CHAPTER SIXTEEN
And the quiet that settles on our skin before dawn keeps company with those whose dreams are troubled.
--Excerpt from "In the Talons of the Hawk", Egyptian Book of the Dead, as translated by Normandi Ellis
Bernstein looked up into the canopy of the forest, searching the mid-morning sky for the source of the sound they had heard earlier. They had heard it once before, just after sunrise, and again now, scant moments ago. It sounded like a chopper, slowly circling the area in a widening path, almost as if it were looking for them. Not seeing anything, not even hearing anything anymore, he turned back to the group of men that were gathered dispiritedly at a lopsided table, drinking lukewarm coffee and staring forlornly into the trees.
They had made their way back to the camp the night before, crashing out from the trees and collapsing in a panting heap in the center of what had once been their neatly organized camp. Now, it was a ragged assortment of tents and boxes, the supplies and provisions scattered about, the workers and students wandering around in a daze. And in the middle of it all was Sabir, shouting orders above the din, struggling to bring some order to the chaos.
When the cook realized that they had returned, he had thrown his hands up into the air, falling to his knees and shouting praises to Allah as he bowed his head to the ground. After seeing the extent of the destruction, and coming face to face with one of the natives, he had expected the worst, and was horribly relieved that the four men had been spared. Bernstein, though, was somewhat dismayed by this uncharacteristically enthusiastic display, and he had struggled to his feet, grabbing the cook by the arm and pulling him up to stand beside him.
"Sabir, I appreciate the sentiment, but let's not get carried away, okay? We're back, we're all right, for the most part, and we need to figure out what the hell to do about this mess." As he spoke, Bernstein's eyes had traveled around the site, scanning it for any signs of the vicious little citizens of the jungle that they had encountered earlier. "You haven't seen anything, uh…more alarming than this…this growth spurt, have you?"
Sabir had looked at Bernstein with something akin to disbelief on his swarthy features. Briefly, he had filled the archaeologist in on his short but memorable encounter with the Pygmy, assuring the scientist that since it had run off, he had seen no more of them. Nor did he want to. He and the workers had been busy trying to restore some order to the camp, Callie had been tending to Eric, and Doug and the students had been helping out where needed. The Sudanese government officials had been hiding in their tents.
Hesitant to leave the camp unguarded, Bernstein had thanked the portly cook for his help in keeping the camp organized amid the pandemonium, and then asked him to pick out a dozen of the most steady, reliable workers they had, trying hard to ignore Sabir's snort of derision. Surely there must be some. They would need to set up a rotating guard schedule, at least through the night, to ensure that if the gruesome denizens of the jungle came near, they would at least have warning enough to mount some sort of defense. Bernstein had to admit, though, that apart from Robert Price's handgun, they were woefully unarmed. He wondered to himself how much of a defense they could manage against the spear-wielding Pygmies while armed with nothing but horsehair brushes, trowels, and one or two shovels. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to find out.
After another round of praise to his god for the deliverance of the four men, Sabir had gone off to find a few good workers to conscript into guard duty. Although he didn't go into any explanation of how difficult he thought that task might be, Bernstein could hear him muttering under his breath as he stalked off. Bernstein sighed. He didn't need to hear from Sabir how difficult it would be to find men with the temperament suitable to guard duty. He was well aware of how superstitious and skittish his workers were.
That had been last night. Under Sabir's somewhat heavy-handed persuasion, the reluctant guards had been rounded up, assigned their posts, relieving each other as necessary, and the night had passed quietly, uneventfully, with no surprise visitors, no sneaking attacks. No one had slept well, though, and this morning showed the effects of their sleep deprivation. For a moment, when they first heard the sound of the chopper, they had been excited, sure that help had finally arrived. But as the sound faded off, vanishing off into the distance, their hopes had faded with it, and all they could do now was wait. Wait for help to arrive, wait for the results of the blood tests, wait to see if they would survive another day. None of them, Bernstein in particular, was any good at waiting.
Sighing as he stopped scanning the sky, Bernstein moved to rejoin his colleagues for a last cup of coffee. He turned, almost running into Callie, who had been standing quietly behind him, waiting for him to notice her.
She put out a hand, steadying him. "Careful, Professor Bernstein." She smiled, although it was a tired, dispirited sort of smile. "I am sorry to have startled you, but I'd like to talk to you about something, if I may…"
"Of course, Callie. What is it?" He knew from their brief acquaintance that she was a level headed young woman, and he didn't like the worried look that he saw in her dark brown eyes.
"It's Doug. I noticed last night that he had been coughing a bit, and he was complaining of a headache, as well. I don't want to overreact, but those are warning signs, Professor. He could be coming down with the same virus that Eric has, and I think that he should be ordered to rest, confined to his tent. Just until we find out for sure what this is, of course, and see how he's doing…"
Bernstein closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. Damn it! First Eric, now Doug, too? When would this stop? "How long?"
"The World Health Organization should arrive at any time, Professor," she answered him, then glanced around the camp, and at the thick forest surrounding it, slightly uncertain. "That is, if they can find the place. They have the GPS coordinates, but they'll be looking for us in desert, not jungle. I hope that they're…adaptable. In the meantime, if you could just convince Doug to rest up for just a day or so, I think we'll have some answers by then." She paused, dropping her eyes, not wanting Bernstein to see the full extent of the worry there. "He won't listen to me—says I'm overreacting, that he just has a slight cold. But if this is what it seems to be, and if he managed to contract it without actually coming into direct contact with the liquid in the pyramid, we are all in grave danger, sir. That would mean that the disease is airborne…"
Bernstein nodded, understanding her, knowing that Doug needed to be ordered to rest, not only for his own sake, but for all of theirs. He patted her on the shoulder, in his own gruff way, thanking her for her help, trying to offer some support. "Don't worry, Callie, I'll talk to him." He sighed, turning to find the young man. "He's not going to like it, but Doug is going to be taking a nice long rest, starting right about now."
"Thank you, Professor," she called to him, smiling sadly as he waved a hand in a brief salute. The poor man. His dig was falling apart all around him, and she couldn't help but feel sorry for him, for them all. The Ahm Shere expedition was rapidly turning into a nightmare, and she hoped that they would all manage to wake up from it still alive.
They left the cave shortly after sunrise, traveling swiftly along the ledge, finally finding a steep but relatively navigable path down to the valley floor. Imhotep led the way, stopping at the bottom to hold out a hand to Eliana, steadying her as she jumped the rest of the way to the ground. He tried to ignore the flash of awareness as their fingers touched, telling himself to concentrate only on what needed to be done, and put everything else from his mind. It didn't matter how her touch affected him, it didn't matter how he felt when he looked at her. It didn't matter.
Eliana, too, had studiously ignored the tingling sensation that she felt when his hand wrapped around hers. The night was over, and along with it the strange intimacy that had enveloped them following his revelations in the cave. If anything, the tale he had shared had made them even more awkward in each other's presence, and they danced around the mountain of their shared past like two gazelle trying to ignore the lion that has just walked into the herd.
There was only so much silence that she could take though, and finally Eliana had had enough. "How much farther, do you think?" Eliana asked him, pushing her hair back behind one ear. It was an innocuous question, and she didn't think he'd mind that she'd broken the unspoken agreement to remain silent. He glanced at her, checked the position of the sun, squinting against its brightness, and briefly scanned their location. In the end, he shrugged.
"I do not know. The fall has cost us some time. I believe the pyramid lies that way," he said, pointing back towards the cliff face, "and if we were traveling in the right direction to begin with, the camp should lie over there." Again, he pointed. "But we have traveled a significant distance from our original path, and will need to retrace our footsteps. I cannot say how long it will be. Maybe several hours, maybe more. I do not think it will be less."
She nodded, bending down to lace her boot more tightly. Standing again, she looked at him questioningly, wondering how far she could push to assuage her curiosity. Finally, she decided to just ask the questions. After all, the worst he could do was refuse to answer. "May I ask you something?"
He nodded, just a hint of reluctance in his eyes.
"You said yesterday that you have been given a task to complete," she started, watching him closely. "What is it? What must you do?"
He looked at her, then looked away, clearly caught in an internal debate over what, if anything, to tell her. Finally, with a sigh, he decided he had no reason to keep from her what little he himself knew. "In truth, I do not know. Not entirely."
He took a step in the supposed direction of the camp, impatient to be on their way again, beginning to walk back along the cliff wall in the direction from which they had come. "We should continue our journey. I will tell you what I know as we walk." Eliana moved to follow him, listening to him relate the story of his encounter with Amun-Re as they went. It did not take long, for he had spoken the truth when he told her how little he knew. Regarding the nature of the plague itself, his theory was mostly speculation, and all that speculation hinged on whatever illness it was that Eric had contracted.
