by Donna White
Sam stared at Dr. Roget. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Could you send me the diagram you drew, Sam? Here, I’ll give you my e-mail address.” She took a pen from the table, wrote it on a scrap piece of paper, and handed it to Sam.
Sam took the paper and stammered, “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Well, we’ve got work to do. Let’s get going.”
Sam glanced at the box on the table, then followed Dr. Roget out the door and into the museum to where the carts they had filled the night before lay waiting. Dazed, she stopped and stared at the carts. I did this last night? she thought. No way—it couldn’t have been only last night. She took another long sip from her cup.
Dr. Roget picked up a falcon-headed canopic jar from the cart. “Now when you’re setting up a display like this, you need to ensure that the pieces are arranged according to theme and progress from beginning to end.”
Sam tried to concentrate on what Dr. Roget was saying. She felt a million cobwebs grow in her head. She felt dizzy, confused, and totally disorientated.
“The first pieces we’ll display relate to Egyptian life. Items like the wall paintings you have there,” she said, pointing to a cart beside the far wall, “and the stone panels over there will be part of that. The second display will focus more on death and the afterlife. That’s where we’ll set up the canopic jars, funerary masks, and the other items found specifically in the tombs. Then there’ll be the coffins. That’s set up at the end. That way we save the best ’til last.”
Sam closed her eyes. An image of Eseza popped into her mind. She was telling the story about the nasty king and the blacksmith and the crazy man. The children were watching her, holding on to every word, every scowl, every fearful look or mad, crazed face. She heard the children shout, “Find a madman and ask his advice!” Her eyes opened wide and she grabbed a hold of the back of a chair. The room began to spin.
“Are you okay, Sam?”
Sam felt the blood drain from her face.
“You need to sit down.”
“No. No. That’s okay. I think I just need some fresh air. I’m going to sit down outside for a bit. I’ll be fine.” She walked out the front doors, sat on the steps, and inhaled deeply. A group of tourists was stepping out of a bus and making its way to the museum.
Crazy Bill inched his way down the stairs and put his cup out. “Need ta change. Need ta change,” he said over and over again.
A couple of passersby dropped in a few coins.
“Ah po’ you. Ah po’ you,” he called out to them, smiling.
Sam rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes. She listened to the sound of more coins hitting the bottom of the metal cup and Crazy Bill’s idiotic responses.
I’m going to go crazy, she thought. If I don’t figure this out, I’m going to end up like Bill saying, ‘Ah po’ you. Ah po’ you.’ She paused. She had heard that before. Wait. “Ah, poor you.” She shook her head. No. There’s no way, Sam. You’ve heard it before ’cause he says it all the time. All the friggin’ time.
She drew in another deep breath. Okay, Sam. Let’s start at the beginning.
She replayed the whole adventure in her mind: All right, first I was at home with the stones. Then I was in a hut in Africa . . . with Eseza. Then they tied me up. Sam stared at the faint rope burns on her wrists. Then there were all of the child soldiers—and Squirrel. How can I forget him? And Naboth. Oh, I wonder if he’s alive. And then, Sam thought, laughing, that wild ride down the side of that mountain and landing in the river and floating. And the croc! Sam felt the small of her back and flinched. Yep, I didn’t dream that, either. Then the long walk . . . shit, that was long. How many miles did we trudge on for? And then meeting Charlie and the Arrow Boys. And the walk to Gulu. And Albin. How could I forget Albin? She felt a bump in her pants pocket and pulled the slingshot out. She ran her finger over the polished wood, smiled, and tucked it back inside. And stealing that truck. Sam laughed again. But . . . Her throat tightened and her mind filled with panic. Eseza—where is she? Is she still on the side of the road where I left her? Is she looking for me? Sam thought about the pile of sand left in her hand. Is all the magic used up? Is that why I came back? Did I change?
I know it was real, she thought. I can’t deny it, but . . . but how can you believe something’s real when the sane part of you thinks you’re crazy?
Sam opened her eyes and nearly jumped out of her skin. Crazy Bill was sitting beside her with his tin cup.
He rubbed his finger over her wrists. “Ah po’ you. Ah po’ you.” He held both of her hands in his own as tears came to his eyes. “Ah po’ you. Ah po’ you.”
Sam was too startled to do anything. She stared at Crazy Bill, more than a little bewildered. He stood and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, then walked back to his spot.
Now that was weird. She took in a long, deep breath and let it out. Come on, Sam. You have to get with it. She held on to the wall as she stood, then walked back into the museum. As she pushed the door open, she met Dr. Roget.
“I was just coming out to see if you’re all right. Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah, I needed some fresh air. I’m fine.”
“Good, because I need some help setting up the coffin. Jake is coming to help, but I need another set of strong arms to position the clear case that covers it. You up to it?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
They returned to the display room and found Jake examining the paintings on the coffin. He glanced up. “Dr. Roget, I don’t really know much about ancient Egypt, but just looking at these symbols and pictures, I’d say they tell a story. Perhaps the king’s life story. Is that true?”
