Cathy looked at him offended. “Since we live in a global world. He didn't have to wait for you, you know. Chances are it wasn't even the same guy."
“Hmm, maybe you're right, but it just pisses me off that I didn't get a chance to speak to him."
The camel driver seemed upset. “You pay extra. Not route,” he said, gesturing passionately. He was evidently concerned.
“Yes, we'll pay you extra,” Robert agreed.
Cathy could see he was disappointed, and she didn't quite understand why. Why would he be so desperate to catch up with a complete stranger just because he did a good deed? It seemed just a tad too obsessive. She suddenly wondered if she could trust him.
Returning to the original route, both Cathy and Robert were silent, each lost in their own thoughts.
At the end of their journey, the camel driver approached Robert. “You pay extra,” he insisted. There was no doubt that he was going to demand his fair share for having to change the route. Within seconds, he and Robert were caught up in aggressive price negotiations, and she watched them from a distance. Judging by the expression on Robert's face, the driver had asked for more than his fair share, and judging by the driver's expression, Robert had told him where to get off. She smiled. It was entertaining to watch.
While the two were locked in fierce negotiations, another man walked up to her. She noticed him out of the corner of her eye, but ignored him on purpose. She assumed he wanted money. But something in his demeanour made her change her mind. He didn't act or look like he was a local. For a brief moment, their eyes met and she felt a shiver run down her spine. There was something different about him...
Without saying a word, he surreptitiously shoved a piece of paper in her hand before disappearing as quickly as he had come, back into the crowd of camel herders. She opened the piece of paper. It read:
"Leave Hasan's house. Your life is in danger."
She stared at the piece of paper. Cold fingers gripped her heart. Her life was in danger? How? Why? She looked up to see where Robert was, but he was still locked in negotiations with the camel driver, unaware of her turmoil.
Then she crumpled up the note and tossed it away. It had to be a joke—a cheap joke. Did she really look that gullible?
Robert walked over to her after paying a very grumpy camel driver. “What was that?"
“Oh, a note some guy shoved into my hand,” she said, trying to sound indifferent.
“What did it say?"
She waved it off with her hand. “Something about my life being in danger."
Her lack of concern seemed to upset him. He looked at her apprehensively. “And you threw it away?"
“Yeah. It's over there if you want it...” she said indifferently.
“Don't be flippant. This could be serious,” he said, suddenly sounding angry.
She casually readjusted the scarf on her head. She hated to admit it, but he had every right to be angry at her flippant attitude. There was always the possibility the warning could be real, but she dismissed that thought.
“You read too many spy novels, Robert. People don't give notes to strangers to warn them about imminent danger. I bet you it's some crazy person who doesn't like tourists, so he makes up these little games."
Robert opened his mouth, but then closed it. He seemingly decided not to argue the point with her and she was relieved. She didn't feel like making more of a fuss about the note than it was worth. Really. Who in their right mind would believe such a fraud? She scratched her arm absent-mindedly. Damn mosquito. It had really got stuck into her.
Robert had to have noticed her scratching. “Is that mosquito bite still bothering you?"
“Hmm. It's not so itchy anymore. It's more a burning feeling now."
“Let me see.” He took her arm and rolled up her sleeve.
Cathy looked at her arm. It seemed somewhat inflamed, but besides that, there was nothing wrong with it.
“We must put something on when we get home. Meanwhile, stop scratching. You're just aggravating it,” he reprimanded her.
Cathy rolled down the cotton sleeve. “Easier said than done. It burns like hell."
“That's because you've been scratching—just like a dog with fleas,” he quipped, much to her displeasure. He looked at his watch, and then said, “We'd better get a move on if we want to be on time for dinner. Anyway, Abdul must be waiting for us."
Robert was right. Abdul had been waiting for them, and he drove them back to Hasan's house while Robert engaged in a long discussion with him about using camels instead of vehicles to visit the Pyramids.
She listened to them absent-mindedly, feeling strangely lightheaded and feverish. The thought crossed her mind that the mosquito bite had something to do with it, but she put it immediately out of her mind. It couldn't be malaria. She was taking the anti-malaria tablets like the prescription said.
Back in Hasan's home, Robert asked Abdul for a first aid kit and the latter brought it dutifully, making Cathy sit down on a chair in the drawing room. He carefully studied the insect bite on her arm before shaking his head. “Nothing to worry about, Dr. McNeal. It is only an insect bite. I will put some ointment on to take the burning away."
She looked at Robert. “See, nothing to worry about.” She sounded more convinced than she felt. Then she thought of something and turned to Abdul. “Have you been able to have my necklace fixed yet?"
For a fleeting moment, she saw the expression in Abdul's eyes darken, but then he smiled. “Yes, Dr. McNeal, I have. I will make sure that a servant takes it to your room."
“Great. Thanks a lot. How much do I owe you?"
“Nothing. Professor Al-Abud has already reimbursed me,” he answered coolly.
Cathy lifted her eyebrows. “Oh? Has he? That was very kind of him."