"So this illness—this disease? You think it might be the plague Amun-Re spoke of?" In the back of her mind, Eliana wondered at the fact that she sounded so matter-of-fact, that she was accepting without question the idea that he had spoken with a god, that he had been given a task to complete by that same god, and that when he did so, he would be free to…to die. The fact that Eric could be ill with some kind of plague of biblical proportions just made it all the more unbelievable. If she did anything more than simply take in all this information and accept it at face value, if she started to analyze any of it, she would get caught in a vicious cycle where the generally accepted scientific principles could simply not be reconciled with the facts that were staring her in the face. If she went down that path, she would have to seriously question her own sanity. And she didn't want to go there. She felt completely sane. Maybe that's a sure sign that I'm crazy, she thought, laughing inwardly.
He glanced back at her. "I do not know. But if it is as you described, it could be."
She shook her head, trying to assimilate all of this information into something that made sense. "But how could you resolve this? I mean, I know you were a healer and all, but we've learned a lot in the past three thousand years, you know? Don't you think that our doctors, and our medicines, could cure him?"
He shrugged. "As I said, I do not know. But are you saying, then, that your culture has managed to find a cure for all diseases, all illnesses? You have progressed that far?"
"Well, of course not, but…" He cut her off with an impatient look.
"Then why do you doubt that some answers to present troubles may lie hidden in the past? Does your culture have so little respect for ancient knowledge?"
"Look, I didn't mean to offend you, all right?" She hadn't meant to sound like she doubted his skill, or his intelligence, but the whole situation sounded a little…bizarre. Then again, what wasn't completely bizarre about this whole situation? Why not add one more little tidbit to the whole strange stew?
"Your friend, Eric, may or may not have the plague that Amun-Re spoke of. I will only be able to judge that by seeing him, by examining him myself. If it is as you described, he is in grave danger, and I hope to all the gods that your science and your modern healers have discovered the cure for his disease. If they have not, then his illness certainly deserves to be considered a plague."
She turned her face away, blinking back tears for Eric. She had no idea how he was, how sick he had become, and she hoped to God that something could be done for him. "Believe me, I hope so, too."
They walked for two and a half hours before finding the pool. Pausing before a particularly thick wall of undergrowth, Imhotep shoved aside the branches and vines that blocked their path and stepped into the clearing, catching his breath at the sight that met his eye. He looked back, continuing to hold the clinging branches aside, waiting for Eliana to come through and join him, watching for her reaction as she did so.
As she stepped into the glade and took in the singular beauty of the place, she forgot to breathe. The clearing was a small one, but its setting more than made up for its size. A small stream cut through its center, roughly dividing it in half, flowing out from the clear, bubbling pool that took up most of the space. The water was deep blue, reflecting back the purity of the cloudless sky, and from the hint of steam that rose from its surface, Eliana realized the pool was warm, probably fed by a hot spring deep beneath the ground.
She looked around, seeing that the little glade was completely enclosed on all sides—thick forest on three, a sheer rock wall on the fourth. Down that wall tumbled a small waterfall, the water cascading down its face before mingling with the waters of the spring. Everywhere, the scent of wild roses lingered, and she saw them growing all around, the small white flowers thick on the glossy green shrubs. It was like they had stumbled into a corner of heaven.
She turned to him, wanting to share her joy in the beauty of the glade with him, and saw that he was standing perfectly still—watching her, not the clearing, not the cascading water. The look in his eyes was intense, riveting, and involuntarily, she took a step forward, reaching out a hand. "What's wrong?"
Her words seemed to snap him out of his bemusement, and he shook his head, stepping back from her. "Nothing."
Her eyes clouded, the terseness in his voice spoiling the enchantment of the glade. Her voice reflected the hurt she felt at his blatant avoidance of her touch, innocent as it had been. "I guess we'd better keep going, then." Spinning on her heel, she walked toward the stream, looking for a place to cross. He followed, watching as she tried to pick her way over a makeshift bridge of four slippery rocks, finally finding his own way across and reaching out a hand to help her.
Reluctantly, she took his hand, wincing as the electricity shot through her at the contact. She could see that he felt it as well, and when she was safe on the ground on the other side, she looked up at him, searching his face, trying to understand what was going on behind the carefully guarded expression he wore.
"You despise me, don't you?" she asked, finally, wanting the truth, no matter how much it hurt her.
He refused to meet her eyes, instead staring stoically out over her head, trying to decide how to answer her question. Finally, he settled on a half truth, one that addressed what she had asked, but didn't go far enough in explaining the complex tangle of his emotions. Dropping his gaze to hers, he stared into the jewel-green depths, now haunted by some age-old sadness. Fighting against an unwanted desire to comfort her, he spoke slowly, his voice purposely casual. "Despise is not the correct word," he offered. "Distrust, perhaps; fear, even. I will never again make the mistake of trusting so completely, of giving my heart so fully." Seeing the pain in her eyes, he went on. "It is a pointless question, anyway. Once this task is complete, I will be gone. It will not matter whether I trust you or not, or whether I do or do not despise you. I suggest you simply not think of it. Put it out of your mind—let it rest, remain buried. In the end, it will be better for both of us if you do so."
She nodded, suddenly feeling miserable, and said nothing as he walked past her, leading the way out of the glade. They remained quiet for a long while, traveling in silence through the trees and bushes. Suddenly, they heard movement ahead of them, and both froze. At Imhotep's signal, she followed him as he moved stealthily towards the sound. Up ahead, the trees cleared slightly, and as they peered through a thin spot in the underbrush, Eliana felt her heart leap.
Waving above them, high on the branches of the tallest palm tree, was the remains of the mess tent. Before her eyes, not four meters away, she saw Sabir, rummaging through the piles of boxes that lay in disarray all around, muttering to himself in his usual gruff manner. And to her great relief, far off on the other side of the clearing, she saw her father, apparently having words with Doug. Thank God, he had made it back to the camp! Thank God!
She was about to step out of their hiding spot, when Imhotep stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Have you forgotten?" he whispered, indicating with a sweep of his hand the garments he wore. She nodded in sudden understanding. They needed to find him a disguise, come up with a reasonable story to explain who he was and his sudden appearance at the dig. With a grin, Eliana looked towards Sabir, who was so intent on digging through the supplies that he hadn't even noticed them. As luck would have it, they had stumbled upon the very man they needed to find, the very soul she had intended to seek out in the first place. In a whisper, she pointed to Sabir and explained to Imhotep what they must do.
With a quick look around, they quietly moved out of hiding and went to confront the portly cook. Eliana hid her nervousness beneath a deliberately casual façade. Hopefully, she had chosen wisely. Hopefully, he could help them.
As luck would have it, Sabir accepted their story with little hesitation, the events of the past day having chipped away at his usual fortitude and weakened his characteristic ability to see through a scam when it was staring him in the face. At Eliana's explanation that she had been at the pyramid when it had risen from the ground, bringing the jungle with it, he nodded in mute sympathy. At her outright lie that Imhotep had found her wandering in the jungle, and helped her reach the camp, he smiled in gratitude at the man. At her somewhat vague description of who Imhotep was, and what he was doing near the excavation in the first place, he didn't bat an eye. Actually, she was more or less honest about Imhotep's origins, describing him simply as an Egyptian who was very interested in archaeology, particularly in the lore surrounding Ahm Shere. She didn't see any need to explain that Imhotep himself was a living artifact, as much an amazing discovery as was the golden pyramid itself. Some things were better left unsaid.
Sabir nodded and smiled, obviously distracted, and when she made her unusual request, asking him to round up some clothing for the tall Egyptian, explaining that all of his possessions had unfortunately been lost while running through the jungle, he waved for them to follow him, leading Imhotep to a small tent, telling Eliana to wait outside.
Within minutes, the cook reemerged from the tent, nodding his head at Eliana's thanks and walking off briskly to attend to his work. A few minutes later, Imhotep stepped out as well. Eliana's gaze swept over the priest, now dressed in borrowed clothes, and she couldn't help but smile. She had been right. Even wearing the old, threadbare clothing, intentionally setting out to look like one of the common laborers that worked for her father, Imhotep was remarkable. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing—the baggy, loose-fitting pants and the long, coarsely woven tunic giving him the outward appearance of a simple desert man. One only had to look in his eyes, though, or watch the arrogant, commanding way he held himself, to know that he was anything but common. Still, as a disguise, it was better than nothing; certainly, it was better than what he had been wearing.
At her perusal, he lifted a questioning brow. "Is this not suitable?"
She bit back a snort. "Oh, I imagine it will do…"
Ardeth limped into the camp from the same general direction that Bernstein and the older men had come the night before, looking slightly the worse for wear. His clothing was dirty and disheveled, his eyes bleary from lack of sleep, and his battered leg was still making him limp painfully. And as bad as he looked, he felt worse. He recalled his grandfather's stories about the army of Anubis warriors that the Med Jai tribes had faced down seventy years ago, and he wondered briefly if the old man had felt remotely like this after that particular battle.
