“He does seem to lose the thread often.”
“Years of drug abuse, I bet,” Jonas said.
She nodded. “Did anything else happen that night?”
“No, he was right. Dawn was around the corner, and not the woman he owed… whatever to. I woke Elliott and Angie, and we picked our way through the house. It was really eerie. The music was off, but the party lights were still on. Flashing all over. You know that house. He had them mounted absolutely everywhere.”
“Yeah, like he was trying to have his own laser show.” She ate another ice cube.
“We had to walk over sleeping people. The blondes behind the bar were cuddled against the cabinets. People were absolutely everywhere. I looked at the stairs, they were completely clogged. Even the front yard had clusters of people huddled for warmth, snow gathered around them. By the time we made it to the street, it was already pre-dawn gray out. We walked back to campus, and I crashed as soon as I got home.”
“If it was so close to your dorm, why did you always catch a cab with Elliott?” She asked. Her voice was slurred with more than booze. She sounded ready to sleep herself.
“Elliott hates cardio. He won’t walk unless he has to. Also, we had to go to random places to buy beer. So a cab made sense.”
“I see,” she said sleepily. She yawned widely. The action was infectious, he followed suit.
“That was pretty weird, but par for the course with Tricky. I met him once, but that’s a story for another time. What do you suppose that weird stuff he said was about?"
"No idea," Jonas said with a sigh. The rumble of the engines combined with the darkness of the cabin and the suppressive effect of the copious amount of alcohol both had consumed. They fell asleep, heads still pressed together. They slumbered through the early breakfast. He woke up when the plane engines shifted pitch. He waited nervously as the tires thudded onto the tarmac. All of Jonas' forgotten anxiety flooded back. His hands locked onto the arm rests. He broke into a clammy sweat.
"Hey, relax. We're down. That was the landing," Lily said, nearly drowned out by the roar of the jets. Jonas lurched in his seat, knuckles turning white with pressure. She reached over and held his hand. The anxiety that plagued him slowly drained away. He opened his eyes and found her staring at him.
"Better?"
He nodded, slowly unclenching his hands. She took her hand off his, then started gathering her stuff together. The engines died down to a low hum and the plane rumbled along the tarmac, eventually parking at a terminal. People began to stand, gathering bags from the overhead bins. He regained his usual composure. He knew intellectually that flying was safe, but telling his brain that didn’t work.
Lily placed a hand on his arm. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Jonas," she said with a smile.
He smiled back at her. "Thanks, you too."
He stood, grabbed his bag, and was urged toward the front of the plane. He glanced back as he moved along the aisle, only to find he had already lost sight of her. He was gently pushed forward by people anxious to disembark. He waited in the terminal, feeling stupid, hoping to see her again. He never acted that way with women, yet she had reached him in a way he hadn’t experienced before. It was an emotional connection, not one borne out of alcohol and drugs. After the plane had emptied, he gave up hope of seeing her again.
He went to find the rest of the Archeology group, and they went to an early breakfast. Lily never left his thoughts as they ate. The students were quiet as they ate. Calhoun stared into the distance, sipping his coffee. Despite his nap on the plane, Jonas felt exhausted. He picked at his food. Once the group finished eating, Calhoun paid cash and took the receipt. He placed it in his briefcase on top of other paperwork.
“They accept American dollars here?” Jonas asked.
Calhoun nodded. “Most international airports accept the dollar. If you ever run into an issue, just remember that American money works almost anywhere. That’s obviously not true everywhere, but in my travels; it works more often than not.” He took another sip of his coffee.
Jonas turned to people watching. Despite being in another country entirely, he noticed that people looked the same. Their clothes were a little different, but the hustle and bustle of moving around the airport was the same as it had been back in America. He heard all sorts of languages being spoken, most of which he’d never heard before. Smells constantly wafted by from the various restaurants. His eyes watered more than once as a sweaty man trailed his body odor along the concourse.
