This chapter is in sole dedication to SilentTrainConductor. You are absolutely fabulous and always help out :) Btw, I simply adore the banner hugs
And all the other reviewers, merci beaucoup!
disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own anything in connection with The Mummy or its characters. They remain the sole property of Stephen Sommers and Univeral Studios.
Chapter 12
In the midst of shadows and destruction, I can still make out the office and its one inhabitant.
His eyes slit as he see's me, before darting away from the door and the general direction that I'm in. I grab the nearest wicker chair casually, surprised at its weight in my hands, and launch it at his spineless back. The stupid little shit. For someone friendless, he sure does get in with the wrong crowd.
I hurl it with everything I've got and feel a swarm of satistfaction when it smashes into him.
"I say, good shot O'Connell." comments Jonathan as it connects with Beni's back, sending him sprawled out across the floor and emmiting a small yelp.
"Aww, did you fall down Beni? Lemme help you up" I feign concern as I grab him by the shoulders and slam him into a bookshelf. "You came back from the desert with a new friend, didn't you Beni?" I sneer, punctuating each word with a shake and the occasional push into the wood for good measure.
"Friend? What friend? You are my only friend..." He bleats, pain passing across his face in waves. If I didn't know him and his tendancies, then this is where I might have felt guilty for pushing him around.
But the fact is, I do know Beni, and I know that he deserves everything that decides to block his lying little path.
I growl, and drag him across the room into the opposite bookshelves. "What're you doing with this freak, huh Beni?" I demand. "What's in it for you?" I ask in a suspecting and patronising tone.
There is a glint in his eye that I know. Selfish isn't in it...
"It is better to stand at the devils right hand, than to be in his path. As long as I serve him, I am immune!" He informs me, so close that I can smell what he had for lunch. His sly eyes trace my face. Pure fear registers on his rat-like features and I know that he's afraid of his 'master'.
"Immune from what?" I demand, losing my patience.
He mutters some damn foreign phrase. Probably something Hungarian for all I care.
"What? WHAT DID YOU SAY?" I yell, shaking him.
"I don't want to tell you. You just hurt me some more-" He replies, sarcastically.
Right, so that's how it's gonna be is it? I stare him out whilst dragging him into the middle of the room. Right under the ceiling fan.
"Tell me what you're looking for" I raise him by his collar until one of his hairs catch the blades. "and try not to lie to me."
His eyes look upwards, towards certain carnage, and blinking frantically he bleats in his annoying accent-
"The book, that black book...The Egyptologist has it, Imhotep wants it. He said it would be worth it's weight in gold!"
"What does he want the Black book for?" cuts Jonathan, taking over the interogation, as I'm using up most of my strength keeping the weasel up. I can feel my muscles burning.
"Oh I don't know" He shakes his head pleadingly.
Yes you damn well do! I shake him, jaw firm, lifting him higher until I'm sure all he can hear is the enticing 'whipping' sound as the blades catch the air. And with any luck, him.
"Something about bringing his dead girlfriend back to life but thats all I know, that's all he wants I swear..." He looks at me earnestly, and I lower him. Something isn't quite right, not fitting into place...
"That, and your sister but that's all-" He decides to add. Decided to drop that little bombshell a lil' late, didn't he? I glare at him, lifting him higher again, prepared to do the worst.
Evelyn. Imhotep really does need Evelyn...
A terrified scream pierces the air, and I've heard quite a few these past few days I can tell you.
My attention is diverted to the window momentarily, and the little shit knees me in the groin.
I double over in pain, just in time to see him bail, throwing himself out of the window and to blissful freedom.
My slumber is light, but deep in the way that it draws me in...
The moment that my eyes fell closed, the moment my head hit the pillow and was cushioned against my hair... I was dead to the world.
Oooh, maybe not the best choice of words there Evelyn.
My room seemed unlike my own. It was most unequivocaly my room, but it just didn't feel like my room on this particulat day.
Strange.
I knew that I couldn't sleep for long; O'Connell and Jon would be back soon, and besides, I needed to be able to respond to whatever threw itself infront of us.
It was an unusal feeling, to suddenly become so reliant on someone else. Whenever O'Connell was around I knew that he would do everything in his power to protect me- and Jonathan.
Or was that being pompous presumtous?
No. If he didn't think like that then he surely wouldn't have saved you first on the barge, would he?
I remember back.
The gunfire. The yells. The chaos.
It was terrifying.
Not as terrifying as what we are bearing witness to now...
What I was living in the day was a nightmare, so I never expected my dreams, my place of sanctuary, to follow the same course.
I am standing in the desert, wind caressing my hair and dress, and then Rick is beside me, clutching at my hand, dragging me away... so real, so there...
A flurry of emotions catch in my chest, and however desperate I am to flee I want to stay, to have Rick there holding me...
And then the hand I am holding is rotten, decayed, and Rick with a menacing look in his eyes is eagerly following me, the embodiment of pure evil...
I gasp and try to make sense of it, my mind reeling...
Confused, petrified...
Then O'Connell is there, himself, the gentle man I have come to know. He smiles, comforts me and goes to kiss me...
