Marty Boggs & The Discovery of the Mummy's Tomb

by M.T. Acquaire

started.

  Reginald examined the stone serpent thoroughly, running his hands lightly across its carved surface. Nearly the same height, if only slightly taller than Reginald, the serpent’s eyes were an emerald green that glistened brightly behind a thick covering of dust as his flashlight swept across them.

  Reaching up he wiped one of the eyes with the tip of his thumb, the gem immediately sparkling more brilliantly. Reginald set to cleaning the remaining eyes with a soft brush he withdrew from his bag, satisfied when all four shone down at him, more alive than just simple stones, no matter their value.

  His hand stilled as he noticed for the first time what was inside one of the fanged mouths. Using his brush once more, he gently swept away the caked sediment, sending centuries of grime falling to his feet. Reginald leaned closer, gasping as a flash of blinding red light erupted from the serpent’s mouth, sending a burst of electrical fire through him. The brush fell from his hand as the light faded, taking with it the electrical fire that had briefly paralyzed him.

  The workers stared at him in shocked silence, backing away quickly as he stumbled back. No one said a word. Reginald inspected his hands, looking for some sign of injury. There was nothing.

  Reginald extended his shaking hand towards the fanged serpent's mouth, ignoring Mohammed’s protest. He closed his fingers about the blood red stone, holding his breath as he freed it from the serpent’s mouth, thankful there was no electrical shock this time.

  His hand pulsed beneath the stone rhythmically, as if what he was holding wasn’t a stone, but a living, beating heart. He knew that thought was insane, but how did he explain the beating in his hand, a rhythm that matched the beating in his own chest?

  The ruby was massive, nearly the size of his palm. However, it wasn’t the size that held his attention. It was the thin band of gold that encircled the stone, the band inscribed with symbols that Reginald had never seen, not once in all of his years of exploring.

  Before he could try to decipher their meaning, Reginald stumbled as the chamber trembled. An unnatural moan rose up from the earthen floor, its volume growing as it rode the walls, dirt and sand falling all around them. He gripped the massive stone, holding his breath as the workers cried out in panic.

  “It’s the curse.” Mohammed said, looking at Reginald with panic in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again, but fell to his knees instead, covering his ears as he screamed in pain. The moan had grown to a deafening scream that sliced through Reginald’s head until it felt like his brain would split in two. He struggled to remain standing, watching in horror as each of the workers fell to the ground, their screams drowned out beneath the rumble of the earth shifting. The chamber trembled violently and then began to collapse inward, revolting against the otherworldly scream that had no source.

  Reginald flew backwards, the blow so sudden that he had no time to brace for it. He landed hard on his back, and still he held the stone, refusing to release it. He winced as something sharp and solid slammed into his ankle, praying the bone wasn’t broken. Reginald could hear Mohammed cry out for him, but he couldn’t see him, not with the dust and dirt that filled the air.

  Reginald cried out startled as his head was wrenched backwards, unseen hands gripping his throat so that he couldn’t breathe, let alone scream. The unseen force held his head in place so that his eyes locked on the emerald gaze of the two-headed serpent, frozen by its glowing stare. Reginald ceased struggling, instead blinking thickly as he tried to see through the swirling mass of sand and earth that fell with each violent tremor.

  The serpent’s eyes glittered malevolently, one of its fanged mouths lunging for him with a loud hiss. Reginald tried to move but it was impossible with the unseen force that held him down. He could only lay there and wait for the impossible to happen.

  The stone beast was slithering forward and it was coming for him.

  Reginald stared into the serpent’s eyes, watching as it swayed in its dance of death. Hissing, it lunged for him again, its mouths snapping open and shut in a wild fury. Its fangs brushed the skin of his neck, its breath hot and acrid. Reginald waited for the creature to sink its poisoned daggers into his throat, knowing it could devour him and no one would ever know what had really happened.

  Who would believe a stone serpent had awoken to slaughter the one who had disturbed it? It was madness, a madness that was his own horrible reality.

  The strike never came.

  Instead, the serpent reared back, its emerald eyes mesmerizing as it its heads hovered before Reginald’s own. With a final hiss the stone creature slithered from him, its massive body sliding backwards from him into the trembling room, swallowed by the tomb’s darkness.

