Two Americans and a Yellow Car

Gretchen had wanted to tell O'Connell that, even though she was on "his side," she didn't see any reason for accompanying them to Hamunaptra. But her fellow American never asked her if she wanted to tag along or not; he'd looked at her with the blue of his eyes frozen solid, and she didn't have the guts to tell him she'd rather just remain in Cairo. She wondered now if he simply didn't trust her--if he'd dragged her with them so that he could keep an eye on her. Whatever his reasons, they were traipsing through the city streets now, and she figured it was too late to turn back.

"Where are we going, exactly?"

The whiny quality of Jonathan's voice obviously irritated O'Connell, but he only gritted his teeth and answered, "Right now--to get your car."

Gretchen's head jerked up in surprise. "You made it to the brothel pretty quick for being on foot...and attacked and everything."

Ardeth grunted in irritation, and O'Connell may have rolled his eyes. "You can thank Jonathan for that. Turns out, he can find his way to the cathouse from anywhere in the city."

The Englishman grinned at her sheepishly. Gretchen sighed, her breath the only sound in the vacant streets. The grim silence made her head buzz nervously; her eyes darted into every alleyway to be sure nothing was waiting to harm them. And yet...every time she was confirmed that they were alone, a chill slithered up her spine. The emptiness of the city was extensively more frightening than any mortal killer.

"So..." she breathed, attempting to fill the silent void amongst them. "Are you gonna tell me how you made it out of there?"

The men glanced at each other thoughtfully, their eyes falling to their still-damp pants with grim frowns.

"No, I don't think so," O'Connell decided finally.

Gretchen rolled her eyes, scoffing under her breath. "Are you serious..."

Ardeth nodded gravely; Jonathan gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, love. But some things simply must remain amidst men."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her step quickening a little to keep up with their determined strides. She honestly couldn't believe them--even the dopey English boy refused to tell her how they managed to survive Imhotep's murderous gaggle. Some things simply must remain amidst men. What a load of shit--

Gretchen's eyes widened suddenly, and something in her stomach dropped with fear. She caught Ardeth's eye, asking quietly, "What about that guy from the museum?"

The Med-Jai swallowed, glancing away from her to stare dutifully forward. "Dr. Bey is dead."

She looked down; to be sure, she'd probably been the least familiar with the curator. But the present body count was unnerving, to say the least. O'Connell and Ardeth had survived this time--but who was to say they wouldn't be dead in a matter of days, or hours? And if they were killed...who was going to stop the Creature? Gretchen knew she wasn't the one for the job, and as long as Evelyn was in his captivity...She swallowed. In five years on the streets, she'd seen plenty of deaths. But she'd never considered life so important as just now.

"Oh, thank God!" Jonathan's relieved sigh drew Gretchen's attention back to the present. She followed his gaze to the benign yellow form of his car, and found herself smiling despite it all. The men raced to the vehicle with renewed spirits, and Gretchen trotted along behind. The darkness of the unnatural light was lifting, and a faint glow was waiting for them on the horizon. And even though she knew it was stupid, and the cards were stacked, Gretchen was certain for a brief moment that everything was going to turn out alright.

She reached the car, tugging on the back door to no avail. "Jonathan--it's stuck!"

"Yes, I know," he yelled over the hum of the engine. "You have to jump in."

Gretchen shot a glare at the back of his head, gripping the side of the car and preparing to swing her leg over. Ardeth's eyes shone with something lik amusement, and he offered her his hand. A little embarrassed, she allowed him to take hold of her arms and virtually lift her in. She stared at him in surprise, but he kept his gaze trained on the road, a faint smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.

"You're going to have to let me know when to turn and all that," Jonathan was saying. "As I have no bloody idea where we're going."

"Uh-huh," O'Connell grunted. "Turn here."

Jonathan whipped a right, sending Gretchen crashing into Ardeth. The Englishman glanced at O'Connell a few times, too intimidated to muster up a true glare.

"A little more warning would be nice," he muttered through his teeth. The ex-Legionnaire didn't even try to hide a grin.

Gretchen took a breath, slowly sitting up again. She watched the Med-Jai swallow uneasily, and he didn't look at her when he whispered, "It was smart of you to go to Ghazi."

She shrugged stiffly. "Where else would I go?"

"You remembered he was a Med-Jai," Ardeth persisted. But Gretchen only scoffed.

"Yeah. Or I was lead there by a ghost."

He shook his head in wonder. "All this time...I have challenged Ghazi's place in the tribe for years. My father must know--" His gaze finally turned to hers, alive with his personal confusion. "Why has she been allowed to live?"

Gretchen folded her arms over her chest, glancing up at the men in the front seat. Jonathan was caught up in a guessing game, while O'Connell remained stubbornly silent to his prodding, a crooked smirk inevitably lighting his face.

"Well, I don't know much about all this crap," she sighed, "but Meela makes more money than any other girl Ghazi has."

Ardeth closed his eyes for a moment. "It is...hard for me to comprehend."

Gretchen couldn't help a snicker. "No, it's not. Money's everything to most everybody."

He turned his head to stare at her, a burning behind his eyes that almost frightened her. "The woman is tortured by the soul of Anck-su-namun! If she does not lose her mind, she will eventually succumb to her will. It is either cruel or dangerous to keep her alive!"

The prostitute awkwardly cleared her throat in the sudden silence; O'Connell and Jonathan had stopped, interrupted and unnerved by Ardeth's exclamation. Gretchen glanced up at them, hoping they would resume their bickering. Another quiet moment later, she managed to speak:

"Look, I know you fellas are noble and whatever, but anybody--literally, anybody--can be bought. I don't know what trump card Ghazi has, but it's in his best interests for Meela to be alive, and she is."

Ardeth's deep eyes bored into hers, and something awake and alive in her soul refused to let her look away. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Just tell me, already," Jonathan grumbled. O'Connell calmly assured him that he'd see, soon enough. The usual hum of their conversation returned again.

Ardeth's stare persisted; she didn't dare blink.

"There is more to this world than money," he told her firmly.

She swallowed hard. "Like what?" she whispered, her voice weak in her throat.

His Adam's apple jerked uncomfortably, and something sad glinted in the darkness of his eyes. He took an uncertain breath, "How empty you must be."

Gretchen blinked rapidly, glancing away from him. The morning light was blazing now, the desert shimmering under the not-yet hot sun, and everything felt like it ought to be normal. She tried to shake the haunted feeling of Ardeth's words, but they had struck something in the back of her mind that ached. She strained a false smile and stared straight ahead, her eyes suddenly catching on something in the distance. Her eyes widened.

"You have got to be kidding."

O'Connell looked over his shoulder, a helpless smile on his face and a boyish glint in his eye. "You got any better ideas?"

Jonathan squinted at the sign and let out a groan. "The airfield?"

Gretchen just shook her head. O'Connell raised his eyebrows. "Don't suppose you know Winston."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah."

Jonathan tried to contain a chuckle. "Oh, really?"

Gretchen didn't say anything as they pulled closer, the car slowing to a stop as two native boys lifted a feeble barrier and allowed them through.