Everything I need and have come to expect are reflected in his eyes. I need not fear the creature when he is here, for he wouldn't let any harm befall me...
I accept this embrace, the safety in his strong arms.
I smile at him, but instead of his debonair grin his features contort into a cold, hard stare. His stance is full of iniquity. A vindictive leer crawls across his face, scarring his once handsome features and sending a shudder throughout me.
All at once I am beset with suffocating dread. This is no longer the O'Connell I know, Rick...
Caught against him, his arms are locked around me and I cannot move, no matter how hard I try.
With unyielding force his fingertips bury themselves into my arms. I wince as his grip on me tightens considerably.
I frantically search his eyes, his face, for some recognition. Some sign that he doesn't want to hurt me...or even kill me...
I choke when all I can see in his once pale blue eyes is merciless,heinous, intent.
He has caught up with me.
I have nowhere to escape to.
Nowhere to flee.
With a sickening smile kisses me, his lips are decaying and the embrace is rough.
I grimace at his touch and pull away.
His fingertips pierce my waist as he pulls me towards him...
"O'Connell...no...you wouldn't take me away...Rick..."
My mind screams in disbelief as I feel myself being led away by this evil man...
I open my eyes sharply, only to be facing a distraught face leering back at me, full of lust.
My eyebrows climb my face as I realise urgently that this thing is kissing me...
"Mmmmmmm!" I shriek, only for my scream to be muffled by its rapidly decaying mouth.
Decay is seeping into my mouth so much that I can just begin to taste it on my lips.
At that one moment, the moment that lasted a lifetime all that existed were him and me. His hungry, lustful stare. A stare that never wanders from my eyes.
"Oooh! I say, that was rather below the belt." comments Jonathan dryly.
Trying to ignore the pain, no scratch that the agony that I was experiencing, I stagger over to the window and look out.
Below the office are a mass of locals watching eagerly but with tainted anticipation some kind of scene before them.
A figure in black bends down, halts, and then, almost sensing our gaze turns unhurriedly to look up at us.
"Eurgh." comments Jonathan at the state of 'his' face.
I think a few words of my own, and look at it in digust. A kind of smile plays on its lips, and then the un-do-able is done.
The decayed jaw unhingeses itself, and whilst emmiting a primordial shriek also gives us a little gift of flies.
"What the-" I slam the shutters shut.
"That's another plague. And another one of them gone..."
"Next he'll be coming after Evie!" exclaims Jonathan, a crease forming on his brow.
As we rush out of the office and the old building, all I can feel running through my mind is utter confusion, determination and destruction.
Evie.
He wants Evie.
And I didn't bring her with us, goddamnit! I left her with them cowboys!
I frantically push at him, my hands slipping past robes and against flesh- momentarily flesh. Instantly, like some kind of disease, rot spreads across him- decomposing at my touch as though it were I that was the plague.
He moves away, appearingly startled by something. Or someone.
In the doorway is O'Connell and my darling brother.
"HEY! GET YOUR UGLY FACE OFFA HER!"
I give them a startled glance, and their arrival gives me just enough time to scramble past the creature and duck behind my bed.
Breathing heavily and thoroughly sickened I clutch at the sheets. I can hear a flurry of noises, and I daringly peep over the mattress.
Spinning in a way that could be likened to a cyclone, the mummy is no longer standing before us-
he is gathering himself and sand particles and emptying out of the window with raging force.
I let out a short cry, and retreat when I feel coarse sand stinging my face.
My books' pages stop flapping as though a spectre was turning the pages when the gust stops.
I peer tentatively over the bed, blowing upwards and ruffling my fringe. I think I can be quite accurate in guessing that I have a bemused, almost timorous expression across my face.
"You alright?" nods O'Connell, face vacant.
"I'm not sure..." answers Jonathan, easing his chest as though settling a heart attack.
Rick slowly turns, giving him an why-the-hell-are-you-answering-me? look, screwing up his face. Jon, being thick skinned, is oblivious.
I slowly stand up, I'm uneasy on my feet I find myself trembling. Rick comes over to me, raising an eyebrow. He looks behind him and once certain that Jonathan isn't paying attention he gathers me close.
"I'm okay." I stammer, pulling back from him to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
I'm obviously not, considering my state.
Rick choses a rather vulgar term to call the creature, and I feel a flush upon my cheeks. He rubs my back with a softness that I didn't think his coarse hands could acquire.
My insides are churning, and I feel physically sick. Just the thought of his digusting lips on mine is enough to make me gag.
I force myself to take a deep breath.
I meet Rick's eyes. "Um...er..."
"It's okay." He whispers, just as Jonathan pipes up.
"For God's sake Evie, he does seem keen doesn't he?"
I didn't know who he was refering to, O'Connell or the creature, so I merely raised my eyebrows, still dazed and confused. I can feel Cleo brushing against my legs.
"I don't like that blighter one little bit." He observed.
"And you think she did?" questioned Rick rhetorically. I look down at the floor, revolted and sickened.
It kissed me!
