8: Sight and Fears
It had all flown by: Auyantepui; Venezuela; the Atlantic Ocean; the road home; but most of all, time. Before they knew it the Quint family were on their front door step, luggage in hand, Samuel forcing the key into the lock under the setting sun. The door swung away on its hinges and they trudged inside, one by one, slipping off their shoes as they went. Dumping the bags on the hallway floor by the foot of the stairs, they filed into the living room and fell down on the small sofas. They were tired. It had been a long trip.
It was the following week. His father was away at work, again, and his mother was downstairs watching the TV. Philip had confined himself to his room. Though he knew the material for his homework backwards and forwards, he knew that if he didn’t knuckle down to it, his Egypt project would never get done. Therefore, a few hours ago, he had locked the door and directed all of his attention to the file of paper before him on the bed. Though he’d known he shouldn’t, as it would only be procrastinating, he’d been rereading the work he’d done based upon his initial notes prior to the holidays before continuing the first main chapter.
A Day By The Nile: By Philip Quint
The Egyptians were an ancient people of which we know relatively little, but what we do know leaves us speculating about what we don’t. They must have had a fascinating society and possibly one as complex as our own. They definitely had a system of higher and lower classes, as we do, that is plain, but into how much detail did these classes go? Were there shades of grey in their society too? That is what I aim to investigate by scouring records of findings and hieroglyphs, researching as much of ancient Egypt as is available.
In the following project I will be covering many aspects of the Egyptians: how did the lives of the slaves and the Pharaohs differ, what of their living conditions, what evidence is there to support this, and lastly I will look into evidence suggesting how their cities were laid out.
Owning another human being is now illegal in Britain. However, back in ancient Egypt you had to have slaves to show your wealth. The more slaves you had, the better. But where did the rich get their slaves? Most were born into it; others were forced into slavery after capture. Whatever the cause, their lives were short and brutal (we can assume, there is limited evidence in this field). Their homes were little more than
At which point he’d stopped to go down to dinner, leaving his sentence hanging. Now he’d have to regain his train of thought. Ah yes, the homes, a subject he probably knew more about than most people knew about anything you’d care to suggest. Saying that, there is little to know about them.
And he was about to put pen to paper when he heard the distracting sound of crying coming from downstairs.
When he entered the living room, the first thing he saw was the TV on, a news report just muted on the screen. But even without sound, the images of a plateau in a large rainforest gave him all the information he needed. Opposite the TV on the sofa was Beth, her hand over her eyes to cover the tears.
“Look, mum, I’m fine. There’s no need to cry,” Philip sighed, starting the speech he’d said to her for the hundredth time.
His mother took her hand away from her eyes and gave a pathetic wave, as if to say she was fine, “I know. It’s just...”
“Ever since that incident with Dad, you’ve been acting weirdly, constantly crying. What’s up?”
This statement only made more tears well up in her eyes. Philip rolled his own.
“Don’t start that again,” he groaned.
Amongst the tears Beth managed a tentative smile, “It’s not that,” she faltered, “You’ll think me a fool.”
Philip sat down on the seat next to the sofa, “No I won’t. After what I’ve been through, do you really think I’ll see anything you say as foolish?”
“Alright then.” Before continuing, Beth sat up straighter, gathering her thoughts, “Okay, if you really want to know.”
Philip was really concentrating now.
“On the afternoon before your father took you to the restaurant after school, I had,” she stifled a nervous laugh, “I had what you could call a premonition. I saw you and your father at the restaurant, I saw you on the mountain top, and I saw you stumbling through a desert. At the time I thought I’d dropped off in front of the telly, but after the fire, I began to doubt myself. I could have stopped it, stopped you going. And what about what happened in Venezuela?”
By this point, she was once again overcome with tears, no longer saying anything discernible.
Philip took this opportunity of silence to get a word in, “Okay, it was probably a coincidence. And as for the desert, I’m not going near one any time soon. The only other place I’m going is Switzerland for my science trip. There are no deserts there.”
“But I keep feeling there must be something wrong with me.”
“I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you,” he reassured her.