Tiredly, he replaced his sword in the leather sheath that hung by his side. It had come in handy several times the night before. The Pygmies were vicious little things, but even they could not stand against a sharp blade. Ardeth was relieved to have found the camp, though. He had not been certain how much longer he could have prevailed out in the jungle, given his injuries and lack of sleep. Sooner or later, he would have had to stop, and the natives would have taken that opportunity to finish him.
But he had found his way back, and right now, his most pressing need was to locate Bernstein and find out where Eliana was. Ardeth had tried in vain not to worry about her yesterday and last night, knowing that she was as safe—if not safer—with the priest as she would have been with him, at least in a physical sense. Her mental and emotional state—the state of her mind and soul—was another matter entirely, and he was desperate to find her, to see for himself that she was unharmed.
Walking slowly around the camp, Ardeth finally caught sight of Bernstein. The archaeologist was in the middle of an apparently heated conversation with one of the students—the boy named Doug, Ardeth thought. The Med Jai held back, not wanting to interrupt them, impatiently biding his time. Finally, Bernstein had had enough of the arguing, and bellowed out a command, pointing towards the tents. Grudgingly, the younger man appeared to capitulate, lapsing into a sulking silence and walking stiffly off towards one of the tents. Bernstein watched him go, a frown on his face.
Ardeth approached Bernstein from behind, dropping a blood-streaked hand on the older man's arm. Bernstein spun around, startled at first, thankful when he saw who it was. The look of relief on the archaeologist's face was almost palpable, as he drew the surprised Med Jai into a gruff embrace. "Thank God, Ardeth! Thank God you made it back!" He released the younger man, stepping around him to look in the direction Ardeth had come from. He turned back to the Med Jai, a puzzled look on his face. "But where's Eliana?"
Ardeth's heart fell. So she had not yet returned. He carefully shuttered his features, not letting the older man see how worried he was. It would not do to overly frighten him. Not yet, anyway. "I do not know, Professor Bernstein. I had hoped she would be here when I returned."
Bernstein's normally tan face was rapidly paling. "But I thought…wasn't she with you? Hadn't you gone to find her? Sabir said he thought you had caught up with her. I thought you had found her." Ardeth shook his head, not knowing what or how much to say. The older man suddenly looked sick. "You mean she's out there alone?"
Ardeth reached out and grabbed Bernstein's arm, helping him to sit down in a nearby chair, wincing as the sudden movement put painful pressure on his injured leg. Eliana was not back yet. Bernstein had no idea where she was. The situation was rapidly getting out of hand. Ardeth took a deep breath, deciding that at the very least, Bernstein deserved to know where his daughter was, and that she was not alone in the jungle.
"I do not believe she is alone, Professor," Ardeth began, careful in his choice of words. "I did find Eliana after I left you yesterday. She was at the pyramid." He ignored Bernstein's look of shocked surprise. "I'm not sure what she was doing there." That was technically true, although he had a very good hunch about what her activities had involved. She had been busy resurrecting things that ought to have remained safely dead and buried, for one thing. But Bernstein didn't need to have all the details, at least not yet. Ardeth went on. "Before I could reach her, you must have replaced the capstone. The pyramid began to rise from the ground, and the interior was quite…chaotic. Although I saw your daughter, I could not reach her soon enough. The confusion that ensued kept us separated, and although I saw her leave the pyramid safely, I could not catch up with her. She was, however, not alone."
"But who was with her? One of the workers? What would they be doing there?" Bernstein was relieved to hear that his daughter had escaped the pyramid, but he was genuinely puzzled now. Who had been with her? It was unlike Eliana to simply leave without letting someone know where she was going, and he cursed himself for having been so distracted yesterday as to not take better note of her whereabouts or who she was with. On the other hand, he told himself not to worry overly much. There still were several workers missing. It was possible that Eliana had brought someone with her yesterday, and they were still out in the jungle, trying to make their way back.
Ardeth debated over whether or not to answer Bernstein honestly, or to evade the question and tell a lie by omission. In the end, he decided on the truth. It would come out eventually, anyway. He shook his head. "I do not believe it was one of the workers, sir. It was…someone else." At Bernstein's look of alarm, he hastened to assure the older man. "From what I could tell, the man was very protective of your daughter, sir. I have every reason to believe that he will keep her safe until they find their way back here…"
Bernstein leaned his head into his hands, resting them on his knees. So she was out there in the jungle, with all of its dangers, alone with God knows who… Dear God, how much worse could this cursed expedition get? His grief seeped out in a low moan. "Oh, God, Eliana…"
Ardeth placed his hand on the older man's shoulder. "Eliana will be all right, Professor Bernstein. I will go out again myself, and look for her. I promise you, no harm will come to her…"
A machete cut through the brush just behind Ardeth and Bernstein, whacking down the undergrowth in great, sweeping chunks. They looked up, startled, so caught up in their conversation that they hadn't even noticed the chopping noise until the intruder was almost on top of them. They watched, alarmed, as the last hunk of brush fell forward into the clearing, revealing a tall, strapping fellow dressed in tan trousers and a safari shirt. He carried the ax in his right hand, a pistol in his left, and an assortment of cases and containers around his neck. On his back was one of the biggest backpacks they had ever seen. Tall, the man was at least six foot four, with thick blonde hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, more often than not choosing to fall forward into his face. He was a good-looking fellow, the amiable grin on his face softening the threat implicit in the professional way he handled the machete and gun.
"Helloooo, there! Anyone home?" Not one for stealth, unless it was absolutely necessary, he strode out of the jungle, quickly scanning the clearing and its tattered remains of camp. The man was no one's fool, and within seconds, he had focused on Bernstein with laser-like precision. Making his way towards the older man, he put away his weapons, shoving the machete into the leather holster hanging from his belt before tucking his pistol into the waistband of his trousers. His long legs made short work of the distance between them, and in seconds, he was in front of Bernstein, sticking his hand out in greeting. "Matt Connelly, from the New York Times. You're Bernstein?"
Bernstein looked up into the young man's face, and although the Egyptologist was hard to rattle, his shock at Connelly's abrupt and rather colorful entrance was evident in the slight gape to his mouth. Standing slowly, he accepted the handshake with only the smallest hint of hesitation. "Yes, I'm John Bernstein. And who are you?"
The young man grinned again, an easy humor on his ruggedly handsome face. "Like I said, the name's Matt Connelly, but after that," he said, pointing out into the thick forest, "I think you can probably call me George of the Jungle…"
Unable to do anything but laugh, Bernstein felt himself warming to the brash young man. "Connelly suits you better. So, you're from the Times? You're a long way from home, then. What brings you here?"
"I'm a journalist. Photojournalist, actually. Heard about the dig, came to see what you've discovered out here. From the looks of it, I'd say you've probably managed to dig up the world's biggest box of Miracle Gro, and some of the nastiest little pests I've ever run into…"
Bernstein laughed again. It was impossible not to appreciate Connelly's irreverent humor. "How exactly did you find us, Connelly?" He swept his arm around, indicating their dramatically altered surroundings. "We're not exactly where you would expect us to be…"
Connelly patted the instrument case attached to a belt loop. "GPS. Never go out in the field without it. Had your coordinates, tracked you down. Comes in real handy when a jungle decides to grow out of nowhere. Happens all the time."
Bernstein looked at him quizzically. "Seriously, Connelly. How did you get here? We heard a chopper earlier, but it flew off."
"Wasn't me, unless you're talking about hours earlier. We left Khartoum before sunup. Got here just after daybreak. Told the pilot to circle the coordinates a bit, just to get the lay of the land, and then had him drop me off at the edge of the jungle—the edge closest to you all. Hiked in from there. Chopper couldn't land in this mess. Might have been able to, right by the pyramid, but he didn't want to chance it." He thought for a minute. "But you know, I think I did hear something earlier, myself. Maybe a half hour, hour ago?"
Bernstein nodded. So the first chopper, early this morning, had been Connelly's. Was the second one from the World Health Organization, then? He could only hope. In the meantime, he had more pressing needs. Finding his daughter topped that list. The thought of Eliana suddenly reminded him of Ardeth, standing quietly behind him, and he gestured for the younger man to come forward, ashamed of himself for not thinking before now to introduce him to the newcomer.
"Well, Connelly, welcome to the dig, or what's left of it." He indicated Ardeth. "This is Ardeth Bay, one of the assistants here. He's from one of the tribes to the north." Turning to Ardeth, "I guess you already caught Connelly's name…"
Ardeth nodded, his dark eyes carefully observing the newcomer, recording the various impressions that formed in his mind. On the surface, Connelly appeared to be just what he said he was—a brash American, sent here on assignment. But there was more to it than that, Ardeth was almost sure. There was something about him, something that triggered that Med Jai sixth sense…
Connelly stuck out his hand, tossing a friendly grin at Ardeth. "Happy to meet you."
