Thanks for all the reviews! I know it has been a while (prior commitments and fic-re-sorting, me and my excuses!) All the new readers- thank you for showing an interest! All the long time readers- thank you for continuing to show an interest in this and to those who read it and don't review it (c'mon, there must be a few! ;) thanks to you as well, you must be out there somewhere, reading...not clicking the review button hehe
I am extremely pleased with my review count...it is my highest yet and for that I thank you all earnestly :D
A/N Not to be showing off my other fics or anything, but I am re-writing Braving Everything... Typing up the sequel to Diagnosed but Not Deterred and starting up a new project, actually:)
Now all of you, lean back in your plush officey computer chairs and enjoy :)
Chapter 11
I promptly ring the Curator of the Cairo Museum of Antiquities, (my former place of work. I still can't believe an accident like that could result in my sacking!)
Unexpectedly, a wave of exhaustion washes over me. The past few days and their events are beginning to take their toll on me and I can hardly concentrate on the dialtone.
"Yes?"
I divulge unto him select details on the current happenings, and although concealing something, he gives me an appointment at once.
I can't help but note the surprise in his voice when I told him it was 'Miss Carnahan.'
Hmmm...
Besides, I could hardly hide my surprise if I was told something like that- especially over the phone. There is no other way, unless all five of us arrive on the museums doorstep with our ramblings...
I tap the wooden table absent-mindedly after I replace the receiver. Suddenly, it feels all too awful to be left alone.
Uneasy doesn't cover it.
I get up, draw the curtains and lock the door. I nod-that should do it.
For heaven's sake! I can't be getting myself all worked up just because I am a woman and alone.
Alone.
Alone! What am I talking about? O'Connell and Jon are in the room down the corridoor. I don't think, for some reason, that the two Americans would like me there after what just happened to their friend.
Poor Mister Burns...
At least he's in a better place now.
I swallow and brush down my skirt. There isn't anything to do...
I am tired of waiting, and as I open one of my books- my fathers- I casually flip through the yellowing pages.
Casually twisting to urgency when my eyes flicker upon the word "Amun-Ra"
-But it is just a sidenote from my father. He was always jotting down in his books...
I try not to think of what happened twenty-minutes ago- it makes it all seem to real.
I jump when I hear the doorknob rattle, and annoyed voices exclaim-
"Evie! For Christ's sake open the bloody door!"
"Evelyn? Are you alright?"
I rush to the door and unlock it with the brass key. I'm met with two stern faces.
"Why'd you lock the damn door? What if you needed us-"
"I'm fine. I was just-"
"Unnerved?" supplied Jon, raising an eyebrow.
I bite my lip. "Hmm. Quite. I rang the curator and we can go and see him right away."
"Best get to it then old girl."
"Are the American's alright?" I ask as my brother leads me out of my room, and O'Connell slams the door behind us all.
"As fine as they could be. Shall I go get them?" Asks Rick, looking drained. I nod.
Jonathan pats my arm. "There there Evie, don't worry about them. Are you alright?"
"Don't be a prat."
"Eh! I'm concerned about you. Huh. I won't bother next time-" I smile at him, letting him know that I am sorry for snapping at him.
"Have you got the car?"
"I'll get it in a second." He nods.
"D'you remember where you parked that wretched thing?"
He makes a noise and I choose to ignore it. We reach the outside of the Fort, and I wait while my brother dashes around a corner to get the car, wherever it may be.
The smell of booze is overwhelming- and camels. The Fort is the best in Cairo, but the streets surrounding it leave a lot to be desired. I look down at the straw and sand covered pavement, and pull a face when I see something that looks omniously like blood...
"Hey! Where's Jonathan?" I turn around as O'Connell approaches, nodding to the guards.
"He's gone to get the car. And the Americans?" I reply, avoiding the busy street as we cross the road.
"Following me out." He informs, hands in his chino pockets.
We stand there, mute for a while. Eventually I turn to him-
"Rick, I'm not sure if this is going to work."
She looks scared; her eyes are dark and her brow is furrowed. In my head I have all these things that I can tell her, advice and support- I can be strong for her but only so much. If that thing is after her then I'll blast it to kingdom come, but if she can't emotionally handle this- like some soldiers I've fought with- then you're as good as dead.
"What isn't?" I question, steadily.
"The Curator. He seems-suspicious." She tells me cautiously. "He sounded too surprised when it was me on the phone. And he did burn your map-"
I noticed how she called the map mine. That was sweet, I mean, her brother stole it from me so it should make it theirs. Finders-keepers and all that stuff.
"So I'm not entirely sure that he can be trusted." She finishes, blinking up at me.
"Maybe so. Looks like we're gonna have to though, just for now." I turn away from her when her brother pulls up in a dirty yellow car.
"Nice ride." I reply sarcastically.
"Isn't she?" he replies, obliviously dragging the gear stick. "Come on then Evie, we haven't got all day."
She gives me one last glance before she slides into the car gracefully next to her brother.
