Shadows grew longer, but the heat lingered. Even with the sun melting into the west, people remained out and exposed. Eyes glanced toward the Americans, but most looked away immediately. Jackson watched everyone. The child next to him could be his killer, or the woman buying silks. After a time, they slipped into a narrow alley and sat under a staircase.
Carter left to find food and a disguise. Jackson's stomach grumbled; roast pheasant with potatoes would be ideal. Carter returned an hour later with a handful of figs and some warm bread. Not the prepared meal he had hoped for, but it hit the spot. Would the well show him a future better than this? The future he deserved?
They dressed in head wraps and robes like many of the locals wore. Jackson never asked where Carter found them. Exhaustion washed over him before he could plan his next move.
Always a light sleeper, a movement of the air woke him immediately.
Stars beamed down at him, the only light in the sky. Cairo sat silent, the distant screech of a cat the only sound.
A knife stuck in the wall next to Jackson. To his left, Carter elbowed man in white robes, holding him tight from behind. Another stood at the mouth of the alley.
Jackson stood. He drew his pistol, but held off from pulling the trigger. Gunfire would surely draw a crowd he didn't need at the time.
Carter grunted next to him. The other assassin dashed towards Jackson, fists raised. Jackson froze, as did his blood. The man overtook him within two seconds.
They fell to the dirt. Jackson's back hit the ground, hard. He could still breathe, but his lungs only allowed for quick, ragged gasps. The man grabbed both his wrists, squeezing tight.
Jackson kicked up, but missed hitting anything. The assassin, eyes ablaze, slammed his forehead down onto Jackson's nose. Fire stabbed at him, blood immediately gushing forth. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut, his entire face throbbing with the pain.
The man let go of his wrists, only to land successive punched on his stomach and chest. Jackson gasped even more, unable to move away.
Above him, stuck in the wall, was the knife. If only he could reach it…
Another head butt caused red flashes to fill his vision. Jackson's body went limp, and he knew that he would never look into Omar's well.
Weight landed on him. Silence reigned, the rushing of blood in his ears the only sound. Nothing moved, and his muscles realized that the struggled had ended. Jackson opened his eyes.
The white-clad assassin lay atop him, unmoving. The knife stuck out of the man's back, blood spreading across his white tunic. Carter wrapped a meaty hand around the man's arm and hefted him up.
Jackson pushed himself up to sitting. His face hurt like hell, but he could breathe and move. More important than that, he was alive, again thanks to Carter. The man might be big and dumb, but sure had proved his worth in a fight.
"The sun is rising." Carter nodded toward the east. A sliver of pink showed above the buildings and tents. "We should go wait for Omar now."