Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"This is all my fault."

Despite the circumstances of the trip, Alex was excited. For three years he had wanted to go back to Egypt, and now he was finally getting his chance.

He sat in the window seat of the plane, looking down eagerly. His mum was asleep beside him. Alex glanced at her and shook his head; he failed to understand how anyone could sleep through something as fun as a plane ride.

Uncle Jon was in the row ahead of him. He could see the way his uncle kept glancing nervously out the window, and he felt sorry for him. Uncle Jon was afraid of what they would find when they got to Cairo, and afraid of what Ardeth Bay would say when he learned the diamond had been stolen. Alex, who had only known the fierce Med-jai for an hour, privately thought his uncle should be more afraid of the latter, but he kept his opinions to himself.

His dad sat beside Uncle Jon. They had to lift their voices to be heard over the engines of the plane, and Alex found he could hear them, if he leaned in just a little bit.

"We'll ask around when we get to the airport. Maybe someone will remember this guy coming through."

"Right," Uncle Jon said. "That's a good idea. And what will we do when we find him? Stick a gun in his face and demand the diamond back?" He sounded angry, an emotion which was unusual for him.

"Sounds good to me," Alex heard his dad say.

"Rick, would you be serious?"

"I'm always serious. It's why I don't get drunk and tell total strangers things I shouldn't."

Uncle Jon winced, and Alex winced for him, too. That was a mean thing to say.

"Fine," his uncle said. "You do that. I'm going to head out to Ahm Shere and find Ardeth. He needs to know about this."

"Agreed," his dad said. "We'll ride out to join you after we find out about this thief of yours."

"Oh, God," Uncle Jon groaned. "He's going to kill me."

"You might be right," his dad said, and Alex sat back in his seat. He realized that his uncle was indeed afraid of the Med-jai, and was not at all pleased to learn he was right.

****

It was mid-morning when they arrived in Cairo. Jonathan waited impatiently to get through Customs, then headed out into the streets of the city. He had a few things to do before he went into the desert.

An hour later he was back where it had all begun: Magic Carpet Airways. It was all he could do to keep from running for the doors to the airfield. The need for haste clamored in his skull, urging him to move faster, always faster.

They had lost two days, planning and making the trip. First Alex's school had to be informed, and Evy had to arrange things at the museum. Tickets had to be bought, lost passports had to be found, luggage had to be packed. Ready to pull his hair out with frustration, Jonathan had spent most of those two days pacing the foyer of the house, wishing he could run out the door and leave them all behind.

He flung open the airfield doors and there was Izzy, looking virtually unchanged. The pilot whirled around and gaped at him, then glowered in annoyance. "You again."

"Yes, it's me again!" Jonathan crowed. He held out a bundle of bills. "Where's the dirigible?"

Izzy snatched the money and flapped a hand at him. "Dirigibles are for the history books," he scoffed. "I got an airplane again." He pocketed the money. "Let me guess. You want to go back out into the desert."

Jonathan hefted the pack on his back. "Very perceptive of you. Now let's get going."

"Now wait a minute," Izzy protested. "You can't just walk in here and demand that I fly you wherever the hell you want to go. It doesn't work like that."

The pilot's attitude was the last straw, the final delay in a series of frustrations. Incensed, Jonathan threw up his arms. "Why are you people so bloody stupid?" he shouted to the sky. "What is it with you?"

Izzy gave him a look most people reserved for the elderly and insane. "What are you talking about?"

"We're going to Ahm Shere," Jonathan shouted, "and we're going now!" He reached under his jacket and pulled the pistol he had "borrowed" from his brother-in-law.

Immediately Izzy's hands shot up. "Whoa! Okay! All right. Just calm down. We'll go, we'll go." His eyes narrowed. "What's gotten into you?"

"We can talk about it on the way," Jonathan snapped.

"Whatever you say." Izzy shook his head, as though to say he thought Jonathan was crazy, and began walking across the airfield.

