VII. Gut Feeling
All of them stood there, frozen, resembling statues as their eyes clinged to the figures of the desert warriors, not once leaving them until they finally disappeared in the night. Eleanor took a deep breath; they were heading east. A shiver shook her whole body, and she was certain the cold wasn't its source. O'Connell spared her a brief glance, for she still was standing by his side, and Eleanor gave him a small nod in thanks. He had saved her life. He returned the nod, then walked to her other side, aiding Miss Jennings' friend. Speaking of which, the other British archaeologist was standing with her other male companion, although she had her gaze fixed on something else. Eleanor followed Adele's eyes to find they were directed towards the small group her friends and brother had formed alongside Dr. Chamberlain. Mentally, she grinned; surely Miss Jennings' wasn't worried about Daniels of all people. Daniels... Eleanor looked at him, noticing her brother was holding tightly Dave's left arm, a small trail of blood going down both men's arms.
That's right, he had been shot by Bernie's attacker! Too worried to hide her concern, Eleanor quickly strode towards them just as Dave spoke up. "That prove it! Seti's fortune gotta be under this sand!"
"Yeah, they wouldn't protect it like that if there was no treasure 'ere." Henderson added with both of his girls completely lowered. Bernie gazed at her from head to toe, assuring himself she wasn't hurt. Once she was in front of them, he let go of Daniels' arm so his sister could do her work. He walked away, hesitantly coming to stand by O'Connell, who still was protectively holding the other woman against his chest.
"You know, just, maybe for the night we could, uh, combine forces." Bernard casually suggested, with his face still half-shaved as he gazed at the unexistent horizon. O'Connell glared at him in response.
"And how! Now, that's what I call a sensible thought." The British man who accompained Miss Jennings agreed, jabbing a finger in her brother's direction. After a moment, in which O'Connell carefully scanned his surroundings, he nodded.
"Sure. We'll move our camp closer."
Sensing a slight feeling of sought relief, Eleanor focused back on Dave's wound. "You're hurt." She simply stated, trying to roll up his shirt sleeve as gently as she could.
Daniels snorted. "Just a scratch, nothin' to worry about." She frowned at the lump in his forearm, a little down the elbow. Blood kept coming from the so called 'scratch'.
"I think the bullet didn't come out." Then, she pressed said lump with her fingertips. Successfully enough, it made Daniels hiss in pain, confirming her diagnosis.
He flinched away from her, giving her one of his glares. "The hell was that fer?"
Eleanor sighed. Out of the three musketeers that were her brother and friends, Dave was the worst patient by far. "Come, let me help." After a small scoff and another glare, he reluctantly obeyed, following Eleanor into her tent. "Sit," She indicated, gesturing to her bed. He did. "I guess you want a drink, uh?"
"Ye know me too well." He answered cheekily, making her smirk in return. She had already placed on a small table the liquid ethel, a syringe and the surgical forceps, so she walked over the tent's entrance just as Bernard did, wiping the shaving cream that had been on his face. Miraculously, the siblings didn't collide.
"Bernie, bring my patient something to drink, please." She asked him, a little wryly. He nodded, and as he ventured outside their tent again, Eleanor faced Daniels. "And, I asume you won't want the ether, will you?"
He shook his head, his forehead a little sweaty. The wound was hurting him more than he tried to let on, she knew. "Save that stuff for the next person that melts." He darkly joked, not really amused, earning him another of his friend's sighs.
"Well then," Eleanor said, walking back towards the table and her bag. "You'll need this." She handed him a rigid piece of dark leather with some little marks. He took it with his right hand frowning.
"What I'm supposed to do with this?" He asked, glaring at her while holding up the leather as if to make his point. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "And I haven't even started to treat him..."
"It serves to prevent you from biting your tongue once I'm extracting the bullet." He frowned more, directing his glare to the leather with a mix of confusion and distrust. She shook her head, concentrating again in her medical supplies. "I'm the nurse, you're the patient, so shut up."
"No bossin' me around, Nellie. Ye know my temper." He calmly warned, just faintly annoyed.
"You still need to be treated, so please Dave, don't make things difficult." Before he could reply, Bernard entered the tent holding a dark bottle which, due to the smell, Eleanor guessed was whiskey; the smell was too familiar. He handed it to Dave, who immediately let go of the leather and grasped the bottle's neck firmly, taking a long swing. She briefly looked at her brother over her shoulder, then went back to her work. "Bernie, stay, just in case you need to hold him down."
