From the books written about the movies and fanfiction that I've read.The Mummy
They had reached the cage when the interior doors on the wall of the prison burst open and four Arab guards dressed in khaki dragged in a handsome, unshaven young white man, heavily shackled at the wrists and ankles, in what had been a white shirt and jodphurs, before they had become filthy and torn from a week in captivity.
Amused as he’d been by Evelyn’s grandiouse ramblings about the desert and the universe, O’Connell knew she was on to something. That was the lure of the desert: a sense that in the vastness of eternity, your life was meaningless, which offered a kind of freedom, a release from the need to pursue gain and glory. Under the star-studded purple of the desert sky, a man could reflect on such things.
... Half a bottle was left, and O’Connell shared the liquor with Evelyn, while Jonathan slept it off in his tent.
At the moment, she [Eveyln] was unfolding the puzzle box with a little difficulty, though she’d opened it before, numerous times, easy as pie. “I can’t believe I let my defences drop to such a sorry state that you two reprobates could get me tipsy.”
The Mummy Returns
Up at the bow, Evy was staring out quietly at the sapphire sky, from time to time glancing down upon the fantastic, shifting landscapes below, the shadow of thier ship chasing across the ivory-washed dunes. O'Connell- who'd been watching her from a respectful distance- stepped up to her side, and slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her gently near.
-both books by Max Allen Collins
Fan Fiction
"She was so in love with this man that it tore at her emotions and left her bare before him."
“Ah!” the warden said. “Here’s your friend, now.”
The guards hurled the young man against the bars; the prisoner struck the steel with a nasty clang, but his face registered no pain.
“I say,” Johnathan said to Hassan, “was that necessary?”
The warden beamed greenly at Evelyn. “I see your brother’s sence of humor is also well developed. This is Mr. O’Connell, formerly of Chicago, Illinois, and more lately, the French Foreign Legion. He’s a deserter, your friend.”
Evelyn was looking O’Connell over; he was doing the same to her, from (it seemed to Jonathan) a slightly different perspective.
She asked her brother, “Is this him? The one you stole it from?”
Jonathan laughed nervously, glancing at the warden. “My sister and her sence of humor... Yes, dear, this is the blighter who sold it to me.
O’Connell wedged his face between two bars, frowning as he studied Johnathan. “Sold what to you?”
“Warden,” Jonathan said, “would it be possible for us to have a few minutes alone with our friend.”
“What friend?” O’Connell asked.
Johnathan extended a hand with a pound note in it to the warden, for the man to shake, and take.
“Certainly, sahib.” Hassan bowed. “I’ll leave you now... you have five minutes.”
“It won’t be the same without you,” O’Connell said to the warden and blew him a kiss.
The warden did not smile, greenly or otherwise; he waved a finger in the air. “A sence of humor in prisoners I do not appreciate.”
O’Connell laughed. “What are you going to do about it, fatso? Not change my sheets?
The warden nodded the the scruffy, sleepy-eyed guard standing behind O’Connell, and the guard slammed the prisoner into the metal bars again, where his face bounced like a rubber ball off pavement. But O’Connell still registered no pain, though he did toss the guard a glare.
“Unwise, sir,” the warden said, and began walking away, adding to himself, “most unwise.”
Jonathan, watching Hassan go, said to
O’Connell, “You might not want to get on his bad side, old man.”
“Where have I seen you before?” O’Connell asked Johnathan.
“I’m just a, uh, local missionary spreading the good word.”
“And who’s the dame?”
Evelyn frowned. “Dame?”
Jonathan gestured. “This is my charming sister, Evy.”
“Evelyn,” she corrected.
O’Connell glanced at her and shrugged. “Yeah? Well, maybe with her hair down she wouldn’t be a totally loss.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “Well, I never!”
“That wouldn’t surprise me, O’Connell siad.
To Johnathan, he said, “You look mighty familiar...”
Jonathan laughed giddily. “I just have one of those terrible common faces, old boy.”
“No, I know you from somewhere.”
Evenlyn said, “ Mr. O’Connell, allow me to explain why we’ve come.”
Face striped with the shadows of the prison bars, O’Connell half-smirked. “Till I heard your British accents, I was kinda hoping you were from the American embassy.”
“Sorry, no,” She said. “We’re here about your box.”
“My what?”
“Now I remember,” O’Connell said, nodding, smiling, and, shackled or not, the prisoner managed to throw a short right jab into Jonathan’s jaw. Pugilism had never been a long suit of johnathan’s, and the punch dropped him to the ground. He sat there rubbing his jaw, not quite unconscious.
“At any rate,” Evelyn continued, “we found your puzzle box and we’ve come to ask you about it.”
