by R. L. Stine
Then he turned to us. “You two — into that one.” He pointed to an enormous mummy case on a tall pedestal next to Uncle Ben’s. It was nearly as tall as I was, and at least ten feet long. It must have been built to hold a mummified person — and all of his or her possessions.
“Let us go!” Sari insisted. “Let us out of here. We won’t tell anyone what happened. Really!”
“Please climb into the case,” Ahmed insisted patiently. “We must wait for the tar to be ready.”
“We’re not going in there,” I said.
I was shaking all over. I could feel the blood pulsing at my temples. I didn’t even realize I was saying what I was saying. I was so scared, I didn’t even hear myself.
I glanced at Sari. She stood defiantly with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. But despite her brave pose, I could see her chin trembling and her eyes beginning to tear.
“Into the coffin,” Ahmed repeated, “to await your fate. Khala will not be kept waiting. The ancient curse will be carried out in her name.”
“No!” I cried angrily.
I stood on tiptoe and peered into the enormous mummy case. It smelled so sour in there, I nearly hurled.
The case was made of wood. It was warped and stained and peeling inside. In the flickering light, I was sure I saw dozens of insects crawling around in there.
“Get into the case now!” Ahmed demanded.
19
Sari climbed up over the side and lowered herself into the ancient mummy case. She always had to be first at everything. But this was one time I didn’t mind.
I hesitated, resting my hand on the rotting wood on the side of the case. I glanced at the case next to it, the case with Uncle Ben inside. It was carved out of stone, and the heavy stone lid was closed, sealing it up tight.
Did Uncle Ben have any air in there? I wondered, gripped with fear. Was he able to breathe?
And, then, I thought glumly, What difference does it make? All three of us are going to be dead soon. All three of us are going to be mummies, locked away in this hidden chamber forever.
“Get in — now!” Ahmed ordered, his dark eyes burning into mine.
“I — I’m just a kid!” I cried. I don’t know where the words came from. I was so scared, I really didn’t know what I was saying.
An unpleasant sneer formed on Ahmed’s face. “Many of the pharaohs were your age at death,” he said.
I wanted to keep him talking. I had the desperate idea that if I could keep the conversation going, I could get us out of this mess.
But I couldn’t think of anything to say. My brain just froze.
“Get in,” Ahmed ordered, moving toward me menacingly.
Feeling totally defeated, I slid one leg over the side of the rotting coffin, raised myself up, and then dropped down beside Sari.
She had her head bowed, and her eyes shut tight. I think she was praying. She didn’t glance up, even when I touched her shoulder.
The coffin lid began to slide over us. The last thing I saw were the red flames leaping up over the pit of tar. Then the lid closed us into complete blackness.
“Gabe …” Sari whispered a few seconds after the lid was closed. “I’m frightened.”
For some reason, her confession made me snicker. She said it with such surprise. As if being frightened was a startling new experience.
“I’m too frightened to be frightened,” I whispered back.
She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Her hand was even colder and clammier than mine.
“He’s crazy,” she whispered.
“Yeah. I know,” I replied, still holding onto her hand.
“I think there are bugs in here,” she said with a shudder. “I can feel them crawling on me.”
“Me, too,” I told her. I realized I was gritting my teeth. I always do that when I’m nervous. And now I was more nervous than I thought was humanly possible.
“Poor Daddy,” Sari said.
The air in the coffin was already beginning to feel stuffy and hot. I tried to ignore the disgusting sour smell, but it had crept into my nostrils, and I could even taste it. I held my breath to keep from gagging.
“We’re going to suffocate in here,” I said glumly.
“He’s going to kill us before we can suffocate,” Sari wailed. “Ow!” I could hear her slap at a bug on her arm.
“Maybe something will happen,” I told her. Pretty lame. But I couldn’t think of what else to say. I couldn’t think. Period.
“I keep imagining how he’s going to reach in and pull my brain out through my nose,” Sari wailed. “Why did you have to tell me that, Gabe?”
It took me a while to reply. Then, all I could say was, “Sorry.” I began to picture the same thing, and another wave of nausea swept over me.
“We can’t just sit here,” I said. “We have to escape.” I tried to ignore the thick, sour smell.
“Huh? How?”
“Let’s try to push up the lid,” I said. “Maybe if we both push together …”
I counted to three in a low whisper, and we both flattened our hands against the coffin top and pushed up as hard as we could.
No. The lid wouldn’t budge.
“Maybe he’s locked it or put something heavy on top of it,” Sari suggested with a miserable sigh.
“Maybe,” I replied, feeling just as miserable.
We sat in silence for a while. I could hear Sari breathing. She was sort of sobbing as she breathed. I realized my heart was racing. I could feel my temples throbbing.
I pictured the long hook that Ahmed would use to pull our brains out of our heads. I tried to force the thought out of my mind, but it wouldn’t go away.
I remembered being a mummy two Halloweens ago, and how the costume unraveled in front of my friends.
Little did I know then that I’d soon have a mummy costume that would never unravel.
Time passed. I don’t know how long.