"I don't need anybody to hold me!" She ignored Dave's protests, then walked to his left side while pouring some soap partially composed of polymer synthetics into a washcloth, of course, right after washing her hands in a small bowl.
"First I'm gonna clean the wound, it should sting a little." Then, she pressured the washcloth against the wound. She noticed Dave stiffening and tensing his jaw, but otherwise, her patient remained silent and still. After wiping out most of the blood, she stood and walked towards the bowl, sinking the cloth a couple of times before wringing it. She left it on the container's edge, then took the forceps. "You need to bite the leather now, I'm gonna extract the bullet."
Daniels gulped before taking another swing of whiskey, then bit hard the leather, his dark eyes never leaving her. She sat beside him, then touched lightly the sensitive skin. He growled, uncomfortable. Yes, the bullet wasn't too deep into the flesh although it surely had pierced a little of the brachioradialis. Nevertheless, the muscle damage wasn't fatal. Placing her left fingers on each side of the wound, Eleanor stretched the skin to open the wound's entrance. Then, she guided the forceps into it with her right hand, carefully making her way through the flesh. David began to groan louder, visibly in pain, the leather piece muffling the sounds. She bit her lip, then felt the bullet being touched with the tips of the forceps. Wasting no time, she pressed deeper, a little more firmly before closing the forceps. Satisfyingly, Eleanor felt them closing around the projectile. She quickly reversed the procedure, paying careful atenttion to not cause an internal injury in the forearm's muscle. Finally, the bullet and the forceps were out. Immediately afterwards, Daniels spat the leather out of his mouth.
"Fuckin' devil, bring me more drink, will ya?!" Bernard handed him again the bottle, now half empty, as his sister left beside the bowl the forceps and the bullet, on the table. Then, she took another washcloth and some needle and thread. Meanwhile, her patient took a long drink from the bottle.
"I have to stitch up the wound now, and disinfect it." She sat down again next to him. "This part isn't so painful." She added.
Just as she had announced, Eleanor cleaned again the wound and the new blood that had emerged from it, pressing firmly the cloth against the flesh. Afterwards, she left the washcloth at the head of the bed before turning back to close the wound. She had sanitized all of her supplies, so she wouldn't cause anybody an infection. Steadying her hand, she made the first stitch. After a couple of minutes, her work was almost done. She took the fresh bandages, then dressed Dave's arm.
"There you go." Eleanor said, standing up as she admired her work, satisfied. "The bullet pierced the brachioradialis, so it'll take a little more time to heal than normally. Otherwise, the ailment is barely superficial, but you should move your arm as little as possible. In a couple of days I'll check the wound again, although it probably won't get infected, I made sure I cleaned it twice."
After a couple of second submerged in silence, as she finished wringing the other washcloth, Daniels finally spoke up, looking at her with a somewhat blank expression on his paler face. "Was I supposed to understand all that? The hell is the brachio-whatever?"
Eleanor rolled her blue eyes while cleaning the blood stains from her hands. "Is the muscle that allows us to flex the forearm at the elbow,"
"The one that allows you to drink this." Her brother added joking, wearing a goofy grin aimed towards their friend while raising the almost empty bottle that Daniels had been nursing during the whole unconventional surgery session.
"Exactly, so it's absolutely vital that you keep your left arm resting for a while." She took a towel from Bernie's bed to dry her hands. "You're lucky the bullet didn't get through any tendon or reached the bone." Eleanor added, turning to both men.
"Fine," Slurred the other black-haired American. "Ya have a scarf or somethin?" He grumpily asked, making the nurse shrug in response.
"I have to take care of this," She told them, pointing towards the bowl with dirty water and her medical supplies. "Feel free to check my baggage."
With that, Eleanor threw a clean towel over her shoulder alongside her work bag, then with one hand took hold of the bowl and grasped with the other the forceps and the needle. Afterwards, she walked out of the tent, then headed towards the most isolated part of the city, still close enough to O'Connell's camp. She could discern a fire there. Turning back to the front, she stopped near some fallen stones, then kneeled and proceeded to pour out the mix of water, dirt, sand and blood that filled the bowl. She left the ceramic pan on top of the extended towel, then fished out of her bag the soap and disinfectant products to sanitize the needle, forceps and the own bowl. She was extremely picky with anything that concerned her job. As she brushed the forceps, she began to mull over the desert warriors. What were they trying to achieve by causing a carnage? Well, they surely had scared the living shit out of her. The promise of finding, or not finding, a couple of ancient coins and pottery wasn't enough to make her risk her life so carelessly. Death wasn't worth it. O'Connell had said those men weren't looking for gold, unlike them. And Eleanor could see the man's point; money is only valuable when you live in a city, or a town. And the riders looked like some desert tribe, definetely not who you'd see walking down the streets of New York or London. Then, what were they guarding so viciously here? Eleanor shook her head. She didn't want to wait and find out. Not if the price to pay was their lives. She'd speak with Bernie and the others as soon as she got back to her camp.
