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Chapter 10
How can she do that to me?
In that one second, the second that seemed to last a lifetime, she made a decision and she didn't chose me.
But it wasn't fair of me to make her pick to come with me or stay. I shouldn't have done that.
She makes me do these things! Yeah, that's it. Her obscured little hazel eyes back then, they made me do it-- somehow. Oh hell.
I storm down to the bar again. Go figure. It's where I always end up.
As I head in, I notice Winston with a belly dancer, but my mind is preoccupied- every where I turn...
Deep paranoia is sinking in, like the awareness of unfinished business. Something doesn't seem right, and if it does it is just too good to be true or last this long.
If I go, I'm leaving the mother of all messes behind me. But, I'm getting away bruise-less.
If I go, I'm being the biggest jackass in the world.
If I stay, there's going to be hell on earth.
But I'll be with Evelyn, and that's all I need right now.
Is it?
Straight-fire it is. I'm going to look out for her- and her brother even though he's been thrown into the bargain.
When I signed on I agreed to take you out there and to bring you back. And guess what, I did that. End of job, end of story, contract terminated!
Where the hell had all that come from? As usual, I was trying not to go soft but achieved the complete opposite of what I intended to. The look on her face when I said shocked. I even knew I was lying to myself when I said it, I didn't even get to think of what I was saying- before I knew it, it had all come tumbling out of my stupid mouth. I do 'spose it was because of the heated argument but how in hell am I supposed to let her go running back to that place?
She's right. I shouldn't have spoken to her like that.
Just like she shouldn't have trapped my fingers in the lid of that damned case.
"Hey Winston." I automatically respond when he says my name. I pat him on the back and shake my head when I hear him splash footlessly in the water feature. The stench of sweat, cheap booze and overall muck is overwhelming. Straw and sand for flooring is hardly appeasing either.
This bar belongs to the British fort, but it's clear who runs it around here, and the 'natives' as they call them, have made it their own.
"O'Connell!" I hear, slurring behind me as I stride onward to where Jonathan hasn't moved. I pinch Jonathans' ear and gesture behind me to Winstons chattering as I pour myself a drink of Jonathans newly purchased whisky.
"D'you know, that since the great war there hasn't been a job worthy of a man like me?" He slaps us both on the back, a slap that throws Jonathans small frame forward and that leads to him almost headbutting the bar.
"Yeah really? Well we all got our own little problems today, don't we Winston?" I reply, inhaling the scent of the cheap liquid.
He chatters on, something about the airbase, and I withhold the laugh at him stealing Jonathans glass.
"Tell me, has your sister always been-so--"
"Yes, always." He answers instantly, and I mouth 'Really?' at him, in disbelief as he nods animatedly.
My insides crash when I hear two sets of what I'm guessin' American feet pull up next to him.
"We're all packed up to leave, but the damn boat don't leave from Alexandria till tomorrow." tells Henderson, looking cleaner but aged. He orders a double and almost downs it in one go. He meets my eyes, and apologetically nods before returning to his drink. His only comfort until he's on home soil.
"Hows you're friend?" I turn to Daniels. I'm met with a stern face, an almost hollow face that looks livid and suspicious at everyone who dares speak to him.
"He had his eyes and his tongue ripped out. How'd you be?" He spits, storming off. Bastard. I was only asking-
"Ignore him." chips Henderson. "Good luck fellas." He adds, not in high spirits as he raises a glass to his lips.
Jonathan nods, pouring himself a full shot, his eyes dark to mirror Hendersons'.
"I'll drink to that." I sigh, pressing the glass to my lips.
Instantly, my mouth is filled not with the stinging, foul alcohol I was expecting, but a warm liquid of a more thicker than usual consistency.
Blood.
I spit it out, and dart glances at every other sorry soul in the joint who is doing the same.
"Sweet Jesus!" swears Henderson.
I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, grimacing at the blood that stains my skin.
"He's here." I exclaim in revelation as I work it out, dropping my glass as I watch the fountain flow blood.
"And the rivers and waters of Egypt ran red, and were as blood..." Intones Jonathan in the chaos as the bar erupts with yelling customers.
The first thought in my mind, the first name- Evelyn.
If he's here, then I need to find Evelyn...
Well this reading is certainly prooving, um, helpful. Cleo weaves in between my legs as we walk through the compound and I trip. "Cleo..." I try to scold, but can't.
My thoughts are elsewhere; I am trying to stop myself tripping over thoughts of O'Connell; to accept that he has left.
He can't have.
I grip my books tighter, as I study the page before me. I furrow my brow in frustration. Nothing. Precisely nothing has ever been recorded that can help us...
This doesn't look good at all.
Absolutely nothing in any of these books!... nothing at all. Oh here we are-
Startled, I drop my books when thunders rolls through the sky. A once sunny afternoon has now morphed into grey and dark storm clouds, and I can hear the guards exchanging confused glances.
"Oh Evelyn!" I hear behind me, accompanied by hasty footsteps. I spin around, only to be faced with O'Connell, gasping.
"Oh, so you're still here!" I muse, drinking in the sight of him, trying to contain my contentment at this turn of events. I've given up on the tiff earlier.
