Chapter 9
For the first time since their sessions had begun, McKenzie felt like she'd accomplished something, like she was- well, not miserable. Ahkmenrah had been remarkably understanding about her brief mental breakdown, but she hoped she wouldn't fall apart before him again. He was the patient, after all. Friend. He's my friend now, she reminded herself as she skipped through New York's lamplit streets. As typically follows a good cry, she experienced an exhausted euphoria, relieved to have all that out of her system. Ahkmenrah would make a decent psychologist, she smiled. He certainly helped me. Now to face her wreck of an apartment...
She didn't see the shadow twisting around an ally corner. She failed to feel his eyes tracking her course as she skipped merrily along. So it was nothing to her when he merged backwards into the shadows.
For the first time since making her acquaintance, Ahkmenrah was disappointed to watch McKenzie leave. The argument was worth it if he'd been able to provide to comfort for her. if it really helped, it was worth one argument. If he'd known she lacked confidence in her skills, he'd have reassured her immediately- no one deserves to feel worthless. Hopefully things would be better from now on. He wasn't sure yet how strongly he wanted her as a friend, but he definitely didn't want her as an enemy.
"Tonight was- quieter than usual," the president ventured cautiously. During his rare eves-dropping sessions, he'd heard those two bickering to the point where he'd been tempted to intervene. This was the first time they'd actually listened to each other.
"Yes," was all Ahkmenrah could say. He was too busy mulling over everything to attempt analyzing things further.
"How are things progressing? Has she helped you at all?"
"Truthfully, Teddy, I do not know. It is too early to tell. I do believe she needs a friend, as do I. Perhaps we can help each other." He certainly hoped so.
"I know these sessions are supposed to be confidential, but should you ever feel the need, remember you can always come to me for anything. That will always stand."
Ahkmenrah smiled and clamped his hand on Teddy's shoulder. "I will never forget it. Never." Not after all the man had done for him, how he'd saved him. Seemingly satisfied with that, Teddy rose to leave, then turned to him one last time. "Err, I don't know if you consider yourself too old for such presents, but I snatched this from the gift shop, and..." He sheepishly handed Ahkmenrah a stuffed black-and-white kitten with clue eyes. "Perhaps it will help keep the nightmares at bay."
It took every ounce of control Ahk possessed not to squeal in delight- the stuffed toy looked so similar to his little kitten, who he'd ultimately gifted to Nicky a couple of months ago. He all but crushed it to his chest as he sighed contentedly. Teddy cleared his throat shyly. "I know it cannot replace Amir, but I hope... Somehow..."
Ahkmenrah embraced Teddy with a strength he didn't know he still had. "I will always treasure this!"
For the first time, Teddy was speechless. After he awkwardly patted his back a couple of times, he gently pried the younger man off of himself. "There there, now. It's almost sunrise." The last thing he ever wanted to see would be the pharaoh as a dried-out husk of a human- he was too alive for him now to bear such a sight. Ahkmenrah settled down, for the first time actually hoping for a peaceful sleep.
Naturally, his wish was not granted.
"Welcome, fellow," the stranger said as he held out his hand. Puzzling over the weird words, Ahkmenrah recognized the gesture as a helpful one, so he gingerly accepted the offered hand and stepped out as gracefully as he could- a difficult feat with yellowed, stiff bandages. The man appraised him with a critical eye, making him feel surprisingly self conscious. Who was this man? A pharaoh must not show discomfort, so he introduced himself as calmly as he could. Though he knew he'd kept the tremor out of his tone, his introduction only seemed to prolong the moment's awkwardness- the stranger merely tilted his head at him in confusion. This was not going very well. Questions threatened to buzz out his mind and onto his tongue, but he restrained them for a single reason: the person before him obviously didn't understand him. And he didn't speak his language, either. Discussion would do little here.
"I'm Dr. Fergus. Pleasure to meet you," the person smiled, extending his hand yet again. Ahkmenrah stared down suspiciously at the hand this time, unsure what was expected of him. Did the man think he needed more assistance? Maybe he was showing he was defenseless. Realization dawned in Dr. Fergus's eyes as he lowered his hand with a sigh. "Foolish me, of course you can't understand a word I'm saying, can you? You just got out of a box... Revived from Death... I'm Dr. Elliot Fergus," he continued in a tone one would use to address a toddler, pointing to himself. "Who are you?"
Eagerly, Ahkmenrah repeated the gesture and tone, introducing himself. Dr. Fergus chuckled. "Catch on quickly, eh? Come along then, Ahkmenrah." Without thinking, he reached toward the pharaoh as if to pull him along. Ahkmenrah flinched away reflexively- he still didn't know what this person wanted with him. Noticing his hesitation, Dr. Fergus held up both hands in mock surrender. "There now, I promise I don't bite. Well, not without reason," he joked, then sighed when Ahkmenrah didn't react. "Well, we can't exactly leave you here all night on your own now, can we? Unless of course you'd like to stay here in the dark, alone. The way I see it, you can either remain here and hope someone else friendly will come along- which I doubt, since I'm the only one working here tonight- or you can take a risk and follow me. Your decision. Oh, I hope you don't mind the dark- the power's out." With that, he turned his back on the king, picked up his lantern, and left.
Ahkmernah stood there in mild shock- he'd rarely been completely alone after he'd been crowned Ruler of Egypt. What was he supposed to do now? For the first time, he noticed the strangeness, the emptiness of the room he was in. The shadows were closing in on him! He still knew nothing about the stranger, but he could not remain here a moment longer. With no other alternative, he rushed after the only person who could provide answers.
