Heart of the Mummy

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Heart of the Mummy Page 4

by Tommy Donbavand

“Excuse me, Mrs Farr …” began Luke.

  “Please, dear, call me Alexandria!”

  “OK,” said Luke, “Alexandria… If sharks attacked your sarcophagus, why didn’t they eat you?”

  The mummy tugged at the bandages around her stomach. “No flesh, darling,” she explained. “I was mummified a long time ago, and I’m all skin and bones under here!”

  The door opened and Niles Farr entered with a tray of drinks. Alexandria accepted a golden goblet and took a sip before continuing. “After a few nips, the sharks left me alone and I floated aimlessly until I became entangled in a fishing net and was dragged back to shore.”

  “Where did you land?” asked Cleo, captivated.

  “Somewhere on the east coast of Africa, I believe,” said Alexandria. “Wherever it was, the sun was hot enough to dry out my bandages and I started walking.” She sighed heavily. “It has taken me many, many years to finally reach Scream Street and my long-lost family!”

  Niles wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. Cleo gazed fondly up at him.

  “I don’t get it,” said Luke. “I thought only the Movers knew how to get to Scream Street.”

  “The secret of Scream Street’s location can be found if you are prepared to look hard enough,” replied Alexandria.

  “That’s not what Mr Skipstone says,” countered Luke, “and he should know, he’s been researching this place for years.”

  “Excuse us!” interrupted Resus, grabbing Luke’s arm and dragging him to the other side of the room. When they were out of earshot, he turned to his friend. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “This isn’t right,” said Luke, glancing over as the three mummies embraced each other. “That’s not Cleo’s mum.”

  “How can you say that?” snapped Resus. “Cleo and her dad seem to think she’s the genuine article, and they should know.”

  “They’re being fooled!” replied Luke. “They want to believe it’s her so badly that they’re overlooking the mistakes in her story.”

  “There’s only been one mistake,” said Resus, “and that was bringing you here! Now, show Cleo the heart and then we can leave the family alone to catch up.”

  “OK,” sighed Luke. He pulled Heru’s heart from his pocket and took it over to where Cleo and her parents were sitting.

  “We, er … have to go now,” he said. “But I thought you’d want to see that we finally got the heart.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Cleo. “That’s three relics now, and—”

  “Where did you get that?” interrupted Alexandria.

  Luke stared at Cleo’s mother. “A mummy gave it to us.”

  “Which mummy?”

  “Heru,” replied Luke. “He was a pharaoh.”

  “I know who Heru was,” said Alexandria sternly. “I was an important member of his court before I met Niles and settled down to start a family.”

  Luke tried to force a smile, but a bad feeling was beginning to creep over him. “He’s quite a character, isn’t he?”

  “I was present at his mummification, which is how I recognized his heart,” said Alexandria. She put down her goblet of wine. “Hand it over.”

  “What?” asked Luke. “You can’t be serious!”

  “I am perfectly serious,” snapped Alexandria. “A pharaoh’s heart is not a souvenir to be collected, young man. Now, give it to me and I will see that it is returned to its proper resting place.”

  “Mum, you don’t understand,” began Cleo. “Heru gave Luke his heart to—”

  “SILENCE!” commanded Alexandria. “I see that several centuries in your father’s care have not improved your behaviour, young lady. I shall deal with you once this thief has left our home.”

  “I am not a thief,” exclaimed Luke indignantly. “This is mine!”

  Alexandria stood up. “Not any more!” she bellowed, snatching the heart from his hands.

  “No,” said Luke, “you don’t understand …”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly,” replied Alexandria. “You’re the new boy in Scream Street, trying to make your mark by stealing from those who are kind enough to accept you as one of their own.”

  “What?” asked Luke. “How do you know I’ve only just moved—”

  “Well, it stops now,” insisted Alexandria. “And once this has been returned to its rightful owner, I shall see that the other items you have taken are also confiscated from you.”