“Well, not exactly a story. More like protection. The Egyptians believed the artwork would come to life in the afterworld and help the pharaoh journey from one place to another. You see these eyes?” Dr. Roget pointed to two painted eyes at chest level on the coffin. “They helped the king see out of the coffin into the afterlife. Sort of like a window.”
“And this scarab beetle, here,” she said, pointing to a round insect, “is likened to the cross in the Christian religion. It’s a symbol of . . .”
Sam tuned out Dr. Roget’s and Jake’s conversation as she walked around the coffin and examined the paintings. There were seven rows—well, sort of rows—of images. She recognized some of the figures from stories she had read as a child, ancient tales of Egyptian gods and goddesses who ruled the earth and the skies and protected—or wreaked havoc on—the people. There was Isis, the goddess of children and protector of the dead, and Nephthys, Isis’s sister, another protector, and the four sons of Horus, whose heads decorated the top of the canopic jars.
Sam thought for a moment. It was interesting how ancient stories that were once held as sacred truths by the Egyptians were now labeled as myths and legends. Simple children’s stories.
She looked at the next row. At the beginning of the row the king sat on his throne, looking down on a line of people, each holding something in their hands, their arms outstretched as if offering the king gifts. A man was holding what appeared to be a lion’s head, another held out a headdress, another carried a crook and flail, and at the end, carrying a box, was a young boy.
Sam stopped and looked closer at the row. Each of the bronze faced men carried a gift to the pharaoh but the boy who held the box was black. Black face, black chest, black legs. She leaned in closer. Even though the box he held was small, the artist who had decorated the coffin had painstakingly painted tiny lines to show the carvings along its sides. One carving looked like an elephant, another like a lion, and another like some sort of horned antelope or deer.
The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck began to tingle. This was too strange. This could only be a weird coincidence, nothing more. It couldn’t possibly be the same box.
“Sam?”
She looked up at Dr. Roget.
“Sam? I asked if you could lift the end of the cover.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, sure. Sorry. I was just . . . Never mind, I’ve got it.”
Sam and Jake lifted the clear plastic cover and placed it over the coffin. Dr. Roget locked the sides in place.
“Thanks, Jake. I’ll call you if we need any more help. Let’s get to work on the displays now, okay, Sam?”
Sam nodded.
The rest of the morning went by quite smoothly. They spaced out display stands on the floor and arranged and rearranged the artifacts. They set up exhibit cards next to the items, and all the while Dr. Roget filled Sam’s head with all sorts of interesting pieces of information about each piece. When lunchtime came, Sam’s brain ached with data overload.
Dr. Roget fixed up a display card and looked at the time on her phone. “Look at that. It’s noon already. Your dad invited me for lunch at a restaurant across the street from here. Are you coming with us?”
Sam arched her back and yawned. “Um, no. Thanks, though. I’ll get something here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty tired. Didn’t sleep well last night. Think I’ll find a pile of shipping blankets and have a little nap.”
Dr. Roget laughed. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you here when you’re ready.”
Sam walked down the hallway toward the staff room, passing the First Nations and fur trade displays, until she stood in front of the gift shop. After checking out the limited selection of chips, she chose a large bag of extra-hot jalapeno nachos and a root beer. She set her choices on the counter and reached into her pocket for some money.
“I’ll be right there!” a cashier yelled out.
“Take your time!” Sam called back.
She glanced at the various baskets on the counter filled with knickknacks and souvenirs: dinosaur key chains, snowshoe refrigerator magnets, totem pole bottle openers, and polished rocks of many different sizes, shapes, and colors.
Sam dug her hand into the pile of rocks and took a closer look. There were a few deep purple ones and some of a unique mustard-yellow hue. Some were the same color as a Christmas tree—not a dark green, but the sort of green you’d see in the springtime when all of the buds opened and revealed their new growth.
Sam turned a green stone around in her fingers. A faint smile flickered across her face. She placed it on the counter and sifted through the pile of rocks again. Before the cashier came to the counter, Sam had four polished green stones hidden in the pocket of her jeans.
Best not to leave any leads, she thought. Besides, it’s just borrowing for a long time.
The cashier rang her through. “Is that everything?”
“Yep.”
Sam stuffed a handful of chips in her mouth and walked down the hall. Without missing a step, she tucked the bag under her arm, opened her soda, and took a long drink. She let out a huge belch. “Good one, Sam,” she said, laughing as she pushed the supply room door open.
She glanced around the room. Everyone had gone out for lunch.
“Perfect.” She pulled a chair up to the counter and stuffed another handful of chips in her mouth. She wiped her hands on her jeans, took another sip of her soda, and grabbed the protective container Dr. Roget had placed on the counter earlier that morning. After opening it up, she pulled out the loghz box and the sack of stones, setting them on the table. She glanced at the doors and listened. It was quiet. The only sound came from the speakers that played a classical music station over the intercom.
She opened the sack and emptied the stones into the palm of her hand. She ran her fingers over their smooth surface, picked one up, and held it to the light. A faint silvery line shimmered across it. She closed her eyes and began to wrap her fingers around the stone.
“They’re quite beautiful, aren’t they?”
Sam jumped. She dropped the stones on the counter and turned around.