A pharaoh is supposed to be prepared for every contingency. Ahkmenrah sincerely wished his predecessors had taken into account the possibilities of his tablet and reviving in future age, when they'd created that rule. Though he tried to look politely, regally impassive, he was constantly stumbling on account of being unable to tear his gaze away from fascinating treasures lining up the walls- and subsequently tripping over the crates of goodies still packed.
Dr. Fergus chuckled at his young guest's obvious curiosity and wonder. "Fascinating displays we've got, haven't we? Yes, Cambridge University's collection is rather impressive. And thanks to you and your amazing tomb, our collection has only improved! But why am I telling you all this, you can't even understand a word I'm saying, can you? Well, that's just something we'll have to fix, won't we?" Looking the young man up and down, he shook his head disapprovingly. "We'll need to find you proper clothes."
The pharaoh blushed. Where was his clothing? Dr. Fergus was right, it wasn't dignified to walk around in one's funerary wrappings. Fortunately, he spotted a glint of gold peaking from inside a box. He dashed over to it and enthusiastically yanked out his royal cloak, collar, and pants. Expectantly, he held them out towards Fergus. The professor examined the apparel, puzzled.
"You're, um, presenting these to me? A generous gift, I daresay!" However, the instant Ahkmenrah thrust them into his arms, he stood there with his arms spread out, roughly imitating a mannequin. "What are you doing?"
Ahkmenrah waited, but nothing happened. Losing patience, he turned around to face Fergus with a sigh; obviously he did not understand the task before him. Pointedly, he gestured to himself, then to the bundle in Fergus's arms. "Oh, you want me to dress you! Well, I daresay that would be rather awkward. Young man- Ahkmenrah, is it? Look, I understand that in your time, perhaps, pharaohs had servants to robe them, but, um, well, in these times... That is, in this situation, I believe it would be more appropriate for you to dress yourself," he stuttered out, returning the clothes.
This time, the language barrier wasn't the reason for the lack of words. This man was expecting him to dress himself? Very well, if he must- perhaps Fergus was feeling ill. He began unwrapping the linen, only for Fergus to exclaim something else. "If it's all right with you, I'll give you some privacy," Dr. Fergus stuttered, ducking around a corner.
The pharaoh shrugged- people in these times were certainly strange. Now for robing himself... Ahkmenrah didn't want to admit it, but he wasn't completely sure about how to set about this task. It had been years since he'd dressed himself! Did he still remember how to? Only one way to find out, beginning with his trousers.
Twenty long, embarrassing minutes later, Ahkmenrah was finally appropriately clothed. (His lapiz lazuli and ruby collar had been the most cumbersome to slip on.) His crown was in the same crate as his apparel- even after all these years, its weight was uncomfortable to bear. A fact he still could not show that to anyone. Remember your bearing, his father's words echoed in his mind. A pharaoh is confident and steady in all of his gestures and actions. Remember this, my son, and you will survive even the most troubling challenges.
I will try, Father. He could not show weakness now, dead or alive. He went to find Dr. Fergus.
"About time you popped up! Ready for an adventure?" Fergus's eyes twinkled merrily. This time, the pharaoh accepted his hand without hesitation.
Ahkmenrah awoke, relieved that for once his night hadn't been filled with flames and fear. Why would that memory resurface now? With it came unbidden emotions he'd rather not name, ones he'd believed he'd long ago entombed within himself.
"I have to admit, your credentials look good. Tell me why you want the job," Larry crisscrossed his fingers on the table before him expectantly. The man before him stood straight and tall, utterly sure of himself.
"Well, everyone has to make ends meet these days, you know. One cannot allow pride to stand in one's way." Mr. Davis shrugged.
"Fair point. So, how did you hear about this job?"
"I saw it in an advertisement." Something about the way he ended "-ent," a very faint accent.
"What skills do you think you can contribute to this position?"
"I'm reliable, punctual, meticulous. Some people would complain I'm slightly anal-retentive- I'm all about putting everything where it belongs. Everything has a purpose and a place, you know. I'm a take-charge kind of guy, always willing to pick up any slack. Not that I'm saying there's any slack around here! Looks like you've got a splendid working environment here."
"Mhmh." This guy seemed mildly full of himself, but from Larry's experience, he knew one didn't have to possess a generous personality to be a janitor. Mr. Davis had more than enough references and qualifications, and the retirement party was this weekend. Might as well hire this eager gentleman. Larry looked up at Mr. Davis, ready to tell him he was hired, but something stopped him. A glint in the man's eye, like a hunter confident he's found his quarry. Something unsettled him; this man was dangerous.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't give you the job."
For the first time, Mr. Davis looked flabbergasted. His eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, "Why?"
"You're overqualified." It was a lame excuse, and they both knew it.
"Overqualified, Mr. Daley?"
"Yep. I'm really sorry, but we've got someone else on the line who needs it... More..." Larry swallowed the urge to twiddle his fingers and look down in shame. Mr. Davis's sharpened glare made him feel like he was three years old again.
For a minute, he worried he was going to have to call security, but Mr. Davis seemed to think better about making a stink. "Very well, if you change your mind, you know how to reach me."
"Will do. Once again, I'm sorry, and thank you for being so understanding," Larry shook Mr. Davis's hand, and couldn't help but not gasp at the vice-like grip. Once the guy was out, he left out an enormous puff of relief.
Believe me, Mr. Daley, we will meet again. I shall give you no choice.