  “Give that back!” roared Luke, lunging for the mummy. He grabbed the bandages at the back of her head and pulled hard. Alexandria screamed.

  “Mum!” squealed Cleo.

  “Don’t be stupid,” said Resus, dragging Luke away from the mummy.

  “Give me the heart!” shouted Luke. “Cleo, she’s not your mum!”

  “Stop it,” sobbed Cleo, throwing her arms around Alexandria and kicking out at Luke. “Stop it now!”

  “Luke, get off her,” barked Resus.

  “I need that heart!”

  A giant hand gripped Luke’s shoulders and lifted him into the air. Niles Farr’s face filled Luke’s vision. “You have dishonoured my family and my home,” he growled.

  Luke grabbed the bandages on Niles’s face and pulled them down over his eyes. As the large mummy released his grip to adjust them, Luke dashed over to Cleo. “Something’s not right,” he insisted, pointing to Alexandria. “Don’t trust that woman.”

  “Luke,” pleaded Cleo, tears filling her eyes. “Stop this!”

  “Get that horrid young man out of my house,” roared Alexandria.

  Niles grabbed Luke’s ear and dragged him from the room. Pulling open the front door, the huge mummy hurled Luke onto the front lawn. “Stay away from my family!”

  Luke jumped to his feet, reaching the door just as Niles slammed it shut. “No,” he yelled, hammering it with his fists. “Please. I need that heart to take my parents home. They can’t stay here!”

  Luke tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t be wrong. That couldn’t really be Cleo’s mum. But whoever she was, she had possession of Heru’s heart — leaving Luke without the relic, or his friends.

  “I don’t get it,” said Luke, flopping onto his bed. “I thought Resus would have backed me up at least, but he seemed as angry as the rest of them.”

  “He and Miss Farr have known each other for a long time, have they not?” asked Samuel Skipstone from the cover of his book.

  Luke shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Then it is likely he was just protecting his friend,” said the author.

  “Even if she’s being fooled by someone pretending to be her mum?”

  “Then you’re certain she isn’t who she claims to be?” asked Skipstone.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” groaned Luke. “What do you think?”

  “It was difficult for me to hear from the confines of your pocket,” said Skipstone, “but the others seemed to think she was genuine.”

  “They’ve been tricked!” insisted Luke.

  “How can you be sure?”

  Luke lay back and stared up at the ceiling. “Her story didn’t make sense. She said she spent centuries at the bottom of the ocean, for one.”

  “Continue,” encouraged the author.

  “She claims to have found a way into Scream Street by herself,” said Luke. “You told me that the only way in or out is either by the Movers, or by collecting the founding fathers’ relics.” He sighed. “It just doesn’t add up.”

  “You remind me of yourself at your age,” smiled Skipstone.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was once like you, Luke Watson,” said Skipstone. “I found inconsistencies in people’s stories and fought to discover the truth. It’s what made me write articles such as this.” The book opened and flicked through some pages before stopping at a handwritten essay accompanied by crude illustrations.

  Luke stared at the title in the dim light. “Top 25 Uses for Bat Poo?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Skip
stone. “Wrong page!” The book turned itself to another article.

  Luke squinted at the tiny writing. “I don’t know how anyone can read in this light,” he moaned. “And I’m sure it’s getting darker as I speak.”

  “You may be right,” said Skipstone, the book closing as the author peered up at the window.

  “It’s this constant night,” continued Luke. “Resus says I’ll get used to it, but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

  Skipstone’s eyes widened in alarm. “This is not a natural darkness …”

  Luke jumped to his feet and dashed to the bedroom window. Instead of being able to look out over Scream Street below, all he could see was his own reflection. Something was obscuring his view. It looked like strands of …

  “The spiders!” he exclaimed.

  A scream rang out.

  Luke pushed at the door to the living room, but it wouldn’t open. By forcing against it with all his might he could see fine lines of webbing stretched between the door and its frame. The spiders were inside the house.

  Luke’s mum screamed again, her voice more muffled this time. Luke knew he had to get to her quickly, before she became completely cocooned by the spiders’ silky gossamer.

