Daniels's Bet
Gretchen woke up with a jolt for what seemed to be the millionth time over the course of the last twelve hours or so. Daniels and Henderson had vehemently refused to waste time setting up camp for the night, and instead ordered that the whole company ride all through the night to stay on schedule. At first, she had figured it really made no difference to her; she'd slept sitting up before, and there was no reason she needed to be awake. After about twenty minutes with her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth clenched against the jerky, rocking gait of the camel, she decided that sleep would be virtually unattainable.
She managed to snooze on and off, her mind fading in and out of the same, strange dream. Over and over again, whether she grasped ten minutes or a few seconds of rest, the same event played out completely in her head. She dreamed she was back at the brothel, walking down the hall. It felt like daytime, even though the corridor was dark and grim. She was hurrying for something...she didn't know what, but she wasn't paying much attention to anything else, because her shoulder caught on someone. She turned to see who it was, and saw Meela. Every time, she expected the Egyptian harlot to act the way she would in reality--she flinched in preparation for a harsh word or even a fist. But instead Meela would look her over, her lips pursed, and say, "I know why you're looking for me." Then Gretchen's eyes would snap open, and she'd mutter a curse because she'd woken up again.
This time, though, the sky was light gray and waiting eagerly for morning. She figured she might as well stay awake now, and looked about her with vague interest. Their procession had separated some, but as other riders began to stumble back to consciousness, the group pulled closer together. Gretchen leaned around to get a glance at the horizon, and groaned to find it even and lonely.
"When are we going to get to this ancient city place?" she demanded in a hoarse tone. Beni glanced over his shoulder with bloodshot eyes, breathing intentionally into her face. Her nose wrinkled, and she drew back from him irritably. "God, you're gross."
He grinned wearily. "It is all part of my charm."
Gretchen snorted but didn't really say anything; it was much too early and she had slept for an entirely too short a time to bother with a retort. Breathing a sigh, she twisted to the right and left, hearing her spine pop all the way up. She caught a glimpse of the good professor yawning, his monocle in one hand as he rubbed the gritty sleep from his lashes. She forced a little smile, gaining his empty stare.
"Good morning," she managed coyly. "Did you sleep alright?"
Chamberlain sniffed, blinking heavily and giving his donkey a good kick. "What do you think?"
She ran her tongue over her dry lips, holding on to his gaze a moment longer. "I wish I could have made it better for you."
The camel lurched beneath her, jerking Gretchen back with a gasp. Instinctively, her hands gripped Beni's hips, struggling to regain her balance. Her head whipped around to face forward, a reactive "holy shit" slipping through her lips. She opened her mouth to yell insult at the irritating little Hunyak behind her near-topple, but noticed the sudden rise of a dune beneath the animal's toes that could not be avoided.
"Whore," Beni muttered with a satisfied little smirk. Gretchen let go of his body and slapped his shoulder.
"I hate you," she retorted, resettling herself as the camel trudged up the sandy side. He laughed.
"I'll remember that the next time we--"
He paused, and a little snort slipped through Gretchen's nostrils. "What? When'd you get all proper? 'The next time we' what?"
Beni shushed her, glancing over his shoulder before turning his attention forward again. She leaned around his body, trying to catch a glimpse of what was so very important. Something in her heart changed its rhythm, but she wasn't sure why. In a small huddle, watching the horizon with curious interest, O'Connell's group rode towards them. Slipping down the opposite side of the dune, their camel hit flat, even ground. The Americans and Chamberlain crowded up beside them in an intimidating group; the heavy, continuous footfall of hard hooves on packed sand echoed quietly in the desert morning as Beni jerked up on the rein of his animal, desperate to make it heed him. The two companies slowed to an uneasy stop in front of one another.
"Good morning, my friend," the Hungarian guide greeted snidely. O'Connell jerked his head in a nod. Gretchen peered over Beni's shoulder to meet his calm, unreadable eyes. She blinked, turning her gaze away.
"What the hell we doin'?" Daniels smashed the precarious silence with a buffoon's accuracy. Gretchen could feel her Hunyak "friend" tense irritably.
"Patience, my good barat'm, patience."
She snorted. That was some sound advice to the most tempermental member of their gold-digging crew.
"Remember our bet, O'Connell--first one to the city."
Gretchen glanced back and noticed Henderson trying to speak around an enormous wad of chewing tobacco. She wondered vaguely how long he'd been awake before fishing that out of his pocket.
"Five hundred cash bucks," he reminded with a little smirk. Gretchen's stomach soured considerably at the mention of the sum. Five hundred dollars that could have been hers, if it wasn't for Daniels being a complete psychopath. Now she was down to the promise of a measely three hundred (which, granted, on the usual scale would not have seemed so bad) from a cheapskate profressor.
"A hundred 'a them bucks is yours if you help us win that bet."
Gretchen looked up with interest, but quickly realized such a comment was not aimed at her. Beni very nearly rolled his eyes; it seemed that even a rat with his appetite for money had his boundaries. A sleepless night atop an impudent camel had unpuckered his usual kiss-ass lips, and he answered the offer with a weary, sarcastic:
"Oh. My pleasure."
She squinted at the Americans, catching a not-so-friendly glare from Daniels before turning her attention back to the horizon. For whatever reason, the guides were entranced by the flat, usual line of sand and sky.
"Hey, O'Connell," Beni murmured with a personal smirk, "nice camel."
Gretchen's brow furrowed, and a scoff escaped her throat. She leaned forward, whispering in his ear. "What the hell does that even mean?"
He rolled his eyes, motioning towards his American associate's inferior beast. "Take a look at that thing. It probably hasn't eaten in three days."