  Reginald could breathe again. The unseen hands were gone. He rolled onto his stomach, coughing into the ground. The room trembled into stillness, the horrible moaning finally silent. He could see Mohammed half buried, trying to free himself. He was bloodied, most of the workers and students were.

  “Reginald?” Mohammed called out to him as he stood.

  “I’m fine. Please, check on the others.” Rising from the ground, the ruby still in his hand, Reginald stared at where the serpent had retreated. The statue was rock solid once more and unmoving, but more importantly, it no longer blocked the secret chamber.

  Carved from stone the creature had come to life, a sleeping guardian. He had heard tales, crazy stories that he had laughed at. Now, he wasn’t so sure they were just tales. The serpent could have killed him, impossible as it sounded, but he couldn’t discount what he had seen with his own eyes.

  If the creature was protecting the chamber from thieves, why had it moved aside, allowing them entrance? Reginald had no idea if it was trying to help them or scare them away. He was a man of science, not superstition. Science kept you alive while superstition kept you from discovery, but after what happened here today he wondered how much he had missed dismissing superstition for science.

  Reginald walked cautiously past the serpent, favoring his injured ankle. The workers that were unharmed hung back, none brave enough to follow him into the chamber. He could hear them mumble the word curse under their breath in Egyptian. They had no idea how right they were.

  He knew he should be just as afraid as he stepped into the chamber, even more so after what had happened, but instead, he felt alive. He could feel the spirits of the dead calling to him, whispering their secrets silkily into his ear as they urged him to move faster. The only thing that existed for him in that moment was his need to touch what was before him, birthed from his fanatic dreams.

  He had found the lost King.

  Not daring to breathe, he stood before the golden sarcophagus that rested on an ornate altar. He knew the sarcophagus contained Kutkara's earthly remains, and as he stared at the finely carved golden tomb, he knew he was the first human to stare at the great King's body in thousands of years.

  Reginald touched the sarcophagus in reverence. Strangely, the metal wasn’t cool to the touch. Instead it felt alive, its strange warmth sliding into him with a terrible foreboding that had him yanking his hand back in fear, only to replace it a moment later. He couldn’t help himself. He was a moth drawn to a hideous flame. No matter how repulsive the sarcophagus felt to his touch he was unable to resist Kutkara’s call.

  He caressed the golden face, images of serpents devouring flesh filling his mind with blood soaking the sand until it no longer glowed golden. He was sickened at these thoughts, but he could do nothing to free himself. He possessed no will of his own, only mind-shattering desire so fierce that he knew he would do whatever it took to free the entombed King from his final resting place.

  No longer hidden away from the world’s view, everyone would know who he was and how great he had once been.

  Not once did it occur to him to wonder why Kutkara had been entombed so deep in the earth, the only passageways at times impossible to conquer. Nor why his body was secreted away in a hidden chamber with its own enchanted protector, the ruler
himself sealed in a sarcophagus made entirely of gold with no visible way to open it.

  At that moment nothing could have freed Reginald from the curse of the golden mummy, for he was already captive in an age-old spell that had carved itself into the fabric of his destiny, forever changing the path his life would take, as well as the that of his family.

  Reginald exited the tomb, shielding his eyes from the scorching mid-day sun. He spotted his friend Razeem hurrying towards him. He was smiling widely, flashing perfect white teeth in his bronzed skin as he waved excitedly. He had sensibly forsaken his linen suit for more reasonable light-weight pants and a khaki shirt with palm trees dancing across it. On his feet he wore sandals of the finest braided leather and on his left hand was a pinky ring with a brilliantly cut diamond.

  “Have you found it then?” Razeem's dark eyes were intense upon Reginald. “Is it him?” He asked and Reginald could see the war of emotions at play on his friend’s face. Mostly, he could see the fear that danced in his eyes.

  Reginald nodded, turning his head as he drank thirstily from the canteen Razeem handed him, not wanting to hear his old friend's superstitious ranting just yet.

  “It is just as I feared. Mind my words Reginald, some things are best left buried, literally.”

  Reginald