Ardeth took the proffered hand, managing, just barely, not to react to the strange feeling that jolted through him when their palms met. It was almost as if they had met before, or… Ardeth couldn't quite put his finger on it, although the feeling was not unlike what he had felt when he had met Eliana for the first time. With her, though, the identification had been relatively simple, for the curse that marked her soul—and Imhotep's—had also marked the Med Jai throughout time—marked them as guardians and sentinels. It was like recognizing a part of himself. This sensation of déjà vu with Connelly—it was similar, but it was also very different. But what it meant, Ardeth hadn't a clue…
Aware that he was reacting strangely, Ardeth made an effort to paste a smile on his face and greet the newcomer. Hopefully Connelly would attribute his odd behavior to the peculiarity of the whole situation. "Welcome to Ahm Shere, Mr. Connelly. I hope that your journey through the jungle was not too difficult."
Connelly shrugged, dismissing the jungle and its unpleasant natives in an almost humorously casual manner. He stared briefly at Ardeth, curiosity in his eyes. Although he had not felt the strange psychic charge during the handshake, he was an observant man, and Ardeth Bay was setting off warning bells in his head. There was something about this guy that was sort of familiar… "Hey, have we met before, somewhere?"
Ardeth shook his head slowly. "No, I do not believe so."
The American frowned, ignoring Ardeth's reply. "I hardly ever forget a name or a face, but I swear I've seen you somewhere before. Damned if I can remember where, though…"
"I really do not believe our paths would have had the occasion to cross, Mr. Connelly. I have only been to America once, years ago, and except for a brief time at school in Cairo, I have spent most of my life here, on the desert." He looked around wryly. "Or at least what used to be the desert."
Connelly shook his head, still not convinced they hadn't met before, but willing to let the matter drop for now. There'll be plenty of time to do a background check on Bay, especially if the guy starts acting suspicious. Great thing about his computer's ability to uplink to the satellite and connect to the database at CIA headquarters. Made his work lots easier. He shrugged again. "Guess not, then, unless it was in some past life." With a laugh, he shrugged off the odd sense of déjà vu.
Ardeth laughed, too, but inside he was anything but amused. Now there was another unknown added to the mix. Not for the first time, he wished that his grandfather were still alive. He could do with some advice right about now, and the wisdom and experience of the original bearer of his name.
Eliana peered out from behind the tent, nearly crumpling to the ground in relief when she saw not only her father, but Ardeth, as well. Thank God! He had made it back! For a few seconds, she was simply overjoyed that both men had made it safely back to the camp through the treacherous jungle. But as she watched, it became apparent that something was not quite right. She watched as they spoke, the words muffled and indistinct, but their effect on her father clear. She saw the older man sink into the chair, assisted by Ardeth, saw the grief-stricken look on his face, watched as his head fell onto his hands. What on earth had happened? She took a quick step forward, moving to step out of the concealing shadows and go to her father. Her momentum, though, was abruptly halted when Imhotep wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. She glared at him from over her shoulder, hissing out a warning. "Okay, enough of this skulking around! There's something wrong here, and I need to find out what it is! So let go of me!"
If anything, his grip on her tightened fractionally. A grim look on his face, the priest shook his head, holding a finger to his lips in warning and then pointing towards the jungle behind Ardeth and Bernstein. Eliana looked in the direction he indicated, and saw the green wave that signaled the approach of someone…or something. She froze, watching as the emerald wall of the jungle came apart directly behind Ardeth and her father, crashing down in a great clump onto the floor, clearing the way for…for a man? A man straight out of the most recent Banana Republic catalog, by the look of him.
Eliana watched as the stranger approached her father and Ardeth, saw her father stand slowly, reaching out a hand to accept the newcomer's greeting. She remained hidden, her back pressed up against Imhotep, her waist still held in his protective grip. But she leaned out, pulling against him, straining even harder to hear the words passing between the group of men. She shook her head in frustration. Nothing…she was too far away. The only thing she'd managed to catch was a disjointed word here and there—journalist, New York, GPS, chopper, and a name…Connelly. For some reason, the name sent a tingle of fear down her back, and she turned to Imhotep, noticing for the first time how still he had gone, how rigid his arm around her waist had become. "Imhotep?" she whispered, the tiny shard of fear beginning to take root and grow.
He didn't answer her at first; indeed, he had almost not heard her whisper his name, so transfixed was he at the sight of the man who had stepped out from the jungle. He couldn't believe his eyes. The coloring was a little different, the hair similar, but not exact, but the height and build were almost one and the same. And the look of intelligence and determination on the man's face was a clean replica—absolutely identical. He stared at the two men standing beside Eliana's father, and had he not known otherwise, he would have sworn that he had been thrown back in time seventy years. The gods' sense of irony was inhumanely comical. Not only had they managed to bring back Ardeth Bay, one of the accursed Med Jai, but they had also arranged to have Imhotep's ultimate nemesis conveniently reborn and delivered to the scene as well. He stared at the man, watching as he and Ardeth Bay shook hands, and his arm involuntarily tightened its hold on Eliana's waist, making her gasp. "Imhotep?" she asked again, now becoming really alarmed. "What is it? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost. Do you know this person?"
He shook his head, almost as if to clear his eyes. When he looked at her again, the familiar composed mask had slipped back over his features. He nodded, answering her question in the affirmative. "Yes, I know him. Or rather, I know who he once was…"
Eliana felt her mouth drop open in surprise. Who he once was? Then that would mean… "You mean, you knew him before? In a previous life?" Just to be sure they were talking about the same man, as if there could be any doubt, she added, "Connelly?"
A grim smile played around the corners of the priest's mouth as he glanced back at the group of men. He had not heard the man's name, as Eliana had. "Connelly. That is almost amusing." He looked back at Eliana, and she could see the shadows in his eyes. "His name may be Connelly now, but when I knew him last, he was called by another." Almost as if he couldn't help himself, he felt his gaze pulled back to the newcomer. No, there could be no mistake. They were one and the same. And the old name came back to him, as if it could have ever been forgotten. "O'Connell…"
"Is he dangerous? Should I warn my father about him? If he's a threat to any of us…" He stopped the flow of words with a hand to her lips and a shake of the head.
"No. He is no danger to your father, or to the dig. If he is anything like the person he was in his other life, he is a man of…honor." That last word stuck in his throat, but he grudgingly forced it out. No matter that they had always been on opposite sides of whatever battle was being fought, a part of Imhotep recognized and respected the rock-solid code of honor that Rick O'Connell had always lived by. He could only assume that in this life, the man would be no different. But Eliana did deserve a word of warning. "Be on your guard. Like the Med Jai, this man has been no friend to me. To us. But he is different than the Med Jai. He is less attuned to the mystical, less believing of what is hidden to the eye and known only to the soul. His strength lies in his instinctive intelligence and in his warrior's heart." He looked at her appraisingly. "In this incarnation, at least, you should understand that. He is as distrustful of the supernatural as you are. But perhaps, in the end, more accepting of it."
Eliana opened her mouth to protest his lumping her in with a man he obviously considered an enemy, if not a direct threat. But he continued, silencing her before she began. "O'Connell—Connelly—will most probably not remember his past, much as you do not. That should keep you safe. Even if he does remember, he will not recognize you as Anck-su-namun." His eyes swept over her. "The changes are too profound, unless one is familiar enough with your aura…" He didn't have to finish the thought; Eliana could complete it for him.
"Like you are. Like the Med Jai are, as well." She couldn't keep the bitterness from bleeding through. Imhotep had known her because of their relationship as lovers all those centuries ago. Ardeth knew her because his forebears had condemned her. He nodded.
"Connelly is no threat to you. But if he remembers me, or if the Med Jai decides to enlist his aid…" Eliana shivered. This was becoming too real, too frightening. She had somehow been caught on the wrong side of a war she didn't even remember. Wasn't she supposed to be one of the good guys? Or were good and bad only relative measures in this particular war? Eliana heard the hint of arrogance in his voice as the priest continued. "I am not afraid of the man, not even if I am mortal. But his remembering would make my task that much more difficult…"
"What can we do, Imhotep? I don't want you to be in any danger, but what other choice do we have?" She twisted around to face him, her hands splayed over his chest, her eyes wide and full of concern. He let his arm fall from around her waist, and she felt him stiffen and tense at the nameless emotion she knew was in her eyes. She stepped back, shuttering her face. "I know how important it is to you to complete this mission of yours and be gone…"
He relaxed slightly and stepped away from her. "It is the only reason I am here, Eliana. And it will be completed." He thought for a moment, watching the men appraisingly. "For now, Connelly is not my primary concern. The Med Jai is. Ardeth Bay is my biggest obstacle. He must either be removed, or neutralized, or…" Seeing the unmistakable horror in Eliana's face at his clinical analysis of disposing of Ardeth Bay, Imhotep laughed softly. "Or perhaps I can simply talk to him and convince him that I am no longer a threat. After all, when I have finished my work, he will be well and truly rid of me…"
Eliana bowed her head, relieved that he was no longer talking as if he planned to assassinate Ardeth, but saddened at his unflinching determination to die. Every time he spoke of it, she felt as though a little piece of her soul had shriveled up and broken away. Already, in just two days, he had become too much a part of her life, too important to her, too… She stopped the thought, unwilling to go where it would inevitably lead. Maybe she should be glad that he would soon be gone. Maybe she should help him complete his task. Maybe once he was gone, she could get her life back.
