Page 15 of Escape to Egypt
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Okay, enough. What are we going to do now?”
She shrugged and leaned against the table. “Guess we’ll just have to join forces. Frankly, I’m not convinced you’re not the art thief, Charlotte, until we find out who is and recover the artifacts. It would be a scandal for the government if we really lost them. We’d piss off a lot of important people.”
I groaned. “So, we don’t have a choice? We have to let you join us?”
Bambi smirked, crossing her arms. “Nope. I’m in, whether you like it or not.”
Jack sighed dramatically, getting up and heading over to the kitchen cabinet. “In that case,” he said, pulling out a bottle of whiskey, “I need something stronger than coffee.” He grabbed a couple of glasses, pouring a generous amount into each.
Bambi’s eyes lit up, nodding in approval. “Now you’re talking,” she said, taking a glass from Jack and raising it in a toast.
I took my glass, shaking my head but unable to stop a small smile from forming on my lips. “Well, if we’re going to do this, we might as well enjoy ourselves,” I said, raising my glass.
Bambi grinned, clinking her glass against mine and Jack’s. “Cheers to that.”
Snickers, still munching on his bacon, looked up with a satisfied smile.
Chapter Eight
The whiskey from breakfast hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea at the time. But now, under the unrelenting heat of the midday sun, I was seriously reconsidering my life choices. The alcohol had worn off quickly, leaving me with a pounding headache and a mouth as dry as the desert sands we were trudging through. My brain felt like it was sloshing around in my skull, and every step I took sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.
Jack, walking beside me, seemed to be in a similar state. He had his sunglasses on, but I could see the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Bambi, on the other hand, seemed annoyingly perky. She was practically bouncing along, humming a cheerful tune, her earlier grumpiness nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was her circus training, or maybe she was just used to functioning on the edge of sobriety, but she was handling the heat and the aftermath of our little morning whiskey party much better than Jack and I were.
“You know,” Jack said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, “in hindsight, drinking half a bottle of whiskey before hiking through the desert might not have been the best idea.”
I shot him a sideways glance, trying to muster up a glare but failing miserably. “Ya think?” I muttered, my voice coming out as more of a croak. I took a swig from my water bottle, wishing it was something stronger, or at least something that could magically fix my hangover. “Next time, let’s stick to coffee.”
Snickers, perched on Jack’s shoulder, gave a little chirp, as if he agreed with my suggestion. Even the monkey looked tired, his usual hyperactivity dulled by the heat and the morning’s revelations.
“Hey, no regrets,” Bambi called back to us, twirling around with a grin. “That whiskey was top-shelf. Besides, a little hair of the dog never hurt anyone.”
I rolled my eyes, too exhausted to argue. “Yeah, well, the dog bit back.”
We trudged on, the outline of the pyramid growing larger on the horizon. The ancient structure loomed over the landscape, its sheer size and presence making everything else seem small and insignificant. As we approached, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. This was a place of power, of history, and we were about to delve into its deepest secrets, or at least, make another decent attempt.
Finally, we reached the base of the pyramid. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on us mercilessly. I could feel sweat trickling down my back, and my clothes were sticking to my skin. We found a small patch of shade near one of the massive stone blocks and collapsed onto the ground, taking a moment to catch our breath.
Jack pulled out his canteen, taking a long drink before handing it to me. “You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
I nodded, wiping my brow with the back of my hand. “Yeah, just need a minute. That whiskey is really kicking my ass.”
He chuckled softly. “I hear you. We should’ve gone easy on it. But who knew we’d be dealing with secret agents and ancient treasures before lunch?”
Bambi sat down beside us, fanning herself with her hand. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve handled worse hangovers in tighter situations.” She pulled a small, compact mirror from her bag, checking her reflection. “Besides, we’ve got bigger things to worry about now.”
I nodded, the reality of our situation settling over me like a heavy blanket. We were about to search for the Path of the Gods, a journey that could lead us to unimaginable treasure—or quite possibly to our deaths. There was no way to know what lay ahead, but I was determined to see it through.
After a few minutes, we gathered ourselves and stood up, ready to continue. We made our way around the base of the pyramid, looking for the hidden entrance. My headache had dulled to a manageable throb, and the adrenaline of what we were about to do was beginning to take over.
“Charlotte, do you have any ideas about where we should look today?” Jack asked.
“The entrance won’t be obvious,” I replied. “We need to look for something out of place.”
We fanned out, each of us taking a section of the pyramid’s base, examining the stone blocks, running our hands over the rough surfaces, looking for any sign of a hidden door or passage. The heat was oppressive, the sun beating down on us with relentless intensity. I could feel the sweat dripping down my forehead, stinging my eyes.
After what felt like hours of searching, I found a relatively flat rock and sat down, pulling out my junk-journal where I’d scribbled my notes and the map. Jack and Bambi continued to search, but I needed to regroup, to think. I flipped through the pages of my journal, scanning the information I had jotted down about the Vase of Hathor again.
Hathor, the goddess of beauty and love, had been associated with mirrors. People had offered her mirrors in hopes of receiving the gift of beauty. I tapped my pen against my lips, staring at the words. Mirrors…beauty…Maybe we were supposed to look at something in reverse, like a mirror image. Could the entrance be hidden in plain sight, disguised by our own perceptions?