Chapter 10

How long Ahk wept there, he couldn't say. Eventually, fatigue won out against his tears and he leaned back against the pillar, tear trails freezing on his cheeks. Every breath he took shuddered with spent sobs. The freezing air assaulted him more intensely as he gazed into the infinite, black sky. Little did he know danger was lurking nearby.

What do I do now? Common sense dictated that he should return to the warmth of the museum, but just the thought of being locked back up in his prison was enough to deter him; he'd rather risk turning to dust. Still, Ahkmenrah knew he'd have to face the others eventually...

His thoughts were disrupted when he heard a crackling ahead. Wearily, he stood up and peered into the darkness, cursing the ice that flurried around him and dulled his senses. "Who goes there?" Silence. "I am Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. Show yourself!"

The last thing he expected was a man no older than himself to emerge in the clearing, grin at him sardonically, and reply, "Yeah, sure you are, buddy."

Biting back a retort, Ahkmenrah leaned away as the stranger approached and inspected his clothes. The man's eyes widened upon realizing their potential value. "Although with that gettup, you could be a king! Hey, is that real gold?" He reached for the crown, only to have his hand slapped away.

"Stay back!"

Sadly, instead of discouraging the intruder, the warning slap merely pissed him off. "Come on, I just wanna touch it. Got a problem with that?" He loomed in until their noses were practically touching; the pharaoh got an excellent view of his dilated pupils and bloodshot eyes. Obviously, this person was either possessed or drugged; either way, he was trouble.

"As a matter of fact, I do have a problem with that. Unless you have business with the Guardian, you are not welcome here. Get out!" Ahkmenrah took several steps back, glancing hesitatingly over his shoulder. Would anyone hear him if he called for help? Could he make a run for it? No, that would lead this madman inside the museum. "I shall not warn you again. Stay back!" Everything about this stranger reeked of recklessness and hostility.

Ignoring Ahkmenrah's warnings, the man stumbled forward and shoved him, laughing. "And if I don't? What's a pretty boy like you gonna do about it?" Giggling, he shoved him again, this time nearly knocking him over.

Trying to smother the rising panic in his chest, Ahkmenrah asked, "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just your crown and jewels. The cape would be nice, too-looks like it could fetch a pretty penny."

If only I had my khopesh with me! No doubt that would frighten this intruder away. Scanning his surroundings for a weapon, the best he could find was a large, heavy branch. Well, he could make do with that.; The king made a beeline for it, only to be stopped by a heavy hand plunking down on his shoulder. "Eh-eh, none of that!"

Instinctively, Ahkmenrah punched his attacker in the jaw, sending him flat on his butt. Shaking himself off, the man glared at him before whistling. "Hey fellas! Golden boy here wants to fight!" From the surrounding bushes emerged six other men, three of whom were armed with a bat and a couple of knives. Not good. The pharaoh barely had enough time to grab the tree limb before the others rushed him as one.

Initially, he held his own fairly well. Ahkmenrah sent four of the thugs sprawling without much effort before one of the others clubbed his stomach with the bat. Gasping for air, he failed to recover before he felt a blunt pain at the back of his head, and everything went black.

As he set off, Teddy heard a shout in the distance. Was it a call for help? Praying for the best but expecting the worst, he rushed towards the loading dock, his gun slung over his shoulder.

His worst fears were confirmed when he saw the pharaoh lying unconscious on the ground, surrounded by seven men. They'd already begun stripping Ahkmenrah of any valuables they could find, starting with his golden arm bands. Witnessing this left no room in Teddy's mind to think of calling for backup-he knew by the time help arrived, it would be too late. Instead, a fierce protectiveness took over as he approached the attackers. Repositioning the riffle, Teddy called out as their leader began removing Ahkmenrah's cloak. "Ho, there! Step away, sir, before I..."

Surprised faces greeted him as the intruders swiveled around. One of them muttered, "Another one? What's the deal with these freaks?.."

"Shut up!" The ringleader hissed. Turning to the former President, he scoffed, "And just whatcha gonna do about it, grandpa?"

For the first time, Teddy began to panic. Adjusting his weapon, he tried to act confident, but the truth was that his gun wasn't even loaded-and it was only at that moment he remembered that. It would have mattered little anyway, since he'd never fired a shot in his existence! Also rather inconvenient to remember right then and there. Swallowing his fear, he said, "Take one step closer and you will find out!"