That slimy, bandaged, son-of-a-bitch kissed her! The sight of him leaning over her... Like he owned her, like he knew her...
It made me wanna smash its face in!
As for Evelyn, she was scared senseless. Scrambling away as fast as she could.
And her cat! Didn't think he'd be scared of a little bitty cat, but there ya go. The curator was right.
Jonathan may as well have been an ornament.
I didn't tell Evelyn about Henderson. There wasn't time. Obviously.
Damn it! She was gunna see him- well what was left of him -when we left her room.
Shit.
"Er, Jonathan..." I opened my eyes meaningfully, but she had already removed herself from my embrace and was heading for the door.
Slow on the uptake, he finally got my looks after many exchanged and confused glances. "Oh. Oh! Evie-" Too late to step infront of her, but not to see her and hear her reaction.
"AHHHH!" The scream soons slows to a steady intake of breath, interupted by a long gasp. "Oh-my-God."
Biting my lip, I walk to her side.
"Yeah. He got him." I tell her slowly. "And Evelyn, according to Beni, he's coming..."
"Yes, he's um..."
Neither of us can tell her. I'm too spineless. I just look at her. She slowly turns to face me, as if only just acknowledging that I've spoken.
"He's after me." She whispers gravely. "Only one more left. I take it he got to the Egyptologist?"
I nod, shamefaced. "We couldn't get to him in time..."
"But don't worry old girl, we'll sort it out before he needs you. I promise." Nods Jonathan, looking pleadingly at me.
"Yes. Evelyn, I swear to you that we're going to keep you safe. Do you have any ideas of what we can do to stop this thing?" I hold onto her arms, making her face me.
She won't look up. Her face is drained of all colour, and she is coldice cold.
At that moment, Daniels walks in.
A smash is eminent throughout the room as he drops two bottles. "Christ, I'm next!" He yells, staring at his friends withered corpse. His eyes are bloodshot with fear as he slowly looks up at us.
His face hardens. "You lyin' son-of-a-bitch! Like hell did you help us-"
"We were getting the Egyptologist!" retorts Jonathan as I stand in front of Evelyn's frail frame.
"Stay in the Fort you said, it's safe in the Fort. Some frickin' use that was!"
"Hang on, you chose to leave your friend for some goddamn Bourbon!" I shout, clenching my fists.
"You told us to watch the girl. If you weren't so hung up on protecting her then maybe Henderson'd still be alive!"
"He's right." mumbles Evelyn. "I've caused all this." And she tries to run past us and out of the door.
"Evie!" yells Jonathan, making moves to go after her.
"Well done, Jackass!" I scream at Daniels. "Sure as shit you're next! And if that bandaged bastard doesn't get to you, then I goddamn will." I threaten as I tear after her.
If Rick hadn't told the Americans to watch over me, then in a bid to get to me the Mummy might've spared his life...
Tears are pouring down my face, but they are feeble careless tears. I don't try to mop myself because there is no need to.
Those wiped away will only be replaced by fresh sorrow.
I have unleashed a plague upon this world.
Yet my brother still loves me. I reckon that in a drunken stupor he'd find this rather amusing.
An adventure of sorts.
Hmph.
And as for Rick...well he does not blame me, though he has every right to.
I find myself lost in the corridors of the fort, and bury my face in my hands.
"Evelyn." I feel him touch my shoulders.
"Oh Rick, what am I going to do?" I mumble through the sobs. I usually have all the answers. Why not now?
I hear more footsteps, and after having made certain that O'Connell hasn't moved, I realise that the extra steps belong to my brother.
"Don't be sniffling Evie." He tells me gently, not intruding O'Connells comforting.
"Listen. Evelyn, I know you're not up to thinking right now or up to trying to make sense of the impossible, but for our sake, please try and think of a way to stop this thing."
I look up at him, my eyes sore. What he's really saying is much left comforting than what I need him to say.
Evelyn, if you don't know how to stop this creature then we're doomed. I can defend our little party but...but...
"You're the intellectual." He grins, trying to soften the atmosphere. I know what he really means, I can see it in his eyes. When I don't respond, he asks- "Do you have any ideas of what we can do to stop this thing?"
His voice is soft, but there is a definate urgency to his voice that cannot be denied. "I, um..."
The book...that damned book...
I have caused the most irrevocable happening. The unchangable. The unsolvable.
All because of The Book of the Dead.
Wait, maybe, just maybe...my father's book. The book I originally sought...
The Book of Amun-Ra.
The Book that holds power over the living, the scriptures that contain the power to determine life and mortality.
If the book of the dead gives life, then it should stand to reason that Book of the Living takes life away.
Why else would the Ancients devise two books, rather than just one?
To have one book would be inconsistent with myth and lore.
There might even be a third book. The Book of Thoth. The stories about that book are on par with that of the Book of The Dead...
"There might be a way." I suddenly say, and Rick's face is awash with hope. "The Museum, there's a display-"
"C'mon!"
And he grabs my hand and we tear off, to Jonathan's convertable seeking aid in the form of an inscribed rock.
I hope I'm right.
For God's sake, please let me be right...