“He felt it necessary. After all, you are a visitor to our country,” Abdul explained while taking out an ointment from the first aid kit and gently rubbing it on the bite mark. Then he closed the tube, placed it back and started packing up the first aid kit. “It is done. The burning should be less now."
“Yes, actually it is.” She was genuinely surprised. The bite mark had been itching since early that morning but the ointment seemed to take it away almost immediately. “What is it?"
“An old remedy. Some herbs. Quite safe,” he replied vaguely, taking the first aid kit. Without giving her a further chance to ask anything, he left the room without as much as a nod.
Cathy yawned. Suddenly, she felt really tired. The day had to have taken more out her than she had thought. “I don't think I'm over my jetlag yet. Maybe I should go and have a nap,” she said to Robert
He nodded. “Good. I'll meet you later for dinner?"
“Yes.” She got up and left the room. Her sudden tiredness worried her. She wasn't used to feeling so exhausted. Walking down the passage, she suddenly felt strange, as if someone was squeezing all the air out of her lungs. She stopped trying to catch her breath. Something was seriously wrong. It was as if the world around her was vanishing into a vortex of empty space. It was pulling her in and she was unable to fight it. She opened her mouth to call out, but it was too late. As darkness came, she managed to whisper a single name: “Eqin..."
At that precise moment, on the other side of the city, a man stopped dead in his tracks. His head was tilted as if listening to something and the expression on his face was tense. Then he curled his hand into a tight fist until the white of his knuckles was showing.
“Cathy..."
* * * *
Robert had watched Cathy silently as she left the drawing room. He was worried about her health. She seemed unusually tired. Could it be that she'd contracted some sort of disease? Malaria, or perhaps even yellow fever?
“Sir! Sir!” A manservant came rushing into the room. His face was pale as a ghost. “Please, you must help. The lady doctor, she collapsed in the passage."
Robert jumped up. She'd collapsed? He hurried out to follow the distressed servant and
found Cathy on the floor. Abdul was already there. His facial expression was neutral. He looked up at Robert. “She passed out,” he said evenly, putting something back in his pocket.
Robert knelt down and lightly shook her shoulders. “Cathy!"
Her eyes flickered open. “Robert...” She tried to sit up but collapsed back on the floor.
“Take it easy. We'll get some servants to carry you to your room...” His words had the opposite effect of what he had intended. With an irate frown, she sat up. Her face was still pale as a sheet, and he felt his concern growing. He sensed that she was seriously ill.
“What happened? Oh, my head...” she said, holding her head between her hands.
“You fainted."
“I did? I don't ... remember. Help me up, please Robert."
“I don't think you should get up now."
“I need to get to my room,” she insisted.
He could see that it was important to her, and helped her up. She leaned heavily on him, and he realised she was very weak. It shocked him to see her that way. How was it possible? The one moment she was a sprightly young woman and the next moment she was like a person near death. What could cause such a sudden change? Surely, it wasn't normal.
They walked slowly to her room. She could hardly place one foot in front of the other, and he could see that she was shaken, too. She had an expression of bewilderment on her face as if she wasn't sure where she was or what she was doing there.
Once in her room, he helped her to a chair. She was clearly exhausted and his heart broke.
“Cathy, don't you think we should get someone to look at you?"
She shook her head. “I'll be fine, really. I probably just have the flu. I'll feel better soon,” she said, half-heartedly.
“You're not fine. I'll ask the Professor to get his house doctor to have a look at you. Meanwhile, try to get some rest,” he insisted.
“I'll try,” she said.
She sat in the chair like an old woman, staring out in front of her. There was a blank look in her eyes and if he hadn't known better he'd have thought she was on the brink of dementia. He suddenly felt hesitant to leave her alone, but he knew he couldn't stay. With a last look over his shoulder, he left the room.
Cathy was vaguely aware of Robert's departure. She was fighting off the force pulling her into another vision, but it was too strong and she was too weak, and she found herself drawn into the past once again...
She was at the Sphinx. There was a big celebration. Though she wasn't part of it, she knew they were celebrating because they'd just finished building it. A man climbed onto a podium.
His voice carried over the people as he spoke. There was power in his voice, dignity and pride.
“We will build pyramids, our sign to our people that we are here. And when they enter the sky they will see it, and they will come to rescue us. Our scrolls, our diaries of our journeys, we will place here under the protective eye of the Sphinx. He will protect them until we return home."
The two hundred or so people threw their arms up in support, cheering loudly. It was a joyous occasion, but she sensed something else permeating the celebrations, and it sent shivers down her spine. Nailed to the ground, she stood there, watching from the outside.
Where did they bury it? The familiar voice was in her head.
She looked around but she couldn't see anyone close to her. I don't know, she answered in the same manner.
See. Go closer. You will see it, the voice in her head urged.
I don't want to go closer.
You must. You must tell me where the scrolls are buried.
An irresistible force impelled her to move forwards, closer to the celebrating people. She felt the presence of danger and wanted to back away, but she was unable to resist. She could see their faces, hear their thoughts, and feel their feelings ... it came rushing over her like a thousand horses.
She cringed, holding her hands over her ears to block it all out, and cried out her words voicelessly.