Apparently, he wasn't as intimidating as he thought, for all of them were sneering and coming closer.

"Final warning, gentlemen. One more step..." There was no response except casually handling their weapons or observing their nails. Throughout the entire confrontation, Teddy had been stealthily creeping into the clearing, getting between them and the pharaoh's prone form. Either they were too high to notice this, or they just didn't care. Speaking with a calmness he didn't feel, Teddy said "If you've hurt him, believe me..."

"Who wants to bet he's got some old silver coins on him or something?" The leader goaded his pack. In anger, Teddy accidentally pulled the trigger. To everyone's shock, with a bang a bullet dented the wall, narrowly missing one of the goons. Well, that was unexpected, Teddy thought. Indeed, he almost dropped the gun from the shock of the recoil. However, the most non pulsing realization was that it shouldn't have been armed in the first place. For the love of God, it was a museum prop; it shouldn't have had bullets!

Taking the shot as a call to battle, the gang charged at Roosevelt. Little did they realize what they were getting into...

In retrospect, Teddy hadn't either. His body took over as he ducked, pivoted, and punched. He was too busy keeping up with himself to wonder where the moves came from; after all, until that night, he'd never been in a fight, nor had he ever been trained. He understood the real Theodore Roosevelt had been trained in boxing, but still... At least his skills were being put to good use. A keen awareness instilled within himself a strange, calm alertness as he protected Ahkmenrah; simultaneously, unprecedented rage helped fuel his movements. If the thugs had hoped to overtake him quickly, they'd been sorely mistaken. They didn't know what hit them.

Perhaps he got cocky, or maybe one of the youths just got lucky. Either way, Teddy felt a sharp pain in his side as he saw someone yank out a pen knife from his body. Far from slowing him down, the injury spurred him into berserker mode as he tossed the attacker over some shrubbery. The others took that as their que and ran for their lives. Teddy watched with grim satisfaction as the men trampled each other in their hasty retreat. He barely allowed them to leave-he was normally a pacifist, but after what they'd done to Ahkmenrah, they deserved a severe beating. Ignoring the pain from his wound, he ran over to the fallen pharaoh and checked his pulse, wondering for the first time if he even had one.

To his relief, Ahkmenrah stirred slightly as the he bent over him. The worst damage seemed to be a lump on the back of his head; he'd survive the night. The trick would be getting him to safety-the stab wound wasn't making movement easy.

With a final groan, the pharaoh opened his eyes.

For a moment, Ahkmenrah's vision blurred as he awoke, but it soon cleared up enough for him to see a most welcome sight. "President!"

Theodore beamed down upon him. "All right there, lad?"

Ahkmenrah was feeling anything but all right. Moving his head in the slightest induced an intense wave of nausea, but not wanting to worry Teddy any further, he said, "I have fared worse." Wincing, he reached towards the back of his head, which was throbbing.

"That's quite a bump you've got there! Easy now," Teddy said, helping Ahkmenrah into a sitting position. Grateful for the President's warm, caring touch, Ahkmenrah allowed himself to be propped up against a wall.

Deeply concerned, Teddy said, "We best get you inside-this cold can't be doing you any good."

As Teddy helped him to his feet, Ahkmenrah saw the ugly, deep gash in Teddy's side. "You have been injured!"

"Oh, that! It's nothing, merely a scratch."

Ahkmenrah wasn't fooled. Though Teddy hid it well, his grunts, grimaces, and stiff movements revealed the pain he was in. The pharaoh had been in enough battles to know when an injury was serious-and on any normal human being, that wound could have been fatal. "How are you still moving?!"

Teddy himself was beginning to wonder the same thing. The pain was slowly gaining in intensity. Regardless, he knew his own strength-he was made of wax, after all, so he doubted he would succumb to a mere cut. All he needed was some tender, loving care from his love and melted wax, and he'd be as good as new. Ahkmenrah, on the other hand, was for all intense and purposes human. A human with a head injury. Doing his best to smile (and hoping it wasn't a wince instead), Teddy replied, "Truly, pharaoh, this is nothing more than a nuisance. Come now, let's get you inside."

Supporting each other, the pharaoh and the President returned to the warmth of the museum.