Dr. Roget walked toward her, picked up a stone, and held it to the light. “Never seen anything quite like it myself. But then again, I’m not much of a rock and gem expert. I was hoping someone from the museum could help me identify them.” She set the stone down and picked up another. She enclosed it in her fist and held it for a moment.
Sam stared at Dr. Roget and then at the stone. She stifled a gasp.
“And they feel so cool to the touch, don’t they?” The doctor placed the stone back in the sack.
Sam blinked. “Yeah, I noticed that myself,” she stammered.
“Your dad couldn’t make it for lunch. He got called away for something. Mind if I join you here? I thought maybe you could show me how the box works.” She picked it up and examined it. “Here,” she said, passing it to Sam.
Sam took the box and turned it over. “See this piece here? It’s the center of the whole box. Each piece connects to it in one way or another. Here, let me show you.”
Sam held the center piece with one finger and then pulled at an adjoining piece with her other hand. “Now I’ve removed the first barrier, but if I try to pull it any farther, nothing will happen because each puzzle piece has a sort of a ridge to it that attaches to another opposing piece. See?” She held the box up so Dr. Roget could take a closer look.
“Oh, I get it,” the doctor said.
“So what I need to do is pull this one while I twist this one here, and then pull this one way over here.” Sam twisted and maneuvered the pieces. A piece dropped to the ground, then another and another. The whole box collapsed in Sam’s hands, and she placed the pieces on the table.
“That is so amazing. How did you figure it out?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Just made sense to me. That’s all.”
“Do you think you could put it all back together for me?”
“Sure.”
Sam found the center piece and began to put the box together.
“But how about I put the sack of stones back inside before you close it up? Then it’ll be the same as when you found it.”
Dr. Roget took the sack and placed the rest of the stones inside. She put the sack in the half-completed box. “There. Now if you could close it up, I’ll take it to my car so I don’t forget it.”
Sam stared at the sack of stones and then looked up at Dr. Roget. “Are you sure? It’s perfectly safe here,” she said. She felt a lump growing in her throat.
“Oh, I know. But as I’m getting older, I’m getting more and more forgetful. I’ve learned if anything needs to be done it’s best to do it now while I remember.”
Sam picked up another piece of the box and inserted it. “Ah, okay. Whatever you say.” She added another piece to the box and then another.
Dr. Roget hovered over her shoulder. “Ah! I get it. Now you add this piece here.” She offered it to Sam.
“Yeah, that’s the right one,” Sam said as she inserted the piece.
A couple of minutes later she had completed the box and placed it in its protective case.
Dr. Roget tucked the case under her arm and walked to the door. “Thanks, Sam!” she called out. “I’ll meet you at the display room in a few minutes.” She walked out the door.
“Ah, you’re welcome.” Sam dropped her head into her hands and let out a long groan. “There’s got to be a plan B. There’s always a plan B.”
She got up, threw another handful of chips in her mouth, took a gulp of her root beer, then walked out into the hallway. Again she ambled past the First Nations display and the fur trade exhibit, then stood for a few minutes watching a couple of tourists posing with the stuffed black bear that stood on its hind legs, its mouth wide open, showing its sharp teeth.
When Sam finally entered the display room, Dr. Roget was already back at work, setting up another display case. “I’m still thinking about that loghz box, Sam. As real as it looks, I can’t help but think it’s Frank up to his usual tricks again. Whatever the case, I’ll let you know. I can e-mail your dad as soon as I find out.”
“Sure,” Sam said. “That would be great.”
They worked for a few more hours, and all the while Sam racked her b
rain, trying to come up with a plan B. But anything she thought of she quickly dismissed because, one, she assumed Dr. Roget wouldn’t leave anything so valuable in an unlocked car, and two, she didn’t have a clue as to how to break into a car, and three, she didn’t think she’d look good in stripes and leg irons anyway.
As they were beginning to set up the last display, Dr. Roget looked deep in thought. “Hmm. I can’t seem to recall how this was done.” She placed a statue of a bull-headed man carrying a sun disk between his horns on a stand, moved it to another stand, and then paused. “Hey, Sam. Can you get my camera from my purse? It’s under that chair. I need to see how this display was set up at our museum. I seem to have forgotten how I put it together.”
Sam rummaged through her purse. Day planner . . . change purse . . . credit card holder . . . package of gum . . . keys . . . She stared at the keys. This was her plan B. She looked over her shoulder. Dr. Roget had her back turned to her. She grabbed the keys and put them in her jacket pocket. Then she found the camera and brought it over to Dr. Roget.
“Do you mind if I go outside for another breath of fresh air? I’m feeling a bit dizzy again.”
“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll be here for a while.”
Sam walked out of the room, past the reception desk, and through the outside doors. She pulled the keys out of her pocket and quickly found the car key.
“Okay, muzungu Sam. Let’s do this.”
She walked up and down the rows of cars, pausing in front of each one briefly while she clicked the door-open button and listened. She didn’t dare click the lock button twice and listen for a honk—that would draw too much attention. She went down one row, then another, and another until she stood in front of a light blue Toyota Corolla and heard a click. She smiled.
Glancing in the car, she saw the case sitting on the floor of the passenger side. She opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.