What the hell is happening here? Where's O'Connell?"
It struck Daniels suddenly that they were two short. He looked at Jonathan, who was on edge and feeling left behind. But still he seemed thankful for the company of the "Bloody Yanks". He eyed them warily, asking with a hopeful sound, "Listen, chaps, have you seen my sister?"
Daniels shook his head. "No," he replied gruffly as Henderson said over-top him, "You left a woman down here alone with all this going on?"
Jonathan replied defensively, "We didn't leave her. She's just...a little...lost." He seemed genuinely confused.
"Have you seen Burns?" Daniels questioned himself.
"You've lost a partner, too?"
They stared at one and other for a moment, uncertain of the entire ordeal and thinking how incredible it all was. Then the encounter was broken by the sound of O'Connell's baritone voice from the corridor behind them. Jonathan hurriedly retraced their steps, hoping to find his sister safe. Henderson followed, and Daniels went along, gun at the ready.
"Evie?!" Jonathan called out questioningly, which was instantly followed by a gasping, strangled scream. What happened next was a blur as the Americans slid to a stand-still inside the chamber, Jonathan falling back against them, thunderstruck, dropping his torch with a disgusted fear. Daniels froze at the sight he beheld.
It couldn't possibly have been described logically. It was a corpse, plain and simple. Tall, standing perfectly erect with form and posture--standing! Rotted flesh hung from dark, ancient bones, limp and grotesque. Muscles rippled stiffly, unused, and joints flexed grossly as the thing moved about on its own. O'Connell's mummy was alive!! And it turned to them, angry and curious, glaring at them with eyes that seemed fresh and new. It was unreal!!
Daniels' mind was whirling madly, all intelligent thought stopped dead in its tracks at the bizarre, horrifying sight. It was there right in front of him, staring at him with an ugly, decomposed face, but he couldn't believe it. There was no making sense of the situation. It was beyond imagining! The only thing that rattled around in his head was one semi-rational thought:
Oh. My. God.
Suddenly the thing turned back to a petrified Evelyn and agog O'Connell, braced against the wall and eyes caught on the corpse in a stunned manner. The mummy spread its arms and suddenly screamed, a whistling shriek that was incomparable; a blood-curdling roar that pierced through them with a deafening fierceness. It went beyond fear; it was almost painful. Daniels jumped, but otherwise was unable to move.
Strangely enough, O'Connell screamed back defiantly at the hideous creature, as if unmoved. Quickly he pumped a round into his elephant gun and pulled the trigger. The shattering blast yanked Daniels back into reality. The mummy was shot off its feet.
"Move!" O'Connell commanded, shoving Evelyn towards the exit.
Henderson was all to happy to oblige, saying breathlessly to his comrade, "Yeah, right! Come on!"
Daniels gaped at him in a fuddled way as he swiftly followed Henderson out, asking him in sheer disbelief, "Did you see that? It was walkin'! It was walkin'!!"
Relief to be out of the ruins propelled them quickly through the tunnels and halls, finally at long last coming to the temple doorway. O'Connell, holding Evelyn's hand, rounded around the bend and grasped the heavy door as he came outside, waiting for Jonathan and the Americans to make it through.
"Come on, come on," he muttered to them. Henderson and Daniels threw their lit torches back inside, leaving them to burn freely, thinking they would keep whatever sinister forces lay inside Hamunaptra at bay; Daniels sheathed his gun, eager to be away. O'Connell pushed the door shut with a thudding knock, shutting the darkness inside.
Then they all turned once more and ran, thoughts now on packing up their gear as fast as possible and leaving the City, treasue, mummy and all. Daniels held his wounded arm to him as he ran, wondering over and over if the entire thing had been real or some devilish figment of the imagination. He ran first away from the pillars, towards their camp, when suddenly something told him to raise his eyes. He did--and almost ran smack into a wall of rifles aimed on the fleeing lot!
He slipped to a stop so abruptly he nearly suffered whiplash, backing off a step and immediately putting his hands in the air; there was no where for cover, and no chance to draw his own weapon. Henderson halted beside him, reacting much the same. They all gazed wide-eyed at the band of black Mumia Riders before them, shocked by their sudden appearance. They had Dr. Chamberlain on his knees in front of them, clutching his Book and jar, scared stiff.
It took another minute for Daniels to realize that they were an earthly threat, though nonetheless dangerous. The sight of them made him angry--angry for not being able to mete out his wish for vengence for shooting him the other night, angry that they stopped them from leaving, and angry that after surviving a hellish nightmare as Hamunaptra, they would die now at the hands of arrogant humans! He glared at the Bedouins, waiting to be struck down by the firing squad before him.