*
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Gryal had been preparing to speak to Philip anyway and hence wasted no time in responding to his summons, though he may have wished he had. Prior to re-entering his bedroom, Philip had taken the liberty of picking up one of his dad’s hammers from the tool box in the garage. This led to the circumstances of Gryal being smashed in the front of the skull by said hammer. A couple of his pointed teeth came out in the process, but they could be repaired. Philip continued by changing the angle of his attack to a sideways, scything motion, pounding the top few vertebrae of Gryal’s spine, which in this instance constituted the entirety of his neck. The arrangement of small bones twisted into an unnatural configuration, then with a grinding hiss slid back into place, his skull-head reverberating slightly. Looking up into the dark sockets, holding the yellow lights of eyes, Philip couldn’t tell if the figure before him was smug, amused, or just disappointed.
“You can’t kill me,” it said, exasperatedly, “I’m already dead.”
Philip raised the hammer again, “I can still try though.”
Gryal seemed unfazed, “It would still be a fruitless effort.”
Philip weighed the hammer in his hand for several moments before he quietly sat down on the edge of his bed. From this angle, Gryal seemed almost translucent, the light from the opposite window was both blocked out by him, making him a silhouette, and passing through him, as if he wasn’t even there.
“What’s wrong with my mother?” he demanded, not raising the hammer this time, but keeping it firmly in his grip.
“Why should I tell you?”
Philip sat up a little straighter, “Because I’m the one you want to trust you. It’s as simple as that.”
The skeleton seemed to consider this for a moment, “It is possible that during my first apparition to your home a data burst that was sent to my Tower accompanied me and she was exposed to it, giving her what you mistake to be precognitive abilities.”
Philip wore a perplexed expression, “But that stuff she saw hadn’t happened yet. How could it have been in a data burst before it occurred?”
“I can’t help it if you have a clichéd view of time. You have to think of it outside of a linear perspective.”
He had never been good at explaining things to, in his opinion, underlings. People always mistook his tone for one of patronising bigheadedness.
“If I don’t understand one more thing, you’re going to get hit. Again.”
Gryal sighed. He was getting bored dealing with such a puny mind. This didn’t help to control his exasperation, “That’s not a very effective threat.”
“So?” Philip shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be, it’ll make me feel better,” he rationalised.
Not wanting to risk any beneficial ties that might remain, Gryal continued, this time with what could be interpreted as a level tone, “Different planes of space have different perspectives of time, their own rules, if you will. In the plain where I am from the laws of physics are more lenient than here.”
“You want to get hit, don’t you? I don’t know anything about ‘different planes of existence’, I don’t think anybody does! Not outside of TV shows at any rate!”
“I am not your enemy,” Gryal explained through a mouth of cracked and missing teeth. “We are meant to be on the same side. It was decided countless aeons ago.”
“Well, I’ve never been one for fortune telling. The future is shaped by people, it is not predetermined.”
“Considering what is happening to your relatives, that’s a rather ironic statement, don’t you think?”
“Fine then,” Philip finally let go of the hammer, “If you’re not my enemy, then who is? The man in black?”
“Chaos is just an inconvenience.” It was clear that he was getting tired of this pointless conversation, “The real enemy is one who you should not concern yourself with. As long as you’re a good little boy and do as you’re told, then they can do nothing to you.”
Philip tried to wrap his head around this new information, “So this man who keeps following me, Chaos, whatever you called him, he’s not the enemy, but I can’t accept his help? Why?”
“His goals are not as profitable as ours. Not for anyone.”
*
The sound of dripping water ceased to resound in the dank tunnel. There was silence. He breathed out. Of the few things he knew, he knew he couldn’t stay here, for a tunnel such as this would be driven through before long, as the sun rose in the sky. The light was beginning to show the curved walls in the darkness. It also showed him.
Noah Mason had spent the last few hours crouched between the road and the wall, his knees up to his chest, his arms folded, thinking. And he had come to the conclusion that whatever his next step may be, he would have to take even greater care than he had been doing for the past sixty odd years. They were on to him now; they knew what he’d been doing to remain undetected for so long. Such a strategy would never work again. But what to do instead? His last strategy had seemed the most likely to work above all others.
