Frankie Fish and the Tomb of Tomfoolery

by Peter Helliar

  … NOTHING. Only Drew’s two empty hands.

  Frankie’s suppressed giggles quickly turned into swallowed surprise. Drew must have hidden the Sonic Suitcase, but Frankie had no idea where.

  ‘Get out of here, you weird little jerks!’ Shouty Man spat, the translation still coming through loud and clear. ‘Scram!’

  Frankie didn’t like being spoken to like that by anyone, but in this case he was just happy to be leaving. ‘Nice work, Drew,’ he muttered as Shouty Man hustled the boys away from the sarcophagi and flung them back into the marketplace.

  Frankie meant it. If anyone discovered the Sonic Suitcase or – worse yet – took it off them, it would be disastrous. But thanks to the quick thinking of his best friend, it was safe from the hands of Shouty Man.

  ‘You’re welcome, buddy,’ Drew replied, a little chuffed that, on this occasion, he was more of a help than a hindrance.

  Once they were out of earshot of the Shouty Spitty Man, Frankie enquired, ‘So?’

  ‘So … what?’ Drew replied.

  ‘So where is it? Where did you hide the Sonic Suitcase?’

  ‘Oh yeah, I had to think quickly,’ Drew said modestly.

  ‘You sure did. I’m impressed.’

  ‘So I threw it in the sarcophagus.’

  ‘You did what?’ Frankie said, his skin going cold.

  ‘You know, the coffin with the mummy. Luckily it slid right down the side.’

  At that exact moment, a loud, echoey scraping could be heard throughout the bazaar. It sounded almost like a heavy rock being dragged across concrete. The hustle and bustle seemed to quieten around them as Frankie and Drew looked back at where they’d just been.

  Across the other side of the bazaar, large, burly men were heaving stone lids onto the sarcophagi. They were closing the coffins, one by one. The sight filled Frankie with absolute horror.

  ‘Drew,’ Frankie asked quietly, already knowing the answer. ‘Did you manage to get the Sonic Suitcase back out of the coffin?’

  Drew gulped as the final sarcophagus – the biggest one, and the one that contained their ride home – was closed for the last time.

  ‘Er … no.’

  THERE ARE SOME PLACES YOU CAN’T GET HOME BY BUS

  Sometimes Frankie wished that time-travelling was as easy as jumping on a bus or a train; if you missed one, no problem – you’d just wait for the next one home. But sadly, commuting via time-travel didn’t come with an endless number of options. So when Frankie saw that slab of stone being hoisted onto that Egyptian coffin, he knew how completely catastrophic it was.

  They couldn’t just jump on a camel and trot through deserts all the way to the future, or hitch a ride on a boat down the Nile. There was simply NO OTHER WAY to get back to their regular lives except with that silly suitcase, which was now the roommate of an authentic Egyptian mummy.

  And things were about to get worse. Even if Frankie thought he could wait for a chance to sneak over to the sarcophagus and steal back the Sonic Suitcase – even if he COULD remove the humungous slab of stone that was on top (which he in no way could) – it was too late. Groups of muscular men were already carrying the sarcophagi towards the grand, imposing pyramid in front of them.

  That’s right: not only was the suitcase in a sealed sarcophagus with a mummy, but it was about to be buried in a chamber within a pyramid. And to think this trip to Ancient Egypt was meant to be a SMALL, QUICK ADVENTURE to prove the Mosleys wrong!

  Frankie desperately wanted to scream, ‘Stop!’ But what would he say next? He ran through a few versions in his head:

  ‘Stop! I think I heard that mummy sneeze!’

  ‘Stop! Should we check one last time that the mummy is dead?’

  ‘Stop! I saw a scorpion in that sarcophagus! We wouldn’t want the mummy getting stung!’

  None of these were very feasible.

  ‘I’m sorry, Frankie,’ Drew offered, looking like he had just eaten rotten cabbage soup. ‘I feel terrible.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets and then, discovering something, pulled it out. ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you – I pulled this off before I dropped the suitcase. Just in case we needed it.’ He sheepishly held out the translating padlock.

  Frankie forced a smile and took the padlock, slipping it into the relative safety of his own pocket. That was one good thing, at least. And there was no time for the blame game – they needed to work out how to play the far less catchily titled Stop the Mummy’s Coffin Going into the Tomb game. And quickly!

