by R. L. Stine
“Nila — let us go!” Sari demanded, breathing hard.
Nila smiled and shook her head. “No witnesses,” she murmured.
“Nila — we just want to get Daddy out of here. You can do what you want!” Sari insisted desperately.
Nila ignored her and raised her eyes to the mummy. “Destroy them both!” she called. “They cannot leave this tomb alive!”
Sari and I spun around to see the mummy lumbering toward us. Its blackened skull glowed in the dim light. It trailed long strips of yellowed gauze across the dirt floor as it dragged itself closer.
Closer.
I turned back to the door. Nila blocked the way. My eyes darted frantically around the chamber.
No way to escape.
No escape.
The mummy lurched toward Sari and me.
And reached out its cold, cold hands to obey Nila’s cruel command.
24
Sari and I darted toward the door. But Nila blocked our escape.
Its vacant eyes gazing blindly at us, its jaw frozen in a hideous skeletal grin, the mummy hurtled toward us.
Raised its arms stiffly.
Stretched out its hands.
Dove at us with a final, desperate lurch.
And to my shock, reached past Sari and me — and wrapped its tarred hands around Nila’s throat.
Her mouth opened in a choked cry of protest.
The mummy tilted back its head as it gripped her. Its tarred lips moved, and a dry cough cut through the air. And then the whispered words, dry as death, escaped the mummy’s throat:
“Let me … rest in peace!”
Nila uttered another choked cry.
The mummy tightened its fierce grip on her throat.
I spun around and grabbed its arm. “Let her go!” I screamed.
A dry wheeze erupted from the blackened skull. Its hands tightened around Nila, bending her back, bending her toward the floor.
Nila’s eyes shut in defeat. Her hands flew up helplessly. The flashlight and the mummy hand fell to the floor.
I grabbed my little mummy hand and shoved it into my jeans pocket. “Let go! Let go! Let go!” I shrieked. I leaped onto the mummy’s back and tried to pull its hands from Nila’s throat.
It let out a defiant roar, a harsh whisper of anger.
Then it heaved itself up straight and struggled to toss me off its shoulders.
I gasped, startled by the mummy’s surprising strength.
As I started to slide off the mummy’s bandaged back, I reached out my hand, grabbing desperately, grabbing air, trying not to fall.
My hand grabbed on to Nila’s amber pendant.
“Hey!” I cried out as the mummy gave a hard toss.
I tumbled off.
The pendant tore off its chain. It fell from my hand, crashed to the floor — and shattered.
“Noooooooooo!” Nila’s horrified wail shook the walls.
The mummy froze.
Nila spun out of the mummy’s grasp. Backed away. Her eyes wide with terror. “My life! My life!” she shrieked.
She bent and struggled to pick up shards of amber from the floor. But the pendant had shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.
“My life!” Nila wailed, staring at the smooth pieces in her palm. She raised her eyes to Sari and me. “I lived inside the pendant!” she cried. “At night, I crept inside. It kept me alive for over three thousand years! And now … now … ohhhhh …”
As her voice trailed off, Nila began to shrink.
Her head, her arms, her entire body grew tinier … tinier … until she disappeared into her clothes.
And a few seconds later, as Sari and I gaped down in horror and shock, a black scarab crawled out from under the sweatshirt and jeans. The scarab moved unsteadily at first. Then it quickly scuttled away over the dirt floor, disappearing into the darkness.
“That — that beetle —” Sari stammered. “Is it Nila?”
I nodded. “I guess,” I said, staring down at Nila’s crumpled clothes.
“Do you think she was really an ancient Egyptian princess? Prince Khor-Ru’s sister?” Sari murmured.
“It’s all so weird,” I replied. I was thinking hard, trying to piece it all together, trying to make sense of what Nila had said.
“She must have returned to her scarab form every night,” I told Sari, thinking out loud. “She crawled into the amber and slept inside it. It kept her alive — until …”
“Until you smashed the amber pendant,” Sari whispered.
“Yes.” I nodded. “It was an accident —” I started.
But I choked on my words as I felt a cold hand close on my shoulder.
And knew that the mummy had grabbed me from behind.
25
The hand rested on my shoulder. The cold seeped through my T-shirt. “Let go!” I screamed.
I spun around — and my heart skipped a beat. “Uncle Ben!” I cried.
“Daddy!” Sari leaped forward and threw her arms around him. “Daddy — you’re okay!”
He pulled his hand off my shoulder and rubbed the back of his head. He blinked his eyes uncertainly and shook his head, still a little dazed.
Behind him, I saw the mummy standing hunched over, frozen. Lifeless once again.
“Whew. I’m still groggy,” Uncle Ben said, sweeping a hand back through his thick black hair. “What a close call.”
“It’s all my fault,” I admitted. “I repeated the words five times, Uncle Ben. I didn’t mean to bring the mummy back to life, but —”
A smile crossed my uncle’s face. He lowered his arm around my shoulders. “You didn’t do it, Gabe,” he said softly. “Nila got there first.”