After Calhoun finished his coffee, he directed the students to the next gate. They still had another hour to wait. Jonas continued people watching. Dylan read and Simon wandered around. Jodie and Sidney sat together, heads pressed close, as they read through and wrote in a journal.
They reboarded an hour later, sleepy and stressed. He found his seat and watched as the rest of the passengers boarded. Lily didn’t appear during the boarding process. He figured she must have been on a different flight. He tried to relax, to fall asleep. The engines roared, the plane took off, and his stomach dropped with it. He had an aisle seat again, though the window seat was empty. He found that he regretted it and wished Lily were seated there.
The next four hours were akin to purgatory. He couldn’t relax enough to sleep. Time seemed to slow until each second was an hour. His jaw began to hurt. He realized he was clenching his teeth. He asked for a strong drink, hoping the alcohol would assist him in relaxing. After an hour, he drifted off to sleep.
10
Fog drifted lazily through the center of the main event tent. The bright orange and yellow fabric reflected the firelight back from the torches in the center ring. Detritus from the show still sat nearby. Empty popcorn bags, popcorn all over the bench seats and floor. Sticky brown puddles of soda could be seen.
The torches guttered in a breeze, nearly snuffing out. When they returned to their former brightness, a clown stood in the center of the tent. The fog wavered at the edge of the spotlight, as if hesitant to enter the ring.
The clown’s face was painted a ghastly white with large red lips that stretched from ear to ear. He was bald with a tiny comical bowler hat. The makeup covered his entire scalp. His eyes were large, with pupils visible from thirty feet away, and as black as a moonless night. When he grinned, his teeth were shattered, browned and blackened with neglect, and more crooked than a broken seaside cliff. His clothes were a garish red and orange in motley style. He could have passed for a serf in 16th century England.
An eerie laugh echoed from deep inside the clown. It was as though he had no organs, only a massive space to hold what he breathed… or ate. He juggled three orbs that were hard to see. A tail fluttered after each one. One was brown, another red, and the third yellow. It appeared an effortless act.
“Welcome,” boomed the clown. He had a rich voice. It didn’t match his appearance in the slightest. A voice from a confident actor or politician, someone with too much charisma. Not the voice you would expect to hear from a man in makeup and ill-fitting clothes. He winked, an exaggerated motion made more so by the bizarre asymmetrical eyes. “Welcome to Circum ex Inferno! This is your afterparty, Jonas.”
A shiver went down Jonas’ spine. Watching the clown speak was unsettling. His jaw moved out of time with his words. He should have been quiet, even in the empty tent, yet it sounded like he was standing only an arm’s length away. Jonas sat still, frozen in place. He couldn’t move, couldn’t look away.
The clown caught the three orbs by the tails. They swung from his fist. Each slowly turned as tension was released from the ponytails. Sightless eyes looked up at him, mouths hanging slack. Horror took Jonas in its clutches. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. Panic filled him.
“It’s time for the hunt, boy. The best part of the show. My favorite.” The clown licked his lips with a swollen black tongue. It was then that Jonas heard the baying of the dogs. They sounded desperate, hungry, angry. They tore through the side of the tent, spilling a lantern in t
heir wake. It burst open, spreading oil and flames on the dirt.
“No,” Jonas gasped out. He stood abruptly, nearly overbalancing in the act. The clown dropped his grisly juggling orbs and began to clap. His nails were long and yellowed with poor hygiene. He jumped up and down in glee.
“Oh goody, a fighter,” he said with a purr in his voice. “That makes the meat so much more… tender.” He started to laugh, loud and horrible.
Jonas bolted down the rows of seats. He leapt over the railing to the dirt below, only to find a dog in his way. It was long and brown with skinny legs and a long tail. He could see its ribs protruding from its sides. Slobber dripped from its open mouth. A low growl rumbled from it. Jonas spun in place, trying to find an escape.