  Luke took a few steps back and threw himself at the door, crying out in pain as his shoulder slammed against the hard wood. He heard footsteps and turned to see his father rushing along the hallway.

  “Susan!” yelled Mr Watson as he pounded his fists against the door. He spun to face Luke. “You have to get us in there!” he pleaded.

  “I can’t,” said Luke, knowing what his dad meant. “Not in front of you.”

  “You have to!” shouted Mr Watson, grabbing his son’s shoulders. “Please!”

  Luke trembled. The only time he had ever changed into his werewolf form in front of his father had been the very first time he had transformed. Working late, as he always did, Mr Watson had missed his son’s birthday party. Luke had been so angry that, when his dad finally arrived home, the wolf had taken over and he had attacked his own parents. If they hadn’t managed to tie him up with bed sheets …

  “I can’t,” said Luke. “What if I can’t control it and go for you?”

  Mr Watson stared deep into his son’s eyes. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said. “A risk we have to take.”

  Luke took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He pictured his mum, trapped in a web as hundreds of shiny black spiders crawled over her, wrapping her in sticky thread. Soon her face would be completely covered and she wouldn’t be able to breathe.

  Rage pulsed through Luke and he forced it down his arms towards his fingertips. He felt the bones in his fingers stretch and crack as thick claws burst through his skin. This time only his arms were changing.

  Luke heard his dad gasp in terror, but he knew he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. Every second counted, and it could already be too late.

  Finally, fur sprouted to cover Luke’s strong paws. He opened his eyes and turned to the door. His first punch splintered the wood as though it were polystyrene. Pulling free, he attacked again.

  Soon Luke was able to tear apart what remained of the door. Long strands of webbing broke away as he ripped at the broken wood, creating a space big enough for him and his dad to squeeze through.

  Everything in the room was covered in spiderwebs. Hundreds, if not thousands, of the tiny creatures skittered across every surface.

  In the corner, suspended from the ceiling, Mrs Watson was wrapped in webbing. Luke ran to her and began to tear at it, but as quickly as he could rip away the web, more spiders appeared to replace it.

  “Fire!” he shouted, turning to his dad. “I need fire!”

  Mr Watson scanned the room for something he could use to create a flame: a lighter or a box of matches. There was nothing.

  Luke snatched Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street from his pocket. “What can I do?” he asked the silver face in panic. “I’ve got no way of burning them!”

  “Try communicating with them,” suggested Skipstone.

  “Communicating?” demanded Luke. “How?”

  “Have you tried talking to the spiders?”

  Luke glanced up at the struggling shape of his mother. “No,” he roared. “It might surprise you that I hadn’t considered this the best time for a chat!”

  “The spiders talk to one another by making a series of clicks,” Skipstone explained, ignoring Luke’s sarcasm. “If you can tap out a rhythm that means something in their language, you may be able to control them.”

  Luke suddenly remembered something. “Back in the attic, the spiders stopped spinning their webs when I banged my fist against the beams,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Can you recall the sequence of beats you used?”

  “My mind’s gone blank,” said Luke despairingly. “I can’t think!”

  “Just try,” suggested Skipstone. “I’m certain you can remember it if you try.”

  Luke turned the silver book over and tapped on the back with his long werewolf claws. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Nothing happened.

  “It’s not working!”

  “Concentrate,” said the author. “Picture yourself back in the attic.”

  Luke closed his eyes and imagined his fist banging against the wooden beam. He tapped again. Tap, tap, tappity-tappity-tap.

  All over the room, spiders turned towards Luke, their slavering beaks clicking.

  “Keep going,” encouraged Mr Watson. “It’s working!”

  Luke beat out the rhythm again, this time walking towards the broken door.

  Tap, tap, tappity-tappity-tap.

  As Luke climbed through the hole in the door, a river of spiders began to follow him. Mr Watson took the opportunity to rip at the silver threads enveloping his wife, tearing the webbing away from her face so she could gasp for air.

