Untitled

CHAPTER EIGHT.

The property of...

18^th Dynasty.

He felt too grief stricken to open his eyes. It did not matter any more where he was or how he got there. All he could think of was his team. Everything they had accomplished over the last year had been wiped out. For everyone else, it had never happened, only he would remember the battles, the joy and the tears. Everything was gone, PIA and all who had fought to bring it back to greatness were lost and he was alone.

�� The heat on his fair skin forced him to move and the spark that dwells within each human slowly began to smolder. A small ember that is the will to live. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around. At first he could not make out anything apart from foggy outlines and bright light. Then his eyes began to adjust to things close to. He was near a village with small mud huts crammed close together. Squinting in the strong sunlight he could just make out larger two story buildings some distance away while in the center stood a temple of some kind. The whole village was surrounded by brown walls and wheat fields that swayed in an unfelt breeze. For a moment he smiled, this had to be paradise. He walked through date palm groves, meadows of oxen, sheep and goats and smelt the pure scented air. Then he remembered, this could not be paradise, no matter how beautiful this place was, paradise was his wife and baby Angel.

�� Forcing the painful memories away he walked further trying to find a familiar landmark. Men in rough brown tunics were fishing with a drag net. Similarly dressed women weaving whilst more men piled up great heaps of yellow corn in what must be the granary. Further along others were digging out stiff clay, mixing it with water from a tank and pressing it into wooden moulds to form bricks. With his legs rapidly tiring he sat in the shade of a palm to watch the animated history book and dreamed of having a camera.

�� The sickening crack of a whip brought his finely tuned mind back into action. He backed into the shadows as he saw a procession of slaves coming down the dusty road towards him. With each group of men stood overseers with sticks and whips that were being used at the slightest excuse. The captives were roped together around their thin necks and stumbled at every step as the whips drove them onward. He watched sadly the exhausted men, each step taken agony, heads down, forlorn and without hope. Their black skin was pallid, wrinkled and loose. Others were scarred from many beatings and encrusted with dirt. All of these men were old beyond their years. One man however, caught his eye, unlike the others he was head up and the dark auburn of his hair glinted red in the sun. Sukoloff watched the young white skinned man, saw the glint in his green eyes and smiled.

�� Nutty!� he whispered.

�� A slight nod told him that Nutt had seen him and he watched as they were marched towards a gate in the wall. Years of being in espionage caused a tingle to run over his skin. He began to plan great escapes for Nutt. He dreamed of spectacular rescues and flights across countries to return to America, then he shuddered. He could see where he was now, beyond the settlement he could see three pyramids and instantly recognized the great pyramid of Cheops.

�� He laughed aloud, escape? Where to? Cheops was shining blinding white in the sun. The stark white covering was peeling and leaving the inner stones naked. Where the covering remained, even from a distance it was easy to see the red, fading hieroglyphs that told a story no modern day man knew. He knew now it would be impossible to go home, even if they got to Alexandria what then?

�� A smile of resignation flickered briefly across his face as he saw the crowd. Unheard, they had completely surrounded him and were now pointing open mouthed towards him. Although he could not understand what they said he knew they regarded him as an invader. Fair skinned and blue eyed, suit, tie, he knew he must look completely alien to these people from days of yore. Feeling the point of something a lot sharper than the many sticks they possessed he raised his hands and walked towards the place they were pointing, the gate in which Nutt and the slaves were taken.

�� Sir! How do you do that?�

�� Nutty!� Sukoloff said gleefully ignoring his question.

�� You find me. No matter what I do, you find me,� replied Nutt with relief.

�� Training, my boy.�

�� For some reason Nutt had been sent back slightly earlier than Sukoloff and had already been in Egypt about six months. During that time he had grown accustom to the ancient accent of the people and made many friends among the slaves. They were gentle people, drawn together by the common thread of captivity. Nutt told of a great pharaoh, of wars, of a great army and fleet. Many of the slaves were captives from the many victorious battles. Nutt told that they were the lowest form of slaves. If they behaved and did not attempt to escape; if they survived the toils of the gold mines and quarries they might be promoted to the slaves outside their compound, a brick builder maybe.

�� Sir, many agents used to say that you was one of the best escapee�s. Can we get out, or what?� asked Nutt hopefully.

�� My young, friend,� Sukoloff began sadly. �I have much to tell you. The story of life and death and a baby ghost who knew no better.� Despite Nutt�s look of disbelief, Sukoloff told his story. From the moment of his death in New York to the moment when Nutt had prevented that death. He told of Alment and Tanen, how their deaths were prevented and the deaths of those he had loved.

�� The Guardians of History are out there somewhere and will know there is a ripple in the time pool. It�s their job to fix ripples and as long as we stay here, I think we will be found and rescued.

�� If we escape we might be forced to kill to do it. Lord knows who will disappear in the future because of it. I know now the importance of leaving alone what is destiny. We must touch nothing; teach nothing and above all; kill no one,� Sukoloff said sadly.