Out of the Fort finally stride the two Americans- no longer cocky or over-confident; they both look like spooked schoolboys.
Everyones' faces are grim, and who can blame us all?
"O'Connell." acknowledges Henderson, looking my way. Daniels just looks.
"We're going for a little trip. The museum." I tell them, trying to lighten the mood.
They clambour into the back of the Dusenberg without comment, seemingly shellshocked, and I climb in next to Evelyn. It's a squash,(I ain't complainin') but it'll do for now.
She looks at me anxiously, and I smile. "It'll be fine. He knows what he's on about, right?"
With a small smile back, she whispers to her brother as he pulls out, and we're all on our way to someone who can hopefully help us.
"I think it is about time that this creature is stopped. Clearly the Medjai cannot control it, so it's down to us." She tells me firmly, almost offhandedly. Her eyes lock with mine like she's seeking my approval or me to say that I'm going to help her. Everytime I doubt her, everytime I misjudge her she does something to prove the contrary. "These Medjai...I haven't read that much on them but they should be able to stop it."
Just what I was thinking. "I wonder why they can't?"
"He seems to be regenerating too quickly. You saw his musculature rebuild itself...Besides, I don't think they thought ahead that he might be awoken." She informs me. I watch her, biting her lip as she thinks about this problem. Soon she is mumbling to herself, and her brother takes his attention off the road- momentarily taking his hand off the horn.
"I say, what's all this about?"
Tourists and Egyptians are all mulling around the market place. Our path is blocked. Its usually busy, but not like this. Just what we need. I inwardly sigh.
"Take a right here Jonathan. Then go straight on to the museum." Orders Evelyn, not missing a beat inbetween her mumblings.
"Hey, why the hell are we going to the museum?" yells Daniels, ignorant to my comments earlier.
"We're getting help." I tell him, nicely enough.
"If that bastard wants her, then give her to it!" He barks, gesturing at Evelyn.
"HEY!" I spin around.
At Mister Daniels' comment, Rick's jaw firms and he spins around to face the outspoken American. I can't say that I blame him for the comment- the Mummy does seem interested in me...but whatever for?
"HEY! You come out with one more dumbass suggestion or wisecrack, buck, and I'll personally serve you to him, got that?"
Rick's eyes are glazed over but Daniels seems undeterred. "Yeah? She started all this!"
"You opened the chest!" I reply, incredulously, turning back.
"You cheeky little blighter! Don't you dare accuse my sister-" quips Jonathan, dangerously taking his attention off the road, with one arm on the seat to face the hardfaced American.
"Stop it! Stop it you idiots!" thunders Henderson, his face grey. "It's done now. Accept it." He sighs, leaning back in the seat. "We're here O'Connell." He gestures lazily with his hand.
Rick climbs out, helping me next before gently pulling Mister Henderson aside by one of his green suspenders.
"Keep him in check, yeah?" He tells him, thinking that I can't hear his threats towards Daniels. "You'll hold back for your pal, but I won't."
He follows me in through the great wooden doors of my former workplace, and any chatter dwindles as our feet echo off the cleaned marble floor. I lead them past dead Pharaohs and their treasures, like a tour guide, making sure that I hurry past the library, and as we near the Curators office I hear low indecipherable voices. I exchange worried glances with O'Connell, and he has his hand ready on his revolver. In the pit of my stomach, I can feel something...there is going to be a shock and I don't like the idea of that...
"Anything he might want in here that you didn't tell us about?" He seriously asks me, referring to the mummy.
"Don't be ridiculous." I scold, hoping beyond hope that it doesn't.
We pass through the archway to the main display room, and all stop when two figures are standing amongst the displays.
I knew it!
As the flaming torches dance up the walls, a smell of age and death carries itself around the large room. Suddenly the treasures inside seem daunting, as do the tall figures before us.
"YOU!" Echo the voices of the people behind me.
A tall handsome man turns to face us, his face turns and his black cloak billows...
A Medjai...
And the curator next to him, in his fez, smiles at me unkindly. "Miss Carnahan."
I notice the revolvers in all the mens hands- a derringer in my brothers- and swallow when I see the focused faces and their aims.
"What are you doing here?" I direct at the mysterious man.
"Would you like to know, or would these gentlemen prefer to just shoot us?" glowers the Curator.
After much dilly-dallying, exchanged words and the like, we find ourselves sitting amongst the display (hardly professional on the Curators part, in my opinion).
I'm lost among my own theories, until I hear-
"After what I just saw, I'm prepared to go on a little faith here." retorts Rick brashly, holstering his weapons.
I digress for the foremost part- I've figured all that out already- but my blood runs cold when I am informed that I am its chosen sacrifice.
After a little 'chat' with the curator and his buddy, we head back to the Fort.
"I don't see how that helped us." I tell anyone listening as we pace up the stairs.
"Excuse me?" She demands. "At least we know why he wants me." Her face flushes red and her eyes are wide. "Not helpful at all to know that, is it?" She mumbles, walking away.
