Never My Money
Rated PG-13
Disclaimer – All characters belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal.
The Mummy, through the eyes of the accidental hero.
Thanks to all who reviewed! And away we go…
Chapter 3
The desert is a hell of a contradiction. You're liable to burn to a nice crisp during the day, and then freeze the leftovers over night. Not that I'm complaining. I grew up here; you get used to it after fifteen years or so. But it's still annoying. And this morning is no exception. Cold enough for a jacket but give it about an hour and we'll all be ready to strip down. Heh. I don't think little Miss Carnahan would like that much – a bunch of men running around the deck of the ship in nothing but their birthday suits. I wonder if she would jump overboard in embarrassment... Hey, it'd get me out of this damn fool trek.
It's a thought anyway.
I finished packing the last of my gear and supplies, double checking the gunnysack. I thought it best to bring enough ammunition to take on an entire Bedouin army, and then some. That some, of course, being whatever the hell is under than damn city. I want nothing to do with it, but this damned nagging feeling keeps telling me that one way or another, we're gonna find out what's out there.
I'm not a superstitious man, mind you. I just believe in being prepared for whatever this desert will throw at you. And believe me, it'll through all kinds of weird shit at you.
Bags in hand, I made my way through the suqs to the docks along the Nile, all the while, keeping my eyes peeled for Gabor. He was around here somewhere – the stench was almost becoming unbearable.
The Sudan sat halfway down the docks, cargo still being loaded by makeshift cranes and burly men not even I was be dumb enough to pick a fight with, regardless of how drunk. Okay, well, maybe not regardless, but still, they're big enough to knock my block off, and that says a lot I think.
As I got closer to the boat, that's when I heard the unmistakable voice of the little sister. "Personally, I think he's filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel. I don't like him one bit."
"Anyone I know?" I asked, coming up behind them. First thing I noticed was that she was carrying all of the bags while Jonathan walked empty handed. She spun around, definitely not expecting me to have heard that. I waited for her to answer, though she suddenly had trouble forming any more insults, stuttering out a hello as she put the bags down.
"Smashing day to start an adventure, eh O'Connell?" Jonathan asked, patting me on the chest, right over my billfold. Checking to make sure he hadn't managed to somehow lift it, I replied, "Yeah, yeah, smashing."
"I would never steal from a partner, partner," he stated plainly.
"That reminds me, no hard feelings about the, uh –" How do you say 'cleaning your clock' without sounding like a complete idiot? Probably too late anyway.
"No, no. Happens all the time." Why don't I doubt that?
"Mister O'Connell," Evelyn said, finally capable of speaking. "Can you look me in the eye and guarantee me that this thing isn't some sort of flimflam, because if it is, I am warning you –" Ha! Okay, now I've heard it all. Being threatened by a librarian. What was going to do? Shove me in a card catalogue?
"You're warning me?" I stepped closer, unconsciously trying to intimidate her, but she didn't back down. "Lady, let me put it to you this way: My whole damn garrison believed in this so much, that, without orders, we marched halfway across Libya and into Egypt to find that city. And when we got there, all we found was sand and blood." I stared at her for a moment longer, hoping that she understood I didn't much like the idea of going back. When she didn't move, I bent over, grabbing her luggage. "I'll get your bags," I said, heading up the plank.
This was going to be a long trip.
I found out where our cabins were, and lucky me, I was bunking with Jonathan. Not enough single suites, they said. My ass. Not enough money thrown at them is more like it. Anyhow, I made my way down the wet deck when I heard quick footfalls behind me, and something screamed disaster. I turned carefully as not to slip to see Miss Carnahan coming up behind me.
"Mister O'Connell," she started, but was quickly cut short by her feet, as they slid out from under her, and she went ass-first right into the deck. I tried, but couldn't control the burst of laughter that came out. I set the bags down, carefully making my way back to her.
"Not the most graceful, are you?" I said, offering my hand down to her.
"I beg your pardon?" she said, her face bright red, still sprawled out on the deck. She refused my hand, clamoring up with the help of the railing. I stood there, merely watching, waiting for the inevitable. I didn't have to wait long, for as soon as she let go of the railing, she was ass over teacups, and back on the floor.
"Now, will you stop being so damned stubborn?" I said, reaching out for her, but she batted my hand away.
"I don't need your help, thank you."
"If you say so." I turned around, walking away with the bags. I heard a small, exasperated "Oooo" escape from her general direction. I didn't have to glance back to see her scramble to her feet, take three angry steps, and drop back onto the deck.
Dropping her bags in her room, I realized it was a wonder the Cairo Museum was still standing.
