Three days later, Dr. Jebediah drank from his beer. He tried to ignore the noise of the busy Cairo streets as he concentrated on Amos.  After 10 years of what Jebediah would hazard to call friendship, he still wasn’t sure what Amos was. Maybe  he was Mukhabarat el-Harbeya(Egyptian Military Intelligence). Maybe he was Mossad, working as a double. Around here, Jebediah wouldn’t be surprised if he was CIA, doubling as Mossad, tripling as Egyptian. All he knew and cared about was that Amos was connected. He knew things no one else did, before any one else. And he had clearance to the highest levels of government.

Jebediah drained his bottle and set it down. He looked at Amos again.

“A new pyramid?”

Amos shifted in his chair. “That’s right.” He said,” It was discovered in a small valley a week ago.”

Jebediah frowned.” I’m not an Egyptologist. What’s so damn special about this thing that you had to drag me half-way across the dessert from my research?”

Amos seemed to think for a second, then stood up. “Come on, we’re going.’’ ‘Where to?’, asked Jebediah.

‘Section 25, Army Research Center’, replied Amos tersely. “You mean the one rumored to be reserved for illegal and top secret weapons research, as well as dubious forays into interrogation methods?” asked Jebediah. “Ya, that one exactly’, replied Amos.

‘Do we have time for another drink?”

                                                                                                ***

Section 25 was located 2 hours out of Cairo, in a small deserted patch of nowhere. Fences stretched for miles, with signs politely informing you being in this vicinity could well earn you a bullet in your anatomy.

“Isn’t this a bit of a stupid place to have a classified research base’, said Jebediah,” In the event of war it’s within walking distance of the capital.’

Amos gave a wry smile. “I think that’s part of the idea. Most of the complex is underground, ssafe from even nuclear attack. Of course it is home to a large army contingent, devoted to Cairo’s defense. And there have always been rumors of secret devices here designed to make sure the capital never falls into enemy hands.’ Jebediah was about to ask another question,when they arrived at a large gate. Two guard towers flanked it, complete with mounted heavy machine guns, which promptly came to bear on Amos’ car. “I hope they’re expecting us’, said Jebediah a little nervously. Amos gave a chuckle.’ Jeb, they picked us up and started watching us 10km ago. If they weren’t expecting us, we’d be arrested or dead by now.’

2 hours, 6 security checks, and an indeterminate number of passageways later, Jeb and Amos were in the heart of Section 25. “Who did you say this guy was again’, whispered Jebediah. “General Al-mid’, replied Amos, ‘Head of research at Section 25.’

Just then, the keypad on the outside of the door beeped, and then it swung open. Someone, presumable the general, strode in. Jebediah took him in. Tall, well built-definitely a solider. Something told him this particular solider had more than just muscle at his disposal. The general sat behind the desk without preamble and looked at them.

“So, Dr. Jebediah, I suppose you are wondering why you are. Our friend Amos here assures us you are the world authority in unexplained scientific phenomena, and we are impressed by what our checks have revealed. So what do you know?” the general asked, leaning forward.

“Absolutely nothing, other than that this facility is something civilians do not see, so I assume you really need my help.’

“Quite’, said the general, putting a folder on the table.”Look at this.’

Jebediah took the folder. It had an Egyptian Military Intelligence seal on and was marked Top Secret. He opened it and found a number of glossy photographs. They all showed soldiers, looking to be from an elite unit. They were all dead. Very dead. The sort of dead that says, ‘no matter how bad I look now, what I went through to get here was a lot worse.’

Jebediah put them down. “What happened?’

General Al-mid looked at him. “That’s what we want you to tell us. As you know, a small pyramid was found last week. Contact was lost with the dig team. A force of Unit 777 was training nearby, and they were sent to investigate. Contact was also lost with them. Reinforcements arrived 3 hours later. They found the team of Unit 777 dead, ripped to pieces. This is our elite force Doctor. They do not merely die like that. Something happened in that pyramid, and your track record of dealing with such..mystifying happenings make you the most qualified to investigate this.’

She fought to keep the camel on the path.