Eliana turned back towards the men. Odd, how the thought of going back to the way things had been, just last month, just last week, held absolutely no appeal to her, except for the safety and security it represented. Odd, and disturbing. It wouldn't do to dwell on the matter.
Her senses still too finely attuned to the man behind her, she spoke without looking at him. "So, if you're going to talk to Ardeth, should we get this over with, then? If you're going to cure Eric somehow, we better introduce you to my father…"
He heard the distance in her voice, and just managed to stop himself from reaching out a hand to pull her back against him, instead curling it into a fist at his side. He forced himself to concentrate on the group of men in the clearing. There was no future here for him—just an inescapable, unavoidably huge past that loomed everywhere, overshadowing and overpowering the present. Somehow, by the grace of the gods, he would accomplish this, and be free of it, once and for all. He followed Eliana at a distance, a dark specter haunting her footsteps, as she walked out from behind the tent and into the clearing.
Ardeth saw them first, his eyes widening, his hand automatically dropping to the hilt of his sword. He gently laid a hand on Bernstein's arm, turning the older man around, nodding in Eliana's direction.
Bernstein sagged in relief when he saw Eliana coming towards him. He didn't even notice the man following behind her. Running the remaining distance, he wrapped his daughter in a fierce hug, picking her up off her feet and swinging her around like he had done when she was a child. "Ellie!" he cried, a tremor in his voice. "You made it! Thank God!"
Eliana hugged him back, burying her face in his shoulder, closing her eyes in relief. She had been worried about him, too, and the fact that they were both here, unharmed, was almost too much to have asked for. "I'm here, Dad—I'm so sorry to have worried you…"
He put her away from him, wiping one hand over his face, scraping away the tears that had formed when he realized his daughter was safely returned to him. "You scared me half to death, Ellie! I thought you were with Ardeth, but when he came back alone…" He pulled her back into his arms, hugging her tightly.
This time, Eliana broke away from him, turning her green gaze on Ardeth. Her voice, when she spoke to him, was cool, although she didn't mean for it to be. "I'm glad you made it back, Ardeth." He nodded, his dark features reflecting their usual calm, although she could see the question in his eyes. "I'm sorry for whatever you went through in the jungle…"
Ardeth shook his head, dismissing the concern. "Do not be sorry. It was not your fault…" He glanced over her shoulder, and would have said more, but Bernstein interrupted him, throwing his arm around Eliana and pulling her towards Connelly, oblivious to anything but the fact that his daughter was back, safe and sound. Eliana threw Ardeth a glance, and he understood her meaning. He nodded at her, conceding to her wishes. He would bide his time, at least for now. His hand, though, remained on his sword.
"Come here, Ellie—we have a visitor. This is Matt Connelly, from the New York Times. He's a photojournalist. Wants to document the dig. Connelly, this is my daughter, Eliana. She's a linguist—one of her specialties is ancient languages."
Eliana tried not to cringe as Connelly took her reluctantly offered hand and gave it a firm shake. She was relieved when she felt nothing but a slight nausea at the contact. Smiling in a sickly parody of hospitality, she added her welcome to her father's. "Welcome to the dig, Mr. Connelly."
"Thanks. Been a real adventure, so far," he chuckled. If he had noticed anything unusual about her, or their handshake, Eliana was relieved to see that he showed absolutely no sign of it. Then, she saw that he was looking over the top of her head, and she stiffened, knowing that the moment of truth had arrived. His next words confirmed it. "So," he began, an impartial curiosity in his voice, "who's the bald guy?"
Slowly, Eliana turned, moving out from under her father's arm, holding out a hand to Imhotep, gesturing for him to come forward, trying not to notice when he studiously ignored her, his dark gaze locked on Ardeth's. Although Connelly had spoken, it was unquestionably Ardeth Bay that the priest was focused on, and Eliana stepped between the two men, trying unsuccessfully to diffuse the tension that crackled between them. She cleared her throat, and plunged into the introduction, unconsciously using her native English.
"Dad, Ardeth, Mr. Connelly, I'd like you to meet a…a friend of mine. He helped me get out of the pyramid and find my way back here." She paused, a frown twisting her features, not certain of how to continue. She wasn't sure whether or not to use his real name, and there was the language barrier…
Bernstein glanced at Eliana, not sure what to make of her uncharacteristic awkwardness. But if this was the man who had helped return his daughter to the camp, he was in his debt. Stepping forward, he reached out, taking Imhotep's hand in his. The priest turned to face the older man, temporarily taking his eyes off the Med Jai. "I am very happy to meet you, and grateful to you as well. Thank you for helping Eliana get back here."
Imhotep accepted the contact, gripping the man's hand in return, sensing the emotion that had prompted the gesture. Bernstein stared at him, clearly expecting him to make some reply. He could make no sense of the words the older man had spoken, though, and turned to Eliana, the look on his face coming as close to helplessness as he would allow. She nodded, telling him without words that she understood. "Dad," she explained. "He doesn't speak English. He's Egyptian."
Comprehension dawned on Bernstein's face, and he switched effortlessly to Arabic. "Well, Ellie, why didn't you say so in the first place?" Before she could stop him, he turned to Imhotep again. "Welcome to the camp. I am in your debt…" Confused again at the obvious lack of understanding on the man's face, her father broke off, looking at Eliana in puzzlement. "You said Egyptian, right?"
Her scattered wits finally began to function again, and she spoke, this time in Hebrew. "He is Egyptian, yes, but from a…from a rather distant part." About three thousand years distant. "The dialect is very…different…from Arabic. He speaks Hebrew fluently, though…"
If this puzzled Bernstein, he was too gracious to comment on it. Again switching languages, he turned once again to the tall man whose hand he still gripped. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping my daughter return here."
Imhotep nodded, glancing at Eliana. "It was fortunate for both of us that our paths crossed. Your daughter helped me, as well." He ignored the snort that emanated from Ardeth, instead focusing on the archaeologist.
Bernstein glanced at Eliana, and his scientist's curiosity began to come back to him. "Ellie helped you? How? And what were you doing, wandering around the dig, anyway?" Grateful though he was, there was an edge to his voice. He was still fiercely protective of the site, and it bothered him that someone could have managed to travel so close to the camp and reach the pyramid itself without even being discovered. And why had the man been at the pyramid, anyway, instead of coming straight to the camp and introducing himself?
Eliana watched her father closely, and could tell from his expression what was going through his mind. She jumped in, hoping that the story she was concocting would satisfy him. Glancing at Ardeth before beginning, hoping that he would remain silent, she began to spin the almost-truth. "Dad, he wasn't wandering around the dig. He came here from…Egypt…to see if he could help with the dig. He's very interested in ancient Egyptian lore. A scholar of sorts, you could say…" She stopped, waiting to see if her father bought the story, watching for the Med Jai's reaction.
Ardeth said nothing, although when he looked at her, his dark eyes were filled with a sort of sad resignation. He knew, of course, that this whole story was sheer fabrication, and the fact that she would lie to her father proved how much under Imhotep's influence she was already. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but for now, he didn't feel inclined to use the weapon. There was something about the ludicrousness of this whole situation that aroused his curiosity. His eyes moved to where Imhotep stood, calm and still, and it occurred to him to wonder why, if The Creature wanted something here, he did not just use his powers to take it. And then he remembered Imhotep's words in the pyramid. I am no more Creature than you. The curse has been lifted… Could it be? Had Amun-Re himself freed the priest from the curse? But why? And even if that were the case, what was he doing here? What did he want? And then his eyes cut to Eliana, and he wondered. The cursed priest had always been single-minded in his devotion to the woman. Was that it? After all these centuries, after all that had happened seventy years ago, was she still the reason for the priest's continued presence here, even if the curse had truly been lifted by the great god himself? Or was there something else?
The Med Jai reflected on that for a moment, watching as Bernstein weighed Eliana's explanation, his desire to believe his daughter and his gratitude towards the man who had helped her clearly in conflict with his obvious reluctance to accept yet another stranger into the dig. The story Eliana had told was flimsy, at best, and Ardeth knew from the look in her eyes that she knew it. He wondered if Bernstein could see it there, as well.
