You know, I'm really starting to get aggravated with these men, with their knocking me out cold and all.
It's just not fair.
When I wake up the second time, I'm in a different room than before. Dimly lit and a little more furnished than the last. I turn slowly, searching for an object that I might cut these binds with. My feet are no longer shackled, but simply tied to the chair with the rest of my limbs.
"Hello mademoiselle." A slippery smooth voice says behind my ear.
I squirm and scream obscenities, but he just laughs at me. Either he doesn't care or he does not hear me, because there's something tied around my mouth.
"You are a feisty one," He purrs in his French accent, circling me like a hawk does its prey, "When we had discovered you had found a way to tip your chair over, eat your food and then right yourself again, it was apparent you needed to be a place where you would be better watched."
I glare furiously, despite the fear wreaking its own havoc in my head.
"Your father has not sent word to us," Frenchy monologues to himself, "But we need not be sorry. We plan to get what we want." He comes face to face with me. "Even if we have to go to desperate measures."
Desperate measures; the phrase sends unpleasant shivers up my spine. I suddenly don't care who comes to rescue me (okay, so maybe I do, but that's beside the point) I just want to get out of here. I don't want to be tied to this stupid chair in this room that reeks of French perfume.
"So...if you want to cooperate, maybe I will loosen these bonds." He gestures carelessly to the ropes around me. "And if not, you'll have to remain here."
He walks out of the room, leaving me to ponder within my own silences.
Not that I would be silent by choice. It's simply this gag that's keeping me from cussing him and his friends into oblivion.
Why?
Why does it always have to be me? Why am I always the one getting into these shit situations?!
I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here, staring at the ground as my mind sifts through the only two options I have. I can cooperate, meaning betray my father and colleagues, or I can sit here like an absolute prissy, bound and gagged in a chair.
Which, might I add, is very uncomfortable.
I'm sure that any normal person would know what to do were they in MY situation.
Obviously, waiting for Indy to show up is not going to improve anything. But trying to take this into my own hands could prove to be just as pointless. In the end, I decide to rely on my own wit and power to get the hell out of here.
Psh, wit and power my ass.
I try to think of what to do, because it will be difficult. Because I don't have the standard escape tools (a gun and freed hands and feet). I have to rely on the things that I do have.
Seeing as I can view no good qualities within myself, I think back to what other people have said. Carrie once said I have a good intellect when it comes to school. Abner is always telling me that I am stubborn. And Indy.....(the thought of him makes my heart speed slightly, it's been so long since I've barely thought of him) Indy says that I am beautiful, cute, hilarious, have an appetite of extreme proportion, a high tolerance for alcohol, a loud voice, excellent lying skills.....
My head snaps up as a plan immediately forms in my head. A smile bigger than my fist spreads across my face. I decide that this plan is just about as absolutely brilliant as any plan can get.
And the best thing about this absolutely brilliant fantastic plan?
I'm not going to need anyone but me to carry it out.
Two hours (Well, I can't be exactly sure if it's been two hours. I'm just guessing. Heh.) later, Frenchy enters the room, carrying another DELICIOUS platter of food: dry bread and water. Adrenaline courses through me as I sit, rapt with attention as he places the tray on the table and faces me.
"Are you ready to cooperate, Miss Ravenwood?" He asks hesitantly.
I nod demurely.
"The door is locked, so you won't be able to escape." He warns.
It takes him several minutes but he finally manages to cut off all the ropes around me. I stand up, knees shaking with fatigue as I walk over to the tray and take a bite and sip of the contents.
I polish off the whole plate in about three minutes, something that surprises Frenchy. I turn to him, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.
"So," I start off, my voice hoarse from all of that previous screaming, "You want to know where the Headpiece is?"
His eyes widen just a fraction of an inch, but it's clear that he's stunned that I'm going to discuss this.
"It would please me very much mademoiselle."
I sweep my gaze over the room, taking anything that I might use as leverage. I flick my eyes over the door, wishing that it wasn't locked.
I shrug, "My father often changed its location. I'm pretty sure that he gave it already to one of the museums." I glance at Frenchy, who is hanging on to my every word. "But last time I checked, it was around my neck."