Jonathan shoved the gun back in his belt, leaving his jacket open. There was no reason to hide it now. He only prayed he wouldn't have to use it.

****

"Dammit."

Evy frowned at him. They were in Jonathan's flat, which was a dusty mess. "What is it?"

"Jonathan. I think he took one of my guns."

"Mum? Dad?" Alex stood at one end of the living room, his hands clasped before him. Only eleven, he was already nearly her height; he would be as tall as Rick in a few years. "I think it's time I learned how to fire a gun, don't you?"

A week ago Evy would have put a halt to anything involving her son and guns without hesitation. Now she just looked helplessly at Rick.

He knew it, too. "When all this is over, Alex. Not just yet."

****

He was the only passenger, and Izzy let him sit in the co-pilot's seat, albeit with some reluctance. The pilot was put out that Jonathan would not tell him why this trip was so urgent. "It's not your boy again, is it?"

"Alex is my nephew, not my son," he said without taking his eyes from the sands below. They could go so much faster in the airplane, and they were higher, too. He found himself wondering what might have happened if Izzy had owned the plane three years ago. How much of the horror might have been averted, if they had been able to catch up with Imhotep before reaching Ahm Shere?

"It's all the same difference to me," Izzy said cheerfully. He began humming tunelessly under his breath.

Jonathan said nothing to this. He was too busy planning what he was going to tell the Med-jai.

There was no excuse for it, of course. He had been entrusted with the diamond, and he had promised to guard it, to do whatever was necessary to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. You must be prepared for anything, and be ready to do what you must to preserve what has been entrusted to you.

And he had agreed. He had sat there and looked Ardeth in the eye and sworn that he would do it.

Well, he should have known better than to believe me. It's his own fault, really, a voice in his head tried to say.

This did not make him feel better.

"Ah, there's not any trouble out there, that you're aware of, is there?" Izzy asked.

There was an odd note to the pilot's voice, and Jonathan snapped out of his reverie. "What?" He leaned forward, peering through the windshield of the plane, staring down at the desert.

The Nile was below them, and directly ahead were the remains of the place the Med-jai had called home. The walls of the cliffs were fire-blackened, and the sand was scorched. Nothing that he could see was intact, and the people of the camp ran about in fright as the plane buzzed overhead.

Jonathan looked up at Izzy and saw his own shock mirrored on the pilot's face. "What the hell happened down there?" Izzy demanded.


"Set it down!" Jonathan cried. Already the plane was moving past the camp, and he could not see it anymore.

He felt sick inside. He remembered the way Khalid Hassan had pressed drinks into his hand, plying him with alcohol and questions. He thought of his keys, laying on the nightstand beside the bed in his guestroom. He thought of strange men sneaking through his house, checking every room until they found the one containing his treasure, his secret.

My fault, he thought despairingly. I did this.

Izzy had to land half a mile out from the camp, and Jonathan almost broke his neck in his haste to leave the plane. His foot hooked on one of the steps and with a loud cry, he fell onto the sand, arms flailing, landing heavily on his hands and knees. Hot pain flared in his right ankle, and he cursed as he staggered to his feet. "Bloody hell!"

"Mind the steps," Izzy said, from the top of the stairs.

Jonathan gave the pilot a hateful glare, then began marching across the sand. His ankle did not want to bear his weight, but he stubbornly pushed on, heading for the place he had last visited only six months ago.

Men were coming at him from the camp, rifles held before them. They shouted to each other, and Jonathan searched frantically through his memory for the greeting he had been taught, the salaam of peace.

"Watch out, Carnahan!" Izzy called.

Jonathan stood still and let the Med-jai approach. They recognized him, as he knew they would, and they waved him forward. The men had the slightly dazed expressions of those who have just witnessed something that ought to have been impossible, something that had fundamentally altered their perception of reality. Blood and smoke stained their skin and clothing, and two of them were obviously wounded.

