by Jerry Dubs
He looked at Djefi and saw a red gash across the priest’s back where the sharp edge of the disk had cut into him, severing his spinal cord.
“I can’t feel my legs. How can that be?” Djefi asked himself.
Ignoring him, Imhotep rushed over to Brian who had fallen face forward in the sand after throwing the reflecting disk.
“Jush ike a fribbee,” Brian whispered.
Diane crawled over to him. “Brian,” she said, caressing his face softly.
“Bye, babe,” he said softly.
“No,” she cried. “This isn’t fair!” She pressed her face against his and held him close as he exhaled a long, slow breath.
“Do something,” she said to Imhotep.
He laid his hand on Brian’s neck. There was no pulse.
“I’m sorry, Diane,” he said.
Bakr came across the clearing and knelt beside her. “He truly was a god,” he said reverently.
Diane wanted to kill Djefi herself, but Imhotep intervened.
“Don’t do this, Diane,” he said to her in English. “Djefi can’t harm anyone now.”
She stood over the fat priest, then she spit on him and turned away.
Prince Teti and his men were in the clearing now.
“What do you want us to do with him?” Prince Teti asked Imhotep.
Imhotep shook his head. “That is up to you, Prince Teti. I want nothing of him.”
Prince Teti turned to the two guards who had helped Siamun. “Take Djefi and Siamun’s body into the desert. Two days journey. Once you are there, tie Siamun’s body to Djefi’s back. Leave him there to crawl home.”
“I am First Prophet of Sobek,” Djefi said. “You cannot treat me like a common criminal.”
Prince Teti smiled.
“You are right, First Prophet.” He looked at the guards. “Leave a water bag with him.”
As the men carried a screaming Djefi away, Prince Teti said to Diane, “We will give Brian this tomb.”
She looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“He means Brian will be buried here, in this tomb, Diane,” Imhotep explained in English. “It is a great honor.”
She stared at him. “Then how do I get back? I want to leave this place. Forever.”
Imhotep shook his head.
“I don’t know, Diane. I thought I found the panel we came through, but it looks different. I had marked it with a toothpick, but the toothpick is gone, so I don’t know. You might not be able to return.”
Into the Tomb of Ipy
After Prince Teti ordered Brian’s body carried to the mortuary temple to be embalmed, he went with Imhotep to Paneb’s home.
“I am sorry your friend was killed,” Prince Teti told Diane as they walked through the town’s dark streets. “Although I did not know him, I heard that he was a brave man.”
She nodded an acknowledgment, but stared off silently into the distance. Walking beside her, Imhotep saw the effort she was going through not to cry. She had already told them how she and Yunet had been captured by Siamun and what had happened afterward.
He thought of all she had lost and the pain she had suffered. He thought of the love he had found with Meryt and the child she was carrying, the honors he had received from King Djoser and the certainty he felt that this was where, and when, he belonged.
The passage through the tomb had brought him home.
It had led her to hell.
When they reached Paneb’s house, Imhotep took Diane aside to talk with her while Paneb and Ahmes were reunited with Taki.
The air around them soon filled with the smell of roasting goose as the Taki, her mother and sister began to prepare a meal. Prince Teti, seeing Taki’s intent to feed him and his company, sent three of his men to find a bakery and brewery. Another was dispatched to the governor’s house with a message to be sent to King Djoser.
Noticing Imhotep trying to find a private place to talk, Paneb took him to the stairs that led to the roof. As Imhotep and Diane climbed them, he recalled his first nights in this ancient land, how the air had smelled fresh and clean, how the sand had seemed whiter and newer.
Despite the deaths at the tomb, he still was willing to trade the random violence, poverty and material greed of his time for the rigors and hardships of life here.
He knew Diane wouldn’t feel the same way.
She had seen only the brutal side of The Two Lands. While what she had experienced was horrifying, Imhotep thought it was individual violence, an aberration from normal behavior. The violence and uncaring from his time had become an epidemic.
None of this would matter if they couldn’t figure out how to return her to her time.
He led her to a low stool along the edge of the roof beneath the dark fronds of a palm tree, a spot he had sat at so long ago to avoid the sun.
“You don’t know how to get back,” she said, making it a statement, not a question.
“Not exactly. Well, no,” he conceded.
Her arms were crossed in front her bare chest, a sense of modesty returning as they spoke in English.
“Wait here,” he said. He walked across the roof and jogged down the steps. “Dedi,” he called when he saw Paneb’s oldest daughter in the courtyard pouring beer for the soldiers. “Could you give me a robe for my friend?”
Dedi gave him a questioning look, but went into the house and returned with a linen robe.
Imhotep gave it to Diane and then turned his back as she put it on.
“I don’t want to stay here,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he nodded. “If I were you I wouldn’t either. I’m so sorry about everything. These people,” he gestured toward the courtyard, “they are the most giving, helpful, gentle people. But,” he hurried on, “there is a raw violence here, and a different view of death. I know that. I’m not saying this is paradise.
