Soul Eater

by Billy Baltimore

  “Ammit,” he said, the word bringing a fresh tingle down his spine.

  He watched as Doctor Slater blinked. He could see him piecing it together like the rocks on the table.

  “But, that’s impossible, Ahkbar. Ammit wasn’t real. She was a myth, a deity in the Egyptian pantheon, to be sure, but not a person,” he said.

  Ahkbar wanted to believe Doctor Slater, latched on to those words like a drowning man. He looked over at the body on the table beside him. Was she even now awakening? Was the mummy in better condition than even an hour ago?

  “When I was little, my mother would tell me stories of Ammit. How she was the goddess of judgment, that if I was bad, Ammit would come and weigh my soul with an ostrich feather and if I was found wanting she would rip out my heart and burn it before my eyes, condemn me to ceaseless wandering for all of eternity,” Ahkbar said.

  His hands began to shake and he clasped them tight in front of him. Doctor Slater saw it. He clasped the young man’s hands in his own in an effort to steady them.

  “Well, see? There’s your answer, then. It’s just a story, meant to scare children, to make them behave. Every culture has stories like that, Ahkbar. But that’s all they are. Stories,” Doctor Slater said.

  Ahkbar again wanted to cling to those words, wanted them to be true, but they were slippery in his mind and he could not hang on.

  “I don’t think so, Doctor Slater. Nobody would inter a children’s fable behind the rock, make the tomb indiscoverable. And there’s more. Look, this set of symbols here?” he said, pointing to a spot near the top of the inscription.

  Doctor Slater, looked to where Ahkbar pointed.

  “What is it, a seal of some sort?” he said.

  Ahkbar stepped away from the table, in his heart wanting to get as far away as possible. From it, from the body, from it all.

  “Yes, Doctor Slater, a seal, but much more. A ward, if you will. A talisman meant to keep evil at bay. It’s why it was turned inward, so none could ever deface it, remove it. For in so doing, the evil it secures might escape. Doctor Slater, we must re-inter this mummy, replace the ward. We must go back to Egypt before it’s too late.”

  6

  Doctor Slater stared at Ahkbar. He worked his mouth, but words were slow to come.

  “Ahkbar, fables, dear boy. Surely you can’t be serious?” he said.

  Ahkbar looked from Doctor Slater, to the mummy, to the broken rocks on his desk before setting his gaze back on the aged archaeologist.

  “I believed they—believe the story is a myth, a fable, Doctor Slater, but what if it isn’t? What if this is one of those times when the myth is true, no myth at all? Science is all the time discovering some new species thought to be extinct, thought to never have existed. If there is even a chance that this is Ammit we have to act,” he said.

  Ahkbar could feel his heart racing within his chest, felt the cold wash of panic creep across his skin. Looking at Doctor Slater, Ahkbar knew he must have perceived it too. Doctor Slater shook his head and once again placed his hands on Ahkbar’s shoulders.

  “We are men of science, Ahkbar. Even if this mummy, this woman was the basis for the stories of Ammit, even if she was a terrible person who did terrible things, we know that myths and legend, even when they are based on fact are embellishments of those facts. We know that mermaids of old are nothing but manatees, slow moving harmless creatures who never not once lured a sailor to his doom,” he said, smiling.

  Ahkbar knew what Doctor Slater was trying to do and he wanted to believe it. He wanted to attribute his fear to impressionable childhood, the latent memories from the fertile mind of an adolescent, but something would not let him relax.

  “Doctor Slater, I think we need to inform the Consortium. Contact the liaison in Cairo. We need to let them know our concerns,” he said, fully expecting Doctor Slater to see the wisdom in his advice.

  “Your concerns, Ahkbar,” Doctor Slater said.

  This caught Ahkbar off guard and an emptiness formed in the pit of his stomach.

  “Doctor Slater?” he said.

  Doctor Slater turned his back to him and walked away, putting the table with the mummy between them.

  “They are your concerns, Ahkbar, not mine,” he said, his words clipped and defiant.

