Changed the "_____________" part that appeared halfway through chapter. No clue where that came from or why. Who knows with computers, right?
Comments and such are must appreciated :)
Chapter Eight
As I started with disbelieving eyes at the scene unfolding before me, I could not help but feel my heart start to pound and my hands begin to sweat. There absolutely no possible way I was seeing what I was seeing. It was too unreal, too unbelievable…too unfortunate. But I was seeing it, and I knew my eyes weren't lying to me because Jonathan and Rick were seeing it too.
Not a hundred meters from our very own meager camp, another band of seekers (well men to be precise as I saw none of my sex present) were setting up their own abode. There were about twenty or so of them, most natives, but a few whites. And in the center of them all was the last person in the world I expected to see there.
Jonathan, Rick, and I were crouching around a doorway, peering at the misfortune. We hadn't yet made our presence known, but Rick, ever ready for action, had his pistol out in one had and his other was balled into a fist. He wanted to make himself known, I could tell by the frustration painted across his face. But even he knew that doing so was probably not the best thing at this point.
"Who are these guys?" Rick growled under his breath.
I was standing behind and sort of below him as he watched. "You don't recognize him?" I asked, eluding the 'guys' and focusing on who, at least in my opinion, was the head of this scheme.
"Nuh-uh," was my husband's oh-so-grammatically correct response.
"It's Mr. Logan…from the museum." There was always something about that man that made me uneasy; he irked me in a way that was indescribable. But now I had reason to dislike him. He had, undoubtedly followed us here. Although, I couldn't figure out how or why. Well, off course it had something to do with the myth. But why did he care all of the sudden? And more importantly, how did he know I was going in the first place. I hadn't breathed a word to anyone other then Jonathan and Rick. I knew Rick wouldn't have mentioned it to anyone, but Jonathan….
I looked across the doorway to my brother. He read my face like a cover of a book, throwing up his hands, claiming innocence. "I didn't tell him, I swear! I just bloody found out about the thing before you dragged me off."
Dragged him off? He had begged us to come. How easily he forgets that with one simple word he could be sitting at home by himself. Well, very likely not by himself, but my brother's "love" life was not something I choose to think about often, or at all.
Rick had been quiet for several minutes until, finally, I heard his deep voice come through the silence. "I'm gunna kick his ass from here clear back to England."
"Honey," I chided softly, lying a hand on his arm. "We don't even know why he's here." Well, of course we did. But I didn't want Rick to know that I knew. It was blatantly obvious though and he stated that he knew so in his next comment.
"Oh, c'mon Evy, you know he followed us here. Why the hell else would he just be camping out at Karnack with fifty thousand Egyptian workers?"
Rick's voice by this time had risen about ten decibels louder then one's speech should be when they are trying to keep cover. I tried to shush him, but I was too late. Mr. Logan had looked up from his position and was squinting, as if trying to figure out who we were. All at once, I saw his face pale and then quickly return to normal color. Before I had time to react to that, he started sprinting toward us.
Gun pointed, Rick immediately jumped from behind the wall and stood in the doorway. I was close behind him, although, I must confess, unarmed. Jonathan had the sense to put down his bottle and grab a rock off of the ground. A lot of good that would do us, but it was better then nothing.
Mr. Logan held up his hands, much as Jonathan had done moments before, as he approached. "Hey! Hold on there!"
Rick didn't let his guard down one bit, he stood firm as ever, pistol pointed and ready at the approaching body. His jaw was set tight and he looked as if any one thing might set him off. As Mr. Logan got closer, Rick's finger tightened on the trigger, so much so that I began to get worried. Goodness sakes, we didn't want to kill me poor man. However, I was angry with him none the less.
"What are you doing here?" I asked icily as I came out from behind my husband and stood next to him, my hands on my hips. I was hoping that Rick wouldn't do anything to rash with me standing right there.
Mr. Logan laughed, an awful sort of a sound that made chills ripple through my body. "Evelyn, dear, I think you know the answer to that."
"Mrs. O'Connell," I corrected, narrowing my eyes at him.
"Oh yes, sorry," he said, rolling his dark eyes. He took a few steps towards me as I backed up in turn until I was level with Rick.
"One more step towards her and your brain is going to be splattered all over this sand Logan."
I cringed, resisting the urge to tell Rick not to be so harsh- or graphic. He really had to learn to make better use of his words.
"Now why don't you tell us what the hell you're doing here," Rick continued, gun still pointed.
