Still awake and clad in yesterday's clothes, the two companions departed that morning. Carter suggested going back to the hotel to get what they needed, but Jackson denied it. A bath and change of clothes would be nice, but the odds of falling asleep were too high.
As per the original agreement, they helped themselves to supplies and guns from Omar's store. Jackson reminded him that not only was the trapezohedron most likely worth more than the map he gave them, but their lives as well. Omar stood aside as they helped themselves.
Omar's name opened doors all over town, especially at a stable on the outskirts. Camels, one each for Carter and Jackson and a third as their load bearer, came without question. Loaded and ready to go, they left Cairo.
Depending on their dromedaries' temperaments, their journey threatened to take up to four days. Though long before noon, the sun burned hotter than ever. When a breeze blew over the river, the sweat still ran thick. The map showed nothing, but the promise of an oasis gave some hope.
The entire duration of the trip, both men looked over their shoulders and steered clear of any potential hiding spots. Carter never spoke, all out of questions. Jackson held to the course, and wished his father was there. Omar's behavior would have been much different in that case.
He had never conned or disappointed Jackson's father, let alone send out assassins. Blood rose in Jackson's cheeks at the thought.
About an hour north of the well they approached an oasis. A woman bathed a crying child, its ear-piercing wails growing louder the closer they came. Carter grunted at the annoyance, but Jackson gritted his teeth. The baby's face turned into Omar's, clumped on the floor of his shop, crying and sobbing like a man who had made the biggest mistake of his life.
Jackson shook his head. Even if Omar had duped him, this well was about to become public. After all, it was a legend, and Jackson's father would see it through. Not to mention, Omar claimed he was going to sell the purple rock to someone in the Mediterranean. Even if he had lied about it, Jackson knew where the man lived.
Jackson and Carter continued on after a lengthy drink of water. Two hours later, they arrived at the area marked on the map.
The rocks jutted from the sand first. Once over a tall dune, the sand dissipated to make way for small hills of dark, solid stone. It all grew and rose, small mountains stretching from one end of the horizon to the other. Cave entrances littered the cliffs, some large enough to host an entire caravan, others so small a child would have to crawl inside.
Wooden signs jutted forth from the sand in front of many of the cave mouths, "Keep Away" or "Danger Inside" in scrawled in Arabic writing. Omar's cave, the only one with a sign claiming "Kingdom of Egypt," sat within one of the larger hills.
They hitched the camels to the sign, looking around the area while doing so. Did the other unmarked caves hold secrets as well? Jackson mentally filed them away for another time, and another trip.
"Carter, take the lead," he said.
Carter opened his mouth, but started into the cave, silent. Both dug through their satchels, pulled out flashlights, and lit them to reveal the inside of the cave.
Curved walls stretched high on either side. Endless darkness stood in front of them. Gooseflesh rose the deeper they walked. Darkness impeded on their light, science losing the war against nature. The dry desert air had kept dampness away, avoiding the musty, moldy odor Jackson feared it would have.
Time passed, but Jackson continued on with Carter at his side. Neither looked at their watch, and words were never spoken. Minutes or hours later, they arrived at their destination.
The pathway opened into a large chamber, with no other exit. Their flashlights regained their full illumination, lighting the entire room. A small pool of water, surrounded by a low rock wall lay in the center of the cave. Jackson smiled, soon to discover if it was worth the price. Not until someone else tested it, however.
"Carter, I'm giving you the honors." His voice barely echoed. He presented the well with an open palm, ushering his companion forward. With a shrug, Carter approached the well with an open mouth.
The former soldier crouched down on all fours, peering into the water. Jackson stood back and saw nothing. Minutes passed.
Carter's eyes grew wider. His breath caught, but soon came quick and shallow. A shudder passed over his body, a smile growing as big as his eyes. He stood and turned to Jackson.
"That was wonderful," he said. "I...I saw my future." He laughed. "Now I know my reason for living. Thank you for this." He stepped aside.
"Omar can live after all." Jackson smiled. Relieved, he fell to his knees, and looked in the well. If Carter had come away unscathed, how bad could it be?
Cold and still, the water was too dark to see farther down than a foot. Seconds passed. In the water's reflection, Jackson saw his face, covered in sand and sweat, early wrinkles soon to creep in near his eyes. From the depths, a dim glow rose. Jackson still saw himself, and Carter towering above him, holding a knife.
Jackson jumped back, flashes of light in his peripheral vision. He slumped back against the well, panting. Carter stood a few yards away, watching the entrance to the cave. What game was he playing?
Jackson pulled his pistol from his belt. In three long, silent strides, he stood behind Carter. The big man never felt the gun against his head, not until a split second before Jackson fired.
The report rang throughout the cave, stabbing into Jackson's ears. He shook it off, and wiped away the burning sensation in his nose and eyes. Time to hurry: that boat to the Mediterranean would leave soon, unless Omar held up the ship and its crew. After all, he always made people wait on him...
THE END
About the author
While not working his day job as an interdimensional traveler/adventurer, Myke Edwards can often be found writing about weird people doing even weirder things. Needless to say, he is often found writing, buried deep within his home dimension that looks a lot like Toledo, Ohio. Previous works have appeared in such publications as Crimson Streets, 9Tales From Elsewhere, Bards & Sages Quarterly, Spinetinglers, and many other fine journals. Stay tuned for more stories, some of which might even be true…
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My blog: writermyke.wordpress.com
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