  Ahkbar approached the table. He went to rest his hands on it, then thought better of it as he gazed down distastefully at the form he now knew in his heart was Ammit, even if Doctor Slater had his doubts.

  “We should at least—”

  “No, Ahkbar. We should not,” Doctor Slater said.

  Ahkbar felt the chastisement like a weight and his shoulders slumped. He could feel heat wash across his face. Doctor Slater sighed and closed his eyes.

  “I—we are men of science, Ahkbar. I am not saying I don’t believe you, but think about it. The last thing I would want to do is side with the money men, their numbers and bottom lines. Gah! It’s infuriating! But we need them. We need their money if we are to continue. It is a sad, disgusting reality but one with which we must contend,” he said.

  Ahkbar felt himself nod. Knowing what Doctor Slater was saying was true.

  Doctor Slater appeared relieved.

  “Yes, listen to me on this. The museum was very important to Doctor Tyson. It is every bit as important to his legacy as this find. The two are intertwined. If we go to the Consortium with this wild tale—however much they are founded on observable truth, at best they will laugh at us and at worst they will simply turn us out and replace us with the next archaeologist and translator they can find. There will be no one left to see that Doctor Tyson’s vision is handled properly. You can see that, can’t you? For the sake of the museum and the memory of Gilbert Tyson you have to understand that, Ahkbar,” Doctor Slater said.

  Ahkbar felt his reservations begin to slip away and he tried to smile.

  “Yes, Doctor Slater I understand that, but what if we’re wrong? What if we unleash an evil upon the world?” he said.

  Doctor Slater smiled broadly.

  “Mere conjecture. My scientific mind must rule over my emotional self, yes? I can tell you, if we let our fears guide us, and they don’t throw us both out onto the street, if they believe us and we return this artifact to the pyramid, the Consortium will withdraw all support, the museum will fail and Doctor Tyson’s legacy will be a laughingstock,” Doctor Slater said.

  Ahkbar let the words sink in, made the thought his own.

  “Okay, Doctor Slater. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? We unleash a demon goddess of judgment on a world full of guilty people,” he said smiling.

  Doctor Slater smiled back, then plopped back down on his stool, pulling the magnifying glass close.

  “That’s the spirit, Ahkbar. Now, onward!" he said.

  7

  Emma sat on her couch in her trailer and stared at the television. Tucked between her knees was a fifth of bourbon. Next to her, resting on the tattered seat cushions was a six pack of warm and very cheap beer. Both the bourbon and the beer had been reduced by half, her beer chasers going down at significantly more than a shot per can. She stared at the screen, not really caring what was on. The movement was a blur, the sounds turned down. She didn’t know how long she had been drinking. It wasn’t really the length of time that mattered, anyway. Shifting her foot, she heard the clink of glass on glass as bourbon bottle collided with tequila bottle. Some part of her knew she was acting like a cliche. The down-and-out detective, no cases, no luck, and nobody to give a damn one way or another.

  After hearing the news about Sully she had tried to come up with something, anything that would give her even half a chance at getting him out of Super Max, or wherever they had thrown him.

  “The Alamo doesn’t have a basement,” she said, remembering the gotcha line from some movie she had seen and wondering why she said it in the first place.

  The scene on the television changed. A stage with a line of people sitting in chairs behind a podium. The Mayo
r was saying something to an audience. Behind him, she recognized some faces. She felt the heat rise on her face when she saw the chief of police and the warden. They were sitting next to each other, smiling, making the most of their photo-op. Emma got mad and reached for the remote. Her first thought was to turn it off. Her second thought, and one she liked better, was to pick up her service pistol and send lead downrange. She dropped the remote and reached to her right for her pistol. She grabbed a beer instead. Shrugging, she pulled the tab on the can and took a long pull, only then realizing that she already had an open can in her other hand. Another shrug and she used her pinkie finger to press the volume on the remote, turning up the sound.

  “…present to you the man who will tell us all about it, Doctor Reginald Slater! Let’s give him a big Hemisphere welcome! Doctor Slater!” the mayor said, turning and welcoming an older man to the podium.