"Ignore her. Sometimes, as my dear sister will learn, it just doesn't pay to be popular." I glower at Jonathan and follow him into his sisters suite.
"Who opened that chest?" She demands, pacing around the table that we have all gathered around.
It would look better as a poker party, rather than the gathering of the scared witless.
"Well, there was me, and Daniels here...Burns...The Egyptologist fella-"
"What about my lil' buddy Beni?" I add.
"Naw, smart bastard ran outta there before we opened the damn thang."
"Figures." I breathe, knowing painfully what Beni is like.
"We all need to stay in the safety of the Fort...All together-"
She explains further, and I stop my thoughts. She's right. "Right. You two, come with me. Jonathan, stay here and protect your sister."
The outcry is deafening. Evelyns appalled stance, Hendersons retreating and surrendering gestures, Jonathan sipping from a hip flask and Daniels snorting and cursing.
"To hell with that!"
"I'm not leaving this fort!"
"You can't leave me behind like-"
For Christ sake!
How dare he tell me what to do! I am not going to stay here just because he thinks I should. I may be a woman, but that doesn't mean I am incapable of doing most things.
I make my way around the table (dead set on giving him a piece of my mind) and let out a startled cry when O'Connell advances towards me.
Oh.I know that look, and I don't like it one little-
"O'CONNELL!"
He tosses me over his broad shoulde, kicks open my door and carries me into my bedroom.
I can feel myself flushing with embarrassment, and the last thing I saw before facing Rick was Jonathan peering around, to see what was happening, with his hip flask to his lips.
I stare defiantely at O'Connells chest. The impertinent cad!
He drops me onto the bed, and for a fraction of a second his eyes linger on mine. "Stay here Evelyn."
There is a distinct air of an order in his tone. I don't like it. I feel compelled to do as he says, but logically I know that I do not have to take orders from him.
"No-" I begin, stubbornly.
"You'll be safe. Please."
I look at his taught face, his pained expression. His voice is softer now and I know that he means well; he is just responding to the situation in the way he knows best. I suppose he did ask nicely enough, if I selectively forget they way he forced me in here...
Before he acts on something I can see in his eyes, before he breaks our invisible embrace, he turns around and goes to leave.
A sudden change of heart overfalls me, and I don't want to leave his side. I dart from the bed and storm over to the doors.
"O'CONNELL!"
But he has already slammed the doors shut.
Click.
-and locked them.
I bang angrily on the wood, trying to fight back the tears.
"O'CONNELL! YOU ARE NOT LEAVING ME IN HERE! O'CONNELL!" I take a breath. "JONATHAN!"
The utter desperation in my voice is being covered by defiance. It doesn't work.
I hear voices, and then there is silence. "MISTER HENDERSON!"
"Sorry Miss, you heard the man."
"Do you always take orders from men bigger than you?" I taunt, even though I know better than to.
"Right now? Yeah."
I have enough common sense to know that I shan't be asking Mister Daniels for help. Admitting defeat, I cross my arms across my chest and turn my back against the door.
Me being stuck here is more than I can bear. Having seen the way he stared at me before he left- longing to identify that emotion in his eyes...
I look at my attire, and decide that when we have to leave, or whatever is next in store for us all, that it would be smashing to be in better clothes.
I pull at my skirt, and know the perfect thing. I yawn, sleep catching up on me, and take out of my wardrobe a black lace trimmed dress with a dark wrap. It is more like a housecoat really, but it can be worn outside.
Comfortable enough to sleep in, and practical enough to rise in.
I relax as the soft material brushes my skin, and allow myself to get some rest atop my covers.
I didn't want to leave Evelyn but it was the safest option. The fort is safe, so she will be and it'll be one less thing on my mind.
Evelyn will hate me for it, but I'd rather hate me whilst she was alive, rather than holding a grudge dead, if ya get my drift.
Me and her brother head out of the fort in silence- uncharacteristic for him in my opinion. I haven't seen him shut his mouth yet.
"Right. So where are we going again old boy?"
I spoke too soon.
"To find the Egyptologist." I growl, keeping a steady pace.
"Want me to get the car?"
"It's just around the corner."
"Oh"
We reach some darkened streets- the rough part of town. Drunken slurs and yells are evident to our ears, as are the rustling of rats.
Jonathan shudders melodramatically.
I shoot him a glare.
I stop at the address I was told by Henderson, and kick open the darkened door. There is a distinct smell...you can probably guess what it was. Perhaps they don't take to using bathrooms that often?
"What's that wealthy blighter doing living around this neck of the woods?" comments Jonathan.
I shrug, thinking the exact same thing. We walk up the stairs, passing through a sort of reception area as we do so; wicker chairs that have seen better days are straining over their own weight, as they stand covered in shadows by the far fall.
I instantly know who's door belongs to the Egyptologist. It's slightly ajar, and as I beckon Jonathan in after me-
The little bastard!
I grit my teeth upon the messy sight of papers, pictures and personal items.
"Lemme guess- spring cleaning?"