She gazed at her sore, red hands, realizing she had been forcefully brushing the forceps more time than it required; not that anything happened for that, just that her hands got a little irritated with the chemical products. She placed the forceps next to the bowl, then grabbed a canteen filled with water, trying to use only the tips of her index and thumb fingers. She had just poured a little on her left hand when she heard voices near her position, crouching behind a large stone which in other time surely was part of the Egyptian temple. She stopped, not understanding the language spoken. The speaker was an adult man, and she was almost certain that he was talking in Arabic. When he finished, another younger voice answered him in the same language, making her frown. The voice was familiar. Soundlessly, attempting to remain undiscovered, Eleanor left the canteen on the sand, then began to move her head up. Slowly, still kneeling, she lifted her head a little above the stone that served her as an invisibility shield, just enough to allow her to take a look at the people. Her eyes widened, making her immediately dive back behind the rock. She waited until the voices couldn't be heard anymore, then collected all of her supplies, messily throwing them into her bag after mentally counting ten seconds. Afterwards, she ran back to her camp. She needed to speak with the three amigos, right now.
Daniels watched Eleanor's back as she exited the tent, feeling faintly guilty as his eyes lingered a couple of seconds more on her butt. He couldn't help it, after all, Nellie was far from ugly, and as a testosterone-full man he could appreciate her chassis. Yet, he didn't really see her as nothing more than a friend, perhaps a sister. Aside that going for his best friend's sister wasn't exactly berries, not even in his book. He turned back to Burns, who finally stretched his long legs as he stood up from the bed. Daniels remained seated.
"Told you we did good allowing 'er to come."
That made him snort. "Was good when those guys almost bumped her off?" He asked sarcastically, briefly silencing his friend. True to Nellie's word, Burns was looking inside one of her cloth bags for a scarf or something Daniels could wear to keep his arm steady. "I still think she shoulda stayed in Virginia." He added after a very long silence, which he had spent observing his bandaged forearm. It still hurt like a bitch, but not as badly as when the bullet still was lodged in his muscle.
"Well, I don't!" Bernard snapped at him, annoyed, suddenly turning back to face him. After a moment, he sighed, seeming awfully tired. "Not after we got on good terms again." He looked back to the inside of his sister's bag, momentarily pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "I was lucky I convinced her of not tellin' anybody 'a our business in Texas." He gazed poitedly at him. "All of us was."
As Burns finally lifted triumphanly a brown, fine scarf that he deducted Nellie would have used as a veil for the sun, Daniels told him his thoughts. "That was one time, she was at the right place in the wrong time. Anyway, it ain't like we were carryin' a corpse to throw over a cliff." He stated. "We're not damn Al Capone..." Daniels murmured to himself.
Bernard quickly tied the scarf around his friend's neck. "The barrel full 'a Jack Daniels felt like it to me." He replied, lazily malking his way over his bed. He sat down in front of Daniels.
Dave couldn't help but snort again. "Her ol' brother was all wet of a bootlegger, so? I tell you it ain't so bad, is not as Johny Hoover himself is after our trail."
Burns sighed while taking his glasses off. He closed his strinking blue eyes, rubbing them with the back of his hand which still held his rounded spectacles. "To Nellie it is." He put back on his glasses.
"Then imagine if she found out we're still in the business. Fuckin' Prohibition can only do as much." Daniels watched with apathetic interest his friend's visage, full of worry. Despite himself, he added, "Ya still have yer job at that fancy bank and a handcuff on yer girl's finger. She wouldn't betray us, especially you."
"I know that, but I doubt she'd be happy to find out now I practically have a double life." Burns sighed. After a moment, he kept talking. "I thought about ditching, after the wedding. Lizzie and I have our plans; Nellie's got herself a daddy, that doctor, James. An' my folks aren't so low on money now, I'll keep sending 'em bucks, though. At least until my Mother recovers."