  Before returning to his seat, the mayor gave a big wave to the crowd, like he had just done something brilliant.

  “Politician,” Emma said, bringing both cans to her mouth and pouring a twin stream of beer down her throat.

  On the television, the man called Slater began to speak.

  “I want to thank you all for allowing us to come to your town. You know, the work of an archaeologist is tiresome, dusty work. But what makes it all worthwhile is when, after moving away thousands of years of dirt and debris, we find something truly remarkable. Something nobody has ever seen before, and in this case, something we didn’t even know existed. The great pyramid of Giza—”

  Some memory triggered in the back of Emma’s mind and she tried to focus, remembering with renewed disgust that this must be the exhibit the warden said was coming, something for her to go see to take her mind off things. She reached for the remote to turn it off, forgetting again the beer. It slipped from her fingers and rolled across the floor, spewing a foamy stream as it went.

  “Dammit!” Emma said, more for the knowledge that it meant she would have to get more beer that much sooner.

  Remembering the remote, she reached for it, but something else on the screen brought her attention back.

  “Okay, okay there, we hear you,” the older man at the microphone was saying, his hands held up in a placating gesture.

  There was some kind of disturbance in the crowd and the speaker turned back to look at the chief of police for some guidance. The chief stood up and gestured to someone in the audience. Emma knew it was cops. Somebody was making a fuss and the chief wanted it silenced.

  The news camera panned over and caught two uniformed officers struggling with a figure dressed all in black. Emma sat up when she saw what was in the perp’s hand. It looked like a book. He was looking at it and shouting something at the stage. Emma tried to make out what he was saying, but the nervous prattle of the crowd drowned it out. It was all over in a few seconds. The police dragged the man away and things began to settle down. Without realizing it, Emma was leaning forward, staring at the screen.

  On the stage, the man laughed, but it was an empty laugh, filled with strained nerves. He turned and smiled at another man sitting in one of the chairs behind him.

  This man nodded and smiled, too. Something about that smile never reaching the younger man’s eyes set Emma on edge.

  Emma’s cop sense gave her another ping, something about the man’s talk that made her think he was hiding something.

  The man then turned to go back to his seat, seeming unsure for a second where it was.

  The mayor stood up and pointed him to it and shook hands with the man before stepping back up to the microphone. Emma couldn’t stand to look at him and quickly turned off the television.

  Finishing off her other beer and chasing it with a gulp of bourbon, she slumped back in the couch and passed out.

  8

  Even now, Ahkbar could hear the chamber music from the gallery. Lacking any museum to speak of, the exhibit had been set up in the large open foyer of the town courthouse. He thought this highly ironic since he believed now more than ever that this was in fact Ammit. Whether she was a goddess or not he was unsure, but whatever she was, the mythos surrounding her was of terrible judgment and punishment without mercy. When he had mentioned this to Doctor Slater he was overjoyed, thinking it the perfect segue into the story of her. Doctor Slater had called it the hook, that every great story needed. He had even spoken to that accountant fellow, Rogers, to see if they could display the artifacts in the courthouses of every town on the tour. The whole thing made Ahkbar uncomfortable. Any minute now, workers from the Tyson museum would come and move the mummy to the main viewing area. At that point it would be out of his hands, the show will have begun. He wanted to put these thoughts out of his head, but something would not allow him to. Removing a small magnifying glass from the pocket of his suit jacket, Ahkbar approached the rolling display table. What he saw took his breath away and certainly required no magnifying glass to reveal.

  There could be no doubt now, no trick of the light, or layer of ancient dust had obscured the condition of the mummy. He was sure of it and when Doctor Slater saw it, he would be forced to admit the change. He would come to the same conclusion and then… With no time for further thought, Ahkbar ran from the back room and went to find Doctor Slater.