The flames had caught on the tent and the sides were starting to burn all around him. He could see a gap in the wall on the far side. Darkness lay beyond. He charged across the tent, wary of the center ring. He didn’t know what would happen if he stepped into it, only that it would end badly for him. His steps slowed as he circled the ring. The dogs closed the distance to him, still moving at full speed.
The clown continued laughing. It didn’t even deign to look in his direction. It still stood in the center of the ring. A dog closed in on the right. Jonas felt like he was wading through molasses. The dog leapt forward, teeth bared. Jonas juked to his left. His left food touched the ring. In an instant, the clown was there. It caught him by the throat, halting all momentum. He pried frantically at his throat, trying to break the creature’s iron grasp.
Up close the clown was even worse. The makeup was flaking away, taking patches of skin with. Its eyes rolled wildly. The mouth opened showing an array of sharpened, needle-like teeth. Jonas could see two rows and suspected there were more. The mouth continued to widen. It became a black hole, akin to looking down the barrel of a large caliber gun. The awful laughter continued from the depths of the clown. Then it tossed him away. He flew through the air, catching his breath before crashing to the compacted dirt floor.
The dogs were on him in an instant. Three of them gathered around his broken body. He could see bones jutting from his arms and legs. The first of them sank its teeth into his arm and started to yank hard. He could feel his muscles tearing in its maw. A geyser of blood erupted from his arm and leg as the dogs severed arteries and savaged his body. The third sank its teeth into his belly and tore chunks away. His intestines spilled out over his legs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even cry out in pain.
The flames crept closer as ashes and cinders began to fall from above. His eyes grew dim. The last thing he saw was the clown stepping up to his side, smiling. It bent down and looked into his eyes.
“Delicious.”
It knelt and took a loop of intestines and greedily shoved them into its mouth.
Jonas woke with a start. He was shivering, covered in a cold sweat. The plane was well lit by the sky beyond the windows. A flight attendant was gently shaking his shoulder.
“Sir, are you okay?”
Muzzily, Jonas shook his head. He put a hand to his forehead and wiped away the sweat. He looked at her, hardly noticing any details. She had brown hair pulled into a bun and wore a tight uniform that showed off her figure. Finally, he managed to mumble a few words. “Mmh, yeah. Just had a bad dream.”
“Very well sir. You had a few of the other passengers worried.”
He looked around at the other seats nearby. Two women were looking at him in concern, as well as a man that had a mixture of concern, pity, and disgust on his face. Jonas shook his head again.
“I’m fine, really. I guess flying just doesn’t agree with me.”
The flight attendant nodded and left him. He tried to relax again, though he remained wary of sleeping. Two stressful hours passed slowly. The captain made an announcement in German, then again in English about approaching Cairo. The flight attendants made a final pass to collect any trash. He put his seat up, then gripped the arms as they descended.
When the wheels thumped down he let out a woosh of breath, thankful they had landed. The plane taxied to the gate and people started to disembark. The familiarity of the scene made his head spin. He looked to see Lily's reassuring smile. She still hadn't appeared. He left the plane, regaining his bearing as his feet hit solid ground again. The air of the Cairo Airport felt different, heavy but lively. Cigarette smoke gathered in a cloud overhead. It fogged every part of the airport.
Professor Calhoun had a clipboard over his head, gathering his students. Jonas walked over to check in. He kept his head on a swivel, looking for any sign of Lily. The terminal was the epitome of chaos. There were hundreds of people milling about, each with their own unique and often overwhelming scent. The air was hot and redolent with body odor. Some people were hawking wares, others shouting in a mix of languages. Nearly everybody walked rapidly through, unconcerned with bumping into others. He heard English, what he was starting to recognize as Arabic, German, French, and some that he couldn't identify at all. Packs of children would swarm by, grabbing at hands and pockets. They all shouted the same word at anybody they encountered.
"Bashish? Bashish!"
Jonas looked at his professor, who patiently warded the children off with his clipboard.
"Professor, what does 'bashish' mean?"
