Chapter Three: An Eventful Start
"Excited, old mum?" Jonathan asked me the next morning as we made our way down the boardwalk on the way to the barge. The spicy sea air and light breeze were sweet and refreshing; it seemed the perfect day to start an adventure.
"Beyond excited," I breathed. "Jonathan, do you know how long I've been dreaming of something like this?"
"An unhealthy amount of time, no doubt," he responded.
I smiled, then continued searching the dock for the man whose life I had saved the day before.
"Searching for O'Connell, are you?" Jonathan inquired mischievously.
"No," I snapped at once, defensive.
O'Connell. So that was his name.
He smirked at me.
After a brief silence, I asked nonchalantly, "Do you really think he'll show up?"
"Undoubtedly," he responded knowingly. "I know the breed. He may be a cowboy, but his word is his word."
"Personally, I think he's filthy, rude, and a complete scoundrel," I said in my defense at once. The last thing I wanted was for Jonathan to keep throwing 'Evy-has-a-crush' glances at me throughout the entire journey. "I don't like him one bit."
"Anyone I know?"
It was that voice.
His voice.
Oh, God. Could his timing be any more awful??
I turned casually to greet him, but my words were lost on the way to my lips. He certainly cleaned up nicely. He actually looked...handsome; clean-cut and youthful, yet still possessing the rugged aura of the stereotypical action hero.
"Oh..." I said weakly. "Um...hello."
Luckily, Jonathan greeted him as well, hopefully removing his attention from me and my pathetic inarticulacy.
"Smashing day for the start of an adventure, eh, O'Connell?" he asked, shaking his hand.
"Yeah," O'Connell agreed with an amused smile. "Smashing."
He then proceeded in checking his pocket to see that his wallet was still there.
"Oh, relax!" Jonathan insisted with nervous laughter. "I'd never steal from a partner...partner!"
O'Connell studied him, a smirk on his lips.
"Mr. O'Connell," I started, glad to find that I had regained the ability of speech. "Can you look me in the eye and guarantee that this isn't some sort of flimflam? Because if it is, I'm warning you-"
"You're warning me?" he asked with amused disbelief.
My gaze didn't waver.
He sighed. "Well, let me put it this way. My whole damn Garrison believed in it so much that we marched, without orders, halfway across Lybia and into Egypt to find that city, and all we found was sand...and blood."
He let the words sink in for a moment.
"I'll take your bags," he then offered, picking them up and carrying them up onto the barge.
I stared after him, transfixed.
"Yes, yes, you're right," Jonathan agreed sarcastically. "Filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel; nothing to like there at all."
I glared at him. He certainly wouldn't make this trip easy.
"A bright good morning to all!" the warden's slimy tone filled my ears.
...and neither would he.
It was made quite obvious that the men accompanying me on this trip would all drive me completely mad.
~ * ~
"Where do you want these?"
"Hmm?"
I turned to find O'Connell standing expectantly behind me, still clutching my luggage.
"Oh," I said, "Thank you. I'd completely forgotten. Follow me."
He obliged, and I led him to the cabin where I was staying.
"Not too shabby," he observed, studying it as he set the bags down onto the floor.
I nodded. "Yes, it's nice."
An awkward silence fell upon us.
"Um...well...thank you for helping me carry my things here."
"No problem," O'Connell replied with a grin. "But this one's pretty Goddamn heavy."
He gestured to the suitcase where I'd packed all my books.
"What do you keep in there?" he asked, amused. "Bricks?"
"Steel weights, actually," I responded with a sly smile.
He laughed. "And you find it necessary to carry about eighty million pounds of steel weights around with you??"
"They're books," I informed him, opening the suitcase and removing one as evidence.
"Ahhh," he said. "So you're one of those studious ones, huh?"
That threw me off a bit.
"Well, yes," I replied. "I believe that knowledge is an incredibly powerful thing."