“C’mon you mutated pack mule” She gently nudged the camel in the ribs and it reacted with a jerk and a noise that was a cross between a honk and a laugh. She had been on this path for 3 hours now without any sign of the marked limestone her brother promised to place for her to find her way. The camel made a stubborn turn off the path requiring her to struggle to hang onto the saddle. “What is wrong with you Chula?” she asked the camel.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t handled a camel before. Growing up, Paniwi and her brother Magdi would spend days with their father’s train of camel transporting mothers linens to market. The days were long and tiring but the family’s livelihood depended on those 4 trips a week. Paniwi would often try to skirt her duties arguing that relying on camels for transport was seen as archaic and primitive and they should use motorized transportation. It would certainly be less work and she and her brother would no longer need to endure teasing from the other kids, but father would have nothing to do with that.

Paniwi stopped the camel and gave the command to lie down; “koosh, koosh”
The camel slowly lowered to its front knees and sank its back-end into the sand. “Good girl” paniwi cooed as she rubbed the camel’s neck. She was unsure if she should go any further. Magdi warned her of the dangers of the small valley she was heading towards, especially at night. And without his marker leading her in the right direction she began to grow wary. She pulled her leg over the saddle and jumped down onto the parched earth.  “Magdi! Dammit where did you put that marker” She walked up and down the path several times, keeping her eyes open for the splash of red on a piece of limestone.

10 days ago Magdi burst into the house, nearly toppling the mound of laundry Paniwi had piled near the door, and scurried straight into his room. Odd behavior for someone who’s first words out of his mouth are usually “what is for supper?” Paniwi didn’t ask what the excitement was and left him to his room. At supper-time she called for him and after a few minutes of silence she rapped on his door. “What?” “Time to eat, I made Kushari” “Not now, I’m busy” “Magdi, you have chores to do and little light to do them in, you need to eat!” “Go away!” Paniwi had enough, she opened the door and walked in “…father will be home soon, he will be angry if the chores aren’t done…” She stopped and her eyes fixed upon a piece of limestone marked with a beautiful red stone …..
 

Paniwi became more frantic as the sun set deeper and no sign of the marked limestone appeared. She was not sure how to navigate the valley, and knew that it would be very dangerous to spend an entire night out there, vulnerable to nocturnal animals and desert conditions.

Suddenly, the camel stopped.

“Peri, Chula!” Paniwi shouted, urging the camel to go.

But then she saw why it had stopped. A pair of snarling jackals had emerged from the nearby thicket and bared their teeth at Paniwi and Chula. They crept closer, ready to defend their territory. She quickly turned the camel around in retreat, but the two jackals chased after them. Chula was running as fast as she could with the load on her back, but the jackals were keeping up. Paniwi pulled out the walking stick she had been using earlier in the day, and turned around on the camel’s back, trying to beat back the jackals who were relentlessly nipping at the camel’s heels. After a few minutes and a few blows with the walking stick, though, they gave up and scampered back to their den.

Paniwi looked around her to see where they had ended up. She looked for landmarks she knew she had passed on the path, but couldn’t find any of them. In trying to escape the jackals, they must have veered off the path somewhere far back. And then a chilling thought came over her – she didn’t know where she was.

She began to cry as the last drop of sun melted into the horizon.

*****

Meanwhile, across the valley, a group of Jeeps approached a small structure – a pyramid, half-immersed in sand. Splotches of blood peppered the surrounding sand, left over from the corpses that had been hauled off earlier.

“This is it,” General Al-mid said with a note of foreboding in his voice. He looked quite pale, no doubt in anticipation of the horrors that he was sure lurked behind the stones of the pyramid.

The men hopped down from their Jeeps and huddled together to discuss the plan they had formulated. Besides Jebediah, Amos, and General Al-mid, there was also Al-mid’s second-in-command, General Adjo, and about 20 men from one of their units. The plan was for the two generals to stay back with their radios. Amos, with a video camera in hand, and Jebediah would infiltrate the pyramid sandwiched between 5 troops in front, and 5 in back. The remaining half were to stay stationed outside for back-up, as necessary.

