by Suzanne Weyn
“Aten,” she said, in a commanding voice not entirely her own. “Pour your power into this scarab named Khepri so that I might possess the might of the universe in my very hand.”
The scarab in Taylor’s hand glowed with a vivid yellow light. A high-pitched ringing made Taylor cringe until she couldn’t stand it any longer, and she fainted to the sandy ground.
“Drop it inside, please, miss.”
Taylor blinked slowly at the guard who had first tackled Valdry. She held a wooden case out for Taylor to deposit the scarab into. What had happened? Where had the desert gone?
“Oh,” Taylor gasped, returning to reality. “Sure,” she said, setting the scarab into the case.
“How about thanking her for saving it?” Taylor’s father told the guard as he came to stand beside his daughter. “That was pretty fast thinking, wouldn’t you say?”
“We were on the job,” the guard said. “The scarab was never really in danger.”
Professor Mason shook his head and hugged Taylor close. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I got cut on some glass from the case,” Jason said, as though the question had been asked of him. He presented his hand, lightly smeared with blood.
“You’ll have to wash that well,” Professor Mason said. “Did you get cut?” he asked Taylor, checking her face and hands.
Taylor shook her head, but she wasn’t sure how to reply. Was she all right? She hadn’t been cut, but her arm and shoulder still buzzed from the current that had emanated from the scarab.
“You seem a little dazed, Taylor,” Professor Mason observed. “Talk to me.”
“My arm and neck are numb,” Taylor told him, “and I had the strangest sort of vision.”
“A vision?” her father asked.
“I don’t know what else you’d call it. A daydream? But it was so real. I felt as if I were in a desert with the scarab in my hand.”
“Hmm,” Professor Mason pondered. “I wonder if you’re in shock. Do you feel cold or dizzy?”
“No, just … just … tingly, like I said.”
“Let’s get you home.”
“But what about the three-headed cow?” Taylor reminded her father, trying to smile. She was feeling better every minute as the effects of the scarab wore off.
“I think we’ve had enough excitement for today,” Professor Mason insisted.
When Taylor and her father walked into their living room, Mrs. Mason rushed in from the kitchen. “Are you two all right? I saw what happened in the museum. It was on TV. I’ve been calling. Why haven’t you been answering your phones?”
“I didn’t hear it ring.” Professor Mason searched his pockets until he found his phone. “In all the excitement, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Taylor took her phone from the slim bag she carried over her shoulder. “That’s bizarre,” she said. The glass on her cell phone screen was cracked in a thousand small lines.
“What happened?” Mrs. Mason asked, looking to Professor Mason with an alarmed expression.
The Masons sat on the living room couch and Professor Mason recounted the events for his wife. “I don’t understand how Taylor’s phone was cracked,” Mrs. Mason said.
Her parents both looked to Taylor for an explanation, but she could only shrug in bewilderment. “Maybe it got fried when that electric shock ran up my body.”
“What electric shock?!” Mrs. Mason asked.
Taylor described what had happened to her and how she’d felt transported to Egypt.
Mrs. Mason grew increasingly alarmed as Taylor continued her story. She turned to her husband. “Did Taylor hit her head at any point?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied.
“No,” Taylor said.
“She might have just pinched a nerve,” Professor Mason said. “There’s not too much the doctors can do for that. It has to get better on its own.”
“I’ll be fine,” Taylor agreed. The numbness was almost all better, even though she suddenly felt like resting. “But I am feeling a little shaky — I mean, we watched a robbery almost happen. I’d like to nap, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” Mrs. Mason said. “But before you go, I have to tell both of you my big news.” She looked at her husband and Taylor excitedly. “The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Cairo wants to do a production of The Journey of Nefertiti as part of their anniversary gala!”
“That’s awesome, Mom!” Taylor cried happily. “You must be so excited!”
“Yes, I am. Actors will perform the play and there’s already a director, but they want me to come to oversee it and advise.”
