by R. L. Stine
“A mummy!” I shrieked.
Uncle Ben spun around. He let out a startled cry. “It walks!” he shouted, pointing at the mummy with a trembling finger. He backed away as the mummy advanced. “It walks!”
“Ohhh.” A strange moan escaped Sari’s lips.
I turned and started to run.
But then the mummy burst out laughing.
It lowered its yellowed arms. “Boo!” it cried, and laughed again.
I turned and saw that Uncle Ben was laughing, too. His dark eyes sparkled gleefully. “It walks! It walks!” he repeated, shaking his head. He put his arm around the mummy’s shoulder.
I gaped at the two of them, my heart still pounding.
“This is John,” Uncle Ben said, enjoying the joke he’d pulled on us. “He’s been doing a TV commercial here. For some new kind of stickier bandage.”
“Sticky Bird Bandages,” John told us. “They’re just what your mummy ordered!”
He and Uncle Ben enjoyed another good laugh at that. Then my uncle pointed to the camera crew, packing their equipment into a small van. “They finished for the day. But John agreed to hang around and help me scare you.”
Sari rolled her eyes. “Nice try,” she said dryly. “You’ll have to do better than that, Daddy, to frighten me.” And then she added, “Poor Gabe. Did you see his face? He was so freaked out! I thought he was going to spontaneously combust or something!”
Uncle Ben and John laughed.
“Hey — no way!” I insisted, feeling my face turn red.
How could Sari say that? When the mummy staggered out, I saw her gasp and back away. She was just as scared as I was!
“I heard you scream, too!” I told her. I didn’t mean to sound so whiny.
“I just did that to help them scare you,” Sari insisted. She tossed her long braid over her shoulder.
“I’ve got to run,” John said, glancing at his wristwatch. “As soon as we get back to the hotel, I’m going to hit the pool. I may stay underwater for a week!” He gave us a wave of his bandaged hand and went jogging to the van.
Why hadn’t I noticed that he was wearing a wristwatch?
I felt like a total dork. “That’s it!” I cried angrily to my uncle. “I’m never falling for one of your dumb jokes again! Never!”
He grinned at me and winked. “Want to bet?”
“What about Gabe’s present?” Sari asked. “What is it?”
Uncle Ben pulled something out of his pocket and held it up. A pendant on a string. Made of clear orange glass. It gleamed in the bright sunlight.
He handed it to me. I moved it in my hand, feeling its smoothness as I examined it. “What is it?” I asked him. “What kind of glass is this?”
“It isn’t glass,” he replied. “It’s a clear stone called amber.” He stepped closer to examine it along with me. “Hold it up and look inside the pendant.”
I followed his instructions. I saw a large brown bug inside. “It looks like some kind of beetle,” I said.
“It is a beetle,” Uncle Ben said, squinting one eye to see it better. “It’s an ancient beetle called a scarab. It was trapped in the amber three thousand years ago. As you can see, it’s perfectly preserved.”
“That’s really gross,” Sari commented, making a face. She slapped Uncle Ben on the back. “Great gift, Dad. A dead bug. Remind me not to let you do our Christmas shopping!”
Uncle Ben laughed. Then he turned back to me. “The scarab was very important to the ancient Egyptians,” he said. “They believed that scarabs were a symbol of immortality.”
I stared at the bug’s dark shell, its six prickly legs, perfectly preserved.
“To keep a scarab meant immortality,” my uncle continued. “But the bite of a scarab meant instant death.”
“Weird,” Sari muttered.
“It’s great looking,” I told him. “Is it really three thousand years old?”
He nodded. “Wear it around your neck, Gabe. Maybe it still has some of its ancient powers.”
I slipped the pendant over my head and adjusted it under my T-shirt. The amber stone felt cool against my skin. “Thanks, Uncle Ben,” I said. “It’s a great present.”
He mopped his sweaty forehead with a wadded-up handkerchief. “Let’s go back to the tent and get something cold to drink,” he said.
We took a few steps — and then stopped when we saw Sari’s face.