"Around your neck?" His eyes travel to the aforemetioned body part and narrow when they do not see the Headpiece.
"I'm pretty sure it fell off when you guys were transporting me, although." My lying is so mellifluous, even to my own ears. Frenchy looks like a child getting told a Christmas story.
"Fell off?" He now looks like someone has just beat him over the head with a stick.
I nod.
And that's when I see it.
A key, attached to the pistol on the side of Frenchy's waist.
Thank you, Lord.
I take a step closer to Frenchy, batting my eyelids lightly. I need this, I need to act like one of the very people I swore never to become. I need to be a temporary Flight Attendant/Belly Dancer.
God, my life is HARD.
"But I bet I could show you were you dropped it," I say seductively, "Because, even though I was unconscious, I felt it fall from my neck."
A smile begins to show on his face, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from slapping it off.
"In good time, Mademoiselle." He replies, clearly liking what I'm doing.
I reach forward and tug on the belt loop of his slacks, feeling revulsion the instant I do it.
Almost there, my fingertips brush the keys as well as the pistol, but I don't take it yet.
Just....one more second....
An explosion sounds off on the other side of the door, startling both of us.
With no time to wonder what or where the explosion came from, I grab the keys and sprint for the door.
It takes all of two seconds for Frenchy to catch on that I am in the midst of escaping. He leaps forward and grabs me by the waist, trying to pull me away from the door. I elbow him in the throat, which makes him let go of me.
And let me assure you that as soon as his hands release me, I am GONE.
Sprinting harder than I ever have in my life, trying to block out Frenchy's screams for his henchmen and the roar of my own pulse, I take a right turn and sprint some more, trying to find en exit. But it's not for several minutes that I realize that I have clue where I am.
"Shit," I mutter, stopping to catch my heaving breath and figure out which way to go next, "Exit, Ravenwood, find the god damn exit."
A shout from the hallway I was just in sounds, and in a moment I'm off again.
I think it's fair to say how nice it is to exercise your muscles when you've been tied to a bloody chair for who knows how long. Despite the lack of sustenance, I'm wired, completely focused on my goal to escape.
Another explosion, louder this time, but just as sharp. I duck behind a pillar as several men run by, arguing in Arabic about something. When they pass, I spot a door just ahead, a big door. A door that just seems to scream at me 'Go through here to get out'.
Holding back a hoot of triumph, I leap forward, shoving against the door into the next room. It doesn't budge when I push semi-hard, so I press my entire body weight (which isn't saying much, considering my stick-like frame) against it. It gives way after a while and I, taken by surprise by the sudden movement, trip and fall. And then begin tumbling down an array of stairs.
"Owwww..." I groan, disentangling my arms and legs once I cease moving. I look around, my hope for escape deflating when I see where I've ended up. Because not only is it the wrong place but it's also a place that tells me where I've been this whole time.
Honestly, you think these crazy archaeologists would pick better hostage holdings than TOMBS. All they did was capture a girl from the site of one tomb and took her to another.
I ask you, where is the originality in THAT?
Though I must say, this tomb is more impressive than the one Abner found. It's absolutely crawling with artifacts. Gold, mummified remains, you name it and this place has it. There's even a cryptic chandelier on the ornate ceiling, hanging by a thin chain. I can't help but stare at it for a minute, because it really is beautiful.
After a moment more of staring, a third explosion sounds. This snaps me out of it, and I break out into a run towards the door.
"Not so fast, mademoiselle." The click of a trigger sounds to my right.
Frenchy and six other men walk me back into the giant room of artifacts, and I have no way of escaping. Seven guns are pointed at my head, so I don't really have an option at the moment.
More men enter the room, Frenchy counts them all and Patches says something nervously to him. Frenchy glares and mutters something back. Patches and two other men leave the room. Frenchy rounds on me, chuckling.
"Clever, very clever, Miss Ravenwood." He says, backing me against the farthest wall of the room. "Unfortunately, your efforts were in vain. You might have made it. And you were very lucky that your friend showed up."
