Everything
Disclaimer ~ As of 6:14 PM PST on November 6, 2002, I still own nothing.
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Chapter 2
You are the lightThat is leading me
To the place where
I find peace again
A sense of movement jars me awake, but more so, it's the pounding in my head that reminds me of what happened. I try to rub my head, but quickly realize my hands are bound behind my back.
"Hey, I think she's awake," I hear a voice say. I try to open my eyes, the light causing my head to pound harder.
"Then knock her out again," another voice states.
"Well, she ain't gunna do us no good with her head all bashed in," the first says. I finally force my eyes open enough to take in my surroundings: shoved in with some shipping crates in the back of an airplane.
"Where are you taking me?" I demand.
"To help us get rich," the first says with a toothless grin. He stands up, sauntering back to me.
"How am *I* supposed to do that?"
"Well, you've been to Hamunaptra. So you're gunna show us how ta' get there."
"And just what makes you think I can remember how to get there?" He grins at me again; enough to send shivers down my spine.
"Oh, I'll make sure you remember," he says, flashing his gun in my face. I watch him walk back up to the cockpit, praying inwardly that someone noticed I was gone from the restaurant. We are certainly half way to Cairo by now, judging by the early morning sun seeping in through the windows. I rest my head uncomfortably against the crates, trying not to let my mind wander too much. But regardless of how I try, my mind keeps coming back to one thought.
This is a one-way trip.
"Now don't you go tryin' nothing," he says, waving his dagger in my face. He reaches for my legs, grabbing my ankles roughly as he slices away the ropes. Pulling me to my feet, he cuts away the ropes binding my wrists, sticking the point of his blade into my back. "No funny business. Me blade has a mind of its own, and makes no quarrel about diggin' into a pretty lady's back." He guides me off the plane, into the blazing sun of the airstrip, just outside of Cairo. "Khepri, where're the camels?" he asks loudly.
"Whad'ya mean 'where're the camels?'" the pilot calls from the plane, stepping out into the blazing sun. It's only now that I realize, beside his name, our pilot is Egyptian. "Where in the name of Anubis are the camels?"
"Funny, now why hadn't I thought to ask that?"
"Oh, shut up, Rikes," Khepri says. "They musta run off." I want to make a comment about camels not being smart enough, but I bite my tongue. Seems that my captors haven't a camel's sense between the two of them. "I told you not to leave them here. But no, you thought it would be a good idea. Save us time going into the suks and buying some." I rest my case. "Now we're out sixty pounds, and three camels!" Rikes grimaces at his partner's back, but says nothing to him.
"Come on, you," he says, emphasizing his point with his blade.
As we enter the crowded suks of Cairo, two thoughts form in my head. One is to pry my arm loose from Rikes and run like mad into the crowd. The other is to stay put and hope that Jonathan perhaps noticed my disappearance, since O'Connell obviously could care less. After all, he did say these were old friends of his. I had only vaguely imagined the company he had once kept. Never before, and certainly not since our parting, had I ever imagined I would be meeting any of them. I suppose there had been a time, even in its briefest moment, that I had envisioned learning everything of his past. He had assured me, however, that some details of one's past are best left dead and buried. It can certainly be said that he went digging up his past. How else would these two have known about my connection to Hamunaptra?
We stop at a rather large booth with a pen of camels lingering in the rear, Rikes holding onto me as Khepri haggles with the booth owner. As the money changes hands, Rikes becomes distracted at the hundred pounds being handed over, and I opt for plan A, planting my heel once more into his foot. His grip loosens just enough for me to pull away and I take off in a sprint. My only chance is to make it deep into the twists of the suks, then duck into some ritzy British hotel. Or, if I am so lucky, make it as far as Fort Brydon, though that is even less likelier than making it to a hotel. Khepri and Rikes aren't far behind me, shouting at me to stop, as though I would. I make a quick turn down a smaller street. The crowd has grown thicker, and I am forced to slow up, unable to push my way through the mass of people. I can see the two coming up from behind, shouting and waving their guns in the faces of those surrounding them, parting the sea of people like Moses. I try to push through further, but the sudden feel of round, cold steel in my back causes me to stop, straightening up stiffly.
"That's far enough, missy," Rikes says behind me. He grabs my arm, dragging me back through the crowd. For a moment, my eyes land on a figure through the horde, and I swear it's Jonathan, but in a blink, he's nowhere to be found, and I convince myself I am just imagining things. Even if he had figured what had happened to me, there was no chance he would be here so soon.
"For the last time," I say as the force me up atop one of the disgruntled camels, "before we go traipsing off to the middle of nowhere, I don't remember how to get there. I wasn't the one leading."
"Well, you'd best start remembering then, huh?" Rikes says, taking the tethers of my camel. "Else it's a long walk back."