by R. L. Stine
I tried to swallow but my throat ached from dryness.
I peered down into the pit.
And saw the pythons down below, crawling over each other, curling, twisting around each other.
“Ohhhh.” A horrified moan escaped my lips.
They were so big! Could they be real? were there really pythons as fat as fire hoses?
The snakes were tan and gray. They raised their heads from the bottom of the pit as if trying to reach me. Twisting and curling, they peered up at me with wet black eyes.
Hungry eyes.
Their mouths opened eagerly, wide mouths with long black darting tongues.
They can swallow me, I realized, trembling hard now, trembling so hard, I leaned against the soldiers to keep from tumbling down into the pit.
They can swallow me whole.
The python heads stretched up. Banged and bumped against each other. Stretched … stretched eagerly …
“They are fighting for position,” one of the soldiers said.
“The pythons are hungry today,” General Mohamm said softly from just behind me.
“I have never seen them so eager,” Raoul agreed.
The soldiers dragged me closer to the edge of the pit. The toes of my shoes hung over the side.
General Mohamm moved to my side. He stared at me coldly. “Michael, do you have anything you want to tell me now? Anything you want to say that might save your life?”
“Please—” I struggled to choke out more words, but they wouldn’t come. “Please—”
“Do you have anything to say?” the general repeated.
“No. I—I—” I sputtered.
The pythons stretched their heads up, tilted them back, opened their gaping mouths.
“Wait! Stop!”
I heard a familiar voice from behind us.
“Wait!”
I turned my head and saw Megan running full-speed, waving her arms frantically.
“Wait!” she cried. “I have an idea!”
I stared out the plane window at the desert far below. The plane turned slowly into the sunlight.
I shielded my eyes from the bright light. When I could look down again, I saw the sparkling blue ocean come into view.
I gripped the seat arms tightly, as if I didn’t believe they were real.
Was I really in an airplane heading home?
I turned to Megan in the seat beside me. “You’re a genius!” I declared, shouting over the roar of the jet engines.
She smiled. “I know,” she replied.
“Another two seconds, and I’d be python meat,” I said, shaking my head.
“No. That’s not true,” Megan said, her smile fading. She leaned close to talk, even though we were the only two passengers on the plane.
“They never planned to drop you into that pit,” she insisted. “They are cruel men. But they aren’t totally evil.”
“I couldn’t come much closer!” I cried. “My feet were over the edge. The pythons’ tongues were lapping at my shoes!”
I shuddered. I could still picture those shiny, wet eyes, those gaping mouths.
“They use that pit to frighten people,” Megan replied. “They don’t feed people to the snakes.”
“Then why—?” I started.
“They wanted to give you one more chance to tell them where the mummy is hidden,” Megan explained. “They knew you didn’t have the memory chip. But they thought you might know anyway. They were making one last try to scare the information out of you.”
I nodded. “I get it.”
I settled into the seat and stared back out the window. Nothing but blue-green ocean down there. I really was heading home!
I shut my eyes and remembered Megan’s speech to General Mohamm.
“Send Michael back to the United States,” she told him. “And if you really want to defeat my father, send me to the United States with Michael.”
“How will that defeat your father?” General Mohamm sneered.
“Sending me away will make my father furious and out of his head with worry,” Megan replied. “He will think I have been kidnapped. It will break his heart and his spirit. He will drop everything. He will even forget about this war—in order to track me down.”
General Mohamm thought about it a long while. And then, finally, he ordered: “Send them both away.”
I gripped the arms of the airplane seat and turned to Megan. “Your idea was totally brilliant!” I told her.
“Well … it worked.” She grinned at me. “He actually believed that General Rameer and I are close!” She laughed.
I laughed too.
Here we were, on a big passenger jet, flying away from Jezekiah and all its dangers. Heading to JFK Airport near my home in Long Island.
“What do you plan to do when we reach New York?” I asked.
Her smile faded. She shrugged. “I—I don’t really know.”
“Well, you can come home with me,” I told her. “Mom and Dad—”
I stopped.
were they my mom and dad?
Would they come pick me up at the airport?
Would they be glad to see me? Could I go back to my old life?
All these frightening questions swept through my mind.
Questions without answers.
I sank down in the seat, shut my eyes, and tried not to think.
The plane landed that night. As we cruised slowly to the gate, I felt so nervous I thought I’d jump out of my skin.
Megan and I ran through the terminal.
I dodged a baggage cart. Nearly tumbled into a group of teenagers. Stumbled up to a pay phone.
I glimpsed Megan behind me. “Good luck,” she said. She raised both hands. She had her fingers crossed.
I dropped a quarter into the slot and dialed my number.
My hand was shaking so hard, I could barely hold onto the phone.
One ring. Two …
Mom answered after the third ring.
“It’s me!” I cried. “I’m here!”
“Who?” Mom replied. “Who is this?”
My heart sank.
“It’s me—Michael!” I shouted over the noise of the airport, pressing the receiver tightly to my ear.
“Michael? You’re back?” she cried. “I don’t believe it! I never expected—I mean, I’m so happy!”
I let out a long sigh of relief. I turned and flashed Megan a thumbs-up.
She grinned back at me.
“Where are you?” Mom cried. “At JFK? Your dad and I will be right there!”
As soon as I arrived home, I went running around the house like a madman. I totally freaked out! I wanted to kiss the floor.
Mom kept hugging me every two seconds. Dad kept wiping tears from his eyes.
They welcomed Megan warmly. We all sat down in the living room, and I tried to tell them everything that happened to me.
Mom and Dad listened quietly as I talked. When I told them the scary parts, they shook their heads and groaned.
“Do you believe any of this?” I asked, finishing my long story. “And it turned out I was the wrong kid. They had the wrong kid all along!”