She sighed, leaning back again. "Are we going to get going or what?"
"Wait for it."
Gretchen turned, expecting to meet the Legionnaire's deep azure gaze again, but his bewitching eyes were transfixed on something before them. Evelyn piped up with the question the prostitute had waiting in her mind:
"For what?"
O'Connell took a breath, running his tongue over his lips. "We're about to be shown the way."
Beni's hand tightened on the rein, the digits of his other hand curling around a riding crop. O'Connell shifted his weight, staring intently at the sandy expansion in front of them. Gretchen swallowed curiously, following his eyes to the same, boring horizon. Beni's gray-blue glance flitted to hers for a mere second.
"Are you ready to see something?"
She snorted, locking her eyes on the desert. His entire body tensed.
"I mean really see something."
Gretchen took a breath that could not quite escape her throat. Before her eyes, the line between land and sky began to wave and buckle as if with the heat of day. The clouds stained with the rising sun shifted and blurred, kissing the sands before floating up again in a continuous flow. The orange of morning lifted like a curtain; the fuzzy chaos on the horizon focused into clear lines and vaguely familiar shapes.
She shook her head slowly, her mind grasping for words. The Americans, so usually inarticulate, expressed the thousand, shocked thoughts swarming within her skull. Would you look at that ... Gretchen could not even find it in her to blink. Can you believe it? And she could not find the logic to contradict the scene. Hamunaptra.
She didn't have to see Beni's face to know he was smirking. "Hang on tight, baby."
Something sharp and stinging bit her leg, and the camel lunged forward at Beni's prodding. He attacked its backside with the vicious crop, landing more than enough lashes against Gretchen's body. She bit down on her lip, wrapping her arms around his starving torso fearfully. The lumpy gait of the galloping animal made her bounce dangerously in the saddle. She closed her eyes against the gritty wind, digging her nails into the thinnest fabric of Beni's shirt.
"Can't you slow it down?" she managed to yell, trying to wrap her legs over his. She didn't have to look down to know it was a much harder fall from this height than from one of the other pack animals. The fantasy of a sorry, slow horse under her awkward control slipped through her thoughts for a split second before Beni's voice and the camel's step jerked her back to reality.
"I could use a hundred dollars," he shouted back, striking the animal again. Gretchen gasped painfully.
"Then would you mind not nailing me with that goddamn whip!"
He laughed, squinting at the glimmering ruins ahead of them. "I've never minded nailing you."
They were pulling closer to another rider; Gretchen glanced over and realized that they were racing beside O'Connell, and that Beni was guiding the camel forcefully into the American's path. She looked between the two ex-Legionnaires; between the tall, handsome man and the slight, desperate weasel. She swallowed difficultly, apprehension knotting in her stomach. Somehow, she knew that, even without the stimulant of five hundred dollars being dangled overhead, the two of them would still be in this position -- would still be taking their eyes off the prized city every few moments to glare at one another. She took a breath, and Beni raised his crop against his rival.
In two swings, O'Connell gripped the black stick in his muscled hand and threw it to the ground. His teeth gritted in irritation, and he reached for the Hungarian. Gretchen turned her wide, pleading eyes to her fellow American, her mouth gaping for the right words. He caught her gaze and sighed, uncurling his fists from Beni's clothing.
"Do you know how to ride these things?" he shouted, nodding at the camel. Gretchen swallowed, shaking her head. He sighed, extending a hand to her. "Here!"
She gripped Beni's shirt tighter, releasing O'Connell's enigmatic gaze to chance a look at the sand far below them. She shook her head. "I can't!"
The Legionnaires shared a look, and O'Connell took a breath for patience. "Hey. Look at me."
Gretchen's large, dark eyes jerked up reluctantly, and he trapped her in the depths of his endlessly blue gaze. Why did they have to be so surreal? Nobody else had eyes like that -- she was sure of it. Nobody...
Her fingers curled around his palm, but his hand slipped quickly down to just below her wrist. He held her in an unbreaking stare, nodding towards her other hand. Slowly, she released Beni and pulled her arm from him, gasping O'Connell's wrist. He took a breath, his head inclining slightly. Gretchen nodded, her eyes flitting to Beni for moment. He shook his head desperately, gnawing on his lips.
"Don't do it--"
But O'Connell pulled her off of the opposite camel, slamming her body against the saddle. A painful gasp caught in her throat as he lifted her slight weight up; lifting her leg as far as she could, she was slung into a sitting position behind him. He tore his arm free from her grasp, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his body. Satisfied, O'Connell gripped the Hungarian's collar in his fist and jerked him off-balance.
"So long, Beni!"
The thief dropped to the sand unceremoniously; Gretchen's heart was pounding too loudly and her mind was too blurred to think about his safety. She pulled herself against O'Connell, struggling to catch her breath in the whipping wind.
"Thanks," she sighed finally in his ear. He glanced over his shoulder, apparently satisfied with Beni's fate.
"Don't mention it," he returned, twisting around to face forward again. "I never hurt anybody that doesn't deserve it."
Gretchen swallowed, her arms trembling. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to be over. Suddenly, O'Connell let out a holler. Distantly, she could hear Jonathan's joyful voice. As the camel's legs gradually slowed, she peered around O'Connell's bulk to watch Evelyn cross triumphantly through the ruins' gates.
"Doesn't that figure?" she muttered under her breath. O'Connell looked back at her, almost smiling.
"Whose side are you on, anyway?"
She shook her head, but said nothing as the animal trotted haphazardly into the long-dead city. Whose side, indeed.