“I want you all to know that this is a very dangerous mission you men are about to embark on,” said General Al-mid emphatically. “We don’t know what we are up against, and we can’t tell you whether you will live or die. But you owe it to your fallen fellow soldiers to investigate this tomb with the same bravery and fearlessness that they displayed, so that they may not have died in vain. Any sacrifices made here are for the furthering of knowledge, and the pursuit of safety and peace of mind. Gentlemen, good luck.”

And with a final salute, the men walked over to the point of entry, poised to face whatever may lay behind the stone walls.

The men entered the pyramid, no lights or sounds came from within. Amos turned on his flashlight and proceeded further into the pyramid, Jebediah took a deep breath and ventured behind Amos, the General followed suit with his gun drawn. The short passageway led to a set of stairs, Amos pulled a flare out of his packback, lighting it up, he threw it down the stairs into the darkness.

The General began to decend, Amos looked nervously to Jebediah "After you"

Jebediah smirked "Thanks", Jebediah headed down the stairs. When they reached the end of the stairs, they heard a whimper from down the passage, Amos turned his flashlight towards the sound, the saw that the passageway turned to the left about 50 m away.

"Did you hear that?" Amos stated nervously.

"Be quiet" The General whispered, they headed down the passage, the closer they got the more the smell of rotten flesh got, as they reached the end of the passageway, they heard the whimper again. 

Jebediah had no desire to be here and this wasn't making it any better for him, the General took the flashlight and peered around the corner, it was a small room, maybe 10 feet by 15 feet, blood was splattered everywhere here, human body parts laid on the ground, and a door way on the otherside. The Whimper came again, from behind the door way. Amos had drawn his gun as the General proceeded into the room. Jebediah covered his face with his hands. the floor was sticky from the blood and entrails, the clothing were not those of soliders, maybe the diggers or archaelogists, who knew.

The General entred the doorway into another room, this room was larger, 20 feet by 20 feet. 2 set of doors where in this room, one to his left the other straight ahead, he heard the whimper again to his right. He turned the light towards the sound....a boy, maybe 12 huddled in the corner, at his feet a corpsed torn in 2. The child was in shock, and was whispering to himself over and over.

"What is he saying General" Jebediah asked

"Walking death" the General replied, Jebediah definately did not want to be here anymore

Damn.... I had written a whole entry that I was proud of.  That is of course until I realised I'd contradicted a whole section of Renee's entry.  So I've withdrawn it and I'll forfeit my turn this time round so that someone else can jump in

M

Next after Rook.

He might have been human.  Perhaps at some point in his existence, he might have had a family, read a few books, ate food, and loved a woman.  There was certainly no doubting he was once part of the species.  Whatever he was now, it was not something that even he himself would ever know.  Who he had been once was dead to him, and what he would become was a mystery.  One thing was for sure, that a look into his eyes would reveal his now-haunting nature.  For they were wreathed in green flame, a product of a gamble he had made long ago.  It was a curse, a sign to his plight. 

How old was he now?  By the suns movement he had reached generations, longer than the reach of the wine-dark sea.  He had stood on the sidelines and watched civilizations rise, crumble and disappear.  He witnessed the birth of technology that continued to make his life a challenge, pressing him on to continue the will of Annubis, his unwanted master.   He had lived in an age of Gods and Goddesses, where men walked behind the giants of the world, where they dodged the very arrows of Apollo’s great bow.  Those days had ended, lost to the chroniclers of a lesser age. 

His clothes were not as old as he was.  He did not suffer the indignation of what men today called fashion.  His life was built upon practicality.  What he wore would determine his comfort, maneuverability, usefulness and protection against foes of all kinds.  A rough leather tunic he had mended together from dyed-black camel skin and some desert-camouflaged pants he had looted from a dead relic-hunter made up the base of his outfit.  Strong military boots kept his feet warm at night and cool in the day.  Along with his tunic, he had patched up the knees of his pants with square pieces of camel leather, also dyed black, and wore a scarf around his head to hide his cursed eyes and his face from the sun. 