I stared Mr. Logan down as he stood in front of the three of us, assessing him while we waited for his answer. He was wearing a khaki suit much like Jonathan's, except for it fit him a little better. His hair was disheveled, desperately needing a comb, and his entire body was covered in sand (not unlike the rest of us.) Were it not for the evilness shining in his eyes, I would have said he made the perfect picture of an archeologist. However, the eye trait made me distrust whatever he said, made me doubt his sincerity. He was no archeologist.
"You didn't think I was going to let you find The Treasure without me, did you?"
There it was. He didn't even care about proving the myth, as I did, as much as he cared about finding gold. He was just like the rest of the slimy, good for nothing "explorers" that I had come to know and hate in my life. The exception being the two men beside me, one who couldn't help himself and the other who happened to be just doing me a favor- in both cases.
"What treasure?" I asked, trying to feign innocence, hoping he would be thrown off.
"Oh c'mon Evelyn- Mrs. O'Connell, sorry- you know as well as I do."
I didn't say anything, simply folded my arms across my chest and stared at him.
"I saw the books! I saw all of your little writings strewn across your desk! It didn't take too much to figure out what you were up to. And you're very easy people to follow, all I had to do was watch your fire every night until I figured out where exactly you were going."
Mr. Logan stopped talking long enough to take another couple of steps forwards, apparently ignoring Rick's threat earlier. My husband chose not to follow up on what he had said, which was a good and bad thing at the same time.
"And so now," Mr. Logan continued, "when you come across the cache, I'll be there too."
"We don't have to let you, ya know," Rick pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Mr. Logan pretended to look concerned, cocking his head to one side and pouting. "Ah, well, in that case, I suppose the rest of the world would like to know about…Hampunapra? How Miss Evelyn here almost wiped out all of humanity by reading a book, and how mummies can come back to life, and about how you three now own what's left of the treasure?"
I felt my blood run cold as I glanced quickly at Jonathan and then at Rick, both of whom had skin as white as snow. Leaked information such as that would bring mass hysteria. It was the last thing any of us wanted. And I had no doubts that his man would indeed breach our secret if we weren't careful.
"Does Abdulla know you are here?" I asked.
Mr. Logan scoffed at my question. "Of course not. I told him my dear old mum was dying and took off. Poor man believed me."
It was quiet again after that until Rick finally said, "Get the hell otta my site."
Mr. Logan threw up his hands, "All right, just remember what I told you." With a smirk and a little wave, he turned and retreated back to his camp.
I watched his form leave, different emotions running through my fogged brain. I wanted to sit down and cry but also run after him and beat him, all at the same time. This was not how things were supposed to be progressing.
"Well shit," Rick cursed as he lowered his gun.
I glanced at him. "Honey-"
"I don't want to hear it!" he bellowed before stalking off towards our own camp.
To tired to be too angry with him, I simply sighed and turned to where Jonathan still stood. "You all right?" I asked.
Jonathan, as if pulled out of a daze, shrugged lazily. "I can't say I'm surprised," he mumbled, stumbling toward me. "Our lives are never going to be calm, old mum. I'm beginning to see that."
Despite the situation, I chuckled. My brother was right. Softly, I reached over and squeezed his free hand. He rolled his eyes at an attempt to brush off my sign of affection and then nodded his head towards camp. "Go talk to Rick," he suggested. "I'll be over in a few minutes."
Nodding, I dropped Jonathan's hand and started across the sand to where my husband was. I found him pacing in front of small pile of wood that would eventually be our fire, bits of the afternoon sun catching in his hair and illuminating his pistol which rested in its holster. Agitated, he seemed to be a lot more concerned with Mr. Logan than I thought he would be. Then again, this was Richard O'Connell we were talking about. I should know better then to think this wouldn't upset him.
"Rick?"
He stopped moving and turned toward me. I saw something in his eyes that made my heart skip a beat: fear. It was a rare occasion indeed that my husband was overcome by the emotion; I had only seen him experience it once or twice. This was no simply worry look, this was all out fear.
"Darling? Are you all right?"
He didn't respond with words, simply took two giant steps towards me and wrapped his big arms around my body, crushing me against his own with tremendous strength. I returned the embrace, holding on to him as tightly as I could.
"Rick, it's going to be all right. We'll come up with something," I whispered softly.
"He would hurt you if he could Evy," Rick hoarsely whispered back. "I could see it in his eyes. He's jealous. He wants this damn treasure so bad that he would hurt you if he needed too. And I think letting the world know about Hampunapra is the least he would do to get to it. I just don't want anything to happen to you."