In the end, though, the archaeologist's gratitude outweighed his doubts, and he turned to Imhotep again. "Well, from what Eliana has said," and he threw her a frustrated look, "I'm not sure if you're a fellow archaeologist or not, but the fact is that you can't leave, anyway, now that you're here. Quarantine," he reminded Eliana, and included Connelly in his sweeping gaze. "We've got a very sick man in the camp, and until the doctors arrive and figure out what ails him, we can't let anyone out of the camp. Not supposed to let anyone in, either, but you all just keep showing up…" He raked a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration.
He looked at both Connelly and Imhotep, his next words intended for them both, and he switched between English and Hebrew, so both men could understand. "Welcome to Ahm Shere. Welcome to the dig. Obviously, you're both staying here for a while. Pitch in and help where you can. Connelly, feel free to photograph anything, but please use your head and have some discretion. And you…" He broke off, realizing that he didn't know the other man's name.
Eliana realized it too, and stepped forward, her brain working furiously to come up with a suitable alias for Imhotep. But the priest had already decided the matter, and moved between her and her father. He was tired of hiding in the shadows, tired of going about pretending to be something he was not, tired of being He Who Shall Not Be Named. If nothing else about this whole façade could be real, at least his name would be. "My name is Imhotep."
Bernstein gave him an odd look. "Imhotep? As in the Imhotep? Grand Vizier to Pharaoh Zoser? Architect of the step pyramids of Saqqara? Your parents must have had grand plans for you to give you that name…"
Imhotep smiled. He had no idea what name he had been given by his parents, if indeed they had named him at all. His earliest memories were of the temple. He had been brought there before he was weaned, a mere babe, left as a living offering to the god. The priests and acolytes of Osiris were the only family he had ever known. But Eliana's father had correctly deduced the origin of his name. It had been given to him in the traditional naming ceremony by the old high priest, before his life had been dedicated in service to the god as a temple acolyte. The old man had spoken the words, bestowed the name, and firmly admonished the child to live up to the promise of the name he had been given. Imhotep had accepted the appellation, and heeded the words, proud of the honor that had been imparted with the name. Of what he had been known as before that, he had no memory, nor did he care. "Indeed, he was my namesake."
Bernstein returned the smile, and clapped the priest on the arm. Imhotep tried not to reveal how disconcerted he was by the man's familiarity. "Well, son, if you're half the man the original Imhotep was, we're fortunate to have you here. Maybe you'll bring us some luck. We could use some, right about now…" He turned to Ardeth and Connelly, speaking again in English. "Ardeth, Connelly, meet our newest visitor…"
None of the men spoke, and Eliana could feel the tension building among the little group. Ardeth stood in stony silence, watching the priest, who simply stared impassively at the other two, a hint of arrogance in the tilt of his head, the arch of his brow. Finally, Connelly moved forward, extending a hand. "Imhotep, huh? I'm Matt Connelly. Photojournalist from the New York Times. Welcome to the Brigadoon of Africa." Surprisingly, he spoke in near perfect Hebrew, and when he saw their startled looks, he laughed. "You tend to pick up a few languages when you travel around as much as I do."
Although he gave no outward sign of it, Connelly noticed Imhotep's reluctance to return the handshake, and the cold haughtiness in the man's eyes when he finally did so. Okay, so here's another one to check out, thought Connelly, mentally making a list. And while I'm at it, I'm gonna do a little check on the daughter, too. It was obvious that Bernstein's kid was hiding something. That story she had told didn't hold much water for all the holes in it, and a blind man could see that she was wound up tighter than a spring, besides. There were enough secrets around here to keep him busy for quite a while. And if there was one thing Matt Connelly liked, it was a challenge.
Bernstein noticed Ardeth's unusual rudeness towards the stranger, and made a mental note to ask him about it later. For now, though, he wanted to talk to his daughter in private, and find out what had really happened out there. It was obvious he would be getting no explanations from her as long as all of the rest of them were there. "Ardeth, can you give these two a hand in finding a place to stay? There ought to be a couple of extra tents and blankets in the supplies. Hopefully Sabir has rounded everything up again. If you could help them out, I'd appreciate it. I need to talk to Eliana for a minute."
Ardeth looked at Bernstein and nodded. For now, he would go along with this charade. For now, he would bide his time and watch, use the opportunity to try to figure out what Imhotep's goal was. The knowledge could only help him to defeat The Creature, to return him to whatever hell Eliana had brought him back from. But he would be watching his back. And he would watch Eliana's as well.
"This way." He gestured for Connelly and Imhotep to precede him. It was no great surprise to anyone that he also spoke Hebrew fluently.
Eliana watched the three men walk away, and tried to shake the strange feeling that had come over her. The last couple of days had felt surreal enough, but watching those three walk off together was somehow beyond bizarre. If she had been able to see into either Ardeth's or Imhotep's minds, she would have realized that they agreed wholeheartedly. Connelly, of course, while suspicious of the other two, was blessedly oblivious to just how strange a turn his life had suddenly taken.
Finally, Eliana and her father were alone in the clearing, and with a sigh, she turned to face him. Now would come the real test. She'd never been able to pull the wool over his eyes for too long before. She could only hope that her skills in subterfuge had improved dramatically since they'd last been put to the trial. Trying to look as blandly guiltless as possible, she met her father's steely blue gaze with her own green one.
"All right, Ellie. Now that we're alone, here, why don't you drop the act and tell me what's really going on?"
Eliana managed to evade most of her father's questions, sticking to the same general story she had told before. Imhotep had found her inside the pyramid, while he, too, had been exploring. They had managed to escape, had seen Ardeth briefly, and had spent the rest of the day, night, and next morning trying to find their way back to the camp. Yes, they had run into some of the vicious little Pygmies. No, they had not seen any of the missing laborers.
To his specific questions about Imhotep's background and identity, she was as vague as possible. He was from Egypt, but he spoke only Hebrew, and he was well versed in the ancient Egyptian culture and history, particularly the New Kingdom period. Beyond that, she told her father, she knew little more than he did. She did mention that Imhotep had seemed interested in Eric's illness, and seemed to have a good grasp of medical concepts. It was possible that at one time or another, he might have been a doctor or a traditional healer of some sort, but she really wasn't certain. She crossed her fingers at that, hoping that Imhotep wouldn't be angry with her for letting her father in on that little piece of knowledge.
"Damn it, Ellie! We know next to nothing about the man!" His frustration was obvious.
"You know that he saved my life in the pyramid, don't you? That he kept me safe all the while we were in the jungle? That he risked his own life to protect me from the little beasts that your capstone turned loose?" She glared at her father, capable of being every bit as stubborn as he was. "So he has a few secrets. So what? You accepted Connelly readily enough…"
"Connelly's…different, Eliana. It's hard to explain." Bernstein sighed. It was hard to explain. He had immediately liked the young journalist—liked him and trusted him. This Imhotep was another matter entirely. Of course, he was grateful to the man for keeping Eliana safe. But beyond that, there was an air of danger about him—a dark shadow of secrecy that went well beyond the mystery of his background and his still largely unexplained interest in the dig. He couldn't help but feel that the man was a danger to them all—perhaps especially to Eliana. "Look," Bernstein went on, "I just want to protect the dig, and protect you. I can't help it if I don't quite trust the man."
Eliana put a hand on her father's arm. "I know that this is a big request, okay? But I'm asking you to trust me, all right? I trust him, and I know that he has no interest in harming any of us, or the dig."
Bernstein looked at her dubiously, and appeared ready to argue the point, but at that moment, the team from the World Health Organization finally put in an appearance, crashing inelegantly through the brush, panting and cursing as they dragged their equipment in from the general direction of the pyramid. From the looks of the group, they had run all the way. Bernstein cocked an eyebrow at Eliana, nodding towards the group.
"We can discuss this later, Ellie. I think that the cavalry has just arrived."
Eliana looked dubiously at the wheezing, panting group, and shook her head. "God help us all," she said, finally.
Once they had caught their breath and gotten their bearings, the doctors and lab technicians from the World Health Organization seemed a bit more professional, a bit more in control of the situation. There were eight of them in total—three doctors, two nurses, two lab techs, and a harried-looking man who appeared to be in charge of everything else, including keeping the equipment organized. They took a few minutes to talk quietly with each other before looking around and noticing Bernstein and Eliana.
A tall, distinguished-looking man with iron-colored hair and a graying beard separated himself from the group and walked towards Bernstein, straightening out his wrinkled clothing as he did so. Reaching them, he extended a hand. "You must be John Bernstein. I am Dr. Jacques Robillard, from the World Health Organization. You are expecting us?"
Bernstein nodded, shaking the man's hand. "Yes. We weren't sure when you'd arrive, but we have been looking for you. Glad you made it." Giving the group another glance, he added, "Uh, exactly how did you make it? Did you walk all the way from the edge of the jungle?"