Daniels fought to control his disappointment. Sure, he could understand why Bernard wanted to settle down. A little pretty blonde wife, a secure future, all the things ordinary people dreamt of. Yet, he couldn't help but feel as if Burns was the one betraying them. Burns, Henderson and himself, that's how it'd been for a long time now. But, being a good friend for once, he bit his tongue hard, just glaring at one of the carpets on the ground. When he felt he had enough control to not snap at him, Daniels continued the conversation, trying to move away from that certain topic which made him feel like a petty, selfish child not wanting to share his favorite toy. Ruth had told him something really similar before leaving him.
"What's eatin' you, Dave?" Bernard asked the same moment Daniels decided to open his mouth, making him close it.
"Nothin'." Before the other man could say anything else, he changed the subject. "Just was gonna comment how uninterested Nellie is in that doctor, despite he's been the one treating yer Mother."
That made Burns chuckle. "Yeah, not really her ideal man. He's nice to her, though. That's good, or else I'd suck the life outta him."
Daniels chuckled darkly, not helping himself. "Sure those cheaters 'a yours would send 'im to run fer cover." Burns returned the chuckle, showing his white teeth as proof of his amusement.
After a moment, he frowned. "Isn't too long since Nellie went out?" He asked him, earning a shrug. Burns stood up, taking one of his guns with him. "I'm gonna check she's alright."
When he found her, she was sitting on a stone with her bag by her feet. Burns breathed out a sigh of relief. With those crazy bedouins wandering in the dark, the last thing he wanted was having her little sister out of either his or the boys' sight. Silently, he guided his long legs towards her. She wasn't wearing a bun anymore, as she had while treating Dave; instead, her long mane moved smoothly submitted to the night's breeze. Once he stopped in front of her, Burns' eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She had spared him a single glare, then looked to her left, ignoring him. He could've sworn her blue eyes were a little too shiny, but it was too dark to be sure. "Nellie, you alright?"
She didn't grace him with an answer, her jaw going tense and making him increase his frown. He touched her arm. "What's-?"
A sharp slap that sent his whole face to the side cut him off. His cheek stinged, and he briefly thought it was a wonder that his glasses hadn't flown out of his face, into the ground. This wasn't like the time she had slapped him at the riverbank, out of worry. "How could you?" He heard Eleanor's voice, smaller than usual. He faced her, having the decency to look ashamed. She had been crying.
He gulped before talking. "You heard us." He simply said.
Eleanor drew in a sharp breath. "Yes, since the moment Daniels confessed he didn't want me here to the very end... How could you?" She asked him again more firmly.
After a moment, he eventually answered her. "We needed the money."
That sent her over the edge. "We still do! That's why we came here! That's why I trusted you!" She yelled, standing up. Her height only came to his chin. "How could you lie to me for two years, I'm your sister!"
"I didn't want to worry you, none of you."
Eleanor snorted in disbelief. "So having a double life is better." She said sarcastically, spatting back his own words to him. "Why, all the nights of 'late work', the trips from state to state... And you were bootlegging. For fuck's sake, Bernard, I'd rather you actually gambled your money!" She rapidly brushed aside the tears staining her cheeks. "That way, at least my brother wouldn't be riskin' his life! Money is not everything, not when you have to pay a price so high! What would our parents say if you were sent to jail, uh? Or if a damn gangster put a bullet between your eyes! What would Lizzie say?"
Before he knew what was he saying the words had already rolled off his tongue. "I didn't see you complainin' when I brought home all those buck rolls, nor when you rejected James' proposal!"
After a second of shock, Eleanor pressed her lips into a thin line as more tears welled themselves on the edge of her blue orbs. There weren't existing words that could describe the guilt that overcame Burns' entire being as he realized what he had just said. "I'm so sorry, Nellie, I didn't mean it." He apologized as he tried to place his hand on her shoulder again. She took a step back, sharply ditching both his touch and his apology.
"Yes, you did." She shook her head, biting her lip so it wouldn't tremble. She began to walk away.
"Nellie-" Bernard made an attempt to follow her but his sister stopped him.
"Don't, just don't." With that, she quickly walked away, disappearing in the dark. He could only watch after her, helplessly. After some time, he clenched his hands into hard fists. Without being able to help himself, Burns kicked the stone her sister had been sitting on.
"Fuck!" He took a couple of deep breathes, then glanced one more time in the direction her sister had gone. Against his better judgement, he took her medical bag and walked lifelessly towards their tent. "She just needs to calm down." Bernard kept telling himself. He had the feeling Eleanor wouldn't spend the night in their camp; he only prayed she'd be alright.