Her entire body trembled. Her mouth dropped open as she pointed to my chest.
“Sari — what is it?” Uncle Ben cried.
“The s-scarab —” she stammered. “It … escaped! I saw it!” She pointed down. “It’s there!”
“Huh?” I spun away from her and bent down to find the scarab.
“Ow!” I cried out when I felt a sharp stab of pain on the back of my leg.
And realized the scarab had bitten me.
5
As I gasped in alarm, Uncle Ben’s words about the scarab rushed through my mind.
“To keep a scarab meant immortality. But the bite of a scarab meant instant death.”
Instant death?
“Noooo!” I let out a howl and spun around.
And saw Sari hunched down on her knees. Grinning. Her hand outstretched.
And realized she had pinched my leg.
My heart still pounding, I grabbed the pendant and stared into the orange glassy stone. The scarab was still frozen inside, just as it had been for three thousand years.
“Aaaaaaaggh!” I let out a howl of rage. I was mostly furious at myself.
Was I going to fall for every dumb joke Uncle Ben and Sari played on me this trip? If so, it was going to be a very long summer.
I had always liked my cousin. Except for the times when she was being so competitive and so superior, we always got along really well.
But now I wanted to punch her. I wanted to say really nasty things to her.
But I couldn’t think of anything nasty enough.
“That was really mean, Sari,” I said glumly, tucking the pendant under my T-shirt.
“Yes, it was — wasn’t it!” she replied, very pleased with herself.
That night, I lay on my back on my narrow cot, staring up at the low tent roof, listening. Listening to the brush of the wind against the tent door, the soft creak of the tent poles, the flap of the canvas.
I don’t think I’d ever felt so alert.
Turning my head, I could see the pale glow of moonlight through a crack in the tent door. I could see blades of dried desert grass on the sand outside. I could see water stains on the tent wall over my bed.
I’ll never get to sleep, I thought unhappily.
I pushed and punched the flat pillow for the twentieth time, trying to fluff it up. The harsh wool blanket felt scratchy against my chin.
I’d slept away from home before. But I’d always slept in a room of some kind. Not in the middle of a vast sandy desert in a tiny, flapping, creaking canvas tent.
I wasn’t scared. My uncle lay snoring away in his cot a few feet across the tent.
I was just alert. Very, very alert.
So alert I could hear the swish of palm trees outside. And I could hear the low hum of car tires miles away on the narrow road.
And I heard the thudding of my heart when something wriggled on my chest.
I was so alert, I felt it instantly.
Just a tickle. A quick, light move.
It could only be one thing. The scarab moving inside the amber pendant.
No joke this time.
No joke. It moved.
I fumbled for the pendant in the dark, tossing down the blanket. I held it up to the moonlight. I could see the fat beetle in there, black in its orange prison.
“Did you move?” I whispered to it. “Did you wriggle your legs?”
I suddenly felt really stupid. Why was I whispering to a three-thousand-year-old insect? Why was I imagining that it was alive?
Annoyed with myself, I tucked the pendant back under my ni
ghtshirt.
I had no way of knowing how important that pendant would soon become to me.
I had no way of knowing that the pendant held a secret that would either save my life — or kill me.
6
The tent was already hot when I awoke the next morning. Bright yellow sunlight poured in through the open tent flap. Squinting against the light, I rubbed my eyes and stretched. Uncle Ben had already gone out.
My back ached. The little cot was so hard!
But I was too excited to worry about my back. I was going down into the pyramid this morning, to the entrance of an ancient tomb.
I pulled on a clean T-shirt and the jeans I’d worn the day before. I adjusted the scarab pendant under the T-shirt. Then I carefully tucked the little mummy hand into the back pocket of my jeans.
With the pendant and the mummy hand, I’m well protected, I told myself. Nothing bad can happen this trip.
I pulled a hairbrush through my thick black hair a few times, tugged my black-and-yellow Michigan Wolverines cap on. Then I hurried to the mess tent to get some breakfast.
The sun was floating above the palm trees in the distance. The yellow desert sand gleamed brightly. I took a deep breath of fresh air.
