A/N: Well this is my first attempt at a Mummy fic so be very understanding if my Egyptian is flawed and be nice at the end and give good constructive reviews etc. I hope you all enjoy this attempt, which is set a little while after 'The Mummy Returns', and if you're lucky I may have enough time and effort to finish it before long…providing you like it as well that is…
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE MUMMY
The Hand of the Dead
Chapter One: The Beginning
Breathing hard Abdul Al-Hamad ran through the black desert, the cool sand flowing beneath his feet and between his toes as he stumbled over the dunes that covered the land. He kept looking over his shoulder as one who is hunted will do, his eyes wide he did not care that his running feet beat an unsteady path that caused him to stumble with every step, all he cared about was moving away. He couldn't here Gerrard anymore, a brief scream had rent the air earlier, but that was just a hawk, Abdul told himself, right now Gerrard was probably back home where there were no desert hawks to scream, he could even see his friend warming his feet by the fire.
Concentrating on his friend's wellbeing was distracting Abdul but even as he shook his head to clear the images disaster struck. In the darkness he couldn't see the drop on the other side of the dune, he only felt his feet touch empty space instead of cool sand before he plummeted over the edge of the mountainous dune. Rolling down he felt the sand biting into his skin as he grazed the service, as the moon sunk from his vision he fell further into the blackness, down and down, until with a bone jarring thump he landed at the bottom of the slope. Breathing deeply Abdul looked up and was rewarded to see that black edge of the dune cutting into the moonlit sky with no interruptions, nothing was following him now.
A sudden ragged breath caught his attention and with a sharp gasp he noticed the huddled lump that was also resting at the bottom of the slope. 'Gerrard?' he whispered in his native tongue, 'is that you my friend?' and gingerly he reached out to his friend and turned him around by the shoulder. In the darkness his friend's face was just visible as he half turned and with a relieved gasp Abdul embraced him, 'I thought that you were gone,' pulling back he suddenly found his voice gone as he looked once more into the face of Gerrard. The left side was his, but the right was now a mass of rotting flesh and sinew, a mad eye stood out amidst the tangle of skin that was steadily deteriorating before Abdul's eyes.
'NO!' he cried, his voice suddenly returning as he backed away from Gerrard as he rose to reveal his crumbling and decaying body, his clothes too were ragged and tattered as if worn by the ages. Scrabbling across the floor Abdul did not notice the ground behind him shifting as his body neared it, all he cared about was escaping his friend, but then even Gerrard was too much to worry about. Moving over the shifting sand Abdul realised his mistake as his left shoe was torn from his foot by an unseen force, but it was too late, before he could scream a desiccated hand shot up from the ground and clamped around his mouth, pulling his head down sharply. Abdul tried to reach up and pull back the hand but two more had pinioned his arms while others secured his legs, muffled screams passed through the rotting hand as his body was dragged under the sand and with a crack and a jerk his neck was swiftly broken.
The lifeless Gerrard remained on the surface of the desert for a few seconds, his mad eye looking around, Abdul had not noticed the other had been ripped from it's socket, until the still body was taken under the shifting sand. With a deliberate slowness he suddenly began to sink back into the sand, his body now fully consumed by the rotting until he too was taken under by the shifting surface.
A few seconds later the shuddering sand was still once more, and the calm of the desert night descended once more.
* * *
'Move! Move!' shouted Rick O'Connell as he chased the car through busy London streets, swerving madly, the out of control vehicle was headed straight for the flimsy wall separating the road from the Thames.
'Alex! Put the bloody brakes on!' shouted Jonathan Carnahan as he ran beside his American brother in law, and was briefly surprised when the tyres squealing and car slowing let him know his nephew had done just that. 'How about that?' he started triumphantly when a loud bang signalled the collapse of the discs and the car resumed its hectic course down the street, 'oh bugger.'
Inside the car Alex O'Connell was madly pumping down on the brake pedal, jamming the horn and madly trying to avoid crushing people against the side of the street while also working on opening the door which was solidly shut beside him. Looking up from the steering wheel Alex's face twisted into that of someone who knows they're in trouble, but isn't yet experiencing it, the wall was only two yards away. Preparing for the yell that was threatening to escape his mouth, Alex relaxed his grip on the wheel and took a deep breath as the wall loomed closer.
With a crunch the door shot open and a strong arm reached in and pulled him out as if he was a toy, clutching him his rescuer jumped from the car and rolled to safety on the side of the road. Covering the boy with their cloak as the car leapt towards the wall a strong voice whispered in Alex's ear; 'this will be loud.' Up the street Rick and Jonathan leapt for cover with half of the Londoners who littered the street as instead of ploughing through the brickwork the car exploded as the petrol tank was crushed up against it. Beneath the cloak Alex felt the heat of the blast and small bits of car bounced off his body as the cloaked billowed from their impacts.
Rising out of the gutter Rick picked up a twisted bit of metal that lay nearby his huddled brother in law, turning over the symbol that had once been proudly perched on his car's radiator, he moved down the street to where Alex and his caped rescuer had risen. 'Ardeth Bay,' he said in greeting as Alex gazed up into the tattooed face of the Med-Jai warrior, why is it when you show up I just know something bad is gonna happen to my car?' but with a wide grin he took the man's hand in a strong shake.
Behind him Jonathan had finally ambled down the street after wiping his shirt clean of the black marks the petrol cap had bestowed upon him, 'Hello Ardeth old boy,' he said, shaking the man's hand, 'nice timing again I see.' And with this all three of the men turned to look down on Alex who was still half hidden beneath the Med-Jai robes.
'It wasn't me?' he tried.
'Of course not,' said Rick, placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder, 'but whaddya say we just go and see mom and let her know how you just happened to send my car into the Thames. And then, you can have a nice cup of tea while she and I talk about insurance–'
'–and why I'm here I hope,' Ardeth interrupted, hiding a smile at Rick's charade to Alex.
'–why Ardeth has visited us and then, well, we'll talk pocket money and the next six years.' Walking behind the father and son Ardeth and Jonathan listened to the sudden eruption of protests the flowed from the nine year old and hid smiles as the two began arguing over handbrakes and clutches.
'So Ardeth,' Jonathan said as the two fell in step, 'how's Egypt been recently?', the reply was not one he wanted to hear.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: That's it folks, so what do you think so far? And by the way this chapter is dedicated to Lord of the Net for introducing me to the wonderful world of Mummy fanfics with 'The Golden Pyramid'. Please read and review all you nice, nice people out there…