by Lou Kuenzler
As I looked up at two plump ladies and the man we had thought was the professor, I saw that all three had the same chunky build and broad shoulders.
“Gus is short for August,” I groaned. “The Calendar sisters told me they had a brother with that name.”
I thought of how Gran and I had been stuck on the wordsearch because we’d been looking for the long name, Tutankhamun, while the pharaoh’s nickname, Tut, was in front of us all along.
“The three of them do look pretty alike,” said Anthony. “And they sound alike now too. But with that fake English accent, I would never have guessed Professor Gus was the Calendar sisters’ brother.”
“But what are they doing here?” I asked. “That’s what I want to know.”
I glanced around the huge room, trying to take it all in.
The ceiling was hung with electric lights and I could see that hundreds of big square holes had been carved into the stone walls. They were almost like boxes in a pet shop.
This must be where the Ancient Egyptians kept the cats, I thought.
Anthony and I shot up on tiptoes at exactly the same time.
Someone had put a metal cage inside one of the ancient cat holes and Ozzy was staring out at us. “We’ve found him,” I grinned, squeezing Anthony’s hand.
Miss June “I tell you something,” she said. “I ain’t touchin’ that lot. They bring out my allergies.”
I looked up, following the direction that she was pointing in.
Ten more of the cat holes, opposite Ozzy’s, were filled with cages too.
“Look, it’s the spotty strays,” whispered Anthony.
“But why are they shut up in here?” I said, my tummy tightening like a fist. “I thought the Calendar sisters loved cats. What are the bandages for and why are they boiling spices in the middle of the night?”
Miss June again. “Now my eyes are running too,” she said, wiping her cheeks.
I remembered how she’d thrown Ozzy off her lap, pretending he was hurting her sore knee. But now I could see the truth. She couldn’t bear him to be near her because she was allergic to cats… The Calendar sisters definitely weren’t the sweet little old ladies I’d thought they were.
“Anthony,” I whispered, edging forward around the side of the wooden crate. “Something really bad is going on here.”
“I ain’t touching those cats when we take ’em out to the boat,” said Miss June, blowing her nose loudly on the end of her tabby fancy dress tail.
“Quit your fussing,” said Miss July. “By the time we head out of here, those cats will be wrapped up in bandages and smelling of cinnamon.”
“Ready to sell as ancient artefacts to that ignorant young dealer,” grinned Professor Gus.
I looked around the cavern. First at the bandages. Then at the bubbling pot of spice. Last of all at Ozzy and the speckled strays, trapped in their cages.
“Anthony,” I said gripping his arm. “I know what’s going on here … Professor Gus and his sisters are going to mummify these cats.”
My tiny head was spinning as I tried to make sense of everything I had seen and heard. The Calendar sisters weren’t kind little old ladies who loved cats … they were criminals, just like their brother August.
I realized Gus – or Carl Moon, as he was pretending to be then – must have visited the British Museum to find out as much as he could about Ancient Egypt. Now he was passing himself off as a professor – but he didn’t know much more than he’d read in his Bumper Book of Ancient Egypt. His silly story about the ancient curse was a trick, so everyone would stay away from the cattery.
I felt sick. “It’s all my fault he came up with his horrible plan in the first place,” I croaked. “I showed him the cat mummies at the British Museum. That’s how he realized he could make a fortune selling fake mummies and pretending they’re the real thing.”
“The mummies may be fake,” gulped Anthony, “but unless we do something quick, there’ll be real cats inside them.”
“That’s why they stole Ozzy,” I gasped. “He’d make a beautiful mummy…” I stopped myself. “I don’t mean that the way it sounds.” The thought of Ozzy being wrapped up in spice-scented bandages made my throat feel so tight I could barely breathe.
“I know what you’re saying,” agreed Anthony. “The whole idea of Ozzy being a mummy is horrible … but he would make a pretty brilliant one. He practically looks like an Egyptian god.”
“And the speckled strays are like ancient wild cats,” I said. “That’s why the Calendar Gang left the ordinary, modern-shaped moggies alone.”
“They don’t need many mummies to sell anyway,” said Anthony. “Each one will be worth a fortune if they can convince an antique dealer they’re really from the time of the pharaohs.”
“The spices will help with that,” I said, watching Miss June dip rolls of bandage into the bubbling pot of cinnamon and nutmeg. “When I did my Egyptian project at school, I soaked it in tea to make it look like it was written on ancient papyrus paper. The spicy mixture will make the bandages turn brown and they’ll look really old.”
“A proper museum could tell they are fake immediately,” said Anthony. “But it sounds like Calendar Gang plan on selling them to some greedy dealer and making a quick getaway.”
“Come on,” I said, as Miss June slopped another roll of bandages into the bubbling pot. “We may be tiny but we have to think of a way to save these cats.”
“Ready?” I said.
Anthony and I were standing under the legs of the camping stove. It towered above us like a roaring volcano.
Apparently, in stage ten of Maze of the Mummy, there’s a bit where you have to escape from molten lava as it crashes through the floor of a tomb.