Henderson couldn't help but smile as he watched her approaching him with her chin high. Miss Jennings didn't seem so judgemental anymore, and he liked to assure himself that it meant he had more chances with her. Now that the Brit's sharp tongue wasn't so poisonous, he had the time of his life watching her struggling to still appear cold and out of his reach. It was like a game in which he'd try to peek beneath her aristocrat, ice mask and she'd try to keep him at bait. Perhaps that was what got him so stuck on her, the whole hard-to-get attitude... plus her looks. He swore the woman could outcome Eleanor Boardman if she wanted, only the Brit had thicker eyebrows; not that that feature made her any less attractive. Maybe all that cheesy bullshit about a soul mate and love at first sight wasn't so brainscattered after all.
He stood up, closing the distance between them with a chesire grin. "Don't look so smug." Adele told him before he could make any witty remarks.
"I didn't say anythin'." He replied, still grinning like a little boy. This was just too funny for him.
"You don't need to." She retored quickly. He chuckled, sitting down on a stone and moving the cowboy hat that was resting on it to the opposite side, to make room for the Brit, whom gladly took the seat offered. He spat the chewing tobacco to the groud too, moving his foot to cover it with sand. It was already tasteless anyway.
"So," He turned to face her. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Whiskey." She told him casually, making the American arch an eyebrow.
"Ya drunk?" He asked, feigning seriousness.
Adele couldn't help but roll her eyes a little, containing a smile. "Not me, Evelyn."
That actually made Henderson frown. "Who?"
"Evelyn Carnahan," Adele looked a couple of seconds at Henderson's unchanged expression of confussion before deciding to elaborate. "The other woman in my team, the archaeologist?" Recognition flashed across Henderson's face, although he took care of avoid mentioning which memory had come to his mind.
"So the woman's loosened up a little! That bothers ya?" He asked rhetorically. "Ya should follow 'er example."
"I bet you'd like that." Adele murmured to herself, pretending she hadn't seen his wolf-like grin. "I just thought my presence wasn't required there anymore. She and Mr. O'Connell looked quite... affective with each other." She added, wearing a grin of her own. She had known Evelyn fancied the man, ever since the moment Miss Carnahan had criticised him at port. "Plus," Adele continued, returning her brown gaze towards Henderson's. "Jonathan being unconciouss didn't help my case precisely. I've already told him a thousand times, he should donate his liver to the best hospital to be studied."
Henderson chuckled. "I won't dare feel special then, ya came 'ere as your last option."
She smiled ironically. "At least I came. That's more than any of us ever thought possible." Henderson kept silent, just watching her. He was curious, and cautious. He'd let her take their relationship in whichever pace and direction she felt more comfortable with. Before he said something that would displease her. She briefly looked away and, after a while, cleared her throat daintily like the good lady she was raised as. "I don't know anything about you, just your name."
Henderson couldn't help but make his smile bigger. "That's easy to remedy."
The next day, Eleanor woke up not knowing her surroundings. A furious pressure was pounding mercilessly her temples. For goodness shake, what had she drunk last night? The tent she was in wasn't familiar, at all. It had less furniture and bags than the one she shared with Bernard. She tried to stand up, but an arm around her waist made her freeze. Slowly, she moved her head and glanced at the man that was loudly snoring, laying on the blankets. "Good. Lord." She quickly looked at both of their bodies, breathing out a sigh of relief. At least both of them were fully clothed, and she didn't feel anything similar to the satisfaying sensation of having had sex. Luckily. Eleanor certainly didn't want to get pregnant now of all times, in the middle of the desert, in an underdeveloped country. Well, medically speaking. And from a man she met yesterday. No, she wasn't a fast girl. Just using her index and thumb fingers, she took the man's arm off of her, then stood up slowly, trying to keep her vision from becoming blurry. The hangover was hideous. Casting a last glance at the man, she quickly exited the tent, the sunrays hitting her eyes. She immediately lowered her head, glancing around her. She was in Miss Jennnings' camp. What had exactly happened last night?
Little by little, pieces of memories came to her. Eleanor remembered almost everything clearly; her fight with her brother, she storming out and bumping into the man that had been standing by Miss Jennings' side after the attack of the mysterious horsemen. What had been his introduction again...?