I realized I had been sitting with my legs crossed. Now they were beginning to fall asleep. I uncrossed them and stretched them out. The mummy case was so big, Sari and I could both lie down if we wanted to.
But we were too tense and terrified to lie down.
I was the first to hear the scrabbling sound. Like something climbing quickly around inside the mummy case.
At first I thought it was Sari. But she grabbed my hand with her icy hand, and I realized she hadn’t moved from in front of me.
We both listened hard.
Something near us, something right next to us, bumped the side of the case.
A mummy?
Was there a mummy in the case with us?
Moving?
I heard a soft groan.
Sari squeezed my hand so tightly, it hurt, and I uttered a sharp cry.
Another sound. Closer.
“Gabe —” Sari whispered, her voice tiny and shrill. “Gabe — there’s something in here with us!”
20
It’s not a mummy, I told myself.
It can’t be.
It’s a bug. A very large bug. Moving across the coffin floor.
It’s not a mummy. It’s not a mummy.
The words repeated in my mind.
I didn’t have too long to think about it. Whatever it was crept closer.
“Hey!” a voice whispered.
Sari and I both shrieked.
“Where are you guys?”
We recognized the voice immediately.
“Uncle Ben!” I cried, swallowing hard, my heart pounding.
“Daddy!” Sari lunged over me to get to her father.
“But how?” I stammered. “How did you get in here?”
“Easy,” he replied, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly.
“Daddy — I don’t believe it!” Sari wailed. I couldn’t see in the blackness of the closed coffin, but I think she was crying.
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” he repeated several times, trying to calm her down.
“How did you get out of tha
t case and into this one?” I asked, totally confused and amazed.
“There’s an escape hatch,” Uncle Ben explained. “A small opening with a doorway. The Egyptians built hidden doorways and escape hatches into many of their mummy cases. For the corpse’s soul to be able to leave.”
“Wow,” I said. I didn’t know what to say.
“Ahmed is so caught up in his ancient curse mumbo jumbo, he’s forgotten about this little detail,” Uncle Ben said. I felt his hand on my shoulder again. “Come on, you two. Follow me.”
“But he’s out there —” I started.
“No,” Uncle Ben replied quickly. “He’s slipped away. When I climbed out of my case, I looked for him. I didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe he went somewhere else while he’s waiting for the tar to get hot enough. Or maybe he decided to just leave us in the mummy cases to suffocate.”
I felt a bug slither up my leg. I slapped at it, then tried to pull it out from inside the leg of my jeans.
“Out we go,” Uncle Ben said.
I heard him groan as he turned in the enormous coffin. Then I could hear him crawling to the back.
I saw a small rectangle of light as he pushed open the hidden door in the back of the case. It was a very small escape hatch, just big enough for us to squeeze through.
I followed Uncle Ben and Sari, flattening myself to crawl out of the small opening, then dropping onto all fours on the chamber floor.
It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the brightness.
The red flames still danced over the pit of bubbling tar, casting eerie blue shadows on all four chamber walls. The mummies stood as before, frozen in place around the room, shadows flickering over their faceless forms.
As my eyes began to focus, I saw that Uncle Ben had an enormous dark bruise on the side of his head. A wide ribbon of dried blood streaked down his cheek.
“Let’s get out of here before Ahmed comes back,” he whispered, standing between us, one hand on each of our shoulders.
Sari looked pale and trembly. Her lower lip was bleeding from her chewing on it so hard.
Uncle Ben started toward the rope ladder in the center of the chamber but then stopped. “It’ll take too long,” he said, thinking out loud. “Come on. To the tunnel. Hurry.”
All three of us started jogging toward the tunnel in the corner. Looking down, I saw that my stupid shoelace had come untied again. But there was no way I was going to stop to tie it!
We were about to get out of there!
A few seconds before, I had given up all hope. But now, here we were out of the mummy case and heading to freedom.
We were just a few yards in front of the tunnel entrance when the tunnel suddenly filled with orange light.
Then, from out of the tunnel, Ahmed emerged, holding a new torch in front of him, the flames revealing a startled look on his face.
“No!” Sari and I cried in unison.
All three of us skidded to a halt right in front of him.
“You cannot escape!” Ahmed said softly, quickly regaining his composure, his startled expression tightening to anger. “You will not escape!”
He thrust the torch toward Uncle Ben, who was forced to fall backwards, out of reach of the hissing flames. He landed hard on his elbows and cried out in pain.
His cry brought a grim smile to Ahmed’s lips. “You have made Khala angry,” he announced, raising the torch above his head and reaching for the dagger sheathed at his waist. “You will not join the other violators of this chamber.”
Whew. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Ahmed had changed his mind. He wasn’t going to turn us into mummies after all.
“The three of you will die in the tar pit,” he declared.
Sari and I exchanged horrified glances. Uncle Ben had climbed back to his feet and put his arms around us. “Ahmed, can’t we talk about this calmly and rationally as scientists?” he asked.
“To the tar pit,” Ahmed ordered, thrusting the flaming torch angrily at us.
