Free short story: Son of Egypt - Part 5
Parts: 01 – 02 – 03 – 04 – 05 – 06 – 07 – 08 – 09 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 – 17 – 18 - 19
Copyright © 2016 by Cyci Cade. All rights reserved.
No matter what I do, I can´t stop looking for those canopic jars. I spend the whole day looking for them. Everywhere. It´s frustrating. It is as if he is inside of my head, reminding me that I must find those stupid canopic jars. I can´t erase the image of those jars from my mind. I wonder why these things happen to me. There are many people in this camp. Why me?
In the evening, I´m tired, starving, and… feeling miserable. After dinner and a long talk with my mother and her colleagues about the destination of the objects they find in the tombs, I get up and shuffle my feet to my tent.
Arriving there, I find an almost naked man rummaging through my things. Anger possesses me. I don´t like anybody rummaging through my things. My bedroom was a forbidden zone, my father respected my limits and we had a great deal, I didn´t disturb him and vice-versa.
I put my hands on my hips and protest, “What are you doing here? You can´t invade my tent and rummage through my things!”
He turns to me with a smile on his face that makes me forget that I´m mad at him for a brief moment. “I´m waiting for you.”
I sigh. It can´t be true. I thought I wouldn´t see him so soon since I haven´t found his missing objects. “I didn´t find your canopic jars. I´m exhausted and I need to rest.”
“I see.” He lowers his head; his disappointment breaks my heart.
“Okay. I asked my mother if they found some objects in the last days and where those objects were. She said that they found many priceless things and they sent them to the museum of Luxor. That´s why she couldn´t pick me in the airport.” I snort. “According to her description, I think part of those objects belongs to you.”
He narrows his eyebrows. “Luxor?”
“Yeah, Luxor, Thebes, or whatever.” I throw my hands up.
He smiles. “Thebes. We must go there now!”
I hold up my hand interrupting his enthusiasm. “We? Why do I have to accompany you? I´m not going anywhere. I´m exhausted. I need to sleep. I don´t have any intention to leave this tent for the next eight hours, at least.”
“I need your help, Adele. I can´t do it without you.” I see that disappointment in his eyes again.
Why? WHY? I never thought that I was such a supple woman. Why does he have so much power over me? It bothers me.
“Look, I have a very complicated relationship with my mother. Soon, she´ll be here to check on me and… finding a naked man in my tent won´t help much.” I point to his very exposed body.
He lowers his head, studying his body for a moment, then he concludes. “I´m not naked.”
“You are wearing almost nothing, Anhuren. You can´t walk around wearing this… this… mini-skirt,” I protest.
I can´t say if I´m bothered with the lack of fabric or the thought that other women will look at him at the same way I look at him, with famished eyes, almost devouring each part of his perfect body.
He smiles. “Don´t worry about it. She won´t see me, nobody will.”
I smirk. “A specimen like you doesn´t pass unnoticed in a small tent like this one. A specimen like you wouldn´t pass unnoticed anywhere.”
He puffs his chest. I´ve insufflated his pride. Oh, I have! “Only you can see me.”
“You were the first person I met after my resurrection. Other people will be able to see me after I recover my canopic jars and absorb my organs.” He makes it sound so common, simple, normal.
Resurrection. Organs. These words make me nervous. It must be a joke, a bad dream. Yes. Maybe I´m in shock due to my father´s death. I´m delusional. Yeah! This is the only plausible explanation I encounter for this.
“Take a rest.” He steps aside, giving me space to reach my cot.
“What are you doing?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, refusing to step toward my cot, toward him.
Smiling, he says, “I´ll wait. Here.”
“Here?” My voice is too loud.
He nods. “I´ll protect you.”
“I don´t need protection.” I protest, jitters possessing me. I won´t be able to sleep with a god watching me, or an embodiment of a god. His presence disturbs me too much. I am not myself when I´m near him.
“Yes, you do. As my serv…”
I hold up my hand. Again that word? Servant? Why does he see me like a servant? My clothes? The fact that now I live in a tent like those homeless people? Nobody would mix me up with a homeless person in London.
He corrects himself. “As the person who is helping me, you are a target. An easy target.” This time his expression is somber and I believe he is telling the truth.
Feeling defeated, I walk toward him and slump on the cot, kicking my boots off. I can´t believe that I´m undressing in front of him. Well, technically, I´m not undressing.
“Sleep, Adele. We´re going to the museum after you have rested and your mother checked on you. Don´t worry, I´m not going anywhere.” He steps closer.
“This is my concern,” I murmur and lie down on my right side.
He sits on the ground next to my cot and his too short skirt lifts revealing too much of his incredible muscled legs. I reprimand myself for looking but I can´t help. I can´t dodge my glance. Noticing that I´ve been staring at those wonderful thighs too long, I lift my eyes. I encounter Anhuren staring at me with an arched eyebrow. I sense my cheeks on fire.