He sighed. “I didn’t believe in the power of the chant,” he said softly. “But I do now. Nila stole your mummy hand and chanted the ancient words. She used the Summoner to bring the mummy to life. Dr. Fielding and I were both suspicious of her.”
“You were?” I cried, surprised. “But I thought —”
“I became suspicious of Nila at dinner,” Uncle Ben explained. “Remember? She asked me what were the six ancient words to bring the dead to life? Well, I had never revealed that there were six. So I wondered how Nila knew there were six words.”
Uncle Ben put an arm around Sari’s shoulders, too, and led us to the wall. Then he leaned his back against the wall, rubbing the back of his head.
“That’s why I hurried to the communications tent right after dinner,” Uncle Ben continued. “I phoned the Cairo Sun. They had never heard of Nila at the newspaper. So I knew she was a fake.”
“But we saw Dr. Fielding pull you from the tent,” Sari broke in. “We saw him force you into the pyramid, and —”
Uncle Ben chuckled. “You two aren’t very good spies,” he scolded. “Dr. Fielding didn’t force me to do anything. He had spotted Nila sneaking into the pyramid. So he found me at the communications tent. And the two of us hurried to the pyramid to see what Nila was up to.
“We got there too late,” Uncle Ben continued. “She had already brought the mummy to life. Dr. Fielding and I tried to stop her. She hit me over the head with her flashlight. She dragged me to the mummy case. I guess she stuffed me inside.”
He rubbed his head. “That’s all I remember. Until now. Until I awoke and saw Nila turn into a scarab.”
“We saw Dr. Fielding hurry out of the pyramid,” Sari reported. “He walked right past me. He had the weirdest look on his face, and —”
She stopped and her mouth dropped open. We all heard the sounds at the same time.
The scraping of feet on the floor outside the burial chamber.
My heart jumped to my throat. I grabbed Uncle Ben’s arm.
The footsteps dragged closer.
More mummies.
More mummies brought to life, staggering toward the prince’s tomb.
26
I reached into my jeans pocket for my little mummy hand. Pressing my back against the wall, I raised my eyes to the chamber
doorway — and waited.
Waited for the mummies to appear.
But to my surprise, Dr. Fielding burst into the room, followed by four dark-uniformed police officers, hands at their gun holsters.
“Ben — are you okay?” Dr. Fielding called to my uncle. “Where is the young woman?”
“She … escaped,” Uncle Ben told him.
How could he explain that she had turned into a bug?
The police explored the chamber warily. Their eyes came to rest on the mummy, frozen in place near the doorway.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Ben,” Dr. Fielding said, placing a hand warmly on Uncle Ben’s shoulder. Then he turned to Sari. “I’m afraid I owe you an apology, Sari,” he said, frowning. “When I ran out of here, I must have been in shock. I remember seeing you outside the pyramid. But I don’t remember saying anything to you.”
“That’s okay,” Sari replied quietly.
“I’m really sorry if I frightened you,” Dr. Fielding told her. “Your dad had been knocked unconscious by that crazy young woman. And all I could think about was calling the police as fast as possible.”
“Well, the excitement is over,” Uncle Ben said, smiling. “Let’s all get out of here.”
We started toward the doorway, but a police officer interrupted. “Could I just ask one question?” he asked, staring at the upright mummy in the center of the floor. “Did that mummy walk?”
“Of course not!” Uncle Ben replied quickly, a grin spreading over his face. “If it could walk, what would it be doing in this dump?”
Well, once again, I turned out to be the hero of the day. And, of course, later in the tent, I wasted no time in bragging about my courage to Sari.
Sari had no choice. She had to sit there and take it. After all, I was the one who had stopped the mummy and turned Nila back into a beetle by smashing her pendant.
“At least you’re not too conceited!” Sari shot back, rolling her eyes.
Lame. Really lame.
“Well, that scarab crawled away and disappeared,” she said. An evil smile crossed Sari’s lips. “I’ll bet that bug is waiting for you, Gabe. I’ll bet it’s waiting for you in your cot, waiting to bite you.”
I laughed. “Sari, you’d say anything to try to scare me. You just can’t stand the idea that I’m the hero!”
“You’re right,” she replied dryly. “I can’t stand the idea. Good night, Gabe.”
A few minutes later, I was in my pajamas and ready for bed. What a night! What an amazing night!
As I slid into the cot and pulled up the covers, I knew it was a night I would never forget.
“Ouch!”
BEHIND THE SCREAMS
RETURN OF
THE MUMMY
CONTENTS
About the Author
Q & A with R.L. Stine
Top Ten Tomb Jobs
Mummy Matchup
How Much Is That Scarab in the Window?
Dress Like an Egyptian
A Terrifying Peek at
GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND #19:
THE HORROR AT CHILLER HOUSE
and
CLASSIC GOOSEBUMPS #19:
REVENGE Of THE LAWN GNOMES
Bonus material written and compiled
by Gabrielle S. Balkan
About the Author
R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street, the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.
Q & A with R.L. Stine
Return of the Mummy, like Revenge of the Living Dummy and Creep from the Deep, is a follow-up to an earlier Goosebumps book. How do you decide which books will have a scary sequel? Do you think any of your other books are begging for a creepy companion?