To complete his ensemble, he carried two short-swords.  These were also not ancient; the bronze and later iron variants had rusted away or broke from overuse decades upon decades ago.  The process of glass making and metal working were once renowned in Egypt, the tools and ingredients made it easy to ply a trade in them.  For him, however, it had been a profession of necessity.  He bore the trades grudgingly, working the sand and seaweed in a furnace until he had molded the materials enough to form a solid piece of glass which would need to be worn down and fixed into blades.  He would melt down metals and form the hilts, using dried camel intestines and hide to mend the two together, and give himself a decent grip.  The glass short-swords were not as heavy as their metal counterparts, and were easier to file down and craft if broken.  Metal will also not kill the evils of this world fast enough for my taste. 

This was his life.  Jaiyden Hawker’s eyes burned intensely, little sparks of green flame trickled from the slits his narrowed eyes made.  He stood a distance away from the pyramid, the heat from the sun burned the tip of his nose left exposed from under his hood; his palms drenched in a mixture of wet sand and sweat.  Jaiyden moved and set his jaw.  Simmering in the sun was not pleasant, but he did not have much of a choice.  He wiped the sand-wet mixture that coated his palms onto his pants.  He could not afford the moisture to ruin his grip.  Jaiyden would need to hold onto his weapons for the fight to come, and losing them would make his work harder to do.     

From his vantage point, he had watched the vehicles pull up to the partially-buried ruin, saw a large amount of men enter the tomb, and as before he knew it would have to be his duty to end their lives.  It was a nasty business, one that he had to endure for as long as men walked the earth.  Sometimes business was plentiful and other times it was a chess match against boredom.  The looters often upgraded their weapons and armor over the years.  At one time the swords of his enemies would be spilt upon the ground.  Now they used guns instead of swords, and a product called Kevlar replaced iron.  It would be no matter to Jaiyden.  Men will always fall; how hard they fall is only a matter of when, not a matter of how.   

Jaiyden approached with the dunes of the desert, using them to shield him from the eyes of the watch.  The sand felt like burning coals under his palms and he belly-crawled up to the guards.  They did not take their current situation seriously, judging by their conversations.  Their dialect he understood to be Arabic, a language common in Egypt, along with Coptic.  Two of them were discussing some woman named “Britney Spears”, while another was sticking a cigarette into his mouth, leaving a fourth one to light it for him.  Two more were wandering out towards him, while a final man was sleeping in one of the vehicles. 

Quickly, Jaiyden analyzed the threats of the guards.  The two approaching him would be the highest priority.  The two in conversation came next.  The cigarette duo would follow, and if he were quiet enough about it, he could snap the sleeping guards’ neck without him even hearing a thing before his death.  Quick and painless.  No need for them to suffer. 

At one time, sweat would have drenched Jaiyden’s face.  But Jaiyden no longer felt fear, and often times longed for a quick end to his life.  Would one of these guards be his equal?  Would they end his curse?  He shut his eyes and listened to the shuffled footsteps of the approaching watchmen.  Heard them get closer.  One booted foot landed just around the outside the dune he was behind.  Jaiyden felt his world slow down.  At that moment he knew that he would not die today.  His eyes shot open, and Jaiyden leaped up with a swiftness acquired from ages of battle.  Both of his glass swords found homes in the frontmost guard’s torso.  The blades slid out easily, coated in gore.  Pivoting on his back foot, Jaiyden brought one of the blades around too quickly for his foe to bring his weapon to bear.  The smooth, carved-glass blade easily removed his head from the rest of his neck. 

The guards who had previously been in conversation now looked up and started to aim their weapons at him.  They shouted to the others to do the same.  Jaiyden removed his scarf quickly, revealing the fire of his eyes.  The first pair stared in shock, which with some urgency turned into fear.  Jaiyden forced the flames higher, his expression as dead as he could make it.  Jaiyden had been here before, this battle was no different than countless others.  With a flick of his wrist, blood droplets sprayed all over the faces of the guards nearest him, still in some state of shock over the revelation of Jaiyden’s burning eyes.  They flailed at their faces, trying to claw the blood away from their eyes, allowing him a moment to throw one of his swords at the second pair of guards.  The blue-tinted blade fell true, pinning one of the guard’s heart to his spine.  With a swift stroke, Jaiyden brought the other blade he still had a hold of and arched it around, slashing at stomachs and spilled innards, painting the sand red.   