“That’s great, honey!” Professor Mason said. “I’ll go with you. I can use the time to finish the article I’m writing on ancient Egyptian languages. All the research resources I need will be right there.”
“That would be wonderful,” Mrs. Mason said.
Professor Mason’s face lit with excitement. “In fact, there’s a group trip being sponsored by the archaeology department at the university. I hadn’t wanted to leave you two for such a long time, but if you’re heading there it makes sense for all of us to go. I’ll make a few phone calls and see if we can be part of it.”
“I’m going, too?” Taylor asked hopefully.
“Absolutely!” Professor Mason replied. “You’re about to see the pyramids, Taylor!”
“Beyond awesome!” Taylor shouted. This was a dream come true. She could almost feel herself back in the desert from her daydream.
“Do you all want to go out to celebrate?” Professor Mason asked them.
“I’d love to!” Mrs. Mason agreed. “Taylor?”
“I — I’d sort of like to sleep.”
“Oh, then we won’t —”
“No, Mom, go!” Taylor insisted, smiling. “I’ll be totally fine.”
TAYLOR SLEPT while her phone recharged. When she awoke, she searched for Jason online. Even though he’d been sort of annoying, she was still curious about him.
Luckily, despite the cracks in the glass cover, her phone still functioned. The broken glass made it difficult to see well, but not impossible, and she found him almost instantly.
In his profile picture he was dressed as a pharaoh, complete with high headdress, heavy medallion, skirt, and high strapped sandals. The caption under the photo read: LAST HALLOWEEN. After debating for a moment, she decided not to submit a “friend” request but simply sent a message instead.
Hi Jason. It’s Taylor, from the museum. How’s your hand? Message me if you get a chance.
She waited a few minutes to see if he’d respond but no reply came, so she put her phone aside, lay back down on her bed, and fell asleep.
It was early evening and summer’s dusky late light filled Taylor’s bedroom when she awoke. “Anybody home?” she called, going out into the hallway. When no reply came, she remembered that her parents had gone out.
Taylor called her friend Sharon to tell her about everything that had happened that day, but only got voice mail.
Gazing down at her cracked phone, she sighed. There was no way she could keep using it in this condition. Taylor remembered an ad that she’d noticed in yesterday’s newspaper. It advertised a new store that repaired cell phones and contained a 20-percent-off coupon for new customers. It was just what she needed.
Taylor searched in the living room, kitchen, and family area with no luck. There didn’t seem to be a single old newspaper in the entire house.
Then she realized why. “Recycling!” she said out loud. It was tomorrow and her parents had bundled all the old papers to put out on the curb. They always left them in the garage until the morning.
Taylor headed out the back door to the garage, which was a separate building. As she bent to lift the garage door, she heard something buzzing, as though an insect were near her ear.
She swatted at it and the sound retreated into the distance.
Taylor opened the door and stepped in, glancing at the rakes, shovels, lawnm
ower, and other yard work equipment. There, neatly stacked and tied by the door, as always, sat a week’s worth of old newspapers. Yesterday’s paper was right on top. Taylor crouched in front of the stack, and as she struggled with the twine knot, she absently swatted away insects that landed on her cheek, hair, and hands.
There were so many of them! She checked around. Was there an insect nest of some kind in the garage?
Once more, Taylor returned to the knot, trying unsuccessfully to open it. This was getting ridiculous! The knot was too tight.
“Ow!” Something had bitten her hand and it really stung.
A black bug about the size of a quarter still sat on her hand. Taylor had never seen anything like it. It had furry wings and sharp teeth. She flung it off.
“I don’t believe this!” she cried when the creature stayed affixed to her hand. It gripped her with its tiny feet.
The buzz of insects grew louder and Taylor looked down, following the sound. The floor of the garage was covered with a swarm of the awful bugs.
One of the insects dropped from the ceiling onto her shoulder and Taylor quickly swatted it off. Another fell into her hair, and then another.