“I think it’s because they don’t live as long as we do and they don’t get as attached to things, cars, books, whatever. They don’t want to die and I’m sure they are afraid of it, but they see it everyday. They don’t have hospitals, so they care for their ill as best they can at home and then that’s where they die.
“It might be better, I mean, it’s natural. Everyone dies. We shouldn’t fear it. Animals don’t.” He knew he was rambling. He stopped when he saw the expression on her face.
“I know. You don’t want to stay here. I’m not trying to talk you into it. I’m just sorry that you ran into Djefi and Siamun instead of Hetephernebti and Tama and Meryt.”
She drew a deep breath and shuddered.
“I just want to go home.”
He barely heard her words.
Kneeling by her, he said, “I’m not sure how, Diane. Tell me about you and Brian, how did you get through?”
She looked off into the distance, remembering. “We went into that tomb with that guide. I don’t even remember his name.”
Imhotep nodded. “I saw you. I was sitting near the Step Pyramid sketching.” He shook his head. “I told this to Brian. I forgot that I haven’t ever talked to you. Well, at least that you remember.”
He continued when he saw she was confused.
“I saw you at Iunu at the festival a week or so after I arrived here. Everyone was drinking and that night I came across the canal to where you were, but you were pretty wasted.
“Anyhow,” he continued, “I saw you and Brian go down into the tomb with the guide, then he came up by himself all confused. That got me curious. I ended up sneaking into your room at the Mena House and then looking for you in the tomb. I was scared that the guide had mugged you or something and left you down there.”
She sighed. “That was forever ago.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “When I got into the tomb, I found this tunnel. I had to crawl through a broken wall to get to it. Then I saw handprints on the wall. I pushed where they were and the wall swung away.”
She nodded. “That’s what happened with us. Brian was just playing around. We sneaked thr
ough that opening to hide from the guide. Brian was always playing tricks like that. Then our flashlight died. He was feeling along the back wall to try and find an exit. The wall just opened up.”
“When you got through, did you look at the wall, see what was marked on it?”
She shook her head.
“No, we just followed the light and ended up out in the desert. We had no idea anything weird had happened.”
Imhotep remembered his own sensations when he had emerged from the tomb and the hawk had flown overhead, cawing loudly.
“How did it happen?” she asked.
“The ancient Egyptians,” he nodded toward the courtyard, “spend a lot of time thinking about and planning for the next life.
“Did you ever hear of the Book of the Dead? Well, it’s not a bunch of scary hexes or curses; it’s more like a manual for priests. It has magical spells they’re supposed to say to help the dead pass into the next life, the Field of Reeds. Some of those spells, they’re more like prayers really, would be written on the tomb walls. That way the dead person didn’t have to memorize them. Some of the spells are really praises to different gods and or prayers asking for their help. It also has the words a priest is supposed to say at different times during the burial ceremony.
“So, anyhow,” he said. “I think that the priest who wrote the spells over the false door where we came through made a mistake in the wording and it made the false door a real door to our time.”
He waited for her to object.
“Look,” she said finally, “I really don’t know how we got here. I can’t argue that we’re here. I just want to get out. Take me back there tomorrow and we’ll push the door back open and I’ll leave.”
“It doesn’t open anymore. I tried with Djefi. The inscriptions are different now.”
“So put them back the way they were,” she said.
“I don’t remember. Neither does Paneb. I asked him.”
“So who does? Find the guy who put them up there, find the guy who changed them.”
Imhotep shook his head.
“They were drawn by the Priest of Thoth, scribe of the gods. He must have made a mistake. He was very old, Diane, I mean really old, especially for this time. Later when he inspected the tomb, he saw the mistake and wiped it out and drew the correct hieroglyphics.”
“So get him. Aren’t you like a commander or something?”
“I can’t. Djefi killed him.”
They sat together in silence, each looking out at the distant desert. Diane was filled with despair. She was determined to not let events or other people shape her life any longer and now, finally free of Djefi and Siamun, she was still under their thumb.
Imhotep had mixed feelings. He was sorry that Diane couldn’t go home, but he was relieved that no one else would wander through the passage into ancient Egypt.
Taki’s head appeared over the roof line as she climbed the stairs bringing them food. Ahmes was walking behind her, carrying a jar of beer and two cups.
Imhotep rose quickly and went to help Taki with the platter of food.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the tray from her.
She glanced at Diane, but Imhotep stopped her from walking over to Diane. “Please, Taki, give us a few more minutes.”
Ahmes had gone to Diane and, setting the two cups on the roof, poured two beers for them. He set the jar of beer down and turned to follow his mother back down the stairs.
He took two steps and then turned back toward the roof. He ran up the steps and across the roof to Imhotep.
“Yes, Ahmes,” he said.
The boy looked up at Imhotep, his eyes bright and excited. Reaching into the lock of hair that was gathered at the side of his head, he pulled out a shiny, plastic toothpick. “Is this yours, Lord Tim? I found it in the tomb when we came back from the Festival of Re.”
Imhotep took the toothpick from the boy. That explained why he couldn’t find it earlier. But it didn’t matter now, the inscriptions over the marked panel had been changed. It was just another painted wall.