"Why, my name's Jonathan Carnahan, my dear girl. Descendant of adventurers, three times poker champion and London's own casanova, if I may." Yes, his introduction had been too funny and exaggerated to forget. The man was funny, he had managed to cheer her up a little, and charming enough to persuade her into joining his drinking time. He had replaced an empty bottle of whiskey for another, which she couldn't recall where had it come from, as alcohol seemed to appear out of thin air anywhere her friends and brother where in. She had told him she was angry with her teammates, so to speak, and in return Jonathan had confessed her that he had just woken up to find he was being a third wheel between his sister and Mr. O'Connell. That's why he had decided to wander around, hoping to find something interesting. They had sat near his camp, drinking and telling amusing anecdotes. Jonathan was the one that mainly did the talking, with interesting tales that probably were just inventions, or perhaps distortions of the real thing that happened. Either way, Eleanor remembered she had had a good time. After her third shot, however, she didn't remember anything else.
She hurriedly made her way over the other side of the City of the Dead, towards her camp; in a matter of minutes everybody would be waking up and preparing for another day of expediction. The sun was beginning to raise. Eleanor entered her tent, finding her brother snoring on his mattress and Ahmed sleeping on one of the carpets, by her empty bed. She frowned, scrutinizing the boy. She couldn't get rid of her gut feeling, telling her that something was wrong. After a minute in which nothing came to her mind, she shrugged and took a pair of pants, a dark shirt and her high boots. She went behind a simple curtain and quickly replaced her pretty dark grey dress with her chosen garments. It had been about two days since she last changed her attire, having slept on the same clothes. Anyway, she would bath as soon as they finished digging. Taming her inked locks into a french braid, like the ones her Mother had taught her to do, Eleanor finally stepped out of the curtain, finding Ahmed fully awake and her brother yawning as he began to gain conciousness. When he was done, Bernard looked at her unsure of what to say. She didn't move a muscle. He got to his feet and began to approach her but, before any apologies or words came out of his mouth, she exited the tent with the young boy following her like a lost puppy. He sighed in disappointment.
It was official, he had ruined everything.
Eleanor closed her blue orbs, feeling nausea. The headache was killing her, and the grave they had visited yesterday was only making things worse. She began to feel she was running out of air. Eleanor took a couple of deep breathes, taking care of ignoring the worried stares Daniels and especially her brother were giving her. Standing between them was Henderson, as a barrier, who also was glancing at her concerned. She forced herself to open her eyes and act as if nothing was wrong; as if she didn't have the feeling that the walls were going to close on them anytime soon; as if that wasn't the place were the diggers she had treated had almost melted yesterday... She had briefly checked on them before getting into the tomb, sad to see their condition had got worse, as the three now had a temperature and had lost their eyesight. She honestly didn't have many hopes in their recover, but as long as their heart beat, Eleanor Burns would try her best to save them.
On the other hand, both Bernie and Dave had tried to talk to her, but she simply had given them the cold shoulder, immediately walking up to Henderson. He was the one she was least angry with, although she was sure he probably was in the business too. The cowboy had also noticed something was very wrong but, smartly enough, decided to not ask about it, even though he already had an idea of what could it be... He just hoped Nellie would forgive them. Eventually. The tension among them was thick enough to be cut with a knife. On the other hand, Ahmed had been forced to stay in the surface; Dr. Chamberlain had insisted that down there he would only be a nuisance. Eleanor had asked the boy to prepare her a bath for when she came back to the open air, partially only to make the youngster busy, but also trying to make him feel valuable... Sort of. After all, he was only a child.
Eleanor observed how four workers extracted a heavy box made of stone from the sarcophagus thing. The slab they had taken yesterday rested exactly where they had left it by the ancient coffin. Eleanor wrapped her arms around herself. With all that had happened the other night, she had forgotten to ask Bernie to leave Hamunaptra, immediately. She would swallow her pride later to tell him; that would be the only time she would speak to him, at least until they reached Cairo. Nevermind, she also had the feeling that she was forgetting something else.
Dr. Chamberlain kneeled in front of the chest that was decorated with hieroglyphics and drawings, carefully passing a handkerchief over the cover. He looked mesmerized. Burns, Daniels and Henderson kneeled alongside the doctor, whereas she remained standing, one hand over her stomach. She wasn't feeling well, not at all. Through the corner of her eye, she spotted Mr. Gabor nearing the group while holding a lighted torch. The workers all kept their distance, especially after witnessing the traumatic experience their peers had gone through. Eleanor couldn't blame them.
The thundering in her head was growing stronger with every passing second; the noise of people talking reached her ears with difficulty, as if she was underneath water. She couldn't understand what they were saying. She supressed her gag reflex and opened her eyes, panicked. She had to get out of that goddamn tomb.