Machine gun fire broke the shrieks of the dying and sent Jaiyden dodging.  He found some cover behind one of the vehicles.  Bullets seemed to pierce through the metal like lightning punctures wood.  Jaiyden closed his eyes again, listening to the whizzing of the projectiles around him.  Soon the clicking of an empty barrel brought a thin smile to his lips.  He rolled out from behind the car and came up on one knee.  He aimed and threw his second sword hard, catching the remaining guard in the throat and dropping him soon after.  Jaiyden stood, dusting off droplets of sprayed blood and bits of red matter from his clothes.  With an ease he pulled his two blades out from his dead foes, wiping them off on their clothes before returning them to their sheaths.  Jaiyden looked back at the vehicle which had saved him from certain death and smiled.  The sleeping guard had provided him an excellent shield from the bullets which would have otherwise killed him. 

Although he yearned for death, his mission pressed him on for victory.  It was his curse.  He would have to bear it.  And with it, he would be saving mankind from whatever evils rested in the tombs; the lost souls of Annubis, who sought to escape the green fires of Hades would now have to face Jaiyden, their shepherd.  He would restore them to Hades, and would fulfill his life-long journey.  Jaiyden’s heart found pace, his breathing slowed.  The sun was about to hide beyond the horizon, her rose-red fingers were soon to rest behind the earth, and the moon would smile upon the world before long.  He had seen men enter the tomb.  He had decided to not kill them right away, if they’re still alive in there.  It was time to find out who they were and if more killing would come from it before the undead wreaked havoc on the world, and made his job that much more difficult to manage. 

NEXT after Albedo.

(We have a queue going now? Sweet!)

If I may, I'd like to go again after. =) 

Sorry about the delay, I took an afternoon nap and I woke up really messed up!

Anyway, I would also like to continue if that's ok, but not right now, I wanna see how things play out before contributing again!

Paniwi jumped off of her mount's hump.

Her stomach was starting to ache, and even though the desert was already getting rather cold she somehow felt terribly hot in her face, and she was having a little trouble breathing, and where was the damn water bottle she always took wth her...

She looked back at the one companion she was apparently being afforded by the evening. Chula's face was calm; indifferent. Almost mockingly so.

...What's your problem, silly little human?

"...Stupid camel... if you hadn't run this way, I woULDN'T BE LOST RIGHT NOW!"

Paniwi's hand flew. She didn't consciously mean to actually strike her well-intentioned steed, and she shrank back with a paling face when she felt and heard the solid smack of her falm against Chula's cheek.

The camel bolted without skipping a beat.

"NO! CHULA! CHULA COME BACK! DON'T GO RUNning off into the... desert ...Oh... ho... fuck."

Paniwi fell flat on her ass. Tears started to run down her face in endless streams.

Then she thought she heard a sound. Like a sharp musical note that echoed past her. She stood bolt upright, seizing on the opportunity, dumping rational notions her brain immediately tried to block her with (like 'auditory hallucination' or 'mis-identified predatory howl') aside and screamed, at the top of her lungs,

"HELLO! OH GOD, HE-LL-O! I NEED HELP!"

She didn't need to bate her breath waiting for a response. More blasts of noise - clearly from a musical horn of some kind, and much closer this time - sang in apparent reply. She went to scream again, but this time the music didn't let-up. It rode up and down in some sort of hymn, totally unfamiliar to the girl, always drawing closer...

A unnaturally red light flashed some thirty or so feet away from Paniwi, illuminating the desert. Just beyond it, she could make-out the silouette of Chula, whom apparently hadn't 'run-off' to abandon her afterall so much as simply put some fair distance between her face and Paniwi's hand. An odd mix of emotions blended toether inside the girl; extraordinary relief at the sight of her camel, and yet extraodinary fear at the sudden apperance of this phenomena.