Friend? I narrow my eyes in concentration, not sure what he is talking about. Who could possibly in the tomb in the tomb...looking for me?
"So now, we'll just have to do something with you besides tie you up." He says something in Arabic to the henchmen and they all laugh, dark eyes fixed on me. "Who knows, my men may want to have some fun with you, no?"
Have some fun....my eyes widen in both disgust and terror as everyone (Frenchy included) takes a step closer.
"Get away from me." I say menacingly. "I swear I'll kill you all if you so much as lay hand on me, you fucking bastards."
Frenchy narrows his eyes and grabs my shoulder. "Why you little..." He presses the gun to my head, muttering French curses at me. "You've tested my patience for the last time, mademoiselle."
I don't know what to say. I can only think and my thoughts are rather rampant.
I'm going to die. Or get raped. Well, Marion, we can't say we didn't see this coming, what with your devilish tendencies to get into shitty situations. So, goodbye, Marion. Have fun in hell.
"HEY BELLOQ!" A voice resonates throughout the tomb and everyone spins around.
I can't see the person, but it doesn't matter. I don't even care that a pistol is being pointed at my head, because a smile grows and grows across my face and refuses to go away.
Belloq spins me around as well, and there he is.
Honestly, I don't think I've ever been happier to see him than I am at this moment.
He stands right there in the doorway, gun drawn, Fedora intact, and bearing the expression of a very pissed off man.
"That's MY girl you've got your hands on." He growls in a nearly feral voice.
Oh, Indiana Jones. He's come to rescue me.
I swear I'm grinning like a idiot, as everyone else stands frozen in place.
"Dr. Jones, how nice of you to join us!" Frenchy (also Belloq, according to my observations) laughs.
What goes on after he says that happens so fast I barely look close enough to see it happen.
Next thing I know, Indy points the gun to the ceiling and shoots at the chain holding the chandelier.
"RUN!" Indy yells to me as the henchmen and Belloq scatter.
I waste no time in doing that.
None at all.
As the chandelier crashes to the floor, knocking several people over, I dart forward and exit the tomb, Indy falling into pace behind me. Belloq's scream of, "JONES!!!!" echoes behind us but we pay no heed as we run our asses out of there.
"Marion, what were you thinking?" Indy starts yelling as we run. "Escaping by yourself from a pyramid in the middle of the desert with about twenty men with guns chasing after you?"
So I'm in a pyramid? This is news to me...
"I'm not really sure I WAS thinking." I yell back at him as he motions for us to turn the corner. "All I was concerned with was saving my ass and getting out of this shit situation."
"But if you had just waited..." He says, "I could have gotten you out."
"I had the situation COMPLETELY under control until you came along!" I scream hysterically. God knows how glad I am to see him, but he truly does have bad timing. "What with your explosions and all."
"My explosions," He emphasizes, "Are what kept me from getting killed. Can you at least be grateful that I came to rescue you after four days in captivity?!"
"NO!" I shout as we near the exit of the pyramid, "Not until you can prove that you'll succeed in the whole 'rescuing' thing!"
Together, we push open the door, and I'm temporarily blinded by the bright light of the desert. I grab Indy's sleeve and keep my eyes closed as he leads me over to where he has a horse tethered to a rock.
"A horse?" I ask incredulously upon opening my eyes. "This is your great escape plan? A bloody HORSE?!" The situation is too absurd to be laughed at, so I'm just mad at it.
"Sorry, your royal highness, but they were all out of cars at the local transportation shop!" He yells, grabbing my waist and putting me on the horse before getting on himself.
A clamor from behind us makes me turn around and then scream as Frenchy and Patches crawl out of the tomb, waving their arms angrily.
"Go!" I scream in Indy's ear. He digs his heels into the horses flank and just like that we're off.
"I'm sorry about the horse." He says as we fly through the desert, "I was so worried about you and in such a hurry that I didn't really have time to think about it."
He sounds so sincere that I find my irritability melting instantly. "It's fine." I say, giving him a hug. "You're forgiven."
