Tut--My Epic Battle to Save the World

by P. J. Hoover

  “Fine,” I said. “It’s a deal.”

  “Blair said she can have her dad send a limo for us.” He looked like he was going to fall over with excitement.

  “I’m not riding in her dad’s limo,” I said.

  “But I’ve never ridden in a limo,” Henry said. “And seriously, when will I ever get another chance?”

  I didn’t trust Blair enough that I wanted her to know where I lived. She was weird and too friendly and it was crazy that she’d been right outside the secret entrance to the Hall of Artifacts yesterday. And the more I thought about it, the more I was sure something was off with her.

  Okay, that was ridiculous. I was probably subconsciously jealous of Henry because she was paying so much attention to him and not to me. Just because Henry was getting all the notice and I wasn’t didn’t mean that Blair was some agent of the enemy. But I still didn’t want to ride in her dad’s limo.

  “No limo,” I said.

  “Fine,” Henry said. “Can we at least take a bus? She lives across the river in Virginia.”

  We agreed on the bus. Henry checked in with Thoth to see how Hapi was doing, but his lack of a response made me think that, if they were playing a game, it was still going on. That was good. I didn’t want Hapi anywhere near me or the sun disk.

  I sat back down on the futon and pointed to the map.

  “Oh, I have her address,” Henry said.

  “It’s not about Blair,” I said. “I’m working on new theories to figure out where Gil is, trying to use information from my visions.”

  “What do you know so far?” Henry asked, plunking down next to me. Horus let out a huge squawk from under the futon that sounded like someone had stepped on him. It was encouraging to have him act dramatic. “Oh, and do you think…?” Henry looked to Lieutenants Leon and Virgil, who then looked to me.

  “Make it two sodas,” I said, and the two shabtis ran off, returning less than a minute later with two cans of soda, two cups of ice, and a plate of jalapeño scones.

  “Well, it’s round,” I said, making a circle with my finger on the map in front of me. The problem was there were tons of circular things in D.C.

  “Okay,” Henry said. “What else?”

  “It’s really loud,” I said. “Like I’m pretty sure there’s construction or something nearby. And there are these guards that sit around bickering all the time. Oh, and there are lots of seats.”

  “Like a theater,” Henry said. “I didn’t see anything weird at the theater the other night.”

  “Yeah, like a theater, but it might be outside,” I said. “The guards were arguing about the stars this one time.” Their idiotic discussion about the names of the constellations drilled through my mind.

  “Maybe an amphitheater,” Henry said, grabbing a nearby Sharpie. He started making small circles on the map, adding to my already numerous possible locations. “There are a bunch of outdoor theaters nearby. Oh, or maybe it’s a football stadium. Or baseball.”

  It was baseball season right now. I didn’t think Apep was keeping Gil in Nationals Park. But Henry marked it on the map, anyway.

  “We’ll have to check them out, one by one,” Henry said, tracing his finger on the map from one possible location to the next.

  And so we finished our scones and sodas. I stuffed the map and the sun disk in the drawstring bag because no way was I leaving it here. I had no idea if any of Horus’s protective spells were still in place. Time was running out. For Gil. For the world. I squatted down so I could look under the futon and tell Horus what our plan was, but he hissed at me and swiped out with his claws.

  “I’ll make everything better, Horus,” I said. “I promise.” An angry Horus was still Horus. It was better than him being gone.

  We searched from one place to the next, and each minute that passed, standing in what should have been a bright afternoon in D.C., doubled the urgency. Apep was destroying the world. The sun was like a black-and-white pencil sketch of itself. The funnel had doubled in size. Or else the sun had shrunk even more. Neither was a good option. The sky, like the sun, was gray and dull like an old newspaper. And the wind howled through the streets, like the atmosphere was being stripped away, too. We hurried down the sidewalk, but we were alone. The only people out were dashing around in cars, preparing for the apocalypse.

  Six hours later and our search had come up blank. We’d checked every single outdoor-theater thing that even kind of might be where Gil was, but I hadn’t felt the slightest hint in my scarab heart that he was near. And I knew I would.

  “We should check near the Masonic temple,” I said. It was next on our list.

  “It’s time for dinner,” Henry said.

  Dinner. That’s right. Maybe something Blair’s dad would say about this whole scientific explanation thing might actually give me a clue as to where Gil or Apep was. Except that would be another day gone. Another chance lost to defeat Apep.

  Henry hurried to the bus stop, but after twenty minutes of standing there, it was pretty obvious that the bus wasn’t coming. Maybe public transportation had been shut down. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard a single plane fly over the entire day, and being this near to the airport, that was definitely not normal. The birds still flocked and circled, like black clouds filling the empty spaces of the sky.

  “We need to walk,” I said. Which wasn’t a bad plan. There were a couple places on our list that we’d go right past.

  “We should have started walking a half hour ago,” Henry said. “Do you have any idea how late we’re going to be? We should have just taken the limo.”

  “Well, too late for that,” I said, hoping Henry wouldn’t whip out his cell phone and remedy the situation. He and Blair had to have exchanged numbers. Or maybe she didn’t have a cell phone. I’d never seen her use one. Which was really odd. Everyone had a cell phone, even the third-grade little know-it-all girl who lived two townhouses over. But thankfully Henry didn’t call Blair, and even with our two stops and the increasing wind, it only took us about a half hour to get there.