“We can do the same thing in real life … just as long as we run fast enough,” Anthony promised me.
“Attack!” I cried.
We threw ourselves forward, charging at the leg of the stove with a wooden spoon we’d found on the floor. We held it out in front of us like a battering ram or a knight’s lance.
The leg and…
The pot of steaming liquid fell to the floor.
“Look what you’ve done, June,” August yelled at his sister as she leapt out of the way of the stove.
“It worked!” Anthony cried as we fled from the boiling, spicy liquid.
“Level complete! One zillion bonus points,” I cheered.
We skidded to safety under the table.
“I’m beginning to enjoy this,” Anthony panted.
“For someone who’s scared of shrinking, you’re actually pretty brave,” I grinned. “Now all we’ve got to do is climb up the walls and free those cats.”
“Easy,” said Anthony. He sounded calm but he was shaking so hard the paper cobra on his headdress shook like a miniature rattlesnake.
“There’s not a moment to lose,” I said, glancing out from behind the table leg. The Calendar Gang were madly trying to mop up the spilled liquid. We’d have a couple of minutes’ head start before they noticed what was going on.
“I’ll undo Ozzy’s cage. You start on the wildcats,” I said. “Just fling open each door and move on to the next one as quick as you can.”
“Got it,” said Anthony.
He dashed across the floor and began to climb towards the strays without even looking back.
I headed up the wall to Ozzy.
The rough stones of the cavern made climbing pretty easy. I felt like one of the thumb-sized gecko lizards I’d seen scampering up the ruins while we were working on the dig. By fanning out my tiny hands – just like a lizard spreads its toes – I was able to cling on tight to the wall and move quickly upwards.
I was scared that Ozzy’s cage would have a padlock or a tough bolt on the front. But there was actually just a bent nail hooked through the latch.
> “Hi-ya!” With one good karate kick, I was able to bounce the nail free. “Go on, Ozzy, get out,” I urged, swinging past him as the door opened.
I glanced over at Anthony. He had already opened four of the ten wildcat cages.
“Good going,” I whistled.
Doing my best not to look down, I scampered along a narrow ledge on the wall to help him.
“Like tomb doors in The Maze!” he grinned.
In no time at all we had opened every cage.
I glanced down.
“Whoa!” My head swam for a moment – it was like the time I was about to leap from the highest treetop wire at the Monkey Business Adventure Park, when Uncle Max took me last half term.
At least we were so high up, the Calendar Gang still hadn’t seen a thing.
Miss June had slipped on the spilled liquid. August and July were sniggering as they tried to heave her to her feet.
“Now what?” said Anthony.
I thought the minute we opened the cages the cats would spring out, but the strays were cowering inside, terrified by all the noise the Calendar Gang were making down below.
Even Ozzy, who was tame, had only poked his nose out of the front of his cage.
“What are we going to do?” said Anthony. “The cats won’t move.”
“There’s only one thing we can do…” I said, “pretend to be mice so they chase us.”
“You must be crazy,” said Anthony. But he followed me as I scrambled down the wall and darted back and forward across the sandy floor like a mouse.
I glanced up and saw a row of emerald-green cats’ eyes staring down at us.
“Yikes,” squealed Miss July, she must have spotted us dashing across the floor. “Was that some kind of vermin?”
“Where’d it go?” Miss June leapt on to the table, her huge bottom making the whole thing sway underneath her. “Was it a snake or a rat?”
“Pull yourselves together, darn it,” cried August. “Can’t you see the cats are escaping?”
As soon as they had jumped from their cages, the strays realized they were free and were dashing towards the doorway of the cavern. As I darted behind a table leg, I saw Ozzy drop gracefully to the floor and stalk among them with his nose in the air.
“Catch ’em. Herd ’em up,” cried August.
But it was hopeless. There were too many cats. And they were far too quick to be caught.
“Hooray, they’re getting away,” I cried as I rolled under the crate and crouched down beside Anthony, who was already hiding there.
The ten strays sped off down the corridor.
“They’ll be able to get out the same way I came in,” grinned Anthony.
“Past the cat hieroglyphs,” I laughed. “Perhaps in Ancient Egyptian the writing says EXIT THIS WAY.”
“Chase after them, August,” screamed June.
But August was wheezing. “I ain’t fast enough,” he sighed.
“At least we’ve still got that one. Look,” said July.
Ozzy was the only cat who had not run away.
“Shoo!” I hissed, throwing a tiny stone at him.
“What was that?” said Miss June, peering down at the crate. “Something’s under there, for sure.”
Anthony and I stood as still as two wax crayons in a pencil box.
“It might be that snake,” said Miss July.
“Yikes!” Miss June leapt backwards.
“Never mind that. I’ve got the cat!” cheered August. He was holding Ozzy high in the air by the scruff of his neck. “This one’s the prettiest of them all,” he grinned.
Ozzy wriggled, desperately trying to escape as August squeezed his throat.
I closed my eyes.
This is it, I thought. People say cats have nine lives they can use up before they die – but Ozzy must have used his last one this time.