Robillard shook his head. "No. Our helicopter landed near the pyramid. The pilot was wary of doing so, but I was able to convince him. We simply had too much equipment to drag it all the way to this camp from the jungle's edge. We left most of our things back at the pyramid, in fact. Brought only what we knew we'd need along with us."
"I see," Bernstein nodded. "You were able to find us easily enough, then?"
"Thank God for modern technology," Robillard explained. "We had your GPS coordinates, and followed them. But what is going on here? We were told to expect desert conditions, not a rain forest…"
"It's a long story," Bernstein ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it even more. "I'll fill you in on the details in a minute." He put an arm around Eliana, pulling her forward, introducing her to the doctor. Then, with an apologetic smile, "Eliana, could you please go and find Callie? I'm sure she'll want to meet Dr. Robillard, here, and the rest of his team."
"Sure, dad. I'll be right back."
Eliana found Callie near Eric's tent, as she had expected. The young doctor was just removing the protective equipment she wore while examining him, and Eliana watched from a distance, waiting until Callie was cleaned up and organized before approaching her. She admired the dedication that Callie obviously had towards her profession, and appreciated the genuine caring that she seemed to feel towards Eric, but the woman had always made her uncomfortable for some reason. They had met only briefly the day Callie arrived, and their paths hadn't crossed much since then, but there was something about the doctor that set Eliana on edge. It wasn't that Callie was unfriendly, for that wasn't the case at all—she was pleasant enough, in a retiring sort of way—it was just a strange feeling that Eliana had, and couldn't shake. But Eric was being cared for, that was the important thing, and she pushed away all the rest, willing to ignore it for his sake.
"Doctor al Faran? Callie?"
Callie looked towards Eliana, a small frown on her face. The discomfort between the two women seemed to be mutual. "Yes?"
"The World Health Organization team has arrived. They're with my father right now," Eliana explained. "He sent me to find you."
"Thank goodness!" Callie breathed, her relief almost palpable.
Eliana tensed, worried immediately about Eric. If Callie was this relieved at having more doctors appear, he must not be getting any better. "Eric? Is he….?"
Callie shook her head. "He's still holding on, but I don't know for how much longer. His condition appears to be deteriorating a little bit more with each passing hour. I'll be happy to have a second opinion on this…"
Eliana cast a quick glance at the closed flap of Eric's tent. Her heart went out to the man inside. Life could be so unfair. Eric was too young, too full of energy and curiosity to be this ill. But life had a way of being both unfair and cruel at times. She gestured in the direction of the clearing where her father waited with the medical team. "Let's go, then. Maybe these people can help him."
"What? You want us to move the entire camp to the pyramid?" Bernstein's face was growing red, and his voice was edging upwards. "Do you know what that will entail? Why can't you just bring everything here?"
Robillard was unmoved. "The bulk of our equipment is back at the pyramid. We left it there on purpose. That structure is much more suited for use as a field hospital, of sorts, than this camp is. If we relocated to the pyramid, we'd be sheltered from the elements, and we'd have better protection from some of the other, um, elements of the jungle." Robillard and his group had not encountered any of the Pygmies on their way to the camp, but Bernstein's brief explanation of Ahm Shere's reappearance, and some of the more interesting aspects of the newly grown jungle, had convinced him that his original plan was the right way to proceed.
Bernstein, however, was not convinced. "You intend to turn a major archaeological discovery into a field hospital?" His indignation was apparent.
"I don't care if you've discovered Noah's Ark. That pyramid is the best place to take care of the sick man, and set up a laboratory. And isn't it also where you first found the possible contaminant? Having easy access to the source of the infection, as long as it's well contained, is important."
Callie, who had arrived moments before with Eliana, put her hand on Bernstein's arm. "Dr. Robillard does have a point, Professor Bernstein. The pyramid does sound more secure than the open jungle. And the fluid from the statue is located in the pyramid, in the grotto. As long as we keep that area under total quarantine, it would be helpful to be near it, for analysis."
Bernstein, for once, seemed to have met his match in the combined logic and stubbornness of Callie and the French doctor. With a sigh, he capitulated. "All right; when?"
"Well, today would be ideal…" Robillard mused.
"Impossible," Bernstein shot it down immediately. "It's midday already, and by the time we got everything packed up and ready to go, it would be evening. That jungle is dangerous enough in broad daylight. I will not have my people go trekking through it at night."
Robillard could see the logic in that. And moving the camp the next morning would not necessarily be a bad idea. That way, he would have a chance to examine the sick man this afternoon, and get an idea of what they were up against. He nodded, agreeing with Bernstein. "Tomorrow morning will be soon enough." Turning to Callie, he inquired, "Tell me, Dr. al Faran, is the patient stable enough to be moved?"
Callie thought for a few moments before replying. "He is stable, but his condition is quite serious. I think he could be safely moved, and certainly, the pyramid is a more protected environment for him, but we will need to monitor him closely during the relocation."
"Of course," Robillard agreed.
"Quite the little party you're having here, Bernstein," Connelly grinned, as he helped himself to a lukewarm soft drink in the makeshift tent that was now serving as the dining hall. It was really just a tarp strung between a couple of the larger palm trees, but it would have to do for the time being. The original mess tent waved in the breeze, still caught high above them in the branches of the towering palm tree.
"Don't even remind me of what a farce this dig has turned into, Connelly," growled the archaeologist, getting a drink for himself, and plopping down tiredly in a chair. The medical people were off setting up some of their equipment, getting ready to examine Eric. Callie had gone with them. Eliana sat quietly across from him, lost in her own thoughts. Ardeth Bay and the Egyptian, Imhotep, were nowhere in sight. Bernstein hoped that they were off helping Sabir get ready to move, and not killing each other. He could tell from the moment he saw the two of them together that there was no love lost between them. And even that was an understatement. It was almost as if they knew each other… But Ardeth had denied that, when Bernstein had managed to catch him alone for a few minutes earlier in the afternoon. Not that Bernstein necessarily believed Bay, but he wasn't about to press the issue, not right now. For now, they had enough to worry about.
He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and took a drink of the warm soda, glancing briefly at Eliana. Suddenly, he saw her straighten in her chair, watched as the life came back into her eyes. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Bay and the Egyptian walking towards them. Glancing back at Eliana, he sighed. He wasn't quite sure which of the men had caused that reaction in her, but he had a pretty good hunch, and he wasn't at all sure that he liked where it was pointing. He liked Bay well enough, but the other man… He reminded himself that the Egyptian had helped bring his daughter back safely to the camp, and decided to let the matter rest. It was probably just gratitude he had seen in her eyes, anyway…
"We have nearly finished packing the supplies," Ardeth informed them, pouring a glass of water for himself. He ignored the man behind him, leaving Imhotep to fetch his own drink. "We will be starting on the storage tents next."
"Thank you, Ardeth," said Bernstein. "And you, too," he offered, nodding in Imhotep's direction. The priest nodded unsmilingly, drinking deeply from the cup he held. Bernstein watched as the tall, bronze-skinned man stared into the cup he had just drunk from, looking at the clear liquid as though it were the first time he had drunk water. He is a strange one, thought the archaeologist, shaking his head before looking back at Ardeth.
"I am happy to help," Ardeth offered. Looking towards Connelly, he stared curiously at the photographic equipment spread out on the table. "Have you managed to get any of the photos you wanted?"
"Nah, not yet," Connelly stated. "Just cleaning the stuff up a bit. I'm gonna scout around a little this afternoon, see if there's anything worth shooting here at the camp. For sure, I'll be taking pictures tomorrow, when we move the camp. And of course, there's the pyramid…"
"Of course," Bernstein interjected, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "The pyramid. The Hilton of Ahm Shere."
"You don't think much of those docs, do you, Bernstein?" Connelly asked, grinning at the older man. "I haven't even met them yet, but from the sounds of it, they're a pretty opinionated bunch. Then again, every doctor I've ever met has been nothing but opinionated…"
"As if journalists aren't opinionated?" Callie's voice reached them from the edge of the tent. In unison, everyone turned to face her. She had approached silently, not announcing her presence.
Bernstein smiled, suppressing a wider grin that threatened to spill over his face. "Uh, Connelly, I'd like you to meet our resident doctor, Khalida al Faran."
Callie's smile was wide as she stepped forward. "Call me Callie," she said, reaching out to take the hand he offered. Connelly gripped her hand, and for a moment his eyes registered confusion, then bewilderment, and then something else—some other, more elusive emotion. She stared at him, the same odd assortment of reactions flickering over her face. Finally, with a mental shake, she released his hand, surreptitiously wiping her hand on the leg of her pants, as though her palm itched. "Um, is there any soda?"
