BB

Clarke glanced at the small notebook gently hovering above his nightstand next to his antique brass alarm clock. He smirks and shakes his head. I really shouldn't worry so much. He said to himself, lighting a cigarette and grabbing his coat from the wall.

"Honey, I'm off to the Showroom, boss needs me. Don't burn the place down while I'm gone!".

Lana was in the living room, on the couch, watching Sunset Boulevard and drinking an iced tea.

"Yes sir!"

She turned from the couch and saluted Clarke as she giggled.

Clarke started his car and, for some reason, checked his rearview mirror as he drove out of his driveway. He could see the little black notebook still floating in his bedroom through a slit in the drapes. His vision lingered on the sight for a little too long, as Hank, the postman, had to jump out of the way of Clarke's still rolling automobile. Darn! I didn't even notice him! Clarke reacted.

"Sorry Hank! I wasn't paying attention, you alright?"

Hank collected a few dropped letters and tipped his cap.

"No worries Clarke, we all get distracted sometimes! Take 'er easy!"

Clarke arrived to the lab and checked in at the front desk. The secretary was a plump woman with a gruff voice and a most unfriendly not-ever-going-to-be-happy-here demeanor.

"Sam wants you in his office ASAP. So get your briefcase from the lockers and don't mess around!"

Clarke never knew her true role, was she a warden or a receptionist?

Sam greeted Clarke with a sledgehammer of a slap on his shoulder.

"Clarke, we're so very close to having something for the head office!"

Clarke rubbed his shoulder and forced a smile.

"Gee that's swell, boss! Your message said we have some kind of breakthrough? Is it a new artifact?"

Sam tucked his ill-fitting shirt back into his loose fitting slacks and cracked his knuckles.

"Not just a new artifact, Clarke, a new book! A new book from the Anubis dig!"

Clarke rubbed his fingers on the bridge of his nose.

"That's not possible sir, that dig was compromised 40 years ago! The Egyptian government shut it down and practically demolished the site! What kind of new book could have been discovered, and how?"

Sam was giddy and directed Clarke to the door.

"Let's head to the labs, I can't explain it, so I'll just show you!"

The labs were drab and white walled. Cold, but not uncomfortably so. Doors with various symbols and foreign sounding names populated the long hallway. At the end of the hall were two thick double doors. The gateway to Lab Zero. The name Lab One was already taken.

There is was, floating just like the one on Clarke's nightstand. A little black notebook. A modern notebook. Late 40s/50s from the looks of it. Leather bound, pages not even yellowed with age, not a speck of dust or aging on it. A brand new notebook.

"Jesus, Sam! Another one! From Egypt? From 1901?! How is this possible? I thought-"

Clarke stopped mid sentence. The same trance he fell under as he left earlier that afternoon had captured him. He was compelled to gaze at the floating notebook once again. Before he knew it he was walking towards the center of the auditorium-sized laboratory, and had stepped right onto the concrete slab where the notebook was levitating.

"Clarke, what the hell are you doing? You'll get radiation poisoning!"

Sam yelled from 30 feet behind Clark, leaning over the railing. Clarke paid no mind and reached out for the notebook.

"Hey hon, didn't you say you were leaving for work?"

Lana looked up from the couch, still drinking her iced tea, still watching Sunset Boulevard, as if not a single moment had passed. Clarke looked at his hands. They were blistered and calloused, as if he'd been writing a screenplay for weeks on end without taking any breaks.

He looked down at his feet and saw a dusty scroll of papyrus and a quill pen. He looked up at Lana on the couch and saw the face of Anubis, god of the dead, sitting on a throne of writhing corpses. Anubis was staring into Clarke's head.

"Why do you run, Mr. Clarke? Why do you run when there is no where for you to run to? You are here now, in my kingdom. You are a part of my army of lost souls."

Anubis' voice was like the thunder of a thousand summer storms.

"How can I be here? I'm a scientist, what have you done with my wife?"

Clarke's words made little sense, to himself or Anubis.

"Mr. Clarke, take my hand so that we may have this dance for the millionth time. Let me show you where you have spent the last two thousand years."

Clarke's hand reached out towards Anubis, he was compelled, unable to withdraw. Anubis' lanky sky-black fingers gripped his forearm, his nails sinking into Clarke's blistered skin.

What have I become? Clarke thought.

You have become death, Mr. Clarke.

Enjoy your stay.