Yuck. There must be some camels nearby, I decided. The air wasn’t exactly fresh.
I found Sari and Uncle Ben having their breakfast, seated at the end of the long table in the mess tent. Uncle Ben wore his usual baggy chinos and a short-sleeved white sport shirt with coffee stains down the front.
Sari had her long black hair pulled straight back in a ponytail. She wore a bright red tank top over white tennis shorts.
They greeted me as I entered the tent. I poured myself a glass of orange juice and, since I didn’t see any Frosted Flakes, filled a bowl with raisin bran.
Three of Uncle Ben’s workers were eating at the other end of the table. They were talking excitedly about their work. “We could go in today,” I heard one of them say.
“It might take days to break the seal on the tomb door,” a young woman replied.
I sat down next to Sari. “Tell me all about the tomb,” I said to Uncle Ben. “Whose tomb is it? What’s in there?”
He chuckled. “Let me say good morning before I launch into a lecture.”
Sari leaned over my cereal bowl. “Hey, look —” she said, pointing. “I got a lot more raisins than you did!”
I told you she could turn breakfast into a contest.
“Well, I got more pulp in my orange juice,” I replied.
It was just a joke, but she checked her juice glass to make sure.
Uncle Ben wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. He took a long sip of black coffee. “If I’m not mistaken,” he began, “the tomb we have discovered here belonged to a prince. Actually, a cousin of King Tutankhamun.”
“That’s King Tut,” Sari told me, interrupting.
“I know that!” I replied sharply.
“King Tut’s tomb was discovered in 1922,” Uncle Ben continued. “The vast burial chamber was filled with most of Tut’s treasures. It was the most amazing archaeological discovery of its time.” A smile crossed his face. “Until now.”
“Do you think you’ve found something even more amazing?” I asked. I hadn’t touched my cereal. I was too interested in my uncle’s story.
He shrugged. “There’s no way of knowing what’s behind the tomb door until we open it, Gabe. But I have my fingers crossed. I believe we’ve found the burial chamber of Prince Khor-Ru. He was the king’s cousin. And he was said to be as wealthy as the king.”
“And do you think all of Prince Khor-Ru’s crowns, and jewels, and belongings are buried with him?” Sari asked.
Uncle Ben took the last sip of coffee and slid the white mug across the table. “Who knows?” he replied. “There could be amazing treasures in there. Or it could be empty. Just an empty room.”
“How could it be empty?” I demanded. “Why would there be an empty tomb in the pyramid?”
“Grave robbers,” Uncle Ben replied, frowning. “Remember, Prince Khor-Ru was buried sometime around 1300B.C. Over the centuries, thieves broke into the pyramids and robbed the treasures from many burial chambers.”
He stood up and sighed. “We may have been digging for all these months only to find an empty room.”
“No way!” I cried excitedly. “I’ll bet we find the prince’s mummy in there. And millions of dollars’ worth of jewels!”
Uncle Ben smiled at me. “Enough talk,” he said. “Finish your breakfast so we can go find out.”
Sari and I followed Uncle Ben out of the tent. He waved to two young men who came out of the supply tent carrying digging equipment. Then he hurried over to talk to them.
Sari and I lingered behind. She turned to me, a serious expression on her face. “Hey, Gabe,” she said softly, “sorry I’ve been such a pain.”
“You? A pain?” I replied sarcastically.
She didn’t laugh. “I’m kind of worried,” she confessed. “About Daddy.”
I glanced at Uncle Ben. He was slapping one of the young men on the back as he talked. His usually jolly self.
“Why are you worried?” I asked Sari. “Your dad is in a great mood.”
“That’s why I’m worried,” Sari whispered. “He’s so happy and excited. He really thinks this is going to be the discovery that makes him famous.”
“So?” I demanded.
“So what if it turns out to be an empty room?” Sari replied, her dark eyes watching her father. “What if grave robbers did strip the place? Or what if it isn’t that prince’s tomb after all? What if Daddy breaks the seal, opens the door — and finds nothing but a dusty old room filled with snakes?”