She squinted at the source of the light. She couldn't tell what it was, exactly... a relatively small, very odd shape... translucent, and rather... well... blurry, somehow. As she tried her best to examine it, however (while keeping half an eye on Chula, who had turned around, walked over to and was now curiously examining the same phenomenon from what Paniwi felt was a terribly unsafe proximity) a red shape came rocketing forward out of it, stretching-out towards her. She froze with fear.

The shape bounded across the sand at a sprinter's pace, unfurling itself as it went, shooting just past Paniwi's feet where it finally ended...

It  was a long, thin, red carpet. The girl looked up and down the enigma, still tense and fearful.

More shapes came out of the red light. These moved at a far more casual pace, keeping to the carpet. Chula followed them with her head, and as they got further along, began to trot along behind them. As they neared, Paniwi began to be able to make them out. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, shook her head...

They were people. But.. well, not exactly. They were no more than a foot tall at best. One of the pair in the lead was wearing a great, flowing, red and gold robe... and was also, as far as Paniwi could tell, completely made of fire beneath it. The one beside it was a tangled mass of roots, but nevertheless scultped into an anthropomorphic form. He left a trail of dirt and leaves behind him.

Behind the lead two were the cause of the music - a marching band of trumpeteer skeletons (well... miniature skeletons), garbed in military fatigues.

the entire procession halted, and the music ceased, once the fiery and vegetative figures had stopped right under Paniwi's shadow.

"...Aha! Excellent! I believe... Assistant Herb, my manual!"

"Your manual, sir."

The root-person reached inside himself, pulling-out a small hadcover book, and passed it to the fire-person. He leafed through it without causing any apparent damage to the pages.

"...Yes! Look, look; this is one of them!"

The fire-person held-out the book for the root-person to see.

"It's incredible, sir. I'm so excited, sir."

The fire-person thre the book down at his feet, straightened himself and his robe, made a few throat-clearing sounds and then looked-up at Paniwi.

"You're a Hugh-Manian!"

Paniwi blinked. Her reply came easier than she though it ought to have.

"...What?"

"YOU'RE A HUGH-MANIAN! This is SO AWESOME! Isn't that right, Assistant Herb?"

"It's right, sir. This is so awesome, sir."

"WOW, WOW, WOW! ...I'm Lord Mac! I got your brochure and everything! It's amazing! I wasn't sure you guys were even for real, or if you'd have blown yourselves up already or not... I'M SO EXCITED! AND SO IS ASSISTANT HERB! LOOK AT HIM!"

"I'm so excited, sir."

The fire-person, Lord Mac, was jumping up and down.

"...Um. What brochure?"

"Are you KIDDING ME!? THE ONE YOU TRANSMITTED! ...Oh... OH, NO... Don't tell me it was some kind of 'limited time offer' bullshit!? I HATE LIMITED TIME OFFERS! YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES AN AD TO GET TO US AND THEN FOR US TO GET IT ALL DECODED!? Tell her how long it takes, Assistant Herb!"

"It takes a very long time, sir."

Paniwi took a step back. But it was a conscious one. She felt like she should be scared... but she wasn't. She was relaxing.

"No, no... I just don't know anything about the brochure you're talking about. Can you show it to me?"

"HERB!"

"Right away, sir."

The root-person, Assistant Herb, reached into himself again - this time pulling-out a scroll. He unspooled the image in front of Paniwi:

Paniwi looked at it, puzzled. She didn't recall seeing anything like it before...

"...No, I'm sorry, I don't recognize that. Someone else must've sent it to you. I don't know--"

"You don't know!? YOU DON'T KNOW!? YOU'RE THE LEADER OF THE HUGH-MANIANS, BUT YOU DON'T KNOW WHO SENT US YOUR BROCHURE!? What kind of leader doesn't know, Assistant Herb!?"

"A terrible leader, s--"

"HEY! LOOK! I'm not 'the leader' of anyone!"

"...You're not? Well why didn't you say something!? Where's the ruler of your planet?"

"We don't have a ruler of our planet."

"WHAT!? So who can tell me who sent us your brochure!?"

"...Well... I don't kn--"

"NOT AGAIN!"