  ‘It’s OK, Drew – we’ll figure something out,’ Frankie said, sounding more confident than he felt. ‘First, we need to work out how to get into that pyramid without being seen. What do you think about trying to –’

  ‘You have literally ZERO chance of getting in there,’ the translating padlock interrupted, buzzing gently as it translated a voice coming from behind the boys.

  Turning around, Frankie and Drew were relieved that it wasn’t their shouty, spitty friend but a gangly girl of about fourteen dressed in draping robes that were presumably not made from old T-shirts from Lost Property. Her hair was big, wild and curly, springing out of her head like fabulous worms at a twist party.

  ‘My name is Salama, and if you want to get in there,’ she told them, flicking some curls out of her face, ‘you will need ME.’

  ‘How long have you been standing there listening to us?’ Frankie asked, a little offended.

  ‘Long enough to hear you say you need to get to that particular sarcophagus, which is now inside that pyramid along with several other coffins,’ she smirked.

  ‘Why would we need your help?’ Frankie asked, more than a bit miffed that she’d been eavesdropping on them. It felt like a real Lisa Chadwick kind of move.

  ‘I’m only the greatest tomb raider this side of Cairo!’ she said, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘YOU’RE a tomb raider?’ Frankie asked skeptically.

  ‘Do you know Lara Croft?’ Drew asked excitedly

  Salama looked confused. ‘Lara –?’

  ‘Oh, nobody,’ Frankie interjected. ‘Why would you help us, anyway? What’s in it for you?’

  He might have sounded like a tough guy, and Frankie certainly had some doubts about Salama’s claims, but it was patently obvious to everyone involved that the boys were desperate.

  Salama shrugged. ‘I like to help people,’ she said, sounding genuine enough. ‘And besides, tomb-raiding is fun, but I’m bored of always doing it on my own. It’s nice to have company when you’re hunting for treasure.’

  Frankie could see her point, although he was inclined to think that tomb-raiding on your own was not so much boring as it was terrifying.

  ‘OK, let’s do it,’ Frankie agreed, and Drew nodded behind him. ‘So how do we get in there?’

  ‘First, we wait,’ Salama replied mysteriously.

  As the sun set on the not-yet-ancient pyramids, Salama proved to be a perfect host. She fetched some food – falafel with hummus and bread, and piles of sweet figs – while the boys got some drinks. All three sat down a little way away from the bazaar, with a clear view of the entrance to the pyramid, and scoffed down their meal.

  The spread was so tasty that Drew Bird briefly consulted with Frankie about the possibility of stuffing the Sonic Suitcase full of falafel.

  ‘You can’t stuff what you don’t have,’ Frankie joked, even though the situation wasn’t funny at all. But if you couldn’t laugh when your Sonic Suitcase was trapped in a mummy’s coffin and entombed in a pyramid where it may very well stay for the rest of eternity unless your new friend could help you out, and quick – then when could you laugh?

  ‘So how long have you been a tomb raider for, Salama?’ Frankie asked curiously.

  ‘Oh, I’ve been raiding tombs for years,’ Salama said, spilling a blob of hummus onto her robes. It wasn’t her first spill, either – Frankie had noticed that for a tomb raider, she seemed a bit clumsy.

  ‘I’m actually considered the greatest tomb raider of all
time,’ she added boastfully.

  ‘You’re the GOAT then!’ chimed in Drew, happily licking crumbs off his fingers.

  ‘How dare you call me a goat?’ she replied.

  ‘No, no,’ Frankie said quickly, not wanting to offend the one person who could help them. ‘He means GOAT as in Greatest Of All Time. It’s the biggest compliment you can give someone!’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like much of a compliment,’ said a slightly confused Salama. But then she nodded. ‘Still, I accept it humbly. Salama the Goat!’ she tried it out aloud. ‘Not bad!’

  Frankie popped the last delicious fig into his mouth and brushed off his hands. The early evening light was fading, and it was getting dark. ‘What’s our plan for getting inside the pyramid?’ he asked, hoping the answer wasn’t going to be ‘just wing it’.

  You can imagine how happy he was when Salama grinned and pulled out a piece of cloth.

  ‘It’s a map,’ Salama declared, unfolding it.