"What happened?" Jonathan asked, limping toward the camp. "Who did this?"

More men were walking out from the camp to see who had come in the airplane, and Jonathan's shoulders slumped with relief when he saw Ardeth Bay. He forced himself to walk faster, despite his sprained ankle.

"Jonathan." Like the others, Ardeth was bloodied, although he appeared unhurt; the blood was not his own. He appeared to be in control of things, and Jonathan immediately acceded to the air of authority that surrounded the chieftain. "We feared the worst. Is O'Connell with you?" Behind him, the Med-jai were creeping forward, wanting to see who had arrived at their shattered home.

"Yes," he said. "Back in Cairo. I came alone." He frowned. "Why did you fear the worst?"

"They have the diamond. We saw it."

"Who did this?" Jonathan asked. Guilt would not let him raise his voice over a whisper.

From the growing knot of spectators, a child began to cry. Immediately Ardeth whirled about, his face ashen. "Aarif!" He ran back toward the camp. Among the Med-jai, the child strained at the hands of the woman holding him back, then broke free and began to run.

Ardeth dropped to his knees and gathered his son into his arms, holding the child close. The boy sobbed loudly, clutching his father tight.

Jonathan watched all this through shocked eyes.

Slowly he limped forward. The women and children of the Med-jai lived here, as well as in two other camps, these places that were hidden from the rest of the world. While the men guarded Ahm Shere and Hamunaptra, the women lived here, providing a home for their husbands to come back to. Jonathan knew the privilege that came with the offer to enter this place, and he had always taken it very seriously.

And now he had destroyed them all.

The Med-jai stood back, staring at him as he approached. Children gazed at him through wide eyes, and some of the women were weeping. He could hear the moans of the wounded now, those who were inside the camp, striving to make sense of their pain. The smell of smoke and blood was nauseatingly strong, now that he was closer.

He tried to imagine it and could not. Who would attack a camp full of women and children with intent to kill? Who would do such a thing?

Perhaps he asked the question aloud. He was aware of speaking, but did not know what he said. He looked down and saw, to his horror, that Ardeth was weeping.

"They came at night," the Med-jai said. "One made it to safety, to find us. We rode as fast as we could, but we were too late." He bowed his head, laying his cheek on his son's hair. "My wife and my daughter are dead, as are many others. My son hid from them and so was spared, but he saw it all happen, and now he does not speak. You want to know who did this? I want to know why they did it."

Jonathan staggered backward. His ankle buckled and he dropped gracelessly to the sand. "Oh, dear God."

For a long time after that, he knew nothing.

****

"There's nothing here. We should just head out," Rick said in disgust. "We're never gonna find him this way."

"I don't like this," Evy said fretfully. "We should never have sent Jonathan out there on his own."

"We didn't send him," he pointed out. "He went by himself."

"Alex! Don't wander too far off," Evy called. She wrapped her arms about her chest, cupping her elbows with her hands. "This is all going to go horribly wrong, isn't it?"

Rick looked at her, startled. "What?"

"Who knows what Jonathan's stirred up?" she decried. "We don't know what's waiting for us out there in the desert. We could find ourselves facing Imhotep again, Rick!"

Surprised by this outburst, Rick took her in his arms. "Hey!" he said. "Don't do this to yourself. We don't know what will happen."

He took a step back, unsure how to make things better. He was vaguely aware that the pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk was forced to go around them, that Alex had stopped and was watching them curiously, but these things were not important. All that mattered was the unhappiness in Evy's eyes.

"Look," he said. "Whatever it is, whatever's out there, we'll deal with it. Just like we always have. That's all I can tell you." He cupped her cheek, caressing the soft skin with his thumb. "We'll do this, Evy. I promise you."

She gazed up at him, trusting, believing him. "I love you."

It was all he could do not to kiss her right there and then, in front of half of Cairo. He said, "I know. I love you, too. Now let's go find Jonathan."

****

All around him, life went on. The Med-jai began trying to salvage their shattered lives again, ignoring him.