"Well wait. How about we go and see my parents? They might be able to help you-- Oh..."

Paniwi suddenly came back to her original problem that she'd been momentarily distracted from. She was lost.

"Oh WHAT!?"

"Oh I'm lost, you fucking asshole!"

"Woah! Hey! No need to be rude, Hugh-Manian! Was there a need to be rude, Assistant Herb?"

"There was no need to be--"

"SHUT-UP!"

There was a few moments of silence.

"That was rather hurtful."

Assistant Herb looked down at the ground.

"Hey! Look at what you did to Assistant Herb!"

"I am so terribly injured."

Paniwi gritted her teeth. Tears started to streak down her face again.

"...Oh... Yeesh... Look, don't cry! Aw, man... I can't stand species that can cry, crying. Look, look - your parents, are they, like, rulers of anything?"

"...Rulers of my house, I guess..."

Lord Mac scratched his chin.

"Hmph. Good enough for now, I suppose! Meatless Marine Glee-Club, commence trumpeting! We'll escort you home, ...Erg... What did you say your name was?"

"I'm Paniwi."

"Of course! Paniwi! Assistant Herb, why didn't you write that down for me the first time I asked forit?"

"I'm an embarassing failure, sir."

Th trumpets started blaring the hymn again- and, somehow, the red carpet bunched it's end up into a mass of yet more carpet and hurled itself into the distance, bouncing across the sand and disappearing over the horizon, leaving a great trail of red that the procession began to march down.

"Coming, Paniwi?"

"...What? Where are we going?

"To your HOME. Obviously."

"...But how do you know how to get there?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm LORD MAC! What kind of lord am I, Assistant Herb?"

"The greatest, most benevolent, most compassionate, most competitive pricing, most--"

"A KNOWING ONE! ...I really should try to shorten that list I gave you, Assistant Herb."

"It would be difficult to express your tremendousness in less than 10,000,000 words, sir."

"...So you know where my house is?"

"HAHA! 'Where your house is'. I know EVERYTHING!"

Paniwi began to follow on foot, when Chula nudged her shoulder from behind. Paniwi stroked her camel's face, climbed onto it's hump, and followed the procession of Lord Mac onward.

Next!  And this time I'll try not to screw up

Yeah, I got the order screwed up... realised that rook should be posting before me.  Just as well something came up last night and I couldn't get to a computer

The cleanup took longer than the killing.  Jaiyden had made use of the sand dunes and had taken the time to drag the bodies to the base of the dunes and kicked the sand over top of the corpses.  It was morbid work and the heat from the sun did not make it any more pleasant.  His leather tunic and cloak became clung to his skin in several places where his sweat had leaked through his undergarments.  His face and his hands had been caked in moist sand now, but he would have to press on.  

Generally, Jaiyden would not suffer the dead to a proper burial, as the death he wrought would send the souls of his victims directly to the underworld without the need for the boatman to escort them, to face immediate judgment.  His link to the realm of Hades had been set the day he had been cursed; this made killing undead things easier.  After all, it isn’t an easy thing to die twice.  However, he had not killed tomb robbers or looters, but soldiers.  These men had died honorably, doing their duty, dying to uphold whatever mission they had been idly sent to.  Jaiyden was not new to this process.  He had been there before as well.  Many of my comrades died in this very desert, under the very same sun, the watchful eyes of Apollo. 

His stomach churned a bit at the thought of it, threatening to reproduce the dried camel jerky he had eaten around noon.  His stomach was not the only thing going afoul, however.  The air was growing stale as well, an ill omen of what was too come.  The sun was past late afternoon, moving into the evening.  Lurking in the ruins would not bode well for whoever was below.  Jaiyden knew the evils which lay dormant in these ruins, had been there when the bodies had been placed in them.  The child would not be the problem.  It would be the others.   As he wiped off his hands and his face on a small rag in one of the vehicles, he hoped that whoever those were in the tomb, they would not have encountered the evil within before he did. 