Burns stopped listening to the good doctor as soon as he saw Nellie paling more and more. He left the lantern he had been holding on the ground, coming up to her with a couple of long strides. He grasped her shoulders. "Nelie? C'mon girl, react!" He asked her, shaking her body. She didn't listen, staring blankly at his chest. Henderson and Daniels had approached her too, the first looking a little more calm than the second, since he had already seen Eleanor once through one of her episodes. For Daniels, on the other hand, it was the first time seeing his friend so sick. Burns glanced at them worriedly. "I'll take her to the surface!"
Daniels nodded, but right when Burns was about to walk away, Henderson spoke up. "I can do it."
Burns couldn't help but glare at him. "She's my sister."
Henderson took a step towards them. "I know, but ya know how things are now between ya guys. Maybe's better if I do it. Besides, I don't think ya remember all the way back, no offense."
Bernard pursed firmly his lips into a thin line. Henderson was right, in everything. Finally, he nodded. The lonnger they waited, the worse Nellie would feel. "Any problem, you come straight to me." He said, letting go of Eleanor's shoulders.
"Got it." With that, the blonde American began to lead the way back to the surface quickly, one arm wrapped around the woman's shoulders and the other holding a torch in front of them. His friend was breathing heavily, almost as if she was in shock. Burns never averted his blue eyes from them until their bodies disappeared in the dark.
When they finally got back into the open, Henderson threw the torch to the ground, kicking sand over the flame until it was dead. He quickly walked towards the Burns siblings' tent, still guiding the woman. He was about to step inside it when, suddenly, Eleanor woke up from her trance and broke free from him. She jogged a little before getting down to her knees, bending over and emptying the few contents of her stomach. Henderson looked away momentarily, then ignored his disgust to vomit and kneeled behind Nellie, holding her forehead. He awkwardly pat her back with his other hand while making a face, not being able to help himself. When she was done, they slowly stood up, he holding her arm. They waited for a couple of minutes before he spoke up.
"Better?" She nodded, still with her eyes closed. A minute later, she was sitting on her bed with the cowboy by her side and grasping a canteen filled with water. Ahmed wasn't in the tent, so they guessed the boy probably was outside, looking for everything that Eleanor would need for her bath.
"I think the headache was what made me so sick. Combined with the claustrophoby, it was fatal..." She murmured, trying to relax her body. Her stomach still made funny things but it was empty, she wouldn't throw up again anytime soon.
"Ya should take one 'a your magical pills or somethin'." Henderson suggested half-heartedly, making her shook her head with a small smile.
"How come Bernard let you help me?" She asked, genuinely curious.
"Things ain't exactly paradise between ya." She shivered at his statement.
"I'd rather not talk about that." She whispered, "I really don't. Moreover, I don't want to get so pissed with you as with them. Then I'll have no one to talk to."
He gazed at her from the side, since she refused to gaze back. "Then we won't." A minute passed, an awkward silence among them. Henderson bit the inside of his right cheek before speaking. "Mind if I ask ya somethin'? Nothin' related to... the business."
That made her look at him. "Go ahead," Said the nurse, slightly curious.
"Ya think I should make a move with Adele?" Eleanor felt her mouth ajar. She blinked a couple of times.
"...What?"
Henderson sighed, looking at the front. "She ain't Ice Queen anymore. Ya're a girl," Eleanor snorted, muttering a small "Obviously." which her friend ignored. "So, do ya think I should make a bigger move? Think I have any chances of succeeding?" The American finished, glancing back to her in search of advise.
For her part, Eleanor would lie if she said she wasn't surprised of Howard Henderson asking her for love advice. Which, by the way, that was funny itself, asking her of all people. "He must really like her for something else than a one night stand." She thought, playing with the end of her braid. Finally, she answered him.
"If by a 'bigger move' you mean make passes at her, then definitely no. If you mean other kind physical contact, more innocent... Well, I've seen Miss Jennings coming willingly to talk with you. That may mean something." She said. "I guess you could try small things. But, in any case, let her decide. If you wanna hold her hand, just caress it softly and let her join your fingers if she wants. And, by any means, don't harass her... excessively at least. Try to show a little interest, enough to make her come to you. Remember, the hard-to-get attitude doesn't work only with women."