  ‘A map of what?’ Drew asked.

  ‘A map of the pyramid, silly.’

  ‘How did you get this?’ Frankie marvelled.

  ‘Haven’t you been listening? I am the Salama the GOAT!’ she beamed, and for once Frankie was filled with something unfamiliar but heartening: a sense of confidence.

  He’d been led astray by local kids before, from Ping in China to Milly the Kid in the Wild West, but in this moment he thought it was possible that Salama just might be the real deal.

  Too bad he was wrong.

  THAT’S NOT A KNIFE

  It was getting properly dark now. Salama lit a fire stick so they could inspect the map, and

  Frankie felt a buzz of adrenalin as his inner Indiana Jones began to surface.

  Unfortunately for Frankie, the map made almost no sense to him. It looked like a series of diagrams and squiggly lines, with scratchy drawings and arrows sprinkled throughout. Including one that looked like …

  ‘Is that a knife?’ Frankie asked, pointing to what indeed looked like a knife.

  Salama laughed. ‘Oh no, it’s not a knife.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ Frankie whispered to Drew. ‘I don’t like our chances against knives.’

  ‘It’s an axe,’ Salama confirmed.

  ‘Great. Now there are guards with axes?’ Frankie almost screamed.

  Salama started chortling again. ‘There are no guards! These axes swing from the ceiling.’

  ‘Is it just me, or does Salama have a deeply weird sense of humour?’ Drew muttered.

  But Frankie was not up for laughing. ‘Hang on, are you saying the pyramid’s booby-trapped?’ he hissed at Salama.

  ‘Of course!’ she replied, looking surprised. ‘Do you think they will just let you walk in and raid a tomb like you are stealing fruit from a bowl?’

  Frankie could feel his inner Indiana Jones shrinking faster than a shopaholic’s bank account. ‘I don’t know what I thought,’ he said, gulping. ‘We just need to find that big sarcophagus, and quickly.’

  ‘Why that one in particular?’ asked Salama.

  Drew piped up with what he thought was a good response: ‘We just thought it was pretty.’

  Salama shrugged, and then her attention was drawn by some movement at the pyramid’s entrance. Frankie and Drew turned to see the burly men finally coming out, flaming torches in hand, and moving towards a huge, flat and very imposing stone nearby, which was chiselled in the shape of a door.

  Salama thumped Frankie urgently on the back. ‘We have to go, now!’ She put out her fire stick and sprinted towards the pyramid, keeping to the shadows, her eyes fixed on the men.

  Frankie and Drew instinctively followed, but had some questions, most of which were made up of single words: ‘what?’ ‘now?’ ‘where?’ ‘how?’ and ‘why?’

  The why came from Drew, who traditionally lost focus easily on such missions, even when the future of the world – well, the boys’ world, anyway – was at stake.

  ‘Now that the men have put the sarcophagi in the burial chamber, we must get inside before they seal the pyramid shut!’ Salama whispered as they slowed down and crept closer.

  The men were still standing around the giant stone door, arguing about the best way to move it.

  ‘Then we can find the chamber and raid all the treasure!’ she added in a low, excited voice.

  ‘How long do you think it will take to find the mummy?’ asked Drew, lagging a little way behind. Truth be told, he looked a bit apprehensive about walking into an Egyptian pyramid. He’d seen almost as many scary mummy movies as Frankie, and knew the pyramid might be cursed.

  ‘Not long,’ replied Salama matter-of-factly.

  Phew.

  ‘Maybe by early morning?’ she guessed airily. ‘I’d be surprised if it took a whole day.’

  Frankie’s arm involuntarily shot out and grabbed Salama’s hand, stopping her in her sandy tracks. ‘Um, excuse me? Are you saying we could be in that pyramid with all those booby-trapsh IN THE DARK all night?’ he asked, not even trying to hide the horror in his voice. It wasn’t something Frankie discussed with many people apart from his mum, but he REALLY didn’t like the dark. He usually went to bed with a lamp on that his mum would turn off once he was asleep (although if anyone asked, he would deny it until he was blue in the face). The pitch black gave him the jitters, and he was pretty sure pyramids didn’t come with night-lights.

  ‘Just think of it like sleeping, but with your eyes open,’ Salama advised him. ‘And also, you’ll be running and trying not to get sliced in half by flying axes.’