Unless...
Imhotep dropped to his knees before the boy and grabbed his shoulders excitedly. “Ahmes,” he asked, “do you remember the inscriptions that were on that panel?”
“No,” Ahmes answered, shaking his head. “There were too many to remember. But I copied them down.”
The next day Imhotep, Paneb and Ahmes looked at the drawings.
“He is always copying the drawings,” Paneb said, examining the papyrus scroll. “His hand is getting surer. See, the lines are drawn without hesitation.” He turned to Imhotep. “His early lines waver. They were without confidence. But look, now,” he sounded like any proud parent.
Diane leaned over Imhotep’s shoulder. “Do you know what they mean? Can you read them? Are these the right ones?”
“No, I haven’t learned to read them. I will, though. I don’t know if these are the right ones or not.”
“Should we get someone who can read them?” she asked. “Just to make sure they’ll work.”
Imhotep shook his head and answered in English. “I don’t want anyone to know about these. I’ll have Paneb paint these over the panel. We’ll get you back to your time and then we’ll change them back to the way they were. Then we’ll destroy these,” he said, nodding to the scrolls. “I don’t want anyone like Djefi finding a way to get to your time or one of our modern day Djefi’s finding a way back here.”
They left at dawn the next morning, walking quietly past Prince Teti and his soldiers who were sleeping off the beer from the night before.
“I don’t know if Waja-Hur said any incantations as he drew the signs,” Paneb told Imhotep as the reached the wadi.
Imhotep nodded. “I know, Paneb. This might not work. But we have to try now. King Djoser will be here in a few days and I want to have this finished and the scroll burned before he arrives. No one must know about this. Once Brian is entombed, and the door sealed, I’ll feel better. But these,” he clutched the drawings, “must be destroyed.”
After Ahmes and Paneb set up the reflecting mirrors, Imhotep and Paneb went inside. They agreed on which panel had been changed and Paneb began to repaint the hieroglyphics.
Imhotep went outside to wait with Diane who was sitting in the shade of the palm shelter, trying hard to not think about what she had seen in the clearing the day before.
“I keep wondering how things would have been different if I hadn’t been angry with him that first night at To-She. Or if I had insisted that he come with us to Iunu. You could have talked with him then, we could have left with you and gone back to our time right then,” she said.
Imhotep thought back to the night Addy had gotten a phone call and drove away into the night. What if he had gone with her? What if her friend had been at a different restaurant? And as much as it hurt to think the thoughts, if Addy hadn’t been killed he wouldn’t have followed Diane and Brian here and he never would have met Meryt. The life that was growing inside her would never have been created.
“I think he changed here, Diane,” Imhotep said. “He seemed different after he escaped from Kom Ombo. As awful as it sounds, I think he lived more in the time he was here than he would have if he hadn’t encountered this land.”
“He wouldn’t be dead,” she said.
“You don’t know. He could have been hit by a bus, or eaten a bad meal. I mean, people die these strange, meaningless deaths all the time. Just random shit,” he said angrily.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that we never know.
“We’re all going to die, everyone knows that, but back in our time we keep ourselves so busy, so occupied with radio, television, movies, parties, bars, nightclubs, fancy restaurants, sixty-hour-a-week jobs, shopping, buying clothes and furniture and jewelry, working to save up for a car, a house, a second house, a beach house. Here people have time to live, really live. I’ve done more, I mean drawing, making friends, doing things that really matter, than I did m
y entire life before.
“This is life stripped down to what matters, without the distractions.”
“You can do that back in our time,” Diane said.
He shook his head, “I don’t think so. Maybe if you’re the Dalai Lama, but not ordinary people. I don’t see how.”
Diane shrugged and looked at the tomb entrance.
“I think you can. I think it’s just a matter of deciding what you really are going to do and then doing it.”
“I hope you’re right,” Imhotep said, getting to his feet. “It looks like Paneb’s finished. Lets go.”
Paneb and Ahmes waited outside the tomb under the palm canopy.
“Is Lord Tim leaving, too?” Ahmes asked.
Paneb shook his head. “His name is Imhotep now, Ahmes. King Djoser gave the name to him. And no, I don’t think he is leaving. But with the gods, you never know.”
Diane and Imhotep held hands as they walked down the tomb hallway.
“What should I do when I get there? I mean about Brian.”
“I guess just say he’s missing.”
“Yeah. Shit, this is weird. His body is going to be in this tomb, isn’t it? I mean when they find this tomb, his mummy will be in it, right?”
Imhotep shrugged. “I guess. There wasn’t much information about the tomb in the guide books in your room.”
“Who was this tomb being built for?”
“It was for Kanakht, the king’s vizier. But he betrayed the king and lost the right to eternal life.”
She shook her head, “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she said.
She started to cry.
Imhotep squeezed her hand.
“We’re here,” he said, pointing to the freshly painted symbols above the door. “I’m sorry Diane but we have to do this now. We can’t leave this doorway open for long. What if some other tourist is in the tomb?”