She sighed. “Daddy will be heartbroken. Just heartbroken. He’s counting on this so much, Gabe. I don’t know if he’ll be able to take the disappointment.”
“Why look on the gloomy side?” I replied. “What if —”
I stopped because Uncle Ben was hurrying back to us. “Let’s go down to the chamber,” he said excitedly. “The workers think we are very close to uncovering the tomb entrance.”
He put an arm on each of our shoulders and guided us to the pyramid.
As we stepped into the shade of the pyramid, the air grew cooler. The low entrance dug at the bottom of the back wall came into view. It was just big enough for us to enter one at a time. Peering into the narrow hole, I saw that the tunnel dropped steeply.
I hope I don’t fall, I thought, a heavy knot of fear tightening my stomach. I pictured myself falling and falling down an endless, dark hole.
Mainly, I didn’t want to fall in front of Sari. I knew she’d never let me forget it.
Uncle Ben handed Sari and me bright yellow hard hats. They had lights built into them, like miners’ hats. “Stick close together,” he instructed. “I remember last summer. You two wandered off and got us into a lot of trouble.”
“W-we won’t,” I stammered. I was trying not to sound nervous, but I couldn’t help it.
I glanced at Sari. She was adjusting the yellow hard hat over her hair. She seemed as calm and confident as ever.
“I’ll lead the way,” Uncle Ben said, tightening his chin strap. He turned and started to lower himself into the hole.
But a shrill cry from behind us made us all stop and turn around.
“Stop! Please — stop! Don’t go in!”
7
A young woman came running across the sand. Her long black hair flew behind her head as she ran. She carried a brown briefcase in one hand. A camera, strapped around her neck, bobbed in front of her.
She stopped in front of us and smiled at Uncle Ben. “Dr. Hassad?” she asked breathlessly.
My uncle nodded. “Yes?” He waited for her to catch her breath.
Wow. She’s really pretty, I thought. Her long black hair was sleek and shiny. She had bangs cut straight across her forehead. Beneath the bangs were the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen.
S
he was dressed all in white. A white suit jacket and a white blouse over white slacks. She was short — only an inch or two taller than Sari.
She must be a movie star or something, I told myself. She’s so great looking!
She set her briefcase down on the sand and brushed back her long black hair. “I’m sorry I shouted like that, Dr. Hassad,” she told my uncle. “It’s just that I needed to talk to you. I didn’t want you to disappear into the pyramid.”
Uncle Ben narrowed his eyes at her, studying her. “How did you get past the security guard?” he asked, pulling off the hard hat.
“I showed them my press card,” she replied. “I’m a reporter for the Cairo Sun. My name is Nila Rahmad. I was hoping —”
“Nila?” Uncle Ben interrupted. “What a pretty name.”
She smiled. “Yes. My mother named me after the River of Life, the Nile.”
“Well, it’s a very pretty name,” Uncle Ben replied. His eyes twinkled. “But I’m not ready to have any reporters write about our work here.”
Nila frowned and bit her lower lip. “I spoke to Dr. Fielding a few days ago,” she said.
My uncle’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did?”
“Dr. Fielding gave me permission to write about your discovery,” Nila insisted, her green eyes locked on my uncle.
“Well, we haven’t discovered anything yet!” Uncle Ben said sharply. “There may not be anything to discover.”
“That’s not what Dr. Fielding told me,” Nila replied. “He seemed confident that you were about to make a discovery that would shock the world.”
Uncle Ben laughed. “Sometimes my partner gets excited and talks too much,” he told Nila.
Nila’s eyes pleaded with my uncle. “May I come into the pyramid with you?” She glanced at Sari and me. “I see you have other visitors.”
“My daughter, Sari, and my nephew, Gabe,” Uncle Ben replied.
“Well, could I come down with them?” Nila pleaded. “I promise I won’t write a word for my paper until you give me permission.”
Uncle Ben rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He swung the hard hat back onto his head. “No photographs, either,” he muttered.