  The foyer of the courthouse was filled to capacity with the citizens of Hemisphere. A grand occasion, everyone was in evening wear, fine dresses and tuxedos. In every hand a champagne glass, waiters with trays of glasses both full and empty moved through the crowd, as did others with trays of finger sandwiches. Over it all, violins played, the dulcet tones a mock contrast to the panic that Ahkbar felt. He scanned the crowd, looking for Doctor Slater. Finally, he found him, talking to the Mayor and the chief of police. With no thought of decorum, Ahkbar raced across the foyer, dodging guests and shoving out of the way those he could not avoid.

  “Doctor Slater, you must come quick,” he said as he approached.

  The three men turned to look at him, smiling. Doctor Slater extended his hand in welcome.

  “Ahh, there he is now, gentlemen. Ahkbar is the one who identified our find, gave us the narrative that adds context to what might appear as only rags and rocks without it. Ahkbar—”

  “Doctor Slater, Please!” Ahkbar said, grabbing Doctor Slater’s hand and jerking him away from the Mayor and the Chief.

  “Ahkbar, what is the meaning of this?” Doctor Slater said.

  Ahkbar gave him no answer as he pulled him back through the crowd. Patrons stared after them as they passed, alerted to the hurried nature of their course. Finally, Doctor Slater lost his patience and ground to a halt. Feeling his grip on the Doctor’s arm break free, Ahkbar turned around.

  “Please Doctor Slater, you need to see this, at once,” he said, causing even more people in the room to look at them.

  Doctor Slater smiled at the gathering crowd and waved at them.

  “He is very excited. The exuberance of youth,” he said, now pulling Ahkbar off to the side and around a wall.

  “Ahkbar, what has gotten into you? You are causing a scene,” he said.

  Ahkbar felt his patience falter.

  “Doctor Slater, it’s the mummy. Its condition has improved,” he said.

  Doctor Slater grunted and waved at the air as if the very thought made him tired.

  “Ahkbar enough. We have been over this,” he said.

  “No, Doctor Slater, there can be no doubt for me now. If you will bear with me, I know you will see it too. Please, come,” he said, moving away from Doctor Slater and towards the back room. He turned and beckoned his friend to follow.

  Doctor Slater stared at Ahkbar and then looked back toward the main foyer. With a heavy sigh, he followed Ahkbar to the back.

  Upon entering the room, Ahkbar quickened his pace. The room was cast in shadow, the lights kept dim so as not to draw attention before the workers had a chance to display the mummy properly. Half way to the table, Ahkbar could tell something wasn’t right. He ran.


  “Ahkbar, slow down, would you? I’m not as young as you are,” Doctor Slater said.

  Cold panic turned to naked fear as Ahkbar got to the table, only to find it empty. The mummy was gone.

  “Doctor Slater!” Ahkbar said, pointing to the table.

  Doctor Slater reached the table. Surprise moved over his face and he stretched out his hand to touch what should have been there.

  “What has happened, here Ahkbar? Where is the mummy?” he said, not taking his eyes off the empty space.

  “It is what I was trying to tell you Doctor. I was here not five minutes ago. Making final inspection. It is when I noticed her condition. It had improved remarkably. It defies all explanation. I knew if you saw it, you could not deny it any longer,” he said,

  Doctor Slater stepped back and clasped his forehead with his left hand.

  “That’s all very well and good, Ahkbar, but a little academic, now, I’m afraid. There is nothing left for me to see, is there?” he said, spinning and looking around the room.

  Just then, four men in coveralls entered the room and moved toward the table.

  “There, yes, Ahkbar. The workers must have done it. Gentlemen, please, why have you moved the mummy from off the table?” he said.

  The four men looked at him in confusion. The one closest offered a reply.

  “Sir, we have not moved anything yet. That’s why we are here now. It’s time to wheel her out, place her where you told us,” he said.

  Doctor Slater and Ahkbar moved closer to the men, staring at them.

  “You mean you haven’t moved her yet? You didn’t take her off the table?” Doctor Slater said.

  The lead man looked back at his co-workers who all shrugged.

  “No, Doctor Slater, we didn’t touch her and we certainly wouldn’t have taken her off the table. We’re professionals, sir,” he said.

  Ahkbar felt his blood turn to ice.

  “Well, then where is she?” He said.