Tickle Torture Tales: The Tomb of Torment

CHAPTER EIGHT: DOUBLE-CROSS IN THE DESERT

Sandy awoke with a start, pearls of sweat saturating her forehead, trickling down her cheeks as she sat bolt upright; discovering to her immense relief that she remained still settled upon the sofa. It was dawn, the first rays of the sun creeping through the window, its welcoming glow removing any traces of the fearful yet thankfully refreshing rainfall of the evening before; the city set to swelter yet again in searing, record breaking temperatures.

Upon an armchair she observed the brown leather backpack where she had left it in her haste to catch up on a few hours of sleep, still containing the headband, the ancient artefact the cause of her horrific nightmare; rubbing exhaustedly at her eyes, the adventurer entered the kitchen area of the apartment, preparing herself a cup of strong black coffee.

Settling herself upon the sofa once more, Sandy reflected on the frightful dream she had experienced; its content causing her no little concern. Had it really been no more than a nightmare, or had the dream in fact conveyed some hint of a prophetic nature, she pondered, an apocalyptic vision of events as yet to come if she did not realise her ultimate aim, and soon; destruction of the headband took priority above all other business, she concluded.

And then there were her friends. Each abducted, each in dire need of rescuing; surely that was where her priorities lay, she reasoned. Finally her mind was made up, she would risk rescuing her friends first, for in any event, she would require Rosie's assistance if she was to stand even the slightest chance of destroying the headband; forged in the fires of the underworld, possessed of supernatural powers, destroying such an evil artefact would prove no easy task, of that she was certain.

And then there was the captive cultist, she recalled, memories of the evening before flooding back as she attempted to cast the horrific nightmare out of her mind; immediately reassuring herself that the woman remained tightly bound and gagged in the bedroom. The remainder of the morning passed uneventfully, for there was little to assist the adventurer in whiling away the intervening hours other than to leaf through a few of her friend's books on the subject of Egyptology; she dared not leave the apartment for fear of falling foul of further fanatics who would undoubtedly be hunting for her and the headband she had snatched.

In one particular tome, studying the accompanying full-colour photographs, Sandy noted that in fact evidence of Tikeltootsi's brief but bloody reign was there for all to see in the form of feathers hand-carved into ruined temple walls, whilst upon an obelisk was engraved what appeared to be an example of tickle torture, the hysterical features of a hapless victim frozen for all eternity; the queen's name may have been erased from history upon her death, but the memory of her tyrannical rule had not. Even in stone, the stroking of the soles caused Sandy no little distress as she set down the book upon a side table; a cold shiver creeping down her spine in spite of the oppressive heat.

Finally, that evening, Sandy received a call on her cell phone, the call she had been awaiting all the while; it was Dodgy Giza, contacting the adventurer to detail his list of demands. In keeping with the opportunist's instructions, she was to travel that very night to the black marketeer's desert camp, located a couple of hours drive from Cairo, alone and unarmed; bringing with her the headband. Of course, Sandy did not trust Giza for an instant, for undoubtedly she would find herself walking into a trap, the crafty conman's intention to hold her hostage once more, she suspected; however by now a plan had presented itself to the adventurer, one with which she could turn the tables on her old enemy.

And so, returning to the bedroom, she untied the folded fabric from the fanatic's mouth before freeing her ankles, all the while taking care not to remove the restraint from the woman's wrists; imparting with a few words of wisdom whispered into Delta's ear, Sandy soon sent her on her way. Out in the street, she clambered into the silver 4x4 still awaiting her return, settling her backpack containing the precious headband upon the passenger seat; soon speeding off into the night.