Title is taken from a quote by Edgar Allan Poe

Daniels, Burns, Henderson/The Mummy: (c) Stephen Sommers

Exquisite Horrors of Reality

Part 3 - Burns

The darkness consumed him, draped like a black shroud over his senses and smothering his reflexes. Not even the shadows he once used to guide himself with were anywhere to be found; the nightmare of being permanently blind was complete. Every little movement, every sound tied his stomach in knots, made the tremors in his hands uncontrollable.

Like a bird with its wings clipped, Burns was utterly helpless.

The last few days had been hard, quite the understatement to someone in Burns's position. He sat stiffly in his chair, its pseudo-leather padding not exactly comfortable. He felt hopelessly chained to it, like Prometheus on the cliff face, waiting every day for that dreaded eagle to come back and peck out his liver once more. In paralyzing silence he waited, terrified of that thing coming back to pick something else off him. He held a handkerchief to his mouth, absorbing the constant leak of salivation that crept from its corners; having no tongue had left him prone to drooling. The bandage over his eyeless sockets was tied behind his head snugly enough that he rarely needed to adjust it. He had become almost catatonic sitting in taciturnity in the hotel room, the only stimuli he responded to being noise of any kind, including sounds barely detectable to the average human ear. Guess the ole saying is right: when one sense goes, another gets stronger. Or in my case, two, he thought somewhat bitterly. The ticking drone of a clock on the wall was grating dreadfully on his heightened hearing.

Well, at least they're nearby. He had been inundated with support from his two friends, something he wished he could express his gratitude for with more than just a garbled attempt at a 'thank you'. The blissfully ignorant tone that Henderson was known for had practically ceased to exist, replaced by alarmist overkill that annoyed Burns more than it worried him. He appreciated the fuss Henderson made over him, but Burns preferred not being constantly bombarded with the phrase 'How're ya feelin'?' every three minutes. Daniels was not known for being much of a softie in any regard (he saved that almost exclusively for his girl, Gracie), but Burns knew the man to have a good heart. Very rarely did Daniels break from his hard-as-nails character to show his more caring side. Burns's horrific condition happened to be one of those instances.

Indeed, Burns felt a debt to them that he feared he might never be able to fully repay.

The ventilation in the room was considerably poor, and Burns found himself warming very quickly. The fabric of his dark, nightclothes-like ensemble was blessedly light though, keeping the edge off the rising heat. But Burns's mind was not on the temperature. Thoughts of home, living like an invalid, not being able to utilize his senses of sight and taste ever again were drowning his overwhelmed mind in a pool of self-pity. What kind of life could he lead now? What woman would want him? How could anyone accept him with his grotesque handicaps? That thing should've just put me outta my misery and finished me off. He sighed, depression settling over him, sunk into his seat. Maybe he was just better off dead.

He sat up suddenly when he heard the doorknob turn, the soft tread of boots entering the room. "It's alright, it's jus' us." Daniels's voice, quiet and reassuring. Burns breathed a mental sigh of relief.

He could hear them walking towards him, Daniels standing close by while Henderson sat on the small table in front of Burns's chair. "Ya feelin' alright?" his blonde friend asked.

If Burns still had his eyes, he would've rolled them. He gave Henderson a passive nod, took the handkerchief from his mouth and answered, "Yesh, I'm fine."

Henderson nodded, heaved a shaky breath. "Well, um, Daniels and I were lookin' at gettin' a boat outta here. Damn thing ain't leavin' until tomorrow though. Think ya can hold out for one more day?" He forced a weak chuckle from his mouth.

Burns could sense the fear through Henderson's half-hearted attempts at a bit of light humor, not convinced by it in the least. He turned his head slightly, little sounds finding his auditory nerve again: the wretched ticking of the clock, Henderson's soft inhalations, the hovering whine of a mosquito on the ceiling. Daniels's close proximity to him was even allowing Burns to pick up the heavy pounding of his friend's heart, mingling with his own as it hammered away inside him. His hands went to his ears, trying to block out the madness infiltrating them. "I hope sho."

"'Til then, guess we're jus' gonna have to hunker down here," Henderson sighed, standing up and fishing into his pocket for another tobacco chew.

"I would've preferred the Hotel Monteleone," Daniels grunted unenthusiastically. Any humor that might've been in his observation immediately dissolved into the saturnine atmosphere that enveloped the room.

Burns tried to show some form of reaction for Daniels's sake, but he just didn't have the energy or spirit. He remained inattentive when a discreet conversation started between his two companions, his thoughts once again turning towards life back in the States. Please Lord, take it easy on me. I dunno what I did to deserve this, but I'll never question Your ways again if you jus' let me live as normal a life as possible. He let his shoulders sag, brought the handkerchief to his mouth again.

There was a slight uptick in volume, what sounded like some quiet quarreling between Daniels and Henderson. Then the talking stopped, and Burns lifted his head slowly, looking in Daniels's direction as he spoke. "It alright if we leave ya here for a few extra minutes?"

Burns sat up a little straighter, struggled with his words. "Where are you going?"

"We're gonna go get a drink. I'm itchin' real bad fer some whiskey. You want us to bring you anythin'?" Daniels placed his hand on his shoulder lightly, and Burns thought to himself with a touch of amusement, Predictable.

"No, thansh," he answered.

Daniels nodded, stepped away from him as Henderson said, "Alright then, let's go."

Henderson was first out the door, Daniels right behind him, but Burns perked up when he heard his voice again. "Ya sure you don't want anythin'? A lil' hard water might do you some good."

Again Burns declined. "Alright, jus' makin' sure," Daniels said, making to leave.

Burns suddenly felt a heightened urgency, not completely ready to be alone again. "Dave..."

Daniels stopped, said quietly, "Yeah?"

There was a pause, Burns struggling to form words through his speech impediment. "Pleash be quick."

Burns heard the tone of camaraderie in Daniels's voice, wished he could see what kind of expression might be on his friend's face. "No problem, Bernie." A moment later, he was gone.

And the silence came back. Please, please be quick.

There was some commotion outside, perhaps some of the British guards scuffling with a few rowdy locals. It was something to focus on at least, keep his mind off the anxiety. He thought about getting up, try to practice moving around with the help of the objects around him. He would have to at some point if he ever wanted to walk again. He braced himself on the chair, made sure his feet were planted firmly on the floor. He took a deep breath, straightened his back...

Then there came a knock on the door.

Startled, Burns practically fell back into his seat, landing with a hard thump like a rock on pavement. "Yesh?" he said, his voice an octave higher than normal.

Something was dragging on the floor, like a cape or long coat, as whoever entreated entrance came in. He heard the click of the door as it closed, the shift of furniture as his newest guests took a seat. Burns felt his hackles rising quickly. "Whosh there?"

"My apologies for intruding on your solitude, Mr. Burns, but I have stumbled upon someone who sympathizes with your plight and wishes to make an offer to you." He recognized that weasel-like whine of a voice anywhere: it was their AWOL guide, Beni. Not exactly the person he was expecting a visit from, nor did he wish to entertain his company.

But apparently Beni informed somebody of his condition. Who, he didn't know, and it made Burns nervous. "Oh?"

Beni continued, his voice uncharacteristically level. "He wishes to purchase the canopic jar you have brought back from Hamunaptra. It would be money enough for you to get the medical care you need upon your return to America."

Burns sat up a little more, felt the suspicions twisting in his gut. It must be too good to be true! But at the same time, he felt a wave of immense relief washing over him, and he did not want to appear ungrateful to this kind stranger. "What ish hish name?"

"Prince Imhotep."

End