O’Connell was looking at her with renewed interest. “I just decked your brother, you know.”
“Yes, well, and I’m sure he desevered it, He is my sibling; I would know.”
O’Connell half-smiled at her. “I guess you would at that, Evy.”
“That’s ‘Miss Carnahan’, if you please. Now about the box...”
“Don’t you mean, about Hamanaptra?” White teeth flashed in the unshaven, deeply tanned face.
Johnathan, finally getting to his feet, brushing himself off, replacing his hat which had been knocked off, said, “Keep your vioce down, man! The walls have ears.”
Actually, it was the scruffy hood-eyed guard standing in the cell with O’Connell who had ears, and while English might have been foriegn to his ears, the word “Hamanaptra” might be all too familiar.
“What an interesting thing to say, Mr. O’Connell,” Evelyn said, coyly. “Whatever was it that brought , uh, that mythical place to mind?”
“Maybe because I was at that mythical place when I found it.”
She blinked. “You were there?”
“Yeah, and if a caravan of digers out of Cairo hadn’t stummbled across me in the desert, I wouldn’ta lived to tell the tale.”
Johnathan, jaw aching, feeling irritable towards the chap, snapped, “How do we know this isn’t a load of pig swallow?”
“Well, for one thing, I have no idea what pig swallow is. And for another, step over here near the bars again...”
“No thank you, “ Jonathan said, taking a step back.
But Evelyn had no compuction about stepping near the cars to the filthy prisoner. She asked, “You where there? At Hamanaptra?”
He flashed her another big grin. “I sure as hell was, lady. Seti’s joint. City of the Goddamn Dead.”
“You swear?”
“I’m afraid so- every goddamn day.”
She frowned in frustration. “No, no, what I mean to say is, do you take an oath that...”
“I know what you mean. I’m just pulling your leg. Or anyway, I’d like to...”
Her chin lifted, her gaze traveled at him down her fine nose. “You’re hardly in a position to make flirtatiuos remarks, Mr. O’Connell. This is strictly buisness.”
“Is it, now?”
“And what did you find?”
“Sand. A lot of sand.”
“Well, then, what did you see?”
“Death. Lot of that, too. They aren’t kidding when they say that place is cursed.”
“Superstition, Mr.O’Connell, is the hallmark of the small mind. My interest is in research. My brother and I are Egyptologists.”
“Really? Well, then- I bet you’d like to go there. To Hamanaptra, I mean.”
Jonathan crossly said, “Will you too keep you’re voices down?”
Evelyn was very near the bars of the cage.
“Could you tell me how to get there? The exact location?”
“Better then that. I’ll take you there.”
“But Mr. O’Connell- you are rather indisposed.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Couldn’t you just tell us how to get there? Give us the exact location?”
“Have you opened the box?”
“Well, uh... yes we have.”
“Then you have the map.”
Evelyn glanced at her brother, who shrugged.
“About the map, old boy,” Jonathan said, keeping his distance, “I’m afraid there was a slight mishap- a portion of it was burned away... the, uh, portion including the particular site of interest, shall we say.”
“Come closer, Jonathan,” O’Connell said, crooking his finger, smiling tightly, “I can’t hear you...”
Jonathan stepped back a pace.
Evelyn said to the prisoner, “You’ve been there. You can point out the way.”
O’Connell nodded. “I can take you there.”
“How?”
“Well, you might start by, oh, I don’t know, maybe by...”
She leaned closer. “Yes? Yes?”
“Getting me the hell out of here!”
Evelyn reared back. “Well, you needn’t be rude, Mr. O’Connell.”
“Forgive me. A man loses all sence of propriety in a place like this. Would you really like to know the way?”
“Oh yes.”
He nodded to her, to come closer, his eyes indicating he didn’t want the guard to hear. She lean in to him and he kissed her full on the lips.
Then he grinned at her, rankishly, and winked. “Get me the hell outa here, honey, and we’ll both go on an adventure.”
At least he could have, if it were not for the thunderlike snoring of the warden. Tossing and turing, Jonathan grummbled about it, then began to snore, himself. O’Connell, amused as he lay in his tent, was almost asleep when Evelyn crawled in with him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “But it’s so bitterly cold. Would you mind, terribly.”
“Mind?”
“Cuddling. Conditions do call for it, once again.”
And he held her in his arms, and spent at least an hour thinking about kissing her, lost in the softness of holding her close, before he finally drifted off to sleep, not knowing Evelyn had been entertaining similar desires.