I couldn't think of anything to say, only wished I could turn back time a half an hour to when we were lying in the sand, ready to drift off to sleep. It had been easier then, the future was bright and promising. Now it was complicated, dangerous even. Either path was ridden with thorns. So when I thought of nothing productive to say, I simply sighed and snuggled up to him. He continued to hold me for a long time, as if he was drawing strength from simply being with me. At last, he murmured something into my ear. But what he said opened another door entirely.
"Jonathan told me…about your parents."
I pulled away and looked up at him. "He what?"
Rick looked a little worried, as if he had said something wrong. "You know…how your dad took you here…and about how you came down here when they died. And how you were really upset."
I was going to murder Jonathan, numerous times, in numerous forms. How dare he take something that was so personal and share it with Rick without even asking me! Not that I wouldn't have shared it with my husband, but I really did not want my brother telling the story. I bet he told him a strange version full of holes and over-done details as well.
"He did what!" I exploded.
Rick jumped away from me, holding up his hands. "Jesus! What is with you Evy?"
"I just can't believe he did that! I mean, that was my personal experience."
"Is this the whole reason you've been acting like a bitch lately?"
"What?" My eyes narrowed as my hands flew to my hips. I stared at Rick through slanted eyelids, waiting for an explanation as to why he had just called me what he did.
Rick sighed heavily. "You've been really…short…with everyone…lately," he stammered, folding his arms over his chest.
"That is no reason to call me a…what you did!" I countered back.
"Say it," Rick commanded, grinning.
God! He actually got off on stuff like this. "No, and grow up," I retorted, annoyed more then ever. "And no, my parents are not responsible for the majority of my emotional…turmoil. I've been here several times since them," I continued.
Rick didn't say anything for a long couple of minutes, just stood there, his arms folded, starting at me. "Is it that time of the month again?" he finally asked.
My mouth dropped open and my eyes widened. "Richard Alexander O'Connell-"
"What the hell are you middle naming me for?"
"-how dare you say such things to me!"
Rick's eyes widened, almost to the width of my own. "You never seemed to care before!" he roared, so loudly in fact that I'm sure our little friends across the way heard.
"Oooohhh!" I was tired of his insensitive comments, the name calling, not to mention his brainless disrespect for matters of the female body system. Shooting him an angry glance, I stalked passed him and into our tent, letting the flap close heatedly behind me. Everything seemed to make me mad and I attacked the neatly laid beds, simply because they were too much in order. When I was satisfied that the blankets and pillows had been thrown around enough, I flopped down in the middle of my mess and sulked.
I'd fought more with Rick in the last week and a half then I had in our entire marriage. Granted, that period of time wasn't very long, but that's beside the point. I did begin to feel rather guilty after a bit, when I realized he was just trying to show some concern. And it really wasn't his fault that Jonathan did what he did. Nor that my parents died. And it wasn't his fault those stupid men were now on to us. And it wasn't his fault that my menstrual cycle was…
…a week and a half off.
My arms went slack to my sides and my heart reflexively sped up. This was certainly new. I hadn't even been thinking about when it was supposed to come about. Quickly I made a mental calendar of the last two months, counting off days of various sorts. The more and more I checked my days, the more and more excited I became.
A baby. A little tiny human being, that was ours. A child that Rick and I had created. I'd thought about it before, imagined its little face and hands. I just hadn't expected it would happen so soon. Of course, there was no way I could be positive until later. I'd have to make sure the skipped period wasn't due to stress or something of the sort. But it certainly would explain the mood swings and nauseous mornings, among other things.
Now I had something else on my mind aside from the mystery and Mr. Logan, who, by the way, still had me confused. I wondered why he wanted this treasure, and now. If he wanted to, he could have gone after Hamunaptra. It was all still an enigma. But it was being quickly pushed sideways the more I thought of a baby. Tenderly, I ran my hand over my midsection, peering down at it with wonder. It made me nervous and excited at the same time when I imagined a little tiny human being inside of me at that very moment.
It was another half an hour before Rick finally peeked his head in through the flap of the tent. His face was etched with concern. "I'm sorry," he mumbled before he even came in all the way.
My heart, melting at the sight of him, sped up with an unexplained adrenaline rush. "I'm sorry too," I said hurriedly. I waved him in with my hand, patting the ground beside me with the other. Rick broke into a grin and swiftly ducked in. (I say ducked quite literally. Our tent, though larger then a normal one, still required that he stoop if he were to stand. It also was not very wide, which meant no matter where we were, we were close. I don't think either of us particularly minded this little "problem" however.)
He sat down next to me and before I could even get another word in, pressed his mouth against mine, tenderly kissing me. Rick's way of making up. And I loved him for it.