Instead, one of the black-clad men stepped forward and drew back his shroud. It was the same tattooed man that had led the Mumia the night they attacked the Americans. His black eyes were serious, but the anger behind them was equaled by the air of disbelief about him. He gazed at them as if they were oddities.
Steadily, as if masking the desire to berate them, he said in his accented English, "I told you to leave or die. You refused." He eyed them dangerously. "Now you may have killed us all, for you have unleashed a Creature we have feared for more than 3,000 years."
"Relax, I got him," said O'Connell casually, almost proudly.
"No mortal weapon can kill this Creature," the man said darkly, addressing the mercenary hotly as if he were a moron. "He's not of this world."
As if to accentuate that statement, the Bedouins behind him parted and their leader stepped aside, watching as two men drug Burns over to the other Americans. Daniels blinked, astonished at the sight of his friend hanging rigidly in their grip. He was almost thankful to see Burns, until he realized something was wrong.
The Mumia dropped him heavily into Henderson's arms, and Burns groaned in pain. Henderson lowered him to the ground gently, Daniels knelt down beside him, eyes wide with devastation at the sight of his friend's state.
Burns' pale, sickly face was raw and bloodied, black, empty sockets gazing blankly where eyes once were. And he couldn't talk. By the gurgling sounds he was making, and the blood and spittle that leaked from the corners of his mouth, they knew his tongue had been cut out.
Daniels was completely horrified! What kind of twisted, cruel son of a bitch would torture a man like that? Being gunned down was easy enough for his mind to comprehend, but this--
"You bastards," Daniels growled heavily, staring daggers at the Bedouin leader.
Henderson raised his eyes off Burns, easing in an enraged breath through his nose to ask, "What did you do to him?" He looked ready to kill.
"We saved him," the Bedouin returned, sounding largely insulted, "saved him before the Creature could finish his work. Now leave, all of you, quickly, before he finishes you all."
Impatiently he said something in Arabic and waved his heavily armed men onward. With courage and conviction the man stated bluntly, as if he had no fear, "We must now go on the hunt, and try to find a way to kill him."
Daniels watched them head off towards the temple door, preparing to walk into the heart of darkness, still glaring at their leader with disdain. He heard O'Connell insist that he killed the thing, but Burns reached a hand out in search of his arm, and his attention was diverted to his friend.
He took his outstretched hand, saying softly to him, "It's okay, buddy. We're here." He looked up at Henderson with a sad, distant look.
Burns tried in vain to say Henderson's name, but only managed a wheezing, unintelligible sound, his once friendly voice broken and hoarse. "Easy, easy," the tall American whispered to him. Then he met the other's eyes. "God, Daniels, he needs a doctor, right quick."
Daniels nodded his head slightly, but something the Mumia leader said caught his ear, and he turned to him, watching as the man would not back down from the mercenary.
"Know this," he was saying with a fierce sterness of a man who knew what dangers lay ahead, "this Creature is the Bringer of death. He will never eat, he will never sleep, and he will never stop."
The recollection of the nightmare he had had not long ago left Daniels with a breathless feeling, and he gazed down on Burns with fear, remembering something else. He will kill all those who open this chest, and assimilate their organs and fluids...He will no longer be the Undead, but a plague upon this earth. In that instant, Daniels realized that the curse had been fulfilled, the Undead had risen, and they were all in very grave danger.
"Can you stand?" he asked Burns gently, who could only nod his head vaguely, wincing. Daniels looked at Henderson. "Let's get him up. We need to get the hell out of this place."
"Right," Henderson mumbled, taking Burns' one arm. Together they got their friend on his feet, helping him over to their tent.
Dr. Chamberlain followed, though not sure how he could help. O'Connell, Evelyn and Jonathan stayed close by at all times, O'Connell somewhat sulking as they packed up a few minor supplies to see them through the desert on their way back to Cairo. Swiftly, but tenderly Daniels helped Chamberlain bandage Burns' mauled eyes, all the while Burns tried to manage a new way to talk through his fresh impediment. It all upset Daniels too no end. He felt responsible, thinking with a throbbing guilt to himself, I thought he was right behind me.
Henderson had gone off in search of their guide, taking two revolvers with him; he returned in no time to find five horses saddled and waiting, though the news he bared left one without a rider.
"I can't find Beni anywhere," Henderson said with a shrug.