"I believe that experience is an incredibly powerful thing," he retorted. "And believe me, Miss Carnahan-"
"Evelyn," I corrected him automatically.
The lightest traces of a smile curved up the corners of his lips.
"And believe me, Evelyn," he said, "I've probably experienced a hell of a lot more than you've read."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Mr. O'Connell."
He was quiet for a moment as he glanced back down at the suitcase filled with books.
"Neither would I," he admitted, laughing to himself as he abruptly turned and left the room.
I struggled for a few moments to hide my smile before realizing that there was no one there to witness it anyhow.
Beaming, I sunk down onto the floor and began unpacking my books.
~ * ~
Night had fallen a few hours before, coating the sky with an ebony black and sprinkling diamond stars across it. They danced across the sky, mingling and sparkling over a blanket of dark velvet.
The soft, rhythmic sway of the river shook the boat ever so slightly back and forth, adding to my relaxation as I enjoyed the calm night. I held a book in my hands, but couldn't bring myself to pay attention. The excitement of what would soon come was too much; focusing on the small black text seemed impossible.
Still, I persevered, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose and absently turning the page.
Suddenly, my soothing placidity was destroyed as something fell on the table in front of me with a startling thump.
"Ohh!" I cried in shock, looking up to find O'Connell staring down at me and a gunnysack on the table, the source of my surprise.
"Sorry," he said with a grin, "Didn't mean to scare ya."
"The only thing that scares me, Mr. O'Connell, are your manners," I returned curtly.
He smiled knowingly. "Still angry about that kiss?"
I smirked at him, looking up from my book.
"If you call that a kiss," I responded, not able to resist putting the slightest bit of coquetry in my tone.
He studied me for a moment before reaching into the sack and pulling out many assorted guns in varying sizes.
"Did I miss something?" I asked with a wry smile. "Are we going into battle?"
"Lady, there's something out there. Something under that sand."
"Yes," I agreed, eager to get on the subject of what I hoped most of all to find. "I'm hoping to find a certain artifact...a book, actually."
O'Connell smirked at me, no doubt recalling our earlier conversation.
"My brother thinks there's treasure," I continued, then asked, "What do you think is out there?"
"In one word? Evil."
I studied him curiously.
"The Tuaregs and the Bedouin believe that Hamunaptra is cursed," he elaborated. "They call it 'the doorway to hell'."
"Ahmar is Ossirian... 'Passage to the Underworld', actually," I responded, not able to resist a smug grin.
He didn't show any sign of being impressed; rather, he looked as though it was just what he'd expected.
"I don't believe in fairy tales and hokum, Mr. O'Connell," I informed him, "but I do believe that one of the most famous books in history is buried out there, The Book of the Living. It's what first interested me in Egypt as a child. It's why I came here...sort of a life's pursuit."
"And the fact that they say it's made out of pure gold means nothing to you?" he asked skeptically.
"You know your history," I said, rather impressed.
"I know my treasure," he corrected me.
We sat in silence for a moment before I rose to leave for bed. I was almost reluctant to leave him, and, feeling strangely daring, paused and asked, "By the way...why did you kiss me?"
He shrugged casually. "I dunno. I was about to be hanged. It seemed like a good idea at the time."
I paused for a moment, shocked. That was certainly not the answer I'd been expecting. Maybe a sheepish 'caught up in the moment' or a blatant 'because I'm deeply and passionately in love with you, Evelyn'.
But... 'it seemed like a good idea at the time'??!!
How dare he??
I doubted it was humanly possible to be any more completely and utterly un-romantic.
Fury pulsating through my veins, I stormed away after fixing him with a death glare.
"What?" I heard him call from behind me. "What'd I say??"
"Idiot," I muttered darkly.
~ * ~
"George Bembridge in eighteen sixty..."
I trailed off, shaking my head and trying to get O'Connell's infuriating voice out of my head.
"I dunno...I was about to be hanged. Seemed like a good idea at the time."