After a good while that Eleanor had spent laying on her bed with her eyes closed, she heard bustling back in the camp. She stood up, seeing through the tent's fabric the sun. It was past midday. Henderson had gone back inside the ruins once their conversation was over and after making sure she was stable. She had actually fallen asleep for a while, feeling the pressure in her skull slowly disappearing. Several times she had poured some water to her forehead and the nape of her neck, in an attempt to keep heat at bait, but it felt useless since the next minute sweat graced her skin again. Nevermind, she stretched her back, opening her eyes upon hearing someone coming inside. It was Ahmed, holding a great bucket with water while trying to keep his balance. He left it on the ground, then gestured to the small table separating the beds. On there rested body lotions and shampoo. Eleanor thanked him in Arabic, being one of the very few words she had learnt, then told him in English to wait outside and make sure nobody came in. After a second time and a careful and slow pronunciation, he understood what she wanted and stepped outside. He seemed so excited for an unknown reason to her. Eleanor undressed, then quickly washed her body and hair. Once she was dressed again, she moved the tent's flap and couldn't help herself. She smiled, amused, upon seeing Ahmed's back to her, with his arms crossed at his back and his feet a little distant, imitating a bodyguard or a soldier. She touched his shoulder, still smiling. Wordlessly, he got the bucket and walked away.
"Nellie," The American nurse heard her brother's voice. She turned around to face him; "He looks so disheartened..." She drew in a sharp breath, trying not give in so easily. "How are you feeling?"
"Better." She softly told him, not sure if he only meant physically. "I need to talk with you, though. About something different."
"Sure." He gestured to the tent and they both got inside. "What is it?"
Eleanor gulped before answering. "We need to leave this place." Bernard frowned.
"Why you say that?" He paused. "Is it because the attack?" He didn't wait for her reply. "C'mon Nellie, we ain't superstitious. Plus, there's actually a treasure! Look what we found," He brought his hand up to the front while holding out something she had failed to notice before. It was an urn, filigreed with gold and jewels. The top was the head of a lion. "Doc said it's a canopic jar, worth a fortune! See? There's a treasure here! We'll surely find more stuff like this baby." Eleanor looked back at his excited face, feeling tears forming in her eyes.
"Fine, we got that, and it looks expensive. We can sell it back home, or even in Cairo, but please, let's get out of this place." She begged, surprised at how desperated her voice sounded. Bernard frowned too, lowering the jar.
"What are you so scared of, Nell?" He asked his sister softly, taking a step towards her. He didn't dare to try to embrace her; she still was pissed off with him.
She breathed in shakily. "I don't know! I just know death isn't worth it. If an animal or an ancient curse don't kill us, then those butchers from last night will! Please, Bernie, we got that jar. It will pay us your wedding and Mother's treatment. We don't need more."
The oldest Burns' eyebrows knitted together even more as he kept an inner battle within him. They couldn't leave now that they were so close! Surely, if they just were careful during the night the mad horsemen wouldn't caught them off guard again. Burns looked up to her baby sister's face, yet he couldn't bring himself to deny her anything. Especially after he had screwed everything once more. He gulped. "Nellie, if we wanna leave we gotta talk with the boys too-" He began, making up the first excuse that came to his mind, but she interrupted him.
"Tell them, and if they refuse to come, then..." She didn't finish the sentence. Eleanor really wished they would leave all together, but if she had to choose between them and her brother, the answer was clear. Bernard sighed, then slowly nodded.
"Fine then... I'll talk with them. We'll leave tonight."
A.N/: Finally! I think that's my first real cliffhanger in this story *evil grin*. As always, I hope you enjoyed your reading. Thank you everyone who has read, followed, faved and reviewed! :)
Next chapter will be out in late September, or perhaps October. By the way, forgive the large amount of 1920s slang I used in this chapter; I just began to write and things came up like that before I could process it XD Anyway, I'm pretty sure everybody knows who Al Capone is, but I'll leave it in the dictionary below, just in case.
~Se acerca el invierno
And how! = I strongly agree!
Chassis = The female body
Berries = That which is attractive or pleasing; similar to bee's knees
Bump off = To murder, kill
Bootlegger = The person who trades illegal liquor
All wet = Describes an erroneous idea or individual
John E. Hoover = First Director of the FBI of the United States
Al Capone = American gangster who attained fame during the Prohibition era
Handcuff = An engagement ring
Daddy = A young woman's boyfriend or lover, especially if he's rich
What's eating you? = What's wrong?
Cheaters = Eyeglasses
Stuck on = Having a crush on
Eleanor Boardman = American film actress of the silent era