Ardeth's Warning

Gretchen knew that if she went to Beni, she was guaranteed a ride out of Hamunaptra. However, she reasoned a moment later, Beni was not the only person there that knew how to get back to Cairo, and between the rodent-like Hungarian and the dashing American, she figured the latter was more deserving of the Med-Jai's warning. As her company began to calm down over a bottle of whiskey, she slipped away to the opposite camp. A desert wind pushed passed her, whistling low and sad in her ears. Something like a shiver skittered up her spine, and she didn't like the strange, uneasy feeling that accompanied it. What was it about this place? What was so frightening, so eerie? Gretchen tried to shake the feeling as her steps quickened; she would be away from this hallowed city soon enough.

It was beginning to get dark. Gretchen's stomach twisted nervously; what if she didn't make it out of here in time? Surely Ardeth wouldn't kill her...She swallowed her discomfort and pushed the thought away. She wasn't going to take her chances.

Peaking around an ancient pillar, she noticed Jonathan and his sister bickering over how to start a fire. Snorting, her dark eyes scanned the area around their considerably smaller camp, trying to catch a glimpse of O'Connell. She bit her lip indecisively; if she waited here too much longer, one of the Carnahans was bound to notice her. And, while Gretchen felt badly about leaving them vulnerable to the Med-Jai attack, she didn't see much point in telling them about it if O'Connell should decide against her plan.

She glanced towards the horizon, staring at the dying sun with detatched interest. Her ragged fingernails dug at the ancient mudbrick mechanically, sending a little thread of dust on the cooling wind. She tried to imagine living in the desert. She struggled to picture herself falling asleep in a tent beneath a watchful set of onyx-colored eyes. Gretchen smiled at her own idiocy. Ardeth had said he was not going to take her away, anyway. And besides, she mused, he was a native. Natives treated their wives like shit--she'd seen it herself. Gretchen blinked a few times, adjusting her sight to the growing dark. Ardeth Bay. That wasn't even an Arabic name. Maybe his mother had been a white woman. Maybe marrying into the Med-Jai wasn't as bad...

She glared down at the sand and her own stupid thoughts. Seriously--marry? What the hell was getting into her mind? She would do better for herself accepting Beni's proposal than living like a dog in the desert--and being treated like one, too. Not to mention the fact that Mr. Med-Jai didn't want her, anyway. He'd said so himself. He would have left her in Cairo. He probably had twelve wives, anyway. What did he want with a skinny prostitute?

And what did she want with a desert warrior, for that matter? Oh, certainly he thought he was too important and too lofty to take her back to his flea-bitten little camp, but didn't she know even better than him? Gretchen knew the best of Egypt--the city--and even that was shit in comparison to the worst of New York. Why would she want to make her life even more miserable? He could have his big, black horse and little goat hair tent without electricity or plumbing. She wanted nothing to do with it.

Gretchen's heart was racing, and something like anger and frustration was stirring in her veins...and she had no idea why. She took a deep breath, trying to regain herself. Her mind sifted through the red haze it had strangely become, trying to pick out the inciting incident: Ardeth Bay. All that over a man she spoke with for five minutes? Was she losing her mind?

A heavy hand on her shoulder made Gretchen flinch, whirling around to see who or what had touched her. In the darkness (Lord, when had it gotten so dark?) she picked out the wide, appologetic eyes of O'Connell. She smiled in relief, staring into the blueness for a moment before realizing the matter at hand. Her eyes widened suddenly, and she grabbed his suspenders, pushing him against the pillar. He stumbled against the ancient monument in surprise, staring at her in puzzlement.

"We're gonna be attacked," she whispered desperately. His brow furrowed, but the surprise melted from his azure orbs. He nodded quickly, taking out the revolvers from his shoulder holsters.

"Okay."

Gretchen's eyes got even wider, and she poked his chest urgently. "Don't you get it? We have to get out of here!"

O'Connell only shook his head. "I don't run away from a fight."

She punched his arm. "Are you insane or just stupid? It's like the boat--those same guys from the boat! Let's just go!"

Her fellow American glanced towards his camp, breathing a quiet sigh. "Look, she's the boss. I've got to do my job."

Gretchen glared. "And what? Get killed? I think this is an okay breach of contract!"

"She saved my life!" he blurted suddenly. He looked down. "I mean...that's not nothing, you know?"

Gretchen glanced away, running her tongue over her lips. Her stomach was sinking. She gripped O'Connell's hand suddenly, taking a breath.

"Well don't forget I tried to save your life too, okay?"