Oooh! That awful, conniving, no-good...no. No, I wouldn't dwell on it. He was a complete fool, and that was that. Obviously I'd mistaken passionate loathing for a spark of romance.
Which it certainly was not.
"In eighteen sixty five..." I attempted again before slamming the book shut, annoyed.
I made my way over to the vanity.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, it wasn't that good of a kiss anyway," I fumed to my reflection, setting the book on the counter before beginning to run a hairbrush through dark curls.
Annoyed, I bent down to pick up the book. As I reached for it, I briefly felt as though something had brushed past me, but quickly dismissed it as the wind.
I resumed standing, my eyes returned to my reflection, and I discovered, suddenly paralyzed with fright, that I wasn't the only figure staring back at myself in the mirror.
Standing beside me was a man clad entirely in black, so dark and sinister that I was at once reminded of the grim reaper that Jonathan used to tell me horror stories about when I was a child. One of the man's hands was missing, replaced with a hook that shone in the dim candlelight.
I screamed as he forcefully put the hook to my cheek.
Oh God...ohGodohGodohGodohGod.
"Where is the map?" he demanded, tone composed entirely of cruelty and malice.
"It's there...there," I whimpered, nodding my head toward where the map sat next to a candle.
Now let me go, I begged silently. Let go of me!
"And the key," he continued in his low, gravelly voice. "Where is the key?"
"Key??" I questioned, practically hysterical. This was the end; he would be positive I was lying. "What key??"
OhGodohGodohGod...
"EVELYN!"
I was shaking with trepidation, so scared that everything seemed to happen in a haze before me. In an instant, O'Connell had burst inside, and the room had erupted into a sea of flames. A few of the invaders were consumed in fire, but the man with the hook still stood steadfast, arms wrapped around me. As though in a trance, I lifted the candle and slammed it backwards, and judging by his shriek of agony, didn't miss my target of his face. I was freed of him.
And then, in a flash of fire and screams of pain, I was out of the room, O'Connell pulling me behind him. Blissful relief filled me at the prospect of leaving the hellish surroundings, but I realized with a start-
"The map! The map! I forgot the map!"
I struggled to turn and run back, but O'Connell had his arm firmly latched around me.
"Relax!" he ordered. "I'm the map!" With a tap to his forehead, he announced, "It's all up here."
"Well, that's comforting," I deadpanned.
He surged forward, dragging me along with him as he rushed through the hall.
When we emerged from it, we found the deck ablaze with flame and gunfire.
"Hold this," O'Connell instructed, handing me his gunnysack after pulling a few firearms from it.
I took the bag, watching him anxiously as he loaded the weapons. Gunshots flung through the flimsy wall that served as our protection, growing closer and closer with each shot to where O'Connell stood.
It was apparent that he was too absorbed in his gun-loading to pay attention, so I took the liberty of pulling him out of the line of fire. He flashed me a grateful glance before hastening into action.
He fired a few shots with expert aim, causing one of the black-clad invaders to collapse to the ground, writhing in pain.
O'Connell didn't even flinch.
How can you kill someone without even acknowledging it? I wanted to ask, but decided not to trouble him. He appeared to be very engrossed in his moment of action.
We made our way to the edge of the boat, and he momentarily stopped shooting.
"Can you swim?" he asked.
"Well, of course I can swim, if the occasion calls for it!" I responded in annoyance, wondering what on Earth he was getting at. One didn't usually stop in the midst of gunfire to ask another whether or not they could swim.
"Trust me," he replied, picking me up swiftly. "It calls for it."
And with that, he dropped me from the side of the boat.
"O'Connell!" I shrieked, only to end up with a mouthful of water. I fought to keep myself above water and concentrated on swimming to surface, which was in plain view but seemed a million miles away.
We had yet to even arrive at Hamunaptra, and already I felt I'd had more adventure than I could handle.
Perhaps, I concluded, I'm more fit to be a librarian.