"Arabic for 'tip', I believe," Calhoun hoarsely shouted over the din. Jonas started to pat his pockets, looking for where he had put his wallet.
"I would not do that my friend. If you give them money, they will haunt you for your entire trip." Jonas looked around for the source of the voice and found a rotund Egyptian man with a weather-beaten face smiling at him. He had multiple large rings on each hand and two necklaces on his neck, though the chunky gold looked gaudy to Jonas. He stood at five-four, with enough presence to be hard to miss. The man shouted something at the children and they scattered, hunting for new prey.
"I am Professor Hassan Souleiman. I am your liaison for the American University of Cairo. If you would please follow me, we will gather your luggage and move on to your accommodations for your stay. Welcome to Cairo!"
Souleiman turned and brusquely shouldered his way through the throng of people. His suit was of a fine cut and stood out from the crowd, yet nobody accosted him. Simon’s bald head was as visible as Dylan’s shock of fiery hair. They walked alongside Calhoun with Sidney and Jodie trailing behind. Jonas followed them, looking at the sea of humanity. A brief fight through the crowds later, they arrived at a dilapidated carousel spitting out bags. Everybody quickly grabbed their own, and once confirmed, they followed Souleiman again. He led them to the front of the airport where a long black limousine waited.
Jonas' excitement was blunted when they stepped into the intense late morning heat, and further dampened when he saw the dings and scratches all along the side of the vehicle. Souleiman snapped his fingers and a man in a uniform nearby stepped to the rear of the vehicle and opened the trunk.
The man took their bags in turn and half placed-half threw them into the cavernous space. Another man stood patiently by the rear door, ushering the two professors and five students into the limo.
Once inside, Jonas' opinion changed again. It was cool, almost chilly compared to the oven outside. Glasses were hanging from a mini bar in the middle of the compartment, a bottle of some kind ensconced in ice in the bucket set into the counter. Calhoun entered after all the students; the first to address the bottle.
“As my students, I will advise you to avoid having alcohol. For the most part, alcohol is illegal here. As you can see, it still exists here. It’s common for higher caste to greet friends with alcohol. There are bars and clubs, not to mention restaurants that serve. They pay the… ‘fee’ for serving. You don’t, so don’t get caught in public after drinking. Drinking is normal for adults and we've had a very long day. I wouldn't be opposed to a beer myself."
"Well put, my friend," Souleiman said as he clambered into the limo and shut the door. "As tourists, you will be treat
ed differently. However, flaunting the law in front of the police will not end well."
The car started up and lurched into traffic. Metallic bangs and scratching could be heard as the driver used his bumper in every bit of its capacity.
Unconcerned, Souleiman crouch-walked over to the bar and opened a cabinet, retrieving two beer bottles. He handed one over to the professor and opened the cap on his own with his ring. He took a sip as he sat next to Calhoun.
"There is nothing better than a cold one, is there?" His accent was interesting to Jonas. Clearly British educated, he still had a heavy Egyptian accent.
“After two flights and nearly a day of travel, the only thing that sounds better is a shower,” Calhoun said tiredly. He cracked his own beer open and took a long draft. Simon leaned down and spoke quietly into Dylan’s ear. The smaller student laughed quietly. It looked to Jonas as though the women were having their own conversation.
“I am so glad to have you here, Nicholas,” Souleiman boomed. He had a large voice to match his personality. Jonas had the feeling he would be a fun guy to party with. Souleiman continued to speak. “We must have lunch, and of course have you all settled. I believe we have a meeting scheduled for tonight as well.”
“Yeah. I need a nap,” Calhoun replied.
“Of course, of course!”
"He sounds just like Sallah," Jonas muttered in amazement. Calhoun elbowed him in the ribs, eliciting a grunt.
"What?" Jonas asked, surprised at the outburst.
Calhoun hissed in his ear. “Shut up, Quartermain, before you offend him. He's a world-renowned professor of Archaeology.”
Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure Page 8