Connelly jumped backwards, almost leaping for the cooler, toppling over his chair as he did so. He flipped open the top and pawed through the cans inside before finally selecting one and offering it to her. "This okay?"
She looked at him oddly. "Yes, it's my favorite…" She reached out to take it from him, but at that moment, the can slipped from both their hands, falling to the ground. The impact forced open the flip top, and the carbonated beverage, jostled already, began spewing everywhere. Both Connelly and Callie jumped back, trying futilely to avoid the fizzing spray.
Wiping at the sticky mess that covered her from head to foot, Callie shot an annoyed glance at Connelly. "Well, that made my afternoon…"
Connelly shrugged, having the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry, I thought you had it…"
"I thought you did," she said, still trying in vain to clean off her trousers. By now, the liquid had soaked through completely. "Good grief," she muttered, under her breath.
"Hey, don't feel so bad," Connelly offered, swiping at the mess on his own clothes. "Everyone has a clumsy moment, now and then…"
"I am not clumsy," Callie fumed, glaring at him. Disgusted, she turned to Bernstein, "Sorry, Professor, I wanted to fill you in on what the World Health Organization doctors were doing with Eric. I hope you don't mind, though—I'd like to change first."
Waving her off with a bemused expression on his face, Bernstein reassured her. "Don't worry, Callie, we're not going anywhere. Take your time."
Throwing the American another glare, Callie stomped off towards her own tent.
"I guess that wasn't the best first impression I've ever made," Connelly sighed, sitting back down. He, unlike Callie, simply ignored the discomfort of his wet clothes.
Bernstein shook his head. "I'd venture to guess it wasn't, either," he agreed.
Imhotep watched the whole exchange in silence. He had recognized the doctor at once, of course, the moment she had entered the tent, and although he was shocked, he was not completely surprised. What was one more bizarre coincidence when added to the strangeness of the entire situation? He watched, genuinely interested, as she and Connelly were introduced for the first time. In this life, he added mentally, his mind wandering back to the last time he had seen them. They looked much the same now, although this time, the woman seemed to show her original Egyptian heritage more strongly.
The exchange between the doctor and the American lasted for only a few minutes, and Imhotep couldn't understand their words, but he could certainly comprehend the circumstances. They generated the same sparks as always, and again, as he had the last time he had seen them, during Ahm Shere's violent death throes, he almost envied them. So they were to have a chance for another lifetime together, he reflected, and before he could help himself, his eyes drifted to Eliana. She had been watching him, puzzled at the expression on his face as he watched the other two, and raised an eyebrow at him, questioning him silently.
But seeing Connelly with the woman had brought back the other memories, the painful ones, the ones he tried to keep locked away, and he turned away from Eliana, a curtain dropping over his features. Hurt, she turned away as well, and standing, made her way out of the tent, heading off to find Sabir.
Ardeth watched her go, then glanced at Imhotep. He saw how the priest had watched the American and the doctor, and he had witnessed the brief exchange between The Creature and Eliana. Something had triggered that, and he would find out what it was. There was much more going on beneath the surface here than he was aware of, his Med Jai instincts notwithstanding, and it was up to him to dig deep enough to uncover it. There was too much at stake for him to ignore even the most harmless exchange, and from the look on The Creature's face, this had been much more than that. Making a mental note to meet the doctor himself, and to follow up on his own strange sense about Connelly, Ardeth reached for another glass of water. There would be time for that later. For now, the most important thing he could do was to keep an eye on The Creature.
Dinner was over, dusk had fallen over the quiet of the surrounding jungle, and the camp was finally settling down after the hectic afternoon. Once the decision had been made to break camp and relocate to the pyramid, everyone had been swept into a flurry of activity. The supplies had been packed and assembled, everything stored away for tomorrow's move. All that was left for Sabir and his helpers to stow away was what had been used to prepare the evening meal.
The tents being used by the group had been left standing as well. At sunrise, they would be torn down by the workers and readied for relocation. Their lightweight construction would make that job fairly easy. The only thing remaining now was for each individual to pack his or her own belongings.
Eliana reached for the flap of her tent, wanting to get the job over and done with as soon as possible. She was tired and sweaty, and felt inexplicably alone. Or maybe the feeling wasn't that inexplicable, after all. She had felt that way ever since she and the priest had returned to the camp and joined the rest of the group. Ever since then, except for those brief moments in the makeshift mess tent, she and Imhotep had been pulled apart, separated by chores and circumstances, and they had only really crossed paths at dinner. Even then, there was no time for her to talk with him, or even be near him. She sat by her father, the other archaeologists, and Connelly, and although she had invited Imhotep to join them, he had declined, preferring to eat the evening meal alone. Ardeth, too, was absent, and Eliana wondered vaguely where he had gone. The only other people in the tent were the medical personnel and Callie, who ate at a different table, and the students. The Sudanese, as usual, were absent, as were most of the laborers, who preferred to eat around a fire on the edge of the camp. Dinner had passed in a tasteless blur, and Eliana had been relieved when it was finally over.
Nothing seemed right anymore, nothing seemed the same or familiar, and Eliana's mood reflected that discord. With a disgruntled sigh, she pulled at the zipper.
"Eliana." The voice came out of the deepening shadows, its husky timbre instantly recognizable. She spun around, her heart jarring into a faster rhythm, her breath coming faster. She tried not to notice that the colors and smells of the surrounding jungle were suddenly brighter, sharper, even through the gloom. It was all she could do to stop herself from breaking into a silly grin. So much for objectivity; so much for practicality. So much for guarding her emotions above all else.
"Imhotep?" It was a question, but she knew the answer already, and as his tall form separated itself from the twilight dark, she tried to keep her eyes from revealing too much of what her heart was feeling. "What is it?" Her voice was deliberately calm, purposely steady.
"Nothing is wrong, Eliana." He must have detected the slight quaver in her voice, anyway, despite her efforts. "I was simply checking to make sure you were safe." His eyes skimmed over her, and he noticed the slight tremble in her hand. "You are well?"
"I'm fine, Imhotep," she assured him, turning once more to the flap of her tent, tugging at the zipper. "Don't worry. I'll be safe for the night. Dad has guards posted all around the camp, and we'll be moving to the pyramid tomorrow. That should be even safer." For all of her efforts, she was unable to keep all the emotion out of her voice, and a hint of hurt worked its way out. Finally getting the recalcitrant zipper loosened, she moved to go inside. "You don't need to check on me. I'm sure you have other things to do."
A hand on her arm stopped her. "Eliana, wait." He watched her closely, seeing through the mask of calm she sought to keep in place. "Something is troubling you. What is it?"
You! You're troubling me! Her heart screamed the words at him, but she firmly clamped her mouth shut. Shaking her head, she denied the sentiment. "Nothing's bothering me. I'm just tired, that's all." Risking a quick glance at him, she added, "How are you? Did you get something to eat? Did they find you someplace to sleep tonight?"
His smile was small, slightly ironic. "The food was…interesting. I had forgotten the sensation." Another reminder of his past, another leftover from the curse. "And I have been given shelter for the night. It is adequate." Another smile, this one smaller still. "The Med Jai has stopped dogging my footsteps as well, at least for now. I am fortunate, indeed."
She nodded. "Good."
Out of words, they said nothing, staring at each other until the silence grew too long, too uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke again. "You have the Scepter?"
She pointed towards the tent. "Yes—in there."
"Good." Once again, the silence stretched between them, taut and uneasy. He shifted his stance, clasping his hands behind his back, purposely creating a distance between them. He would not give in to his desire to take her in his arms, hold her through the night, protect her himself, no matter how overwhelming the compulsion. He wouldn't risk getting any closer to her than he had already. He could not afford to. He had made that mistake too many times. If she had the Scepter, she was safe. That was enough. It had to be. "Keep it with you. It will keep the…creatures…away." She knew that the word he had used to describe the Pygmies was a deliberate choice, a reminder to her of what he was, what he had been, and she nodded again.
"I'll do that."
With a nod, he was gone, turning away and walking off into the murky darkness. Eliana watched him go, the sense of loss inside her deepening with every step he took. Finally, the distance between them was great enough that he blended in seamlessly with the night, and she could see him no longer. She pushed her hair back behind her ear with a hand that shook only slightly, and with a sigh, stepped into the tent, turning on the lantern inside.
Imhotep turned slowly, knowing that he was out of her sight. Somberly, he watched the light come on inside her tent, saw her silhouetted against the nylon fabric, imagined her moving inside, packing her things. For a few seconds, he allowed himself to wonder what would happen if he went back, opened the tent flap, and stepped inside with her… A shudder went through him, and he hastily aborted the thought. Why couldn't he let go of this obsession? Why? What power did she have over him? Knowing that there were no good answers to those questions, at least none that he wanted to hear, Imhotep forced himself to turn away, stalking off into the night like a leopard in search of prey.