Ardeth stood up, holding his five-year old son. The boy had his father's black curls and warm brown eyes, but his features were more delicate, like those of his mother. He was named Ardeth, too, but everyone called him Aarif, for that was how his twin sister had said his name when she was first learning to talk, and the name had stuck.

The girl had been named Khaira, and she had been identical to her brother in looks, but altogether different in temperament. Where Aarif was quiet and naturally somber, she had enthusiastically embraced life, running everywhere, always talking. She had practiced her English on Jonathan, who remembered the way she had sat uninhibitedly on his lap, gesturing with her hands as she chattered away. She had told Jonathan that her brother would one day lead the Med-jai, and that was why Aarif was so serious.

Ardeth's wife had scolded Khaira for being so impertinent, and Jonathan had hastily assured her that he was not offended. But Ranya, a petite woman with very long black hair, had merely smiled and said that she understood, but Khaira needed to realize that such things were not for boasting. Leadership was a duty, not a privilege.

She was a strong woman, a true Med-jai. She had welcomed Jonathan into her home and made him feel like an honored guest, while at the same time offering him genuine smiles of friendship. He had always felt comfortable in her presence, and he had enjoyed talking to her, telling her funny stories to make her laugh.

Six months ago he had sat in Ardeth Bay's home and envied the man. Now all that was gone, destroyed in a single night. And it was all his fault.

"Come," Ardeth said. "We must make plans."

"Plans?" He stayed where he was, looking dazedly up at the Med-jai chieftain.

"They were headed for Ahm Shere." Ardeth was impatient. "We must stop them."

A duty. Not a privilege. Even the things that had happened here would not keep Ardeth from doing what he must. Suddenly full of bitter shame, Jonathan scrambled to his feet. "Wait," he said. "There's something I have to tell you."

Ardeth looked at him, then nodded. He set Aarif down and said something in soft Arabic. The boy gazed fearfully at his father, then walked toward the camp. A woman came forth and took him, and all the while Aarif stared back at the only parent he had left.

Jonathan swallowed hard. He had thought it would be difficult to confess to the diamond's theft. He had never dreamed its loss might be the least of his worries. "This." He lifted a hand, then let it fall heavily back to his side. "This is all my fault. I did this."

"How?" Ardeth asked.

"There was a party…a man…he was asking me questions about Egypt. I was drunk…" He could not finish any of his sentences. Tears of guilt and remorse stung his eyes. He kept remembering the way Ardeth had laughed at the way his children fought to show off for their English guest, and how happy the Med-jai leader had been.

"He seemed… He said… I thought…" He blinked back the tears. "I'm so sorry, Ardeth. I thought-- He asked about Egypt. About the Med-jai. I was drunk. I didn't know. He took the diamond. I didn't know…I didn't know." He could not go on. He braced himself for the blow and simply stood there.

Ardeth did not hit him. But something died in the Med-jai's eyes. In that second the friend Jonathan had known disappeared, and a cold stranger took his place. "We must go to Ahm Shere and try to stop them before they raise the Creature again." Ardeth turned and walked toward the camp, and what remained of his people.

Jonathan watched him go. He contemplated returning to the plane, flying away from this place. He thought about just walking into the desert, walking until he dropped to the ground and could not get up again.

Once, he had dreamed a dream of golden light and worth. He had wanted so badly to be in that dream, to walk in it, rather than watch it from above. He had sought out his destiny, and he had been entrusted with a secret of immense importance. Lives had rested in his hands.

And he was still responsible for those lives. He could not bring back Khaira and Ranya and the Med-jai who had died in this place. But maybe he could stop any more deaths from occurring. Maybe he could do something to show he was not the worthless man they thought he was. If he ran now, if he gave in to the cowardice that had held him still all his life, he would only be proving that he was not worthy of trust.

He began hobbling across the sand, toward the camp. After all, he had nowhere else to go.

*******