Two
Escaping the Fort
Martouf stood in complete silence within a narrow empty alcove eavesdropping two jackal headed soldiers. They had neither noticed what was misplaced nor the red touches of blood over objects in an otherwise immaculate room.
He was getting nervous with this turn of events. He raised his head to check things out and was knocked back in shock. Opposite him a figure had done the same – what a terrible fright! Pulling his fingernails from the hanging cloth behind, he made a disgraceful gesture at the clone image realising too late the implication that his reflection was in full view.
He cringed a split second before Lantash's tirade… it never came. It couldn't. Lantash was still on that table.
The soldiers were staring in his direction.
"That's incredible," one said, making slowly for the door but studying with detached interest.
The other simply shook his head and followed.
Martouf frowned a moment, stepped out and looked back at the mirror. The cloth torn by his hands was unseen and there was an art work set into the alcove unlike anything he'd ever seen. Projected there was a battle between Anubis and Ra who stood on opposing sides of a valley of corpses. Holographic clouds and light circled overhead, cracks of thunder and Ra's red emitted sunshine was eaten by the flooding shadow of the jackals.
Feeling extremely lucky, he ran across, grabbed the canister, stuffed it into the protective fabric and sprinted through maintenance sections and corridors picking up clues and memories as to the planning of the fort along the way. Finally he found a duct map and made it to a series of drums in a large, dim room. He knew from the type that heated, clean, water flowed through a series of ducts from each and then ran out into the sea. That's how it was supposed to work anyway.
He pulled the tarpaulin cover back and looked down at the dark water, held his palms over to feel for steam. Satisfied he tested the water. Very warm but not hot, the generators must be off. He jumped in, sent a silent prayer that this wouldn't lead him into a warlords shark pool, took a deep breath and swam for the exit.
Eyes closed, hands over his face (he had no chance of seeing anything anyway let alone stopping if he did), he sped feet first and very fast and painful on the turns, lungs screaming to breath at every knock. His now straightened arms pushed at the sides of the tunnel trying to slow but friction in that temperature wasn't worth it.
Patience. Patience. Soon we will rise, he told himself.
After five minutes he was tiring in the heat – soon to drift to a frightening sleep. Thinking himself at home and already asleep he turned and exhaled a sigh. A moment later, the metal walls fell away. A coldness flew around his body growing icy, he gasped in water and struggled to break heavily and coughing through the surface. He crawled in the water and opened his eyes to find the shore to the right and a busy city in the evening.