Daniels growled as he helped Burns into the saddle of his steady horse. "Figures. The little weasel musta' left without us." He cursed. "Damn him, anyhow."
O'Connell, leading his camel over, asked, "What's the matter?"
"We seemed to have lost our guide," Henderson responded, holstering his guns.
"I can lead you fella's back," O'Connell offered, but Daniels briskly brushed him off.
"We don't need your help, O'Connell," he said, disgruntled. "You're the ones who set this thing in motion. I think it best if we stay the hell away from you folks. Look what you did to Burns."
"Hey," O'Connell interjected gruffly. "The mummy got him, alright? It's no ones fault. Besides, you uncovered that stupid book-thing, not us."
Daniels looked over to where Chamberlain was sitting astride his mount, holding the reins of Burns' horse and clutching his black relic like some sort of security blanket. Evelyn suddenly spoke up, her brother by her side.
"This is an extraordinary situation," she reflected. She seemed rather composed, but she was quietly wringing her hands like a child, worried. "There's no need to get worked up, Mr. Daniels. When we get back to Cairo we can rationally figure out the best course of action to approach this curse. It'll take brains, not brawn."
Daniels guffawed. "I didn't see your brains blasting that thing off its feet."
Evelyn stood taller, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her head in a dignified manner at the insult, and O'Connell swiftly jumped to her defense, much to her surprise, by saying to the brash American, "You don't talk to her that way."
Daniels got up in O'Connell's face, his eyes a mix of threatening and taunting. He remarked acidly, "And you don't talk to us at all. You're not running the show here, O'Connell. We don't have to follow you anywhere."
"Dammit, Daniels," Henderson suddenly said, his voice stoical and demanding; yet he couldn't raise his eyes to meet his friends', "we don't have a choice."
Daniels turned to Henderson with an astonished expression, arching a brow. O'Connell said, "If you don't come with me now, you won't have to worry about any ancient mummy; you'll die in the desert, where there'll be no one to help you. Do you think these Bedouins give a damn about some smart-mouthed American?" Daniels held his head high at that remark, eyes slitting. O'Connell's demeanor actually softened somewhat, and he looked at Burns. "At least do it for your friend."
With that, O'Connell turned and walked over to the camels, making sure they were all ready to set out. Evelyn stared at him for a time, something flickering in her eyes, a kind of admiration. Jonathan gave the Yanks a frank look, and Henderson clapped Daniels on the back in understanding, despite his friend's gaze of disapproval.
Daniels turned on him, voice level and dark. "When we get back to Cairo," he said, "that's it. O'Connell can fight curses and mummies all he wants. But we're outta here."
Henderson nodded. "Agreed," he said. He gently patted Burns leg before going to mount his own horse; he took the reins of Burns' chestnut from Chamberlain.
Daniels let out an explosive sigh, full of anger and disgust, before shrugging on his jacket. With one arm in a sleeve, his injured arm against his chest under the coat, Daniels made certain he had his jar, the only treasure they found, safe in his pocket. He put on his hat and swung into the saddle. With dawn looming on the horizon and their campsite still assembled, the group set their camels and horses into a quick gallop out of the City walls. Behind them, the winds howled with fury, full of fire and torment.
Outside Hamunaptra, on the crest of a sand dune overlooking the volcano, Daniels turned his horse's head about to look one last time at the ancient ruins. The City of the Dead, the legend that they had fought so hard to find, seemed to sink from sight as the sun rose behind it. A wave of light rippled over it, causing it to appear like a mirage, a vision reflected in a pool of water. Once more it was hidden from the outside world. Yet, if he stared hard enough, Daniels could almost make out the walls and fallen pillars. Hamunaptra was there for those who knew where to look.
Henderson stopped his gelding with him, Burns by his side, and watched the City disappear. Daniels took no notice of his partners, biting his lip and grinding the leather of his reins into his palm. Their chance to make history, the hopes of wealth beyond his wildest dreams, all of it faded before his eyes. He had set out to make this journey one for the records; what would history say about them now? In one surreal moment, everything was gone.
And what did fate have in store for them next?
Turning his horse back towards the others, Daniels exchanged a dismal look with Henderson, whose own eyes showed his understanding and remorse for what could have been. All the wealth of Egypt was left behind, destined perhaps never to be found, but they'd been so close. The adventure of a lifetime had ended all too quickly, and their promise of fortune and glory denied. Daniels kicked his little white mare into a gallop to catch up with O'Connell, Henderson, with Burns, following. It was over.
Or was it?