Taylor batted at her hair. Panicked, she ran for the open garage door. In another second the insects would be all over her. She had to get to the door.
But just before Taylor reached it, the half-opened door rumbled into motion, hitting the ground as though an invisible hand had slammed it down.
The strange insects swarmed toward Taylor, their buzzing chatter filling her ears. They were moving across the garage floor and over the lawn equipment like an unstoppable tide.
How had so many appeared all at once? Where were they coming from?
“Help!” Taylor shouted as she pulled up on the garage door handle with all her strength. As she opened her mouth, one of the insects dropped onto her tongue, and she spit it out.
The horrible bugs were crawling up her legs. Taylor frantically hit at them. She had to get out of there before they covered her completely.
Desperate to be free of the insects, Taylor wiped her arms and legs. Some of them clung to her hand, and she held it out to see.
The chattering creatures had the fangs and leathery wings of tiny bats!
The bugs on her hand suddenly sprang up and began to bite her face. Horrified, Taylor shut her eyes and stumbled forward blindly, slamming her head on the garage door.
TAYLOR GAZED up into her mother’s concerned eyes. It took her a second more to realize that she was lying on the floor of the garage. Professor Mason knelt on her other side. “Taylor, what happened?” Mrs. Mason asked urgently.
Memory of the horrible little bat bugs rushed back to Taylor, and she sat up suddenly, looking around for them. The creatures were gone — or at least she didn’t see any.
How had they disappeared? Maybe they’d flown off.
“I came out here to get a newspaper. I saw an ad in it for a phone repair store,” Taylor began, still glancing around for any sign of the insects. “And there were these gross bugs everywhere. They crawled over me, and it was scary as anything.”
“Why did you stay in the garage?” Professor Mason asked.
“The door slammed shut, and I was trapped.”
“Are you saying the insects shut the door?” Mrs. Mason asked.
“No! I mean, how could they? I don’t know who shut it.”
“Could this have been another of those daydreams, like the other one you had today?” Mrs. Mason asked Taylor.
Was it? Taylor was suddenly uncertain. It had seemed completely real. But so had the incident in the Egyptian desert, and that couldn’t have happened. She studied her hands for signs of a bug bite or scratch but there was nothing.
“How do you feel now?” Professor Mason asked.
“All right. A little confused.”
“Do you see any bugs now?” her father went on.
“Of course not! I’m not crazy!”
“And where are we?” Mrs. Mason asked.
“The garage. Obviously!”
They thought she’d really lost it. That much was clear. Were they right? Was she coming unglued?
“We’re not in the Egyptian desert?” Mrs. Mason checked.
“Mom!” Taylor cried.
“Well, you are definitely going to see Dr. Seabridge,” Mrs. Mason said.
“I’m fine,” Taylor insisted.
“You’re not fine! You fainted out here in the garage. You’re seeing things. That’s not my idea of fine,” Mrs. Mason told Taylor firmly. “We never should have left you home alone.”
Professor Mason helped Taylor get to her feet. “Your mom’s right. You have to be checked out. We want you feeling one hundred percent when we go to Egypt.”
Taylor smiled at the mention of Egypt.
“We’re only going if Taylor is well enough,” Mrs. Mason told him.
“Oh, I’ll be well enough,” Taylor said, getting to her feet. “I’ll be totally fine.”
“I’ll be great by tomorrow morning,” Taylor told her mother for the fifth time as they watched TV together later that evening.
“I hope so, but let’s see what the doctor says tomorrow,” her mother replied, as she had four times already. “You’re sure you didn’t bang your head when you fell?”
“Positive,” Taylor replied.
“Because you shouldn’t sleep if you’ve had a bad knock on the head. You might have a concussion.”
“I don’t!”
“Good. Then you should get to bed after this show. A good night’s sleep might help.”
Taylor had no idea how she would ever get to sleep after her long nap, but her mother insisted.