No! I don't want to go closer! I don't want to!
You must!
No!
Suddenly the vision exploded into thousand pieces, and she found herself lying motionless on the floor. “I don't want to ... I don't want to...” she murmured as darkness came as welcome relief from the emotional pain.
* * * *
On the other side of the city in an unimposing house in an ordinary suburb, a young man looked up when a small communication crystal moved from its suspended position in his direction. It hung motionless in front of him until he waved his hand and a tiny hologram appeared in front of him.
“Yes?"
The hologram's response was curt. “He has done it."
The young man's piercing green eyes clouded over. “We were too late,” he said glumly.
The hologram nodded, patiently waiting for some type of instruction, but the man had nothing to say for a moment. Then he asked, “How much time do we have?"
“It all depends..."
“On what?"
“On how much he has used and how much of our genetic material she has."
“And then?"
“Death. Insanity. Whichever comes first."
The young man got up determinately. “We have to get her out of there."
The hologram seemed cautious. “If we did manage to do that, we still can't do much for her. We don't have an antidote, and she could still die. We may have to wait for someone else..."
“No! We have to get her out. Do what you can, and keep me posted."
The young man waved his hand and the hologram disappeared. The communications crystal glided back to the corner of the room where it remained suspended amongst the others.
* * * *
There was a knock at Cathy's door. Still wearing her silky robe, she struggled up from the chair. Although she'd woken up that morning feeling somewhat better, she couldn't get the previous day's events out of her head. It had scared the living daylights out of her. After the hallucination, she knew with certainty that she was fighting more than simply some nightmare. She was fighting for her sanity.
When she opened the door, she found Robert standing there, ready and fully dressed. He seemed surprised to find her still in her pyjamas. “Aren't you going down for breakfast?"
“No, not now,” she said, annoyed at his obvious lack of sympathy. What had he expected? That she would have simply recovered after the previous day's incident?
“We're going to the site after breakfast. Are you joining us?” he asked.
She hesitated. Her instincts told her not to go, but she nodded regardless. She didn't want to appear weak in front of him. “Yeah, I'll go,” she said but her lack of enthusiasm was evident.
“Are you sure you're feeling okay?” he asked with a hint of concern.
She pulled a face. “Yes, I'm just fine,” she said.
What a silly question. I pass out in the host's passage and he asks if I'm alright.
“I'm glad. The doctor said it was simply a result of too much heat and that you should be fine today."
She bit her lip. It wasn't heat stroke. Of that, she was sure. Heat stroke wouldn't have caused such a reaction, but she didn't argue. What was the point?
She gently closed the door, and for a few moments, she leaned against the door. Then she started dressing painfully slowly. Every part of her body ached, and each movement was agonizing. She closed her eyes and stood motionless for a while. She shouldn't be going to the site; she should stay at the house at the very least. At best, she should be booking the first flight back home. The visit was turning into a disaster.
As she bent down to put on her sandals she was again catapulted back into a past long forgotten...
She was walking through the lush growth around the Sphinx. Her feet were treading carefully, avoiding the tiny plants growing around her. Suddenly a figure appeared in front of her. She couldn't make it out, and it scared her that she was unable to flee. It was as if an unknown f
orce kept her there.
Where did you bury it?
The voice was back in her head again. It was so familiar. Her conscious mind tried to decipher it, but the voice was in her head, interfering with her ability to think rationally.
Where is it? the voice insisted.
She shook her head. “I don't know what you're talking about."
Behind the lush growth, she could see the pyramids looming—they were beckoning her...
Mechanically she started walking towards them.
Stop, the voice commanded.
She stopped in her tracks; the voice was too authoritative to ignore, but her gaze was still fixed on the shiny pyramids.
Look at me, the voice ordered.
She mechanically turned towards the figure. With a sudden flash of recollection, she realised that she was only a little girl—about nine years old. That's why the figure was so much bigger...
Where did you bury it?
The little girl shook her head again. “I don't know. I have to ask my daddy."
No. YOU know. YOU have to tell me, the voice insisted.
“I don't know.” Her eyes filled with tears at his harsh tone. “I have to ask my daddy."
Your daddy is not here. YOU have to tell me.
The girl started crying. “I'm scared. I don't know what you want."
You know what I want. Come closer. See what it is that I seek...
The voice beckoned, and as if in a trance, she moved closer, unable to resist it. As she was about to reach out towards him, someone pushed her out of the way with such a force that she lost her balance, and she cried out as she fell on the grass.
With a jolt, Cathy returned to reality, only to find herself huddled once again in the corner of the room on the cold stone floor. Tears were streaming down her face. “Oh God, what is happening to me?"
* * * *
Robert and Professor Al-Abud were already waiting for her at the front door when she finally mustered the strength to face them. Her facial expression told nothing of her inner turmoil.
It wasn't long before they reached Pyramid Road and saw the structures rising out the desert like ominous creatures beckoning to them. Cathy had a sudden, overwhelming urge to bolt for her life, and it took all her willpower not to pull open the car door and run down the street. Without warning another vision flashed into her mind.
Alien Genes 1: Daughter of Atuk Page 10