I go to get my books, but the look in him eyes and etched upon his face stops me from retrieving them. I freeze, my blood suddenly cold, a chill wrapping itself around me. I already know.
I already know.
"Is something wrong?" I ask, concerned. My stomach drops.
He goes to answer me, but before he can a barrage of fire decends from the sky upon the city of Cairo- people, monuments, Ancient monuments are being attack by the hurling balls of flames. I observe this bizarre occurance, unable to drive my attention away from it. The heat is soon unbearable, and Rick pulls me under a wooden alcove just as a man and plant catches fire before us.
People are panicing, yelling, fleeing; yet all I can do is cling to O'Connell in a dazed silence.
"He's here." He pants, grabbing my arms and turning me to face him. His voice increases over the clamour as his blue eyes lock with mine. "The Mummy. He's here."
"He can't be-" I begin, my mind racing. Here? At the fort? That's impossible. He gives me a blank look.
As unexpectedly as it began, the fire stops. Everything ceases and all I can do is wait with bitter anticipation.
My mouth is open ready to argue, and this moment shared between us is lasting froever, but is cut short when a high, stomach wrenching scream pierces the silence.
My heart stops for a moment, as does my breathing, as I try to fashion a look that will let O'Connell see how much I need him here, right now.
I cling to him, a word that can describe our petrified embrace. He moves out from under the awning, and in slow motion before my eyes he strides onwards, gripping my hand like steel, glancing back at me...
He stops at the bottom of the stairs, and turns to me. "Stay here."
I shake my head. "No!"
His eyes look reluctant to leave me, and are the only thing betraying him until his body relaxes slightly, but before he can convince himself or me to stay, Beni crashes into him.
"Hey Beni, you little stinkweed, we're did you get to?"
At this connection, a horrifc and strangely coincidental shriek emits from inside the Fort itself. Beni tries to flee at this, his face sweaty and his eyes frightened.
I freeze, stopped by the horrendous noise that I just heard. Rick lets Beni go, grabs my hand again and we race up the stairs, through the corridoor and into Burn's quarters.
I feel Rick's grip lax, and confused, and step up behind him. I regret my action instantly.
Before us, lying sprawled on the floor, mouth open is the dessicated corpse of Burns- discoloured, disfigured and the epitaph of utter agony.
My hand flies to my mouth, and I let a moan escape my lips.
Poor bastard.
If the sight didn't hit ya, the smell sure did. I look down, my mind refusing it all- refusing the thing before me that surpasses anything I have ever witnessed.
I turn to Evelyn and her reaction is the complete opposite; her eyes are brimming with tears. She is covering her mouth- perhaps to stop herself from being sick? I wouldn't blame her. I take a deep breath, and pull a puzzled face when I hear a strange sound. Her eyes, cold and dark, are transfixed upon the fire place.
I trace her gaze, my eyes stopping in dazy disbelief at the sight before me.
"We are in serious trouble." I manage to get out as I widen my eyes.
I grab my guns and train them perfectly on the Mummy. But what it is doing halts me from squeezing the triggers.
But only momentarily.
I blink, somehow believing in my addled mind that the unearthly creature before me is a figment of my starved imagination.
I watch in silent terror as it moves, its back to us but the events unfolding terribly clear; rippling tendons are being renewed and covered by newer but still yellowed skin. His face contorts in pain as though this magical transformation is taxing. As if emerging from deep within, this new musculature forms, decayed bones are replaced yet no blood is shed.
In a strange stupor we watch on, Rick's expression mirroring mine exactly.
The creature stretches, and somehow senses our presence and turns around releasing a deafening scream.
Its eyes dart around the room; passing over furniture dismissively and then passing over faces as though memorizing them. Steadily, the borrowed eyes land on me. Locked in a hold, my eyes are unable to move away as I watch a desperate emotion contort over the newly self-assured but desiccated face.
My stomach lurches at the way it is looking at me and with downright repudiation thoughts race through my mind; I need to get out, but I am held in a vice-like grip of fear that is rendering me motionless. And even if I could move, where could I run?
Without warning, it advances on us, and I see that Rick has trained his pistols on it threateningly. He steps infront of me and I jump as the bullets begin to tear through the creature, but it doesn't seem to mind- they merely pass through the newly acquired flesh apparently causing damage that can be restored.
Roaring at him and apparently undeterred, the creature grabs his shoulders and throws him across the room. I almost cry out at this turn of events, taken by surprise and calling his name as he nears the floor, as though to warn him of the inevitable.
It grabs me and I am suffering the ache of its decrepit fingers forcing themselves into my shoulders. I give it an obstinant glare, defiant and firm- just daring it to do anything.
Before I can react I feel myself flying backwards. I connect with something- or rather somethings and hear the distinct noise of a rib cracking. I hear cursing in different forms and guess that we've got ourselves some visitors.
"Bloody hell!"
"Goddamn it O'Connell!"
I blink the stars away and the coursing soreness soon follows. I put myself in a sitting position and watch in stunned, sore silence as it smiles a satisfied smile in our direction before turning to Evelyn; still standing there from my flight.