And there was the trouble of the other one. The new one. He was dangerous on his own; he didn’t know how to do things, what the right path was. Then there was the matter of approaching him. No doubt he would either be guarded or be guarding himself. Personally he preferred the prospect of facing the former. With so much power at his disposal, who knew what the boy could do in self defence? It would no longer be as easy as walking over there. Another way had to be found, interception perhaps. And in that case: where and when? What were the chances of such an opportunity occurring?
It bounced. There was a new sound in the tunnel. Noah looked up to see the stone in question roll to a halt some ten yards down the road. Though it in itself was harmless, the man leapt to his feet and stared down into the ever-retreating darkness. Was it his imagination, or had something moved? Was it his imagination, or was something still moving? He began to edge backwards, into the open air. But as he moved carefully away, the thing in the shadows followed, keeping equal distance all the time...that is until it got to the light. It paused.
“Noah Mason, you are wanted by the Council not only for dereliction of duty but also for the genocide of your race,” though the voice was little more than a growl, he had learnt to notice the words hidden in the animalistic sounds.
“It wasn’t genocide, it was mercy.”
It moved closer, allowing a talon to encroach into the light, “No matter the justification, the offence is still the same. You killed hundreds of...”
“Would you blame the axe man or the one who led them to the slaughter?” he interrupted, bravely taking a step towards his adversary.
“Such are the quarrels of law. But there it is. Regardless of those guilty, you are still here to face sentence.”
Noah smirked, “Are you prepared to try?”
There was another growl, but this time without words within. It lunged. He was gone.
*
Neither brought up Beth’s claims over the next few days, especially not when Samuel came home. All was quiet, from a paranormal perspective. For Philip, it was once again a regular summer holiday. It was a couple of weeks in now, and he was bored. Of course, he’d had his Egypt project to do, but as he knew so much, what was the point in doing it now?
So it was on a day like this, when he was spread-eagled on the sofa watching TV, that the inevitable came through the door. Philip hadn’t forgotten about his science trip to Switzerland, what he had forgotten was the letter to be sent out in the holidays to make sure all those who’d paid for attendance did in fact do so. His mother was the first to pick up the letter, immediately noticing the school emblem in the corner. Even as she was calling his name, Philip was already on his feet, coming over to her, quickly seeing the emblem also. Snatching it from her hands, Philip returned to the living room, tearing the letter open. It wasn’t long before he tossed it aside, deciding it held no information of value. The only thing that had concerned him was the sight of his headmaster’s signature, and that had merely sent a shiver down his spine.
Beth came in, looking at him expectantly. He didn’t respond.
“Anything important?” she asked, eventually.
Philip shrugged, “Not really. It just said the same as all the others. The trip will be on such and such, the fee in case you haven’t paid it is blah blah blah, you must bring this, that and the other. Nothing new.”
Beth sat down on the chair beside him. He continued to watch the TV, until she muted it, at which point he gave an annoyed yell.
“Oi, I was watching that!”
“Well now you’re listening to me.”
Philip heaved a sigh, “What is it? I said that letter was pointless.”
Beth looked at him, unease written all across her face.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Philip let another moan escape his lips, “Again, there’s nothing wrong with me going to Switzerland. I explained this last time.”
“I know, but I worry for you.”
“And I know that. But this is ridiculous.”
“Is it ridiculous for a mother to care for her son?”
“No, what’s ridiculous is that you think I’m going to get lost in a desert, in fricking Switzerland, a country known for its snow.”
“I’m still not sure if I want you going,” Beth tried once more.
“Okay, think about it this way, because you’re obviously not going to listen to reason,” Philip said, running his fingers through his hair, “I doubt the school is going to refund my travel fee, and my bags are almost packed, so is there really much point in me backing out now?”
“I suppose not.”
“Trust me, it will be fine.”
At this point his mother’s eyes bored into his skull even harder, “But that’s what you said last time about Venezuela!”
Philip jumped to his feet, “No! I said Dad would be fine. I made no predictions about our holiday.”
“You really want to go on that trip, don’t you?” his mother finally conceded.
Philip smiled; relieved the argument was over, “What could possibly happen in Switzerland that would be so bad?”