He pulled his black cloak around him as he stepped towards the doorway to the tomb, pausing as he reached the top of the steps.  It was not a normal doorway, as if one were to walk from room to room in a building; there was nothing manmade about it.  To human eyes, it would appear as if there was nothing between the top of the stairs and the first step to descend.  But to his eyes, Jaiyden could see the blue portal linking the world above to the world below; a trick of the Gods long ago to taunt man with their wit.  The men who built this tomb saw it as a house of the dead; those who would be buried would be reborn in the afterlife.  The Gods had taken this belief and parodied it.  It was not the building which would hold the dead in the afterlife.  The building was just brick and mortar.  The doorway did all the work.  Stepping into this door would not bring you into an ancient structure, it would take you to another world.  A dark world.  One that Jaiyden had grown to know and respect.  When he desceneded into the tomb, he would not be Jaiyden Hawker, he would be Anubis’ Hunter.  He would be Agreus.   With that he stepped into the portal, and drew his blades… 

Dammit... I have to give up my turn again.  This is getting annoying

Fuck you Amos.  Fuck you all the way to hell.

Uncharitable perhaps, but Jebidiah didn't care.  Old friends invited each other round for beers.  Old friends ask favours concerning homes, diy, children, travel, and holiday spots.  Old friends held the unspoken bond formed by the years flowing over pillars of trust.  Old friends didn't invite each other anywhere that involved the use of phrases like 'Elite Unit' or 'ripped to pieces' because of one's naive understanding of another's past.  "Hey old buddy.  How you doing?  I was thinking about all your emotional scars and thought you'd like to join me over here in Clusterfuck, capital city Shitsville, poluation you".

Fuck you Amos.

But it was unfair.  Curiosity had gotten the better of him and Jebediah had come.  He knew something was off and still he came.

Fuck you Jeb and Amos.

When the gunfire and screams started Jebediah moved for the door straight ahead.  Better to delve deeper into a mysterious pyramid and prolong a possible brutal attack on your person than to walk straight out and take the kicking.  That's what his father used to say - more or less - and Jebediah felt it was good advice to stick to.  He heard Amos move to grab the boy and follow in behind.  Already he could hear that damn question forming on Amos' lips, waiting for an opportune rest moment to strike "What do you think...?"

He'd ran down a narrow corridor for 30 feet to a t-juncture before quickly skidding right.  After that he'd darted through several narrow carridors taking instinctual turns, acutely aware of the gradual downward slope, before finally bringing himself to the logical stop.  For lucky people that would be a barricaded room replete with weapons and a convenient escape route.  For Jebediah it involved the first room he couldn't hear the screaming in.  He'd kill for a barricaded room.  He'd kill for an easy way out.  Hells, he'd kill to be back getting a shower from a tusk wielding grey giant.  Right now though he needed silence.

"Jeb..." "Amos not now!"

He listened in the space between heartbeats.  Nothing.  Looking round he found himself in a trapezoid room, all the walls sloping inward from the square floor with a door in each wall.  In the centre of the room was a smooth stone block.  The kind you'd use to put a display on.  A body perhaps.  Atop the block was a small piece of limestone encrusted with a red jewel.  Jebediah noticed the boy couldn't take his eyes from it.

"You seen anything like this before Amos?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing my friend"

I bet you were you fucker

"Guide"  It was the second thing the boy had ever said to Jebediah and the second thing to send a shiver down his spine.  Perfect strike rate kid.

"Guide?  What do you mean guide?"

"It b-brought me...  t-t-to here... to this p-place.  It brought the Walking Death"

At that moment the report of gunfire echoed and rattled into the room.  Jebediah grabbed the stone in the centre of the room and made for the door immediately across from his first entrance, but was stopped as Amos grabbed him back and pointed towards the door.

"look!"

The door.  His brain was telling him that it wasn't possible but it was almost like a wall of shadow had been erected in place of the entrance.  Quickly he turned for one of the other exits but stopped in his tracks when a voice, a sound like a winter breeze passing over gravestones, came from the shadowed door.

"Heretics.  You have disturbed this place.  You have summoned Agreus.  This angers us."

With that Jebediah look from the door, to the stone, to the young boy, and finally to his old friend Amos.

"Fuck you Amos"

And he started to run.