R.L. Stine (RLS): The ocean is vast and huge and holds untold mysteries. I guess I could write a hundred sequels to Deep Trouble. And everyone loves Slappy the dummy — he’s so rude and evil. So I’ve written a bunch of Slappy books. Recently, I’ve been thinking of writing a sequel to the very first Goosebumps book — Welcome to Dead House. That was actually a zombie book, and these days zombies are very popular. Which book do you think I should write a sequel to?
Have you ever been to Egypt? Would you like to go?
RLS: I’ve written so many books about Egypt and mummies and the pyramids. But I’ve never traveled there. I would love to go. I think it would be fascinating, especially after writing about it so often. Whenever I think about going, something comes up, and I have to cancel. I guess you could call it Curse of the Egyptian Travel Plans.
Do you base any of your characters on people you have known?
RLS: Not very often. When my son was in school, I used a lot of his friends’ names in the books. In fact, I had his school directory — and just about every kid in his school was in a Goosebumps book! But I usually like to make up my characters’ personalities from my imagination. It’s more fun that way.
Do you ever have trouble coming up with what your characters will do next? If so, what do you do?
RLS: I spend a lot of time plotting each book before I start to write. I do a chapter-by-chapter outline of all the action — everything that happens in the book. This is where I do all my thinking. So when I start to write the book, I don’t have to think about what my characters will do next. I already know what they are going to do!
Would you ever want to write a book with another author?
RLS: Yes. I would love to get ALL the scary authors in the US together, and we’d all work on one book. That book would be the scariest in history — no reader would survive it!
The next Goosebumps HorrorLand is called The Horror at Chiller House. What kind of terrifying adventure can we expect in the conclusion of the Jonathan Chiller saga?
RLS: Well, six kids suddenly find themselves back in Chiller’s souvenir store at HorrorLand. How did they get there? Why were they pulled back? Jonathan Chiller turns out to be a very weird dude. He likes to make up games. He brought the kids back to play a game he thought up. I’ll give you a hint about the game: It involves crossbows. Yes, the game is dangerous and deadly. And the six kids find themselves in a terrifying adventure. This may be the scariest HorrorLand book I’ve written.
To find out whether R.L. Stine likes to garden,
check out the special collector’s edition of
REVENGE OF THE LAWN GNOMES.
TOP TEN TOMB JOBS
Dying was a big business in ancient Egypt. From embalmer to professional mourner, these were the top ten weirdest ways to make a paycheck in the tomb.
1. EMBALMER
If your pediatrician traveled back in time to visit with Queen Cleopatra in the first century B.C., the doc might have been an embalmer, a job for the highly trained and highly respected. Instead of wearing a white coat and stethoscope, he’d put on a mask of Anubis, the god of embalming, while he worked.
2. CUTTER
On the opposite end of the job spectrum was the cutter: a lowly profession usually confined to CRIMINALS or people who couldn’t find other, more respectable work. The cutter made incisions in the body so the lungs, liver, stomach, and intestines could be removed. Even though the job needed to be done, people often cursed and stoned the cutters.
3. MUMMY MASK MAKER
If you’ve always been fascinated by papier-mâché piñatas, you might be interested in a job as a mummy mask maker. It was an important job because the mask helped the dead person be recognized in the afterlife. Ritzy types, like members of royalty, had masks made from gold and decorated with jewels.
4. MUMMY CASE MAKER
Doodlers would be good candidates for the mummy case maker
because the mummy case was decorated with HIEROGLYPHIC messages to help the mummy on its journey into the afterlife. The mummy case was made from old papyrus, which dried into the shape of the body. The case went inside the coffin, made by — you guessed it — the
5. COFFIN MAKER
As far as coffins went, ancient Egyptians thought two dead beds where better than one. In fact, royalty were buried in several cedar coffins that fit one inside the other. Like with all things mummy, the richer the client, the fancier the coffin. The coffins of top customers were inlaid with gold and jewels.
6. SARCOPHAGUS MAKER
After the paperlike case and a couple of wooden coffins came the stone sarcophagus. And just like the other items, this part of the mummification process involved high artistry: The sarcophagus was carved with pictures and hieroglyphs inside and out.
7. SHABTI
Another job you’d want to stay away from: Shabti were figurines placed in tombs to do all the dirty work in the afterlife — they were like servants for the dead. Though you wouldn’t want to BE a shabti, making them could be a lot of fun.
8. MOURNER
Calling all drama queens and theater stars! This long-term job lasted from death until BURIAL — that’s more than 70 days! You’d need to bring friends on the interview, because the wealthy hired lots of people to moan, wail, and pound on their chests.
9. TOMB ROBBER
This may be the hardest job yet because tombs were NOT easy to get into. Plus, tomb robbers had to unmummify a mummy to get to the jewelry! If you failed at this job you wouldn’t get fired. Instead, you’d get beaten with a cane, branded with a hot iron, and sent to work in mines, usually after having your nose or hand cut off.