O’Connell had built the fire up, but the desert night was its usual bitterly cold self, and they sat close together, sharing warmth. She told him she wasn’t a “drinking girl” and then proceeded to damn near drink him under the table, or anyway would have if they’d had a table. At one point, concerned- in aftermath of the Med-jai raid- that she couldn’t defend herself, she inveigled him into giving her impromptu boxing lessons.
She swung on him, landing in his arms, and they dropped to the sand together, cuddling rather drunkenly in the firelight. He offered her another drink from the chipped spout of the bottle.
“Unlike my brother, sir.” she said rather grandly, “I know when to say no.”
That was something a man in love didn’t want to hear.
“I should be angry with you,” he said, taking a swig.
“Why?”
“Risking your life like that. I told you to stay put.”
She raised an eyebrow and slitted her eyes.
“Who’s in care of this expedition, anyway?”
“Look, I understand why your brother’s here- he’s after richs. Anybody can make sence of that. But why...”
“What’s a rotten place like this doing in a girl like me?”
“Precisely...”
A faint smile tickled her full lips; her voice became dreamy. “Eygpt is in my blood. Don’t you know who my father was?”
“Who?”
“Show you.” She pulled on a chain around her neck, withdrawing from under the Bedouin gown a locket; she opened it to display the small photos of her handsome father and lovely mother, an Egyptian women with her daugther’s eyes and mouth. “Howard Carnahan. That is who my father was.”
“I’m sorry... don’t know the name. I’m just an ignorant American.”
“But you’re a soldier of forture in Arabia, aren’t you? Surely you’ve heard of the man who found KIng Tut’s tomb... one of the men, anyway.”
“Good Lord... are your parents...?”
“Dead,” she said, with a forceful bob of her head. “Plane crash. And I don’t believe it’s a curse. Such tommyrot, such poppycock. Thirteen people have died, yes, but people die everyday. Not because of a curse. Not because of fate...”
O’Connell was a tad blotto himself, but he wasn’t fooled by the offhand, glib nature of her remarks.
“So you’re continuing your father’s work,” he said. “Spitting in the eye of the King Tut curse.”
“Put it that way if you like. I may not be an explorer, like my father, or adventurer like you, Mr.O’Connell... but I am exceedingly proud of what I am.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
She slapped her chest, lifted her chin. “Why, I... am... a... librarian!”
He snorted a laugh. “You mean a drunk librarian.”
She snuggled next to him. “How dare you say such a thing?” she cooed. “When are you goign to kiss me again, anyway, Mr. O’Connell?”
“I’m not going to kiss you at all, unless you stop calling me ‘Mr. O’Connell’. I told you- call me Rick.”
“Why should I?”
“Because it’s my name.”
“Rick. Rick... kiss me, Rick.”
And then she kissed him, and passed out in his arms with that same goofy expression her brother had worn. O’Connell looked at her with great fondness, holding her very close, and fell asleep wearing a smile almost as silly as hers.
“Don’t blame me, Sis,” Jonathan said. “I’d already passed out, like a true and proper drunkard.”
“ ‘Tipsy” doesn’t quite cover it,” O’Connell said... “You were drunk as a lord.”
“Well!” Evelyn huffed and glared at her brother.
Jonathan raised his hands in surrender...
“Don’t ask me for vindication. I don’t even remember being there.”
“Neither do I,” she said, “thank you very much.”
“That’s a shame,” O’Connell said with a hurtful look that was obviosly feigned. “Last night you said you’d remember it forever.”
“I never!”
“Until last night.” And he grinned at her...
"How can it seem so lovely," she asked,"when it's so deadly?"
"The desert?"
She nodded, gestering to the sands below. "When the great armies of the pharaohs moved through the hills of this desert, they perished in the whirlwinds, vultures making carrion of them."
"Evy... I've never told you this, but when we first met... that day you and your brother came to the Cairo prison..."
She laughed a little, a bittersweet laugh. "I was so terrible to you."
"And I to you... and when we met, I had the strangest sensation... illogical, even crazy. I was facing death... the hangman's noose... and yet, meeting you, I knew I wouldn't die. I knew we were meant to be together, to share life. So... I wasn't afraid. I knew I couldn't die, not yet."
Now she was nodding: even smiling- still bittersweet, though.
He sighed, and said, "I felt that you and I... well, that we had to be together. Kind of a screwball notion, huh? Maybe just a dying man's delusion."
"But you didn't die."
"No, I didn't... thanks to you. Screwy as it sounds... the librarian and the legionnaire, meant for each other."
She beamed bravely up at him. "It doesn't sound crazy, Rick- it sounds... it sounds just fine. We are meant to be together, darling, different as we are- we're like puzzle pieces, disparate shapes, fitting together, snugly, perfectly."