The rev of an engine alerts us that we're no longer alone. Belloq and Patches are beside us in a car. And I should also mention that Patches has a gun.
"Marion! Duck!" Indy shouts as a shot goes off.
I lower my head and do as he says, and somehow manage to turn upside down on the horse. I scream, gripping the saddle as a view of the horses cantering pace plays in front of me. My grip is slipping, I'm gong to die. I'm going to get trampled.
"IIIIINNNNNDDDDYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!" I scream at the top of my lungs, hoping he can hear me over the engine of the car, the gunshots and the horse's frantic whinnying.
"Marion! Grab my hand!" He swings it by me and I grab, pulling my self upward and ignoring the strain my muscles are emitting. With a heave, I right myself. It takes me several seconds to stop hyperventilating.
I look up and scream again when I see Patches still pointing the gun at us. Indy curses and takes something off of his belt, a long bull whip that I can't help but gape at. With a quick snap of his wrist, he slaps the hand of Patches and makes him drop the gun, losing it along the dusty road.
I blink.
When the hell did Henry Jones Junior become such a professional ass-kicker?
Indy looks back, "Are you okay, Marion?" He asks.
I nod dumbly, staring at him.
Am I okay?
AM I OKAY?!!!
"What about you?" I ask loudly as we gallop ahead of the car. "You just pulled a whip on someone and knocked a gun out of his hand without even touching him, and you're asking ME if I'M okay?"
Indy turns back to grin roguishly at me, not even paying attention to where the horse is going.
"What?" I can't help but grin back at him , though I'm still internally freaking out from terror.
"Nothing. I just missed that smile of yours these past few days, that's all." He says simply.
I normally would find myself going all gooey at this sentence, but the sound of angry shouts behind us wipes the smile right off of my face. Frenchy is the one holding a gun now, and he's pointing it directly at Indy.
Suddenly, I'm not afraid. I'm just pissed. Pissed that this idiot Belloq/Frenchy had to come and mess with MY man. I don't care if he shoots me, but he can't shoot Indy. Not Indiana Jones.
I don't know how I do it, or where the courage to do it comes from. But somehow, I've managed to stand up on the horse and leap to the car, knocking over Belloq and the gun. I hear Jones shouting my name as the car swerves dangerously, giving me a temporary dizziness, but I don't pay any heed to it. All I want to concentrate on is beating the absolute shit out of this jack ass.
I mean, I'm a Crazed Archaeologist's DAUGHTER for Heaven's sake. What's to stop me from any goal of mine?
The answer is crystal clear as I slam my fist into Frenchy's lower jaw: NOTHING.
I don't think I've ever fought this hard in my life. I punch him in the stomach, the eye, the throat, I just want to hurt him as much as possible for daring to threaten Indy.
"Don't you dare mess with Indiana Jones, you bastard!" I scream at him with one last blow that knocks him cold as well as makes his nose bleed.
I shove him in the backseat and focus on getting the car under control.
I look over and smile largely at Indy, who is still riding the horse next to me. For a minute, he smiles back, looking bewildered, but then yells, "Marion! Behind you!"
I seem to have forgotten one person in the car besides Belloq.
Whipping around and seeing Patches with a gun to my forehead should scare the crap out of me, but I only find myself throwing my body against him and pinning him to the seat like a snarling wildcat. I deliver several punches to his face and knock the gun out of his hand and turn back to the steering wheel and prevent the car from making any more dangerous swerves.
"Marion!" Indy shouts again, bringing the horse closer and closer to the car. "Quit playing hero and get on!"
Ha, he doesn't need to tell ME twice.
I stand in the driver's seat, keeping one hand on the steering wheel and reaching the other towards Indy, who is getting close.
"Jump on three!" He shouts.
"Jump?!" I squeak. "No way! Are you crazy?!"
"Just do it!"
"NO!"
"Marion!" He shouts desperately. "If you don't get on this horse, we're both going to go straight into the Nile River because of your pig headedness! Just trust me and jump for Christ's sake!"
"Fine!" I scream back, wobbling a little bit. I actually failed to notice up till now that we actually are about to run into the Nile River.