  Salama could see Frankie was suddenly frozen stiff, like an icy pole left at the back of the freezer all winter, which was a REALLY hard thing to achieve in the desert. Drew wasn’t looking super keen, either. She gave each of them a hard stare. ‘Come on, we need to go right away,’ she said firmly. ‘Those men are getting ready to seal up the pyramid and it’s now or never ’

  She was right. The burly men had finished their argument and were sorting out who would walk backwards and who was strong enough to go at the ends.

  ‘No time to waste,’ Drew gulped, looking at Frankie. ‘Right?’

  ‘Or you can just stay here,’ Salama offered.

  Salama had no idea how accurate that comment was. Because if Frankie and Drew couldn’t overcome their last-minute fears, they would be stuck here in Egypt forever. They would miss their families, their toys, their books and yes, even teacher’s pet Lisa Chadwick (well, maybe).

  ‘The courage comes later,’ Salama said gently, but urgently. ‘It’s OK to be scared, but then you do it and realise later how courageous you are.’

  Frankie gathered up his strength and forced himself to nod at his best friend. ‘She’s right,’ he said. ‘We can do this. We HAVE to do this.’

  Drew nodded back, the ghost of a smile on his face. ‘As long as we’re together, there is nothing we can’t do, Frankie Fish.’

  And with that, the three adventurers crept towards the dark and dangerous pyramid. As the men heaved the stone door onto their shoulders, grunting at the heft of it, Frankie, Drew and Salama slipped inside the mouth of the pyramid.

  The trio found themselves at the start of a long passageway. A little way along, small flames flickered, and Frankie was relieved to have some light after all. Just enough to see if there were any scorpions anywhere, anyway.

  Aware that there were men just outside the pyramid, they needed to move quickly. Frankie took a big breath and summoned all his courage. Beside him, he noticed Salama doing the same thing. Perhaps even the GOAT gets scared sometimes, he thought with relief. Courage comes later to all of us …

  They were only a few metres inside the grand passage when Frankie heard Salama gasp, then let out a muffled shriek, which was quickly followed by a THUD.

  ‘Salama!’ Frankie whisper-yelped.

  ‘I just tripped,’ she said, sounding flustered. ‘Be careful, there are obstacles everywhere.’

  Frankie cautiously darted his foot around
, but couldn’t feel anything other than the hard ground, and concluded that the clumsy but experienced tomb raider must have tripped over her own feet. As he helped Salama up, he heard a commotion outside the pyramid – and some curious shouts.

  ‘Oh no,’ he whispered, his dread rising. ‘They heard us.’

  ‘This isn’t good,’ Drew confirmed unnecessarily.

  ‘Er,’ said Salama, sounding uncertain. ‘Maybe we should – quick, over here!’

  She pulled them into a small cove in the passageway just as someone thrust a big, flaming torch inside the entrance. Frankie held his breath and Drew sucked in his stomach as the light got brighter, bobbing towards them.

  ‘Anyone there?’ came a deep voice, which echoed down the passage. Frankie desperately smothered the padlock in his pocket as it dutifully buzzed and provided the translation. The light bobbed towards them again, then paused.

  ‘You’re hearing things, you fool!’ someone yelled outside the pyramid. After another tense moment, the torch-bearer scampered back towards the entrance … just as the stone door began scraping closed.

  THE RUN OF AXES

  The scraping echoed through the passage for what felt like hours, but was probably only about eight seconds. It ended in a thunderous BOOM that thudded between Frankie’s ears like a panicked fly trapped in a bottle.

  ‘OK, now what?’ Drew Bird asked as the echo finally ceased.

  In the dim light, Salama held up her fire stick and gave the boys a grin, her white teeth shining. Then she promptly fumbled and dropped it.

  ‘Do you need a hand there?’ Frankie asked, as Salama flapped her hands around on the ground like she was playing Pick Up Sticks in the dark. She appeared to be increasingly unnerved.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve just never had to light a fire in the dark before.’

  Eventually, after much cursing to herself, Salama lit her fire stick, which gave them quite a bit more light – enough to see a metre or so ahead of their noses.

  Frankie and Drew were suddenly aware that they were the only living souls in the pyramid.