Jack walked over to the door, trying to peer around each corner, hoping for a glimpse of activity in a nearby cell.
The oft-talked about pool of blood was nowhere to be seen. Only the smell of industrial-strength bleach soured the air.
He could hear a rhythmic tapping sound echoing down the hall. It sounded like an orchestra of bored fingers drumming against a hard, wooden surface.
“Hey” Jack called out, in a tone of curiosity.
The tapping stopped.
He paused, but only the whir of overhead ventilation could be heard.
Someone yawned.
The bars he held onto, were cold to the touch. They resembled thorny vines, more so than the traditional ones he had envisioned a prison to equip. Everything was cold. The only saving grace was a gentle gust of ventilated air that caressed his face in brief intervals.
That chalkboard was in front of him again. But the symbols on it were different. Whatever was on there before, appeared to have been smudged strategically. Something that now resembled two swooping lines curving over an elliptical, almost diamond shape in the center looked suspiciously like the Eye of Horus. It was the symmetry of those two lines that served to awakened in him a memory of a long forgotten dream.
One that he would revisit momentarily.
Looking behind over his right shoulder, he could see Paul slumped against the wall with crossed arms, the rise and fall of his chest and the head that nodded fitfully each moment a spark of awareness would creep in.
Holding the bars, Jack squatted slowly to the floor. Feeling the metal thorns run down the crevice of his palms. Skipping over a horizontal metal truss that held it all together.
Feeling his posterior flatten itself out on the hard concrete, he took a deep breath.
And closed his eyes.
The memories came stealthily once more. The sandstorm appeared once again, but this time, the wind parted to reveal a partially completed face that filled his vision. A giant loomed before him with hollow sockets and a single ear turned inquisitively towards it’s left.
The Sphinx.
It rested on a block, brandishing the claws that long defined it’s feline characteristics. A monument that would endure for as long as perpetuity would allow, given the whims of nature’s predilection towards the creation of abrasive winds that would weather down it’s surface and erase all evidence of human artistry.
He stood, watching the hurried shadows of workers climb their way down from the neck of the statue wielding reed pails. There were men who surveyed the proceedings with disdainful looks and pointing towards a small, stone building which undoubtedly was used as safe haven or storage.
Despite the screech of wind, Jack could make out a sustained hum emanating from the direction of the Sphinx. It almost sounded like a generator engine, but having relived this dream before, he knew what it was.
In his mind’s eye, he experienced the walking motions of his avatar as it strode towards the source of the sound. A dark door made of polished, black granite and an iron hoop appeared to beckon and hasten his approach.
He clutched his hood, feeling the slapping of grains against the fabric as the howling of the wind and the hum intermingled to create a curious energy that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
Before him, to the left and right of this door, were two guards. Each wore a tiara shaped like two snakes joined at the tail, with mouths wide open facing each other. Gleaming, green stones of jade were placed in their eyes, undaunted by the muted colors of the sand that swirled amist their countenances.
The words that greeted him were difficult to pronounce, yet oddly familiar. Both heads lowered as each hand grasped the hoop of each half of the door, and pulled it open.
Light bathed him from the chin down, as Jack could see a lamp burning without the aid of fuel. A flame that did not appear to flicker. Almost as if it were powered by electricity. The humming was much more insistent, and he could hear the door behind him close with a hollow echo.
A stone staircase winded itself down. He could not see anything more than seven steps ahead as each measured decent enunciated the hums until they resembled a rhythmic chanting.
A beetle watched him from it’s vantage point near the lantern. The antenna on it’s head swaying in greeting once he made his way past.
Several minutes of decension later, a stone wall revealed itself. Without thinking, Jack inserted two fingers of both hands into a groove cut along the side, and pulled.
With sullen, creaking protest; the door yielded to his hand and opened neatly into a wide, gaping chamber.
===
That's not too bad for an off-the-cuff, stab-in-the-dark, spray and pray first effort isn't it? I'm pretty good with editing, so there's a fair amount of optimism involved when I say that this kind of stuff will kick ASS. But maybe that's just me.
I plan to follow that bit up with a little thing called "The Hall of Records". It's a legend that tunnels beneath the Sphinx hold access to this mythical Hall of Records which purport to contain the entire history and achievements of a possibly extraterrestrial race. Obviously I'll be putting my own spin on this idea.
