Right, this hasn't been updated since 2005! But I'm back, albeit poorly. I know this chapter doesn't hold up with the rest but I promise I shall rewrite anything that doesn't meet the par. I'm getting back into the swing of things, I hope you enjoy!
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I force myself to take strong, proud steps behind Imhotep. My face stings with both shame and discomfort, yet I hold my chin high in an attempt to prove something.
What am I trying to prove exactly?
That I'm not going to die without grace?
That I am a failure?
"I think you're a coward." I hear from somewhere. "I distraught coward who couldn't accept that he was wrong, and instead launched a vendetta-!"
"SILENCE!" roars Imhotep, and with startling clarity I realise that it was me speaking. "You know nothing bar what your books teach you woman. Now, you shall refrain from making any noise until we reach the city."
The walk is long and tiresome- I cannot repress the feeling that something is following us, even in the midst of everything. We're following something that poses a far more greater threat than any jackal or sand dweller could inflict.
And I'm numb.
It's hard to describe, it's not a physical numbness though one could imagine there to be some discomfort after being hurtled through conjured sandstorms- no, this is a mental numbness unlike anything I have ever experienced. I'm sure Jonathan is prone to these boughts but I am not accustomed to them.
And in a fleeting second, my strength is succumbing to an emotion I never thought I would let myself fall to.
Eerily, Imhotep turns to face me and he pushes open a concealed door, allowing the darkness within to pour out into the midday sun.
I force myself to take a deep, lasting breath.
This could be the last time I ever see sunlight, feel the wind on my face…
I'm petrified.
My head feels heavy- like I've been spat out of a bar for hitting on the barmans daughter again.
Not a good feeling to have, I can tell ya.
I heave myself out of the plane, every muscle in my torso screaming for a rest.
We musta hit the sand pretty hard.
I brush the sand out of my eyes and off my shirt, surveying the area around me.
We aren't far by any means, but we're going to be hard pressed for time…
"Jonathan, Ardeth- let's get a move on!"
I watch as Ardeth staggers around, clearly not used to air travel or the, uh, bumpy means of stopping. He grabs the machine gun from it stand and pries it free. I smile.
Jonathan is taking his time…but then again in this short space of time and mess and havoc, I'm getting used to his avoidance.
"Do you want to save your sister or not Jonathan! Get a move on!" I mutter, making my way around the wreckage for anything I can salvage.
"I could use some help if it's not too much BLOODY TROUBLE!"
"Yeah yeah."
I pull him down, ragging the ropes free. Deliberately not steadying him, he lands on his ass and I have to fight back a grin.
I notice there is blood and rope burns through his shirt.
Shit. Evelyn will kill me for that.
"Hey Winston! Winston?"
He talks a dime to the dozen…
Shit no.
I've known him for so long, he's like a father figure to me. He was one of the first people I met out of the orphanages, he took me into the Suk and gave me a meal. He's the only steady person I've known that I can rely on. Fairplay, he was overweight and went on about his majestys royal air call far too much to handle in one sitting, but he's Winston. Famous around the bars for being the first person in and the last person out.
I reach out, dreading what I'm going to feel against his neck.
Nothing.
I close my eyes for a second, forcing the ache in my stomach to go. Not now. I can't deal with this now. He knew what he was getting into.
"Is he…?" stammers Jonathan, edging up behind me and breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Yes." I spit.
I hear an almighty lurch as the sand moves, and I feel that beneath my feet start to slide. I two step backwards, not once taking my eyes off the cockpit.
"It's quicksand! Get back!" hollers Ardeth, pulling my arm.
I watch as the plane and Winston are consumed. I shrug the medjais arm away and grit my teeth.
He got his wish, he's with his men. All I can do is hope we don't meet the same fate as I salute him, my head racing.