“Ahmed — please!” Uncle Ben cried in a whining, frightened tone I’d never heard from him before.
Ahmed ignored Uncle Ben’s desperate pleas. Pushing the torch at our backs and gesturing with the long-bladed dagger, he forced us to make our way to the edge of the pit.
The tar was bubbling noisily now, making ugly popping and sucking sounds. The flames across the top were low and red.
I tried to pull back. It smelled so bad. And the steam coming off it was so hot, it made my face burn.
“One by one, you will jump,” Ahmed said.
He was standing a few feet behind us as we stared down into the bubbling tar. “If you don’t jump, I will be forced to push you.”
“Ahmed —” Uncle Ben began. But Ahmed brushed the torch against Ben’s back.
“It has come to me,” Ahmed said solemnly. “The honor of carrying out Khala’s wishes.” The tar fumes were so overwhelming, I thought I was going to faint. The pit started to tilt in front of me. I felt very dizzy.
I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets, to steady myself, I guess. And my hand closed around something I had forgotten about.
The Summoner.
The mummy hand that I carry around everywhere.
I’m not sure why — I wasn’t thinking clearly, if at all — but I pulled out the little mummy hand.
I spun around quickly. And I held the mummy hand up high.
I can’t really explain what was going through my mind. I was so terrified, so overwhelmed with fear, that I was thinking a hundred things at once.
Maybe I thought the mummy hand would distract Ahmed.
Or interest him.
Or confuse him.
Or frighten him.
Maybe I was just stalling for time.
Or maybe I was unconsciously remembering the legend behind the hand that the kid at the garage sale had told me.
The legend of why it was called The Summoner.
How it was used to call up ancient souls and spirits.
Or maybe I wasn’t thinking anything at all.
But I spun around and, gripping it by its slender wrist, held the mummy hand up high.
And waited.
Ahmed stared at it.
But nothing happened.
21
I waited, standing there like the Statue of Liberty with the little hand raised high above my head.
It seemed as if I were standing like that for hours.
Sari and Uncle Ben stared at the hand.
Lowering the torch a few inches, Ahmed squinted at the mummy hand. Then his eyes grew wider, and his mouth dropped open in surprise.
He cried out. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. The words were in a language I’d never heard. Ancient Egyptian, maybe.
He took a step back, his surprised expression quickly replaced by a wide-eyed look of fear.
“The hand of the Priestess!” he cried.
At least, that’s what I think he cried — because I was suddenly distracted by what was going on behind him.
Sari uttered a low cry.
All three of us stared over Ahmed’s shoulder in disbelief.
A mummy propped against the wall appeared to lean forward.
Another mummy, lying on its back, slowly sat up, creaking as it raised itself.
“No!” I cried, still holding the mummy hand high.
Sari and Uncle Ben were gaping as the vast chamber filled with motion. As the mummies creaked and groaned to life.
The air filled with the odor of ancient dust, of decay.
In the shadowy light, I saw one mummy, then another, straighten up, stand tall. They stretched their bandaged arms above their featureless heads. Slowly. Painfully.
Staggering, moving stiffly, the mummies lumbered forward.
I watched, frozen in amazement, as they climbed out of mummy cases, raised themselves from the floor, leaned forward, took their first slow, heavy steps, their muscles groaning, dust rising up from their dry, dead bodies.
<
br /> They’re dead, I thought.
All of them. Dead. Dead for so many years.
But now they were rising up, climbing from their ancient coffins, struggling toward us on their heavy dead legs.
Their bandaged feet scraped across the chamber floor as they gathered in a group.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
A dry shuffling sound I knew I’d never forget.
Scrape. Scrape.
The faceless army approached. Bandaged arms outstretched, they lumbered toward us, creaking and groaning. Moaning softly with ancient pain.
Ahmed caught the astonishment on our faces and spun around.
He cried out again in that strange language as he saw the mummies advancing on us, scraping so softly, so deliberately, across the chamber floor.
And, then, with a furious scream, Ahmed heaved the torch at the mummy in the lead.
The torch hit the mummy in the chest and bounced to the floor. Flames burst from the mummy’s chest, immediately spreading over the arms and down the legs.
But the mummy kept advancing, didn’t slow, didn’t react at all to the fire that was quickly consuming it.
Gaping in openmouthed horror, babbling an endless stream of words in that mysterious language, Ahmed tried to run.
But he was too late.
The burning mummy lunged at him. The ancient figure caught Ahmed by the throat, lifted him high above its flaming shoulders.
Ahmed uttered a high-pitched shriek of terror as the other mummies lumbered forward. Moaning and wailing through their yellowed bandages, they moved in to help their burning colleague.
They raised Ahmed high above their moaning heads.
And held him over the burning tar pit.
Squirming and kicking, Ahmed uttered a piercing scream as they held him over the boiling, bubbling, steaming tar.
I closed my eyes. The heat and tar fumes swirled around me. I felt as if I were being swallowed up, pulled down into the steaming blackness.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Ahmed fleeing to the tunnel, staggering clumsily, shrieking in terror as he ran. The mummies remained by the pit, enjoying their victory.