"On three!" Indy says, our fingers barely touching.
"One!" He begins.
"Two!" I reply, bending my knees and getting ready to jump.
"THREE!" We both yell. I release the steering wheel and jump again. It's harder jumping from the car to the horse than vice versa because of the height difference. I realize this mid-air, just as Jones' hand grasps mine in a steadfast hold.
As I remain suspended in mid-air for that mere millisecond of time, several things happen at once.
An explosion goes off behind me.
Indy brings the horse right under me so I can land decently in the saddle.
Several screams of fury sound from the inhabitants in the car.
The crack of a whip sounds.
A searing pain rips through my shoulder, and I let go of Indy's hand.
It doesn't matter though. I land on the saddle and wrapping my arms in a vice like hold about his waist, my fear deciding to come back. We near the edge of the Nile, and Indy veers to the right and turns us around. I hear the screech of tires and get an idea.
"Indy!" I have to yell in his ear to make sure he can hear me. "Do you have a gun?"
He doesn't answer, clearly seeing my master plan coming together, simply handing me the holstered gun on his hip. It feels very heavy in my hands, though I'm sure this is how it's supposed to feel, being made of metal and all. It takes both of my hands to hold it up. I'm very thankful my targets aren't that small as I turn around, aim and fire two shots into the tires of the car as it speeds towards us.
The effect is instantaneous. The car slows down, it's holey tires being filled up with sand as soon as they're shot. Belloq, who is enraged at our escape, is yelling at Patches, who is looking for his gun amongst the sand.
We did it. I set the gun back into the holster. Realization at my....ahem....OUR.... triumph makes me crow in happiness, lifting my arms in the air and letting the wind blow my tangled mess of hair around my face. It feels so good, knowing you've done what you wanted to do, which in my case, is: gotten revenge on the bastards who captured me and been reunited with my favorite guy.
I wince at a twinge in my arm and hold back a string of curse words when I see that my shoulder is bleeding a rather lot. There's no bullet hole, but it does look like I got clipped by one. I tuck my arm back down and try to hide it. It takes mere minutes for my adrenaline to run out and be replaced by extreme fatigue that I haven't felt since the plane ride to Egypt.
With a sigh, I lay my head on Indy's shoulder and wrap my unmarred arm around his waist.
"You alright back there?" He asks, keeping the horse at a galloping pace; we need to get lost before Belloq catches up, though thanks to my handiwork with the gun, I'm sure he won't.
I tuck my chin on his shoulder. "Um....fine."
Dammit, why won't my shoulder stop bleeding!!!! I glance down, alarmed at the amount of crimson that is growing on my shirt.
"Are you sure? I could have sworn that Belloq's friend hit you with the gun."
I poke my shoulder gently and lift the sleeve of my shirt a little, finding a rather large gash. I bite my lip as another fiery twitch of pain courses through me.
"Well....yes, he did." I say quietly.
Indy's reaction is a little surprising.
"WHAT?! Are you bleeding badly?"
Um....only all over my shirt and whatnot.
But it doesn't matter.
"A fair amount." I say faintly. "But I'm fine. I just need some food and rest."
A combination of exhaustion and loss of blood is starting to bear down on me, plus the pain is KILLING me.
"Marion," Indy says firmly and urgently, "You need to stay awake, okay? I don't need you falling off the horse."
"But I'm so tired!" I moan, nestling into his shoulder.
"We're almost there, just stay awake!" He shouts, his voice becoming distant.
I do what I can to stay awake. Indy starts quizzing me on the states and their capitals. I sing 'God save the Queen' under my breath.
As we ride off into the sinking sun towards God-knows-where, I can't help but make note of three things.
1) Never jump from a horse to a car and then back again. NEVER.
2) Getting shot in the arm is no picnic.
3) I will never underestimate Indiana Jones and his potential AGAIN.
Long chapter? Yes. 4,671 words, to be exact. So because of this, I hope you'll post a review, because I'd love you dearly. REVIEW, CHECK FOR TYPOS AND CHECK MY PROFILE FOR UPDATE INFO.
I love you all, even when I'm not around.