Once I could talk again, I placed my hands squarely on his chest and then asked, "Honey, was the nineteenth of last month the night we went to that funny restaurant with the twirly things that hung from the ceiling?"
That question caught him off guard. "I don't remember the date Evy," he said slowly, as if my inquiry was ridiculous.
"That was the nineteen though, wasn't it? Because then the next day we opened the new exhibit at the museum, and that was the twentieth, right?"
Rick nodded slowly. "Yeah, the thing opened on the twentieth. I remember you talking about it. What does this have to do with anything?"
My hands fluttered around in a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "But the dinner, that was the night when we came home and-" I blushed and was unable to say the rest of it outloud. Jonathan had been gone, we had drunken more then our share of wine, and well…
Rick broke into a smile, his face beaming with recognition. "Oh yeah," he mused. "Well I don't remember the date but…wow…we had pretty wild couple of hours, didn't we?"
I leaned blissfully against him, resting my head against his forehead. All of the sudden I was getting this rush of feelings. I couldn't really explain it, it was simply an overwhelming wave of happiness.
"Wanna tell me what's up?" he asked, still pressing for an answer to his question earlier.
I laid a soft finger against his lips. "Not yet," I whispered. Not until I was sure. Not until I had figured it all out myself. "What's Jonathan up too?" I asked, moving closer to Rick.
"He took one of your books back to his tent and was going to read for a bit before he starts dinner," my husband whispered back. His voice sounded funny. I pulled my head away from his own so that I could look into his eyes. They were dark, almost stormy. I knew that look. And he knew I knew it. It was the look that made me go weak, the one that made me want to do anything with or for him.
"Rick?" My breathing, over the course of the last minute, had become labored. I was having a very hard time concentrating on anything else besides the man in front of me. All of the sudden, he was it, he was everything.
"Yeah?"
"I need you," I whispered. And God help me, I did indeed. It was hard enough that it had been two weeks, a record, perhaps, in our personal book, but I wanted him to make me forget the last couple of fights.
His mouth was upon mine in a mere couple of seconds. An intense driving passion, unlike any I had possibly felt before, came upon me and I acted with only this knowledge. I pushed him down, climbing on top of his solid body, pressing myself against him. Hands from both persons began to roam at their own accord, Rick's in particular. He knew where to touch me, and when. It drove me absolutely mad with zeal; I wanted more of it, more of him. Our mouths parted long enough to shed clothing as propriety fell to the ground with them in similar heaps. I no longer cared that we were in the middle of the desert, that a group of self claimed scholars was ruining our expedition. All that mattered with Rick.
A great deal of time progressed before we finally concurred it would be wise to stop our activities, for now at least. Jonathan would surely be coming about any time announcing dinner and without the protection of an actual door or locks, we would be painfully interrupted. And so, I curled up in Rick's dirty shirt and snuggled next to his warm body while he stayed undressed, wrapping us both in one of the blankets. The mess I had made earlier with the covers was now even more, added to by various articles of clothing and shoes.
I sighed happily, quiet proud of the disorder, which drew a squeeze around the shoulders by Rick.
"You all right?"
Turning my head to face my husband, who was basking in the afternoon sun which shone through the tent walls, I smiled at him. "Of course," I whispered. "Do you even have to ask?"
Rick chuckled, but he didn't say anything more. Satisfied, I turned away from him, closed my eyes, and snuggled deeper against his form. I wanted nothing more then to fall asleep like this, pick up where our little nap had been cut off.
"What are we gunna do about Mr. Logan and everyone?"
Startled, I opened my eyes again and peered back at Rick. "I'm not sure," I confessed, idly drawing circles over my husband's body. "I don't want to think about it now."
Rick sighed and held me a little tighter. "We're going to have to deal with it sooner or later."
"I know," I whispered, rising a bit so I could see him better. "But now?" To emphasize my point, I planted slow, languid kisses on his chest.
He made a noise that was somewhat of a cross between a groan and a dismissing grunt. I smirked at him, kissed his body one last time, and then settled back down where I had been. Rick's hand found the small of my back and he rested it there, the other attached to the arm that held me close. Gently, he kissed the top of my hair, letting his lips linger just a little longer then normal.
"Love you."
His faint comment brought a smile to my face. "I know," I whispered into the stillness.
All was quiet after that, Rick silent for one reason or another, and I was lured to sleep by the peacefulness of it all. He or Jonathan would wake me up when it was time to eat, so why not take a rest? Mr. Logan and his band of followers were going to have to wait, for now at least. We would cross that bridge when we came upon it.
Ahh, to be Evy at this point. Hehe. Love me and review!