I was so tiny, there was nothing I could do to help.
A terrible, ear-splitting yowl echoed around the cavern.
I opened my eyes as Ozzy’s front paw flashed through the air, scratching the side of August’s face.
“Owwww!” Now it was August’s turn to howl. “Brute,” he cried, letting Ozzy go.
With a single bound, Ozzy leapt across the floor and on to the top of the crate where Anthony and I were hiding. He looked down through the slats of broken wood and licked his paws.
“He’s seen us. Now he’s going to eat us,” gulped Anthony.
“Ozzy, it’s me, Violet. I am not a mouse,” I whispered, standing frozen in the glare of the cat’s shimmering eyes, which now seemed as big as car headlights. “I’m your friend, remember.”
Ozzy arched his back and hissed.
“I warned you,” shivered Anthony, the cobra on his headdress shaking from side to side like a windscreen wiper on a toy car. “Cats are dangerous. This is what I’ve been dreading all along.”
“There’s definitely something under that box,” said Miss June.
“I don’t like it,” said Miss July. “Let’s get out of here. This place is starting to give me the creeps.”
“There’s nothing left for us anyway,” said August gloomily. “I’m not going near that vicious little tiger to be scratched again.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw him wave his hand towards Ozzy as he kicked a pile of soggy bandages across the floor. “The game’s over,” he groaned.
“I suppose we better head back to the boat and pretend to be those two sweet little old ladies again,” said Miss June.
“Righty-ho,” sighed August, putting on his posh Professor Gus voice. “And I’d better be the English Egyptologist.”
“At least we’ve got all that lovely cash we raised from the party,” said Miss July. “We did quite well actually.”
“Imagine how furious that little brat Violet and her silly old grandma would be if they realized the cats will never get a single penny from their great fancy dress idea,” sniggered August.
“I’d love to see their faces when they found out there’s no such charity as laughed Miss June. “Not unless it stands for Calendars Leave Astonishingly Wealthy!”
I could feel the blood boiling up from the tips of my toes.
How dare they laugh at us like that.
I wanted to scream and kick the side of the crate. I could hear Anthony breathing heavily beside me. I could tell he was furious too. But we both knew we had to stay statue-still like two stone shabti in a museum case or Ozzy would pounce. He held us in his emerald-green stare, his legs bent ready to spring at any moment.
“I tell you something,” laughed August. “Mrs Short, that old grandma of Violet’s, won’t give us any bother for a while. I found her poking around earlier. I gave her a little push in the right direction, if you know what I mean.”
That did it. I couldn’t stay still a moment longer.
“How dare you,” I cried, leaping forward, waving my arms.
August couldn’t hear me of course. If he could, he would have squashed me with his shoe as if I were nothing more than a bug.
It was stupid of me. The minute I moved, Ozzy pounced.
“Idiot,” I heard Anthony hiss.
But then the strangest thing happened.
Instead of clawing or biting, Ozzy grabbed us both gently by the scruff of our necks as if we were two tiny kittens. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my head. He was holding me as gently as a feather.
“Relax, Anthony. He’s not going to hurt us,” I breathed as Ozzy bounded forward.
“Look, the cat’s got something,” said Miss June. “It might be valuable. I saw a flash of blue and gold.”
It must have been Anthony’s pharaoh costume she could see.
She made a dash for him, but Ozzy was too quick. He sprung up towards one of the empty cat holes.
“You’re wrong,” said Miss July. “I reckon it’s a little white mouse. Look at its skinny tail.”
I realized that one of my mummy bandages had started to come undone and was trailing out behind me.
Ozzy leapt towards the next cat hole. Higher and higher he sprang, until, at last, with Anthony and me still safe in his jaws, he reached the highest hole of all, right up under the roof.
He stood for a moment looking down on the world beneath him like a mighty Egyptian god.
If the Calendar Gang had been able to see us clearly, they might have thought Ozzy had two little key rings dangling from his mouth, one of a pharaoh and another of a mummy.
But a second later, Ozzy dropped us on to the cold stone floor of the cat hole and sprang away.
“Careful,” I cried.
But he was gone.
In three smooth bounds he was back on the ground.
“Look.” I nudged Anthony. Ozzy had seen someone walk into the cavern. Someone he knew and loved.
“Musa,” I whispered as Ozzy sprung into his owner’s arms.
Our guide was standing in the entrance to the cattery with four tall, strong men from the village. He hugged Ozzy tightly. Then he looked around the cavern, trying to take everything in. I wished I was bigger than a bean sprout, then I could have shouted to him about the Calendar Gang and what they were up to.
Musa cleared his throat. “We found Mrs Short in a deep pit,” he said. “Her ankle is twisted but she’s going to be all right.”
“Goodness! However did that happen?” said August, using his silly, posh Professor Gus voice.
“I’m not sure … but I am going to find out,” said Musa, looking around at the chaos of cooking pots, bandages and spilled spice mixture. “First I need to find Violet and Anthony. They’ve gone missing.”
Miss June and Miss July were struggling desperately to take off their big black leather aprons.