  Tap, tap, tappity-tappity-tap.

  Thousands of tiny feet clacked across the wooden floor of the hallway as Luke reached the front door. From the darkness beneath the kitchen table, dozens of the smaller cleaning spiders watched as their larger relatives marched to the beat of Luke’s fingers.

  Tap, tap, tappity-tappity-tap.

  Luke led the entranced spiders out through the front door and into the street.

  Tap, tap, tappity-tappit—

  “What’s wrong?” demanded Skipstone. “Why have you stopped?”

  Luke turned the book over so that the author could see Scream Street for himself. Millions and millions of shimmering black spiders swarmed across the street, their thick webs stretching as far as the eye could see.

  Luke swallowed hard. “We’re going to need a bigger beat.”

  Alexandria Farr turned the mummy’s heart over in her bandaged hands. “What did that vulgar boy ever want with this?”

  “It’s one of six relics he needs to collect,” explained Cleo. “Whoever possesses them all can make his greatest wish come true.”

  Resus shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “Cleo, I don’t think …”

  “It’s OK,” said Cleo. “I won’t tell anyone other than my mum!” She smiled up at the older mummy and continued. “Luke wants to open a doorway out of Scream Street and take his parents home. They’re terrified!”

  “I see,” said Alexandria, stroking her daughter’s head. “And how many of these relics does he have already?”

  Boom! Boom! Boom-ba-boom-ba-boom!

  “Three so far,” replied Cleo. “A vampire’s fang, the blood of the first witch ever to live in Scream Street, and now this.”

  Boom! Boom! Boom-ba-boom-ba-boom!

  “He keeps them in a casket under—”

  “Cleo!” snapped Resus.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she asked.

  Boom! Boom! Boom-ba-boom-ba-boom!

  “And what is that dreadful noise?” demanded Alexandria, marching to the front door. It wouldn’t open. “Niles, open this door!” she commanded.

  Boom! Boom! Boom-ba-boom
-ba-boom!

  Cleo and her father joined Alexandria at the door. They all pushed against it, but the door would only open a few centimetres.

  “It’s a spiderweb!” Cleo gasped. Grabbing a candle, she thrust the flame into the webbing. It shrivelled back, freeing the door and sending the three mummies tumbling out into the garden.

  Boom! Boom! Boom-ba-boom-ba-boom!

  At last they could see what was causing the noise. Luke was stomping around Scream Street, once more strapped into the one-man band equipment, a legion of spiders trailing after him. The heavy bass drum on his back thumped with every step.

  Boom! Boom! Boom-ba-boom-ba-boom!

  “What in Dracula’s name are you doing?” shouted Resus.

  “Keeping the spiders busy!” yelled Luke. “Get everyone out of their houses so we can check that no one is left trapped in a web!”

  Pulling the flaming torch out of his cape, Resus raced down the street, closely followed by Cleo. Together they stopped at each house in turn, burning away the webbing that covered the front doors, then locating the residents.

  Before long, occupants of Scream Street began to line the pavement, watching in amazement as Luke continued to lead the spiders away from their homes like a pounding Pied Piper.

  Spiders crawled into the central square from each of the eight side roads that led away from it. Luke circled the square, constantly banging the drum so as not to end the rhythm.

  Other residents took the lead from Resus. Tearing lengths of wood from door frames and garden fences, they lit them and scurried away to burn the webbing and check on their neighbours. Soon Scream Street was lit by the flickering of dozens of flaming torches.

  Luke was just beginning to tire when Resus and Cleo finally reappeared from one of the side streets.

  “Is everybody safe?” he yelled.

  “Yes,” bellowed Resus. “Everyone’s accounted for!”

  “Right,” called Luke as he boomed on the spot. “I’ll lead the spiders back to the Movers’ attic. We’d better be quick, I think it’s going to rain any min—”

  A silver sword suddenly flew through the air and tore the skin of the bass drum, sending Luke toppling to the ground. There was silence.

 

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