�� You say that you changed, or rather I changed, well, we both changed history. Henn is dead, Pia isn�t an agency for law enforcement, why can I remember it as it was if it never happened?� asked Nutt.

�� Because you are a ripple. You are misplaced from your own time. Whilst in this time you will remember everything from all times that you have been. Here, New York, Rome, three or four lifetimes. But once back in your correct time you will forget everything of this time. Do you understand?�

�� Not really, you were a ghost and now you�re not. That beautiful Angel was never born and Henn has been dead a long time. No, Sir, I don�t understand but yet I do. This place has been in my dreams for months. If destiny is so important to the world then this is mine and rescue don�t come, for either of us,� Nutty said sounding as old as the slaves around him.

�� We will be freed. But for me that will be of no use. I have lost my soul.�

�� Even if his story was only fantasy Nutt knew there had been a great change in Sukoloff. He had vivid memories of their time travel adventures together, of Sukoloff vanishing into thin air and of an extraordinary flight from the past to the future by what Sukoloff had said was thought travel. So many things were muddled in his brain, dreams that he had woken from to find the sun shinning and dreams that could not be woken from. This might be another dream, Sukoloff was not really the old man he could see now. He would wake to see him walking down the corridors in PIA. He would hear the whispers about Henn and Sukoloff fighting together during the cold war. How old was he? Supposedly forty, once he had looked thirty. That would be right, thirty with a young wife and baby. But if he had been in the cold war and now he looked sixty?

�� How old are you, Sir?�

�� How old? Over sixty I think. I stopped thinking about age when I died and became a child. All this because I was a child.�

�� Nutt watched the old man and sighed as he saw the gray within his blond hair. When was it? Last week; last year; sometime? This man had been able to outrun and outshoot nearly everyone. He wondered what chance of survival they had, this crazy old man and a coward.

�� Pulling himself out of the past, Sukoloff realized that no matter what he must try to keep Nutt safe until rescue came. He must continue to be the leader even if all he wanted was death. He had noticed the enclosure they were in had small flat roofed mud huts similar to those beyond the gate. Three or four slaves shared these small insect infested quarters that contained nothing apart from straw and rough cloth beds. Outside some of the slaves huddled around an open fire eating their meager portions of bread-like food. Nutt had told him they were fed on the leftovers of the upper-class and that Egyptian society was divided into an upper-class of priest, government officials and the like. The middle-class was composed of freemen but the subordinate type. Finally came the numerous slaves who were the absolute property of his master and could be disposed of at will. The food they received was barely enough to keep them alive. All were weak in body and spirit. The life expectancy was at the most forty and few reached it.

�� He looked up at the clear night sky and whispered, �God, help us.� He looked around until he found a soft stone and carried into the hut he shared with Nutt and two others. Like any castaway he made the first mark on the stone to keep track of the passing days. Then following the advise of Nutt placed all his modern possessions into a sack and buried them under his bed. He removed the gold chain from around his neck and opened the small locket. The inscription on the back had vanished as had the two tiny photos inside. Jodie and the Angel did not exist, perhaps they never had.

They came before the sun had fully awoken, only a thin line of light outlined Cheops and even this hurt his tired eyes. Guards roped together the slaves and flogged them to march them quicker whilst he was taken to another building.

�� He could tell the man inside the building belonged to the higher class just by looking at his fine clothes adorned with gold and copper jeweler. This man was obviously a scholar, maybe a priest. Scrolls lay neatly on the shelves, papyrus and pigment on a stone table and a beautifully decorated vase held the reeds of writing. Nutt had warned him about this building but his heart jumped as he saw the fire where the copper instrument lay white in the flames. The slaves were the property of this man and just like cattle were all marked with his brand, a circle with a cross through it.

�� Two overseers held him and the priest came forward. Without hesitating or showing any sympathy the instrument was pressed onto his arm. He felt the agonizing pain; smelt his flesh burn; heard the hiss and sizzle as the skin cooked, then mercifully passed out.

�� He was woken by soothing water on his brow and a potion of some kind on his burn that eased the pain. He smiled at the slave girl and wondered about her life. Maybe she was as young as twenty but she was already old. Her skin sagging, her teeth blackened and broken. It was her eyes that caused him to wonder about the point of life. For some, why were they here? Just to live a life of horror or did everything have a purpose? No spark was within those dark eyes, like him, her soul was already dead and waited impatiently for the body to follow.

�� It was nearly dark before Nutt and the others returned. Some were so weary they could not eat their meager meal and lay on their damp, insect ridden straw and slept. By the dawn they would finally be free.

�� Are you all right, Sir?� asked Nutt on seeing the raw brand on Sukoloff�s arm.

�� Of course I�m all right,� he instinctively replied. Then smiled as he remembered Henn and their constant battle of wits. Maybe Nutt would be rescued tomorrow, maybe in a month, until then he knew he would have to be his friend as well as teacher. This young man was still a PIA agent even if he was centuries away from home. �It�s Vacily, my name is Vacily, not Sir,� he added softly.

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