Time Hunters and the Spear of Fate, The (15 page)

Becky glanced at Joe, confused.
‘What do you mean?’

‘Now what do you know about the
Sphinx?’ Butterby asked.

‘Err, it’s has body of a lion,
doesn’t it?’ Becky said. ‘And the head of a man … a pharaoh, I think?’

‘That’s certainly what most people
believe,’ Butterby replied. ‘And that’s certainly how it has appeared for over
three thousand years.’

“What’re you talking about?’ Joe
asked.

‘Look.’ Butterby raised his arm and
pointed into the distance at the giant monument that rose magnificently from
the sand.

Becky’s heart fluttered as she made
out the familiar outline.

The closer they got, however, the
more she saw there was something very different about it, something far removed
from the way she’d seen it in photographs. The Sphinx’s body was decorated in
brushstrokes of red and black paint, making its fur seem almost alive, but it
was when its head came into view that she had the shock of her life. Fully
expecting to see a human head, she was astounded to see the head of a giant
cat-like creature, its jaws open wide, displaying reams of sharp teeth; even
more chilling, four enormous eyes, each painted jet-black with bright yellow
pupils, lined its skull.

‘I don’t understand,’ Becky wheezed.

Joe, on the other hand, gave a
triumphant laugh and clapped his hands. ‘Mister Everall was right,’

‘What do you mean?’ Becky asked him.

‘He was convinced that originally
The Sphinx had a different head, a non-human head. He showed us some newspaper
cuttings that claimed some boffins had proved it used to be that of a cat, but
I don’t know many cats with four eyes, do you? He also said it was built way
before the pyramids.’

‘And Mister Everall was quite
right,’ Butterby said. ‘My guess is that The Sphinx is nearly nine thousand
years old … six and a half thousand years older than the pyramids themselves.
Of course, I have no idea why it was built or, indeed, who built it, but it is
certainly a wonderful historical conundrum.’

‘I may be able to answer that,’
Edgar said, appearing alongside Uncle Percy and Will. ‘I imagine it was built
by my ancestors. You see … the Sphinx was a creature of Atlantis. I have never
witnessed one, they became extinct many eons ago, but are celebrated in
Atlantean lore.’

‘And they’re this big?’ Becky asked,
surprised.

Edgar chuckled. ‘Lordy, no. This
beast makes me want to soil my loincloth. No, from what my grandfather told me,
a Sphinx was a small animal. Ferocious, yes, and I’m certain it could give an
exposed ankle a nasty nibble, but they were too tiny to be of any real menace.’

‘And do you know anything about this
monument, Edgar?’ Uncle Percy asked, intrigued. ‘Why it was built here?’

‘No, Perce,’ Edgar replied, shaking
his head. ‘This was the time of the ancients - the time of my kind’s first
appearance in this land after the fall of Atlantis. Such answers have been long
lost.’

Becky was about to question Edgar further
when, through the silence, she heard the most unexpected sound. She glanced
anxiously at Uncle Percy, who had frozen with disbelief.

‘What’s that?’ Edgar said.

Dazed, Uncle Percy looked upwards,
his head twisting left and right as he searched for the source of the noise. He
opened his mouth to answer but Joe beat him to it.

‘That’s a plane …’

Chapter 21

Spitting Fire

Then, seemingly from nowhere, a
thunderous
whoosh
echoed all around them. A plane soared overhead, painted
in brown and greens, flying low, weaving the glassy sky. To her surprise, she
recognized the concentric red, white and blue roundels on its undercarriage
from countless old films. A moment later, two more planes joined it, and the
three planes gathered in an arrow formation.

‘They’re Spitfires,’ Joe gasped.

Becky watched the Spitfires
separate. Then, to her horror, an earsplitting clatter of gunfire rang out as
bullets peppered the distant sand, firing at something she couldn’t see.

‘Associates!’ Uncle Percy shouted.
‘Back to Blanche!’

Following his lead, the group raced
off in the direction of the time machine. Edgar charged ahead, followed by Joe,
Will, Becky, Uncle Percy, with Butterby bringing up the rear at little more
than a fast shuffle.

Alarmed, Becky glanced back at the
struggling Butterby. Whirling round, she sped over to him. ‘Come on, Mister
Butterby. You need to run.’

‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ Butterby
replied. ‘I’m afraid I’m not the man I once was, and these sandals weren’t
exactly made for a sprint.’

‘Let me help.’ Becky shouldered him
as best she could. Moving faster now, she saw Edgar reach the bus some distance
ahead of the others. Looking back, his black eyes found her and Butterby.
Without hesitation, he took off again and was suddenly powering towards them,
his huge feet pummelling the ground. He reached them in no time at all.

‘Can I be of service?’ Edgar puffed.
Not waiting for a reply, he shovelled Butterby in his arms.

‘Oh, how humiliating,’ Butterby
muttered, as Edgar took off again.

‘You’re deceptively heavy, Mister
Butterby,’ Edgar said.

‘I’ve put on a few pounds recently,’
Butterby muttered with embarrassment. ‘Thanks for noticing.’

Becky set off behind Edgar.
Gathering speed, she looked up to see Joe was already at the bus, his hands
waving for her to hurry.