My heart is pounding and I know that with the males distanced from me, it doesn't look to be a very promising situation. I notice my brother and the other Americans' presence by the door as they are knocked down by O'Connell's harsh landing. The interest the creature showed in me earlier is worrying, and I glance desperately at O'Connell, waiting for him to sit up and show me that he is unharmed.
I hear muscles elapse, toiling at the action of movement after so long and I know that from the look on Rick's pained face that it's looking at me.
I swallow, and force myself to look to my right.
I raise the back of my hand to halt any kind of advance as the Egyptians' monstrous face is peering into mine, ostensibly searching for some recognition. His decaying lips part into a smile, and he tells me tenderly;
"You saved me from the undead. I thank you."
He leans forward, as though to kiss me, and I try to back away- aware of the cold wall behind me as my back touches it. This forboding yet stalwart figure is shortening the distance between us, and I try to reject any form of contact.
I look behind it when I hear a note on the piano; Cleo is pawing across the keys. This effects the Mummy strangely; it's stolen eyes widen and a trill emerges that threatens to perforate eardrums. It rears back from the piano and me before doing something quite extraordinary.
Sand begins to swirl around the corpse; particles merging with age old flesh, air wrapping-almost folding itself- around the once human being before finding its way out of the room and through a nearby shuttered, floor length, window. I cover my eyes until I hear the french doors close and O'Connells voice exclaim-
"We are in very serious trouble."
I glance over to the sitting males, their gaze stuck on the closed doors. O'Connell gets up, but all I can do is breath and watch him. "Are you alright?"
"Fine..." I answer, trembling, as he strides towards me.
He touches my arm, and I look at him- both of us trying to make sense of what just happened. Our sight falls onto the two hardy Americans staring morosely at their friends corpse.
"Cursed..." one of them mutters, his voice coarse and endearing. "Cursed..."
I swallow, unable to even contemplate what he is feeling.
Evelyn is shaking. Her face peering up at mine in shock. The look on her face when it turned to her; the manifestation of absolute detest playing on her features was painfully clear to all in the room.
"C'mon." I say, leading her out of the room and away from the scene. Jonathan follows us and we find ourselves at Evelyns quarters.
"What the hell was that?" I ask, leaning against the door frame, rubbing my sore back and testing out my ribs. I can feel the bruises coming up on my shoulders, it must show on my face as Evelyn keeps shooting me curious glances.
"That wasn't- wasn't right!" anounces Jonathan. "Did you see-" He continues, unable to finish. He is breathing hard and touching a bruise on his forehead as he sits in a chair.
"It seemed to know me." She shudders, sighing. "Then he thanked me for saving him from the undead."
"You should have stated that it was unintentional." Replies Jonathan, serious. "Would have nipped that unrequited adoring right in the bud."
I look at him in disbelief, before returning my attention to a pacing Evelyn. "Any ideas?" I ask her, wondering where the hell this creature has gone next and why. As long as it stays away from our little party then I don't mind what it decides to do or who it decides to do it to. I sure as hell ain't gonna be lettin' some three-thousand dead guy pursue Evelyn.
"I suppose the curator might know?" She looks questioningly at her brother.
He shrugs. "Maybe. But the idiot did burn the map Evie. Best not to trust the blighter entirely if you get my drift."
"Don't tell him them!" I retort.
"And if we don't-?" She tells me gently, letting me imagine the consequences. "He'll know soon enough; it's hardly going to be kept quiet that a corpse is sucking the life out of people, is it?"
I nod at her blunt way of putting it, agreeing. "If you say so."
She gives me a small smile, but I can't help but notice that she doesn't seem her normal self, I mean, after all that who would? Apart from her brother, that is. Goddamn chipper.
She keeps looking at me; one arm wrapped around herself, the other raised to her mouth as she bites at her fingernails. "Are you hurt O'Connell?" She asks me, forcibly using my surname.
"Fine." I shrug off, ignoring the ache in my shoulders. She raises an eyebrow.
"Why don't you two go and check on the Americans, hmm?" At our shared expression she sighs melodramatically and states- "I just going to telephone Dr. Bay, is that okay? Or do you want me to stay locked in my room?"
"I-" I begin, ignoring her sarcasm.
"Don't get any ideas." She tells me, before I tell her that's exactly what I thought we should do. Just to be on the safe side.
Jonathan nods, gets up from the chair whilst hamming-up his bruise for all it's worth. I go to follow him out of the door when I feel a small hand on my arm.
"Are you sure you're alright?" The female voice questions once her brother is out of earshot. She is peering up at me. I point to one of my shoulders, aware of how close she is standing to me.
"Just a lil' bruising that's all." I smile. "I'll live."
She gives me a small smile, and lets her eyes linger on me for a second longer than I can handle. I kiss her, it's only a soft kiss but I still wince when her hands find my shoulders. She pulls back.
"Sorry." She whispers, apologetically but still holding onto my arms. "Now go on, go and make sure that Mister Daniels and Mister Henderson are safe."
I nod, and leave, hoping against hope that the Curator can help us stop this thing.
Seeing my trusty bullets be repelled certainly didn't give me anything to have faith in, neither did the interest it seemed to be showing in the female member of the party.