Mom and Dad exchanged a long glance.
Mom leaned across the couch toward me. “But, Michael,” she said softly, putting a hand on my arm. “You are the right kid. You are the prince of Jezekiah!”
I gasped. “No way!” I choked out.
They both nodded solemnly.
Megan stared across the room at me, clasping and unclasping her hands tensely in her lap.
“Yes,” Mom and Dad replied in unison.
“We are not your real parents, Michael,” Dad said, speaking slowly and just above a whisper. “Your real parents were the leaders of the kingdom.”
“The story General Rameer told you is true,” Mom revealed. “All of it. When war broke out in Jezekiah, we brought you here to Long Island to keep you safe.”
“But that’s impossible!” I protested. I jumped to my feet. �
��That can’t be true! They X-rayed me for the memory chip. It isn’t there. I don’t have any memory chip planted in my brain!”
“We know,” Dad replied, still speaking softly, calmly. He motioned for me to sit down.
But I stood over him, trembling.
“We had the memory chip removed when you were a baby,” Mom told me. “We knew it could ruin your life.”
“But—but—” I sputtered. “You sent me away last week! You sent me to Jezekiah!”
“We had no choice,” Dad said. “We had to send you when General Rameer called for you.”
“But we prayed you would be sent home when it was discovered you didn’t have the chip,” Mom added. She sighed happily. “And you were!”
She mopped at her eyes with a tissue. “It worked. They sent you home, safe and sound.”
Dad stood up and hugged me. Then he took my arm and started to lead me out of the living room. He motioned for Mom and Megan to follow.
“Dad—what’s up?” I demanded. “Where are we going?”
“I know you’ve had many surprises, Michael,” he replied, his expression solemn. “But I have one more for you.”
Dad clicked on the light to the basement. The four of us trooped down the creaking wooden stairs.
A tall antique wardrobe stood against the back wall. It had been there since I was tiny.
“Help me with this,” Dad asked.
The two of us pushed hard and slid the heavy wardrobe to the side. I stepped back, wiping my hands on my jeans—and saw a narrow wooden door cut into the basement wall.
“Huh?”
Dad unbolted the hidden door and pulled it open.
He clicked on another light. We peered inside a tiny square closet.
Megan and I both cried out when we saw the dark wood mummy case tilted up against the stone wall.
With a groan, Dad lifted the heavy lid.
And we stared at Pukrah.
Stared at the ancient mummy that two armies had fought over for twelve years.
“It—it’s here!” I finally choked out.
Mom nodded. “The best hiding place we could think of,” she said. “We smuggled it out with us when we took you to live in America. We’ve kept the mummy and the sapphire safe and sound all these years.”
“Wow,” Megan murmured, stepping up to the case, staring wide-eyed at the ancient, gauzed figure. “Wow.”
I was so totally wired. I thought I would never get to sleep that night.
But I was so happy to be back in my own bed, I fell asleep as soon as my head sank into the pillow. I slept a deep, dreamless sleep.
When I awoke, bright sunlight was already streaming in through my bedroom window.
“I’m home!” I cried joyfully, sitting up and stretching. “I’m home to stay!”
I got dressed quickly. And hurried down the hall to the room my parents had given Megan. “Hey—Megan!” I called in. “Megan?”
No answer.
I knocked on the door. “Are you up?”
No answer.
Did she wake up early and go down to breakfast? How late was it?
I pushed open her door and peeked inside. The bed was made. I didn’t see any of her clothes.
“Huh?” I spotted a white envelope taped to the dresser mirror.
A note?
Yes. I crossed the room, tore the envelope off the mirror, and pulled out a short note. My eyes bulged in disbelief as I read the neatly handwritten words:
Michael,
I hope you will not think that I’m a bad person. I enjoyed our adventures together. And I enjoyed getting to know you.
I’m afraid I told you one little lie.
You see, my new father, General Rameer, and I really are very close. We love each other. And I would do anything to help him.
I have to confess: I didn’t sneak into your room at the palace. He sent me to spy on you. This is why I was allowed to travel everywhere you went.
When I pretended to be Pukrah’s mummy in the cave, I did it to make you trust me. We knew you were the right boy. I thought if you trusted me, you’d tell me the truth. We would try anything to find out where Pukrah was hidden.
And so I’ve been working for my father the whole time.
I’m so sorry I had to lie. You’re a great guy. I hope you will understand.
Your friend,
Megan
I read the note three times, my head spinning. Then, clenching it tightly in my fist, I went running down the stairs.
“Mom! Dad! You’d better check this out!”
I found them both in the kitchen. They both looked up from the table. “Michael? What’s wrong?”
“Have you seen Megan this morning?” I asked breathlessly.
“No. I thought she was still asleep.”
“You’d better read this!” I cried. “I found it in her room.” I shoved the note in front of them.
They read it quickly, their eyes wide, mouths dropping open.
“Uh-oh,” Dad murmured.
That’s all he said. Then he jumped up and ran to the basement stairs.
Mom and I were close behind him. We flew down the stairs.
Dad didn’t have to turn on the light. We could see that the door to the hidden basement room was wide open.
The mummy case was open too.
The case stood empty.
Empty except for another note on the bottom.
I grabbed up the note. I recognized Megan’s handwriting.
“What does it say?” Dad asked in a whisper.
I read it out loud:
“THE MUMMY WALKS AGAIN.”
About R.l. Stine
R.l. Stine is the most popular author in America. He is the creator of the Goosebumps, Give Yourself Goosebumps, Fear Street, and Ghosts of Fear Street series, among other popular books. He has written over 250 scary novels for kids. Bob lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, teenage son, Matt, and dog, Nadine.
THE END
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