‘Come on,’ he shouted.

Through blurred eyes, Becky saw that
one of the three Spitfires had broken away from the group.

‘Becks. HURRY!’ Joe yelled again.

Becky charged on, her lungs burning
in her chest. She watched as Edgar and Butterby reached the bus. Less than
twenty metres away now, she saw the lone Spitfire adjust its trajectory, its
nose turning in their direction. With the last of her energy, she leapt inside
the bus, landing hard, banging her skull against the bottom-most stair.

‘HOLD TIGHT EVERYONE!’ Uncle Percy
yelled from the driver’s seat.

A deafening noise sounded from
above. Dozens of bullets thumped against the bus’s bodywork. Becky smothered a
scream.

The bus rocked left and right like
it had been caught in a hurricane.

Uncle Percy started the ignition and
slammed his foot on the accelerator. The bus sped off as the Spitfire roared
overhead.

‘I don’t get it,’ Joe shouted over
the roar of the engine. ‘The Spitfire’s a British plane. Why are Associates using
it?’

Will glanced at him darkly. ‘The
Associate I captured was British, Joe. Never forget, the face of evil exists in
all lands and wears many shades.’

Uncle Percy reached into the glove
compartment and withdrew a pair of Amnoculars.

Getting to her feet, head throbbing
with pain, Becky stumbled towards him.

Uncle Percy raised the Amnoculars to
his eyes and watched the Spitfires circling ahead.  Shock creased his
face. ‘My God,’ he breathed.

‘What is it?’ Becky asked.

‘Those Spitfires are having target
practice.’

‘With what?’ Becky asked, panicking.

‘Look for yourself,’ Uncle Percy
said, passing her the Amnoculars.

Becky trained them ahead and a deep
revulsion swept through her. Through a cloud of sand, she could just make out a
young girl scrambling through the desert. Just then, the Spitfires pulled away
from their target and turned in their direction.

‘Uncle Percy,’ Becky exhaled.
‘They’re coming.’

‘Not to worry,’ Uncle Percy replied calmly,
pressing a button on the dashboard, looking back and shouting, ‘Will! The
Browning!’

Enraged, Will nodded and sprinted up
the stairs, three at a time.

‘What’s a Browning?’ Becky yelled.

Uncle Percy’s fingers dug into the
steering wheel. ‘Hold on to something.’

Becky just managed to seized a
handrail as she heard a shrill whistling sound and  -

BOOOOM.

- A bomb exploded to their left,
quickly followed by another just ahead.

BOOOOM.

The bus shook wildly.

To Becky’s horror, a cavernous ditch
had formed in the sand.

‘WATCH OUT,’ Becky screamed.

In the nick of time, Uncle Percy
slammed the wheel left, swerving around the ditch, missing it by inches.

Ears ringing, Becky shouted at Uncle
Percy, ‘What’s a Browning?’

‘It’s a -’ His sentence was drowned
out by the most tremendous crashing sound from the deck above.

Joe looked upwards. ‘That’s a
machine gun!’ he yelled with relief. ‘Fantastic!’ Racing past Edgar, who was
squealing with fright, his huge fingers plugging his ears, Joe sped up the
stairs.

Becky glanced at Uncle Percy with
disbelief. ‘You’ve installed a machine gun… in a bus?’

‘I’m not happy about it,’ Uncle
Percy replied. ‘I loathe guns, but Drake’s forcing my hand.’

Recognition crossed Becky’s face as
she recalled a particular discussion with Maria. ‘That’s what you meant when
you said Barbie was installing
machine parts
?’

‘Well, guns have parts,’ Uncle Percy
replied weakly.

At that moment, another crash of
gunfire sounded above.

Becky’s hands flew over her ears. Through
the windscreen, she saw a Spitfire explode in midair.

Joe appeared on the stairs. ‘Becky,
you have to see this!’ he yelled, before, turning round and dashing back.

Becky navigated the central aisle,
before charging up the stairs. To her surprise, the second deck had had all of
its seats removed and replaced with a bathroom, various cupboards and a
sleeping area. A large wall divided the deck with an open door in the middle,
through which she saw Will, elevated on a rotating chair; his hands were wrapped
tightly around the handle of a belt-fed machine gun which was pointed through a
turret that had formed in the roof.

Grim-faced, Will pulled the trigger,
sending out a volley of shots, showering the air with empty shell cases. The
second Spitfire erupted into flames. Twisting round, he trained his sights on
the final Spitfire. Before he could take aim, however, it attacked; hundreds
more bullets pummelled the bus.

Ignoring the deafening sound, Will
took aim and fired. Direct hit.

Becky watched as black smoke
streamed from the Spitfire’s fuselage. With a spluttering sound, it nosedived
to the ground.

The battle was over.

Becky hurried back below to see
Uncle Percy was steering the bus towards the girl, who was lying motionless on
the sand.

‘Becky, get the girl!’ Uncle Percy
shouted back.

Becky moved to the rear entrance as
the bus slowed down. Not waiting for the bus to brake, she leapt out and rushed
to the girl’s side, dropping to her knees. To her relief, she could see the
girl was breathing.

