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| AMAZON KINDLE - a medical, time-travel adventure |
She
gave him the shining globe of the light, broke away, and withdrew into the
darkness, making her way back to the surface and leaving him alone in a pool of
light and faced by a shadowy wall of carved stone.
“Well
hello, Thoth,” he said, holding up the glow of light to illuminate the centre
of the door.
Ancient scribes and physicians customarily offered a libation to
Thoth before beginning their work each day and at least he could pay his
respects by greeting him. Thoth was not only the inventor of writing and
medicine, he was an example of the ‘word’ or Logos that brought reality into
existence and as such a pre-echo of the Christian saviour.
“What
happened in this place, Wise One? Bubonic plague? An influenza pandemic?”
The
squatting ibis wore a disk on its head, its beak curving like a surgical probe
- or maybe a question mark, he thought.
Thoth
wasn’t answering any questions.
For
Lucas, Thoth was the quintessential symbol of ancient Egypt, of its knowledge, medicine
and mythology, and he had always felt a pull to the long lost civilization that
was as strong as Giulietta’s. It was their shared passion that brought them
together on the Internet, sharing their enthusiasm across continents until they
finally met and shared a passion of another kind.
Was
this place the tomb of a royal scribe, or a physician?
The
light in his hand suddenly wobbled and made the nest of doorways strobe as a
rumble overhead shook the tomb.
Ceiling
collapse?
A
roar filled his ears and he ducked as great patches of shadow descended and one
hit the side of his head with a dull thud that threw a bright blaze of light
across his cranium and he dropped.
But
he did not hit the floor, instead he toppled forward into the doorway of dark
space and then into another doorway and another, stretched out ahead to
infinity.
Had
he plunged across a threshold between life and death?
As
he sped through the doorjambs of an endless corridor, he saw the glowing image
of the carved ibis Thoth racing ahead of him, streaming plumes of fire like an
asteroid, drawing him onwards.
A
myriad eyes watched his fall like stars in a night sky, Egyptian eyes, and then
came flying lines of glyphs of snakes, birds, fish, mouths, lions and jackals.
They wrapped around him, twisting like spiral strands of DNA, entering him, altering
him.
Words?
Texts of Power?
They
swirled around his brain.
He
heard them whispered in a tongue that was strange to his ears, softer, more
sibilant than modern Arabic.
Maybe
the Great Secret at the end of the universe and the grand unified theory of
everything was not to be found in numbers, but in words.
‘In
the beginning was the Word’, a book told.
He
raced towards the point of infinity.
Before
he reached it, light exploded around him.
Lucas
hit the desert ground running.
A
spear like a black wind had just whisked past his shoulder in the moonlit
darkness, grazing his jacket and now stuck with a quiver in the side of a mound.
He
scrambled up the rise.
Attackers
in the darkness, torches streaming flames, thundered after him in a turmoil of
horses’ hooves and spinning chariot wheels.
Chariots
of fire, he thought, but not the biblical kind, murderous ones.
He
did not have to wonder where he was. The chariots told him.
“There!
The intruder runs!”
“Split
up and trap him on the far side! Quickly. The sun rises!”
The chariots divided and raced around
the mound.
He’d
always admired the skeletal lines of ancient Egyptian chariots. Lethal affairs,
they were built for speed, but he’d never guessed that the rolling thunder of
their charge was enough to paralyze an enemy on foot.
There
were two men in each vehicle, a driver and a soldier. He caught a glimpse of a
horse’s wild eye and foaming mouth and the wild face of an attacker who had
hurled the spear at him and now directed a glare to kill. It was a face blistered
and distorted, craning over the side of the chariot as it drew close.
More
amazing still than this sight, was his realization that he understood what they
were shouting.
I have not only been catapulted into
this nightmare, he thought, I’ve been translated into it.
Thoth.
The
Word.
Lord
of Words of Power.
But
there was no time for reasoning now as the two chariots vanished past the mound
to head him off on the other side.
The
running fugitive changed his mind and direction.
He
skidded to a halt, spun about and doubled back, running and clawing with his fingers
over the mound as the momentum of the attackers carried them flying on.
He
lost his footing as he went over the top and down the slope and tumbled face
down, shovelling up a mouthful of sand. He spat out grit mixed with the iron
tang of blood that had trickled down his face. He got back to his feet.
Run.
He’d
been a runner all of his life. Running for his health.
And
he was running for his health now.
They
know I am here and they want to kill me, he thought. Why?
He
pounded across the rock and sand, the shoulder bag swinging and pounding
against his side.
Where
is this place?
Malkata,
where he had been before?
Which
way did he go next?
He
swept the skyline and saw a shadowy smudge of cliffs in the distance.
The
attackers carried flames to light the darkness and there would be deeper shadow
there amid the cliffs and maybe somewhere to hide or a way to climb up out of
danger, but there was also the risk that a rise of sheer cliffs might cut off all
chance of escape.
Run
for the hills?
It
would be a fugitive’s natural instinct and they would know it. He must not do
that yet, even though he longed for the protection of those shadows. Instead, he
must do the opposite. Go back the way the attackers had come. They won’t expect
that.
A
cloud passed over the moon and heartened him as he lengthened his stride.
He
flicked a glance over his shoulder.
Here
they came.
Just
one chariot this time. Still far off.
Clever.
They had split up and were covering both directions.
He
must throw it off course. That called for a decoy.
He
dug into the shoulder bag and scratched around until he met the smooth barrel
of a pencil flashlight.
He
snatched it out, gave the head a twist to draw out a spurt of light and paused
in his running to drop down to his knees and plant the back of the flashlight
in the sand.
A
small sacrifice if it could save his skin.
He
bolted away from the glow.
He
saw the distant cover of a grove of palms as he ran and allowed himself a
glance back. Yes, the chariot had stopped to inspect the glowing light in the
sand. The second chariot came back to re-join the first and they circled the
light.
Lucas
streaked for the cover of the grove.
The
sky was beginning to lighten.
He
reached the roughened base of a palm tree and fell against it to catch his
breath and take another look behind him.
The
attackers were moving off.
Then
a roughened hand grabbed his arm.
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| The RA Virus also appears in this time travel collection |
