As they strolled through the arid landscape, Henry trailed behind the Director, his voice laced with persuasion. "Sir, we can't just pull the team out now. We're on the cusp of something monumental. The findings, the artifacts... this could be the discovery of a lifetime."
The Director halted, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face Henry. "Henry, Henry, Henry!" he thundered, his voice echoing across the desert expanse. "You're thinking about accolades and recognition, but I'm thinking about the bigger picture. We have our orders from the board, and we will comply."
Henry's face fell, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "But, sir, it's only been two days..." he trailed off, his voice lost in the wind.
The Director's expression softened, and he clapped Henry on the back. "I know, Henry. But sometimes, we have to prioritize caution over curiosity. Get the team ready; we're leaving shortly."
As the Director walked away, Henry's frustration boiled over. "Aish!" he shouted, stamping his foot against the dry earth
Smith was carried into Doctor Frank's tent, his injured leg throbbing with intense pain. The doctor quickly finished up with the female patient he had been attending to and turned his attention to Smith.
"The cut isn't large, but it's deep," Doctor Frank observed, his eyes focused on the wound as he carefully removed the makeshift bandage Smith had applied. "How did you get hurt?"
Smith hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I fell, and a rock-cut me," he said finally, his tone neutral.
Doctor Frank's eyes flicked up to meet Smith's, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he focused on dressing the wound, his hands moving with precision.
Just as the doctor finished up, his phone rang. "Excuse me," he said, stepping outside the tent to take the call.
Abigail walked in, a look of concern etched on her face. "Hey, how are you?" she asked, taking a stool beside Smith.
Smith shrugged, his expression stoic. "I'm okay, as you can see."
Abigail's eyes narrowed, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "Thanks for asking isn't a bad word, you know."
Smith didn't seem to pick up on her sarcasm. "Why are you here?" he asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
Abigail smiled wryly. "Checking up on you, reminding you we're leaving today. Like, right now."
Smith stood up, testing his weight on his injured leg. "You didn't have to come all the way here to tell me that."
Abigail rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't know you had staff to keep you informed. If I had known, I would have brought them along."
Smith didn't seem to catch the sarcasm, his expression neutral. Abigail sighed, shaking her head.
"I'm leaving," Abigail said.
"You know how you got in," Smith replied, pointing towards the exit.
As Abigail turned to leave, her feet tangled, and she fell, the book flying out of her hands. The pages scattered across the floor, and Abigail's face flushed with embarrassment.
Smith didn't move to help her, his expression unreadable. Abigail muttered under her breath, "Stupid colleague, standing so close but couldn't even keep me from falling."
"I'm not a gentleman" Smith replied with gritted teeth as if reading her thoughts.
As she gathered the scattered pages, Smith's hand closed around her wrist, his eyes fixed on the drawing of a beast on the page. A shiver ran down his spine as memories began to resurface, memories he had forgotten for a while now.
"This beast..." Smith thought, his mind reeling with the implications.
Smith's eyes glazed over, his mind hijacked by a gruesome flashback. A man's lifeless body lay before him, eyes frozen in terror, mouth agape as blood gushed from his chest. The attacker's chest seemed to have spawned tentacle-like spears that had pierced the man's heart.
'How did this get here, it can't be just a drawing....there's a connection, I know there is.'. Smith's face contorted in anguish, his heart racing with fear.
Abigail's voice cut through the fog, but Smith didn't respond. She shook him, and he jolted back to reality, his face slick with sweat. Abigail's eyes widened in concern as she took in Smith's haunted expression.
"Hey, are you okay? I've been calling you," Abigail asked, her voice laced with worry. Smith's expression was a mask of pain and fear, his eyes still reeling from the flashback.
'Weirdo!' she snorted and picked up the paper, turning to leave, but Smith's voice halted her. His tone was low and even, but his eyes betrayed a deep-seated anxiety.
"Where did you get that from?" he asked, his gaze avoiding hers. Abigail's smile faltered, and she turned to face him.
"It's mine," she said, a hint of pride creeping into her voice. But Smith's gaze was unyielding, his dark eyes boring into her like a cold, devouring glare. Abigail's smile dissipated, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.
"What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Smith's eyes seemed to bore into her soul, and Abigail felt a surge of fear.
"You haven't given me an answer yet," Smith said, his frown deepening.
"Every time I talk to you, you seem like a different person." Abigail's eyes flashed with anger, and she felt a surge of defensiveness. "I told you, it's mine! What else do you want me to say?" she exclaimed, her voice rising. The air was charged with tension as they locked eyes, the silence between them palpable.
'what does he take me, his child? I don't know why I have to run into such bad luck like him today; if not for the bet I made, I wouldn't be trying to talk to you all the time. Who do you think you're???'
Doc Frank's voice cut through the tension, his eyes scanning the room with concern. "Is everything okay in here?" he asked.
Abigail's annoyance boiled over, and she stormed out of the tent. Smith followed suit, his face a mask of calm indifference. But beneath the surface, his emotions seethed like a tempest. Doc Frank watched them go, a puzzled expression on his face.
"What did I miss?" he wondered aloud, shaking his head in confusion.