He stared at her, and even in the increasing blackness, Gretchen could see, or perhaps feel, his wonderment. She slipped her fingers from his hand. Her foot was lifted to take a step away when he gripped her wrist and pulled her back to him. She swallowed difficultly, feeling his eyes flitting from her gaze to her lips in the same way of the hundred men she'd known. Gretchen wasn't going to wait on his indecision. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers, pressing her lips against his. She felt his arms tense for a moment before relaxing against her body. His hands slid to her waist and pulled her closer, his tongue slipping between her lips. She took in a sharp breath, lost and confused but knowing...somehow, just knowing that every minute in his arms was safe. He held her for a moment before gently releasing her, pulling away from her embrace. She searched for his eyes but he was staring somewhere else; she could not read the expression on his face.

"Thanks, anyway," he murmured, hurrying towards his camp. Gretchen took a deep breath, leaning her forehead against the pillar numbly. Shaking her head, she slipped to her seat, leaning against the ancient structure thoughtlessly. She poked around the pockets of her skirt for one of the cigarettes she'd taken from Beni's knapsack after Ardeth had left her. She gripped a little pouch instead, pulling it from the confines of her clothing. Breathing a shaking sigh, she untied the pouch, squinting down at the benign white powder difficultly.

She had tried, for the most part, to stay away from drugs. Many of Ghazi's other girls were so dependent on cocaine or opium that they preferred to be paid in grams, rather than dollars and cents. It disgusted Gretchen, the way they threw money away on the kind of shit that would keep them in prostitution forever. She'd tried them, sure, but she had adamantly decided that even the best high wasn't worth screwing weirdos for the rest of her life.

A noise like rolling thunder was growing. She heard shouts and gunshots and screams. Gretchen swallowed difficultly, her eyes welling with hopeless tears. She was too late. She was going to be killed. Her breaths came quicker, more desperate. She needed to live, or at the very least, needed to not know it when she died. Digging her fingernail into the tiny mound, she brought the powder up to her nostril, taking a deep breath. Her whole mind buzzed, and she blinked rapidly a few times. The noise of battle was louder in her ears, and suddenly she didn't care. Dropping the cocaine, she pulled herself to her feet. Something told her she wasn't going to die, even if she was shot fifty times. Something told her she was never going to die, and she smiled. Stumbling over towards the chaos, she decided to see what was going on in the world of mortals.

Gretchen wandered through the firelit darkness easily, paying little attention to the action at hand. Her eyes took in images of blood and gunfire and swords with a strange interest, as if the entire thing was playing out before her theatrically. She watched a horse gallop towards her, tilting her head to the side and waiting to see what might happen. She wondered how high it could jump, if it could perhaps sail over her head where she stood upright, or if she would have to crouch down, or--

"Are you bloody mad?!"

Something tugged on her, sent her careening to the ground and away from the horse. Where was the horse? He had been such a black, black horse...maybe he disappeared into the night.

Jonathan. Jonathan was glaring at her like he was scared, or worried. Gretchen burst out laughing.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he demanded, taking her shoulders and shaking them. "Gretchen! Gretchen, are you dr...Gretchen."

He stared into her eyes, letting out a long sigh. Suddenly, someone else was there. Gretchen looked up and watched Beni wrench the bottle from Jonathan's hand. He brought it to his lips, but stopped, staring at her curiously. Why did everyone look at her so strangely? What had she done? They were the ones being so ridiculously paranoid about everything.

"What's the matter with her?" he muttered, tipping back a swig.

Jonathan reeled a little, swinging the gun in his hand. "What's the matter with you? I'm bloody drunk and I can see she's higher than a kite--"

Beni turned a feral eye to Gretchen, and raised his hand to hit her across the face. His mouth was open, ready to spew insults and curses, but a loud yell interrupted him. Eyes wide, he jumped to his feet, running away from them. Gretchen giggled, wondering what the big deal was, anyway. She caught a glimpse of a sword-armed horseman galloping towards them, and grinned. But something grabbed her arm again and tugged her away from his path. She was starting to get a little irritated with all of this.

"Usually," Jonathan managed, laboring for his breath, "I would be no one to talk. But you need to sober up!"

Gretchen only shook her head, dazed at the sudden cease of action. Where had all the excitement gone? She didn't understand it, but they were all leaving--all the Ardeths and their black horses were leaving. And she was alive ... well, of course she would be. But really alive. And so was everybody else...

"Look--"

Jonathan's face again, and his hands on her shoulders. His eyes, all scared or worried or something.

"We both made it out of this mess alive. Let's find some place to have a drink."

She nodded slowly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Now he was scolding her with his finger.

"But no more of that. Do you understand me, love? No more of that stuff."

Gretchen shrugged, her mind still whirring from the effects of the drug. A drink...they would go have a drink. But no cocaine. She figured that was just as well; it was probably all lost by now, anyway.