sorry this took so long, but i was writing myself into a corner, and it took a while to sort it all out. enjoy!
Alex raised an eyebrow. That searing pain had done a lot to clear his mind of the fuzziness, and he knew instinctively that answering the Detectives question truthfully would probably start a new round of questions that he didn't want to answer.
"A couple of times, by accident, of course."
"Can I ask what you were doing at the museum Ma'am? I did tell you that the area had been closed off until the investigating team had finished their report." There was no doubt in Alex's mind, the detective was furious.
"What happened?" Alex asked, "What happened to the team? There was no one around when I got there."
"Yes, the security guards where gone." Clarke remembered, "I just thought that you'd sent them away, but that means there should have been cops there, right?"
"I'm asking the questions here, and I want to know what you meant Miss. Parkesburg, when you told my officer that there were mummies running around." He licked the tip of his pencil and set in on his paper pad.
"I was hysterical." She leaned her head back on Alex's good shoulder and closed her eyes, "I was just trying to get him to let me see Alex." She shrugged, "I would have told him the hospital was on fire if I thought he'd believe it."
Alex had to hand it to the girl, she knew how to lie, but he saw the stone expression on the detectives face and knew it well. It was the same look he'd seen on his father's face so many years ago when his mother had been kidnapped. This man was deadly serious.
"The investigating team is dead." Alex stated and O'Malley brought his eyes up to meet the young Brit's.
Clarke gasped and sat up, her hand to her heart. "I'm so sorry."
"You're not getting around me with any more of this bullshit. You both know something you're not telling me. I need all the information I can get to put away whoever did…" he frowned and looked down at his notepad.
"The guards down in the lab where enough for the mummy to regenerate, I don't know how the others died, if you give me some more detail I might be able to piece together what Ba'al is doing." Alex stared straight up at the ceiling and tried to fight past the last vestige of drugs in his head.
"Alex!" Clarke turned around and frowned, "now is not the time, those men where his friends!"
"Clarke, I need to know what's going on or it'll never stop. He's angry about something, I need to research; I need to know why."
"Their hearts were ripped from their chests." O'Malley stood and leaned over the bed so his face was directly in Alex's line of sight. "I know of no weapon that could do this, and no man is strong enough to go completely through bone and rip the tissue from a mans body. I know you didn't do it. So tell me who did and I'll get them."
"I can't tell you anything."
"I can't tell you anything that will make you go on your own. You'll only get yourself killed and I'll have to break in a new detective on this case, who might not like me as much as you do. So you'll just have to wait until I get the information I need, I'll fill you in and we'll hunt down the bastard together."
"Alex, you've just been shot." Clarke protested.
"The only reason I'm still in this bed is because they drugged me too much." Alex groaned as he felt his eyelids start to feel leaden. "Make sure they'll let me out in the morning, would you sweetheart?" he yawned, closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.
"If he wasn't passed out I'd hit him for that." Clarke muttered and looked up at the detective. The man looked older than he had just a couple hours ago. His frown was deep, the worry in his eyes evident. The pain that had blossomed when he spoke of his team had opened that well of misery in Clarke's own chest. She still felt like crying every time she thought of the professor. So she straightened her shoulders and got off the bed, taking the detectives arm in her own she nudged him into the hall, closing the door behind her.
"Come on Detective," she said after smacking Alex's chest and getting no response, "I'll tell you what I know over a cup of coffee."
With everything that had happened in the past few days O'Malley was probably more receptive to the odd explanation than he realized. He didn't interrupt and was patient with Clarke when she had to pause and collect herself several times during the couple of hours they sat in the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room.
"So what you're telling me is that there is a mummy walking around and killing people? Like in that Boris Karloff movie?"
"I guess…never saw it myself."
"You major in Egyptology and you never saw the movie?"
"You make it sound like a skipped a class." She protested mildly.
"You may just as well have."
"Yeah well now we've got the real thing, and I haven't the foggiest idea of what to do."
"At the moment, I'd say we wait for your boyfriend to wake up," he ignored her indignant protest, finding it telling that she was more enthusiastic protesting that than the other, and continued, "and we'll figure out something I'm sure."
Once again Alex groaned in his sleep, no one heard it, but in his dream he was screaming bloody murder. The bald head gleamed in the setting sun; the silver knife that was being removed from his mother's stomach was dripping red, and the scream that echoed his own belonged to his father.
Alex jerked up, and gasped as his shoulder burned, but the pain was no longer dulled, meaning that tears almost burst from his eyes, closing them as his head spun in a sickly circle.
"Bad dream?" a deep voice hissed. He snapped opened his eyes and began to call out when a large hand clapped over his mouth. His eyes were dark, as Clarke had witnessed earlier, darker than black and almost as infinite as the night sky. Alex forced himself to calm, taking deep breaths through his nose.
"That's better; you have no reason to panic. I'm not going to kill you." Ba'al removed his hand slowly, then altogether when he knew that his captive wasn't going to call for help.
"What do you want?" Alex whispered.
"I'm sure, but I don't know." He smiled charmingly. Or it would have been charming if Alex hadn't seen that grin before on the lips of a woman who had killed his mother in front of his eyes.
"You'll have to explain that one."
"Just a few facts, some names, and I'll leave you at peace young one."
"Who killed me...Who disturbed me?" he sat on the edge of the bed, in the same place Clarke had perched earlier. "Tell me and I won't be forced to hurt someone you care about." He leaned over and placed his hands on either side of Alex's hips, face a few inches from his own.
"I don't know." Alex replied truthfully. As if weighing his words, Ba'al titled his head and sighed.
"But you can find out, much quicker than I could, even my poor servant has not the information you can command. I will return." He stood and placed his hand on Alex's cheek, where Clarke had placed hers. "You will help me, or I will kill her… and anyone else you could claim to care about." Once again that sickening flash of panic and utter loss echoed through his head.
He clasped his eyes tight at the thought. And when he opened them again, he was alone.