Upstairs, sitting on the edge of her bed, Taylor looked through her cracked phone screen for any new text messages. Sharon had contacted her to say she was sorry she’d missed Taylor and ask if Taylor could go for a bike ride tomorrow. KK. Taylor replied. Will call you in the a.m.
Almost a half minute later, Sharon texted back. K. Check online. You’re in my post. So cool!
Switching apps on her phone, Taylor perused her newsfeed. At about ten items down she came to a TV news clip Sharon had posted. It was taken from the security cameras at the Haunted Museum. It showed the guards tackling Valdry and the cases being overturned. She’d written: My bestie grabs priceless treasure before thief can get it. You go, girl!
Taylor replayed the short video, and noticed herself standing next to Jason. She watched as she grabbed the scarab from the floor. But this time she spied something else that she hadn’t seen before. The thief, Valdry, was watching her the whole time. And from behind his dark glasses a blast of red had flashed at her.
But the thief’s eyes appeared to be normal as the guard pulled off his dark glasses. What had caused that flash of red?
Was it simply a case of photographic red-eye?
Taylor watched the clip again. Yes! The red was there. Definitely! This time she also noticed that a blank faraway expression had come across her face as she stood there. It was as though she was in a hypnotic trance. That must have been when she was seeing herself in the Egyptian desert.
The phone buzzed and a message from Jason appeared. Hand OK, thanx. Saw the news clip you’re tagged in. That guy look sketchy to you? What’s with his red eyes?
Right? Taylor responded. I thought I was imagining it! What is that?
No idea!!
“Taylor!” Mrs. Mason called from the first floor. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah, I am,” she replied, opening her door.
“Come down. You’re on the local news,” Mrs. Mason said.
Turn on channel 12. We’re on. Taylor texted as she headed out of her room.
Taylor joined her family in the living room where they sat in front of the TV set. The same news clip Sharon had posted was playing on the TV. “Watch this guy’s eyes,” Taylor said excitedly as she slipped onto the couch in between her parents. “Do you see them flash red?”
&n
bsp; Both Taylor and her parents leaned forward intently as the clip played. “They did flash!” Mrs. Mason cried.
“No, that was just a reflection,” Professor Mason disagreed.
But Taylor sided with her mom. His eyes had definitely flashed.
IN THE morning, Taylor awoke around ten when something beside her buzzed. Turning her head she saw the blue scarab, and scrambled up to sit. It looked exactly like the scarab she’d touched in the Haunted Museum.
Bzzzz!
Taylor slid back on her bed, away from the blue scarab.
How was it making that sound?
Tossing back her covers, Taylor hurried to her closet to grab a shoebox from the floor. She emptied out one of the new sandals inside it and grabbed the other.
With her sandal in one hand and the empty box in the other, Taylor approached the scarab on the bed.
Bzzzz!
Was it alive or just a blue carved stone? The buzzing had to mean it was alive, didn’t it?
The memory of the swarming insects in the garage made Taylor even more nervous. She checked around the room. So far she didn’t see any more of the bugs.
Steeling her nerves, Taylor used the sandal to scoop the scarab into the box, quickly covering it. Bzzzz! The scarab was still buzzing inside the shoebox.
Taylor placed the box on her bed and stepped back.
She stared at it. Now what?
“Mom!” Taylor shouted. “Dad! Come here. Quick!”
Inside the box the scarab buzzed again.
Taylor left the shoebox on the bed and went to look for her parents. On the chest at the bottom of the stairs she found a note: Dad’s at the university. I just went next door. Didn’t want to wake you. Call if you need me.
She needed her mother, all right!
Taylor’s phone was upstairs so she went back to get it. There was a text message from Sharon: Ready to go? At once Taylor remembered the bike ride she’d planned with her friend the day before. The phone alerted her of another incoming text. Again it was from Sharon. Let’s ride to the Haunted Museum. I want to see where all the excitement happened.