‘Are you okay?’ Becky said softly.

The girl turned and looked up, her
auburn eyes wide with fright. Wearing a ragged linen tunic, black with dirt and
grime, she was perhaps ten years of age, with a pretty, olive skinned face,
caked in sand, and raven-black hair shaped in a bob. The girl’s eyes flicked
over to the ravaged bus before refocusing on Becky.

‘Are you okay?’ Becky repeated,
afraid the transvocalisors had been damaged in the attack. ‘Have you been
hurt?’

The girl shook her head. ‘I - I am
unharmed.’

‘You’re safe now,’ Becky said
sincerely. ‘Do you understand?’

With that, the girl threw her arms
around Becky and began to sob.

Joe leapt on to the sand, his face
beaming. ‘That was excellent!’ he hollered.

His loud voice made the girl jolt in
Becky’s arms.

‘Keep it down, divvy!’ Becky snapped
at him.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Joe replied.

Uncle Percy appeared behind him,
followed by Butterby and then Will.  Stepping slowly on to the sand, he
took a single stride towards the girl and bowed. ‘Hello,’ he said gently, casting
her a warm smile. ‘Please don’t be afraid.’

The girl released Becky, mopped her
eyes and smiled back.

‘My name’s Percy Halifax, and this
is –’

But the girl had stopped listening,
her face etched once more with something that resembled fear.

‘What is it?’ Becky asked at once.

‘A-pis …Apis…’ the girl panted, and
flung herself on all fours, her face pressed against in the sand. She began to
say something so quietly Becky knew it had to be prayer.

Edgar followed Will and Butterby off
the bus and understood straightaway what was happening. ‘Please, young lady,’
he said in his softest voice. ‘Please, stand.’

The girl looked upwards, tears of
joy streaking her cheeks.  ‘Apis?’ she repeated.

‘I am not Apis,’ Edgar said gently. ‘My
name’s Edgar.’

‘E-dg-ar?’ the girl replied,
confused and bewildered.

‘Indeed, and I am not Godly in any
way, shape or form. Apis and me just happen to share similar physical
characteristics. For instance, we both have very big nostrils…’ He chuckled loudly.

Looking up at Edgar’s toothy grin,
the girl smiled.

‘That’s better,’ Edgar said. ‘And
may I ask your name?’

The girl fell silent. ‘I am Layla,’
she replied quietly.

‘Hello, Layla,’ Edgar said,
extending his hand for her to hold. ‘Please, allow me…’

Trembling, the girl took it and got
to her feet.

‘Well, Layla,’ Edgar said. ‘May I
first present to you my smashing friends. This is Perce…’ He pointed at Uncle
Percy, who bowed again. ‘And this is Becky, Joe, Will and Mister Butterby.’

Layla scanned each of them, courage
returning to her face.

‘We are strangers to these lands,
Layla,’ Edgar continued.

As if recalling something from a
terrible dream, Layla suddenly panicked, her eyes darting upwards. ‘The birds,’
she said. ‘The iron birds?’

‘Will bother you no more,’ Uncle
Percy replied.

Layla went silent again. ‘Thank
you.’

‘It’s our pleasure,’ Uncle Percy
replied. ‘Would you like some water?’

Layla nodded. ‘Please.’

Uncle Percy re-entered the bus and
returned moments later with a bottle of water, which he uncapped and passed
over. ‘There you go...’

Becky recalled the incident on Crete
in the summer, the horror on Phineas’ face when he first set his eyes upon a
plastic bottle. Layla, in contrast, didn’t show an ounce of fear and snatched
the bottle from his hand; guzzling it down, she drained it in one go and
exhaled a long, satisfied breath. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘Are you alone, Layla?’ Uncle Percy
asked.

Layla wiped her mouth and nodded.

‘Where’s your family?’ Becky asked.

Layla’s expression darkened; the
edge of her lip quivered slightly, but she refused flatly to cry again. ‘My
father has been taken…’

‘What d’you mean,
“taken”?
’
Joe asked.

‘Taken by the men in black cloaks,
those who travel in the belly of the iron birds. They raided our village, and seized
the able-bodied men, boys and some girls who were of age.’ Layla’s head tilted
downward. ‘My father protested, so they thrashed him mercilessly like an
animal, and took him anyway.’

Seeing the anguish on Layla’s face,
Becky felt a bitterness well inside. Her father had been abducted, too. ‘Where
did they take him?’ she asked, her fists balling unconsciously.

‘To Ankh-Tawy … to Memphis … to dig
far beneath the city, searching for I know not what. And they’re not only
taking workers, they seized my Adma, too … my beautiful Adma.’

‘Who’s Adma?’ Becky asked. ‘Your
sister?’

‘Adma is my friend, my pet,’ Layla
replied miserably. ‘She is as rare and beautiful an animal as any you will find
in Mother Egypt. I’ve no idea why they’d take her, she is too small, too
fragile to be of any worldly use.’

‘And where is your mother?’ Uncle
Percy asked.

‘I have no mother,’ Layla replied
simply, her voice devoid of sentiment. ‘She died giving me life.’