  24

  WHERE MY DOG FINISHES UP MY DINNER

  Blair’s house was across the river, in a super-old part of Virginia with all sorts of estate houses. There were tons of huge trees, pressing in from above, all around the fence, which was twenty feet tall and made of iron like it belonged at a prison. Security must be a pretty big deal if you’re running for Senate.

  Henry and I walked up to the gate. Two guards sat in a little building nearby. They glanced over and shook their heads as if we were just one more annoyance to have to deal with on an already bothersome day.

  “What do you two want?” one of the guards said. He was tall, skinny, and bald, like he’d been stretched out on a board and plucked. And his voice had this thin, high edge to it, almost like his vocal cords had been stretched, too.

  “We got invited for dinner,” Henry said.

  That was weird. They should have known about us coming. Guards were supposed to be informed of stuff like that. The crazy weather must have had them flustered.

  “You hear about dinner guests?” the tall guard said to the other guard.

  “Lemme check,” the other guard said, and he picked up an old-school phone receiver. A minute later he gave a huge thumbs-up. “They’re good to go!” His voice was deep and gruff, like he was angry all the time.

  Our tall guard gave us the same thumbs-up. “You kids are good to go!” he said, like we’d won some kind of lottery.

  The other guard stood up, or at least I think he did. He was shorter than a ten-year-old and at least three times as wide. He yanked on a lever and the gates swung open.

  I looked back after we’d walked through. The two guards, short and tall, stood watching us. My scarab heart hummed with caution. Something was off with those two. Something was also kind of familiar with them. But I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  The driveway was paved with antique bricks. And even though there were trees around the entire
fence, at least as far as I could see, there were none inside the fence, which made for a perfect view of the house.

  Given the neighborhood and the iron fence and all that, I would’ve expected some historic mansion perched in the middle of the yard. But instead, there was a super-modern-looking house made almost completely of glass. It was three stories high, with the stairs completely visible through the many windows, and in the center of the house, it reached two stories higher, like there was some kind of penthouse balcony up there or something.

  “I didn’t know carnivals made so much money,” Henry said.

  Wherever Blair’s dad got his money, it wasn’t just from the carnival, especially since that was for charity. Maybe the lab research did a better business. Out front, in a circular driveway, sat the black limousine we’d seen yesterday at camp.

  No sooner had the house come into view than the front door flew open. Blair stood there waving like a crazy person with a huge cheerleader smile plastered on her face.

  “Does that girl ever not smile?” I said.

  “Never,” Henry said, somehow missing the sarcasm in my voice. “At the hospital, when they were twisting her ankle around to see if she’d hurt it, she smiled and talked the whole time, telling them all about her dad’s charity work. The doctors couldn’t believe she was really in pain. She’s like a superhero or something.”

  “Or something,” I said.

  Henry smacked me in the stomach.

  Blair’s ankle must’ve felt a whole lot better because she bounced down the steps from the front door to the driveway to meet us.

  “You guys are late! I was so worried. I thought maybe you got lost.” Her eyes were wide with concern. Also, she didn’t blink.

  Henry turned two shades redder. “We got a late start.” Thankfully he didn’t mention anything about our searching D.C. all day.

  “I am so glad you could still make it,” Blair said. “And don’t worry about a thing. All the food is still okay.”

  The food was the least of my worries. Gil and the disappearing sun were way more of a concern. The first thing I was going to do was ask her dad about the sun.

  “I can’t wait for you guys to meet my dad,” Blair said, and she bounded back up the steps and inside. Henry was right at her heels, but I dragged behind.

  I walked slowly through the entryway. On every interior wall, which weren’t that many since there were so many windows, there was at least one mirror. They were all different sizes and shapes. Some looked like antiques. Some looked like pictures. They covered the place. And the uneasy feeling in my stomach grew.

  Blair and Henry were already out the back door, so I hurried after them. In front of us was a huge patio surrounded by bushes and shrubs that looked like they’d died. They were brittle, skeletal remains with bark chipping off them. Blair’s dad definitely needed to call the gardener. With my returned powers, I could have brought them back to life, but if Blair’s family didn’t want to take care of their topiary, I wasn’t going to jump in and save it.

  In the middle of the patio was an outdoor table set for dinner with silverware and water goblets. Unlit candles sat in the center of the table, and at the head of the table stood a man who had to be Blair’s dad.

  He wore jeans and a T-shirt and didn’t look like any senator I’d ever seen. His hair, which was as blond as Blair’s, was cut into a perfectly groomed mullet, like he had it trimmed every day. I’d worn a mullet only once, for a couple years back in the eighties. I made Captain Otis destroy all evidence of it by throwing any pictures down the incinerator chute. Her dad’s black T-shirt had the logo for AC/DC with a huge lightning bolt running through it, and his skin was pale, like an albino’s. When Blair ran up and gave him a hug, it made her skin look even paler, too.

  “Guys, this is my dad, Mr. Drake,” she said. “Daddy, these are my friends.”

  “Then they’re my friends, too,” her dad said, and he motioned for us to sit down. He pressed a button and heavy metal music started to play over some speakers that must’ve been hidden in the dead bushes because I didn’t see them anywhere.

  The skinny bald guard showed up, but instead of a guard uniform, he now wore black pants and a white shirt like a waiter at a restaurant. He carried a tray that looked like it would knock him over with its high center of gravity if the wind blew too hard. Which, come to think of it, wasn’t blowing at all here inside the fence. Or maybe it had died down everywhere. But when I looked to the tall trees beyond the fence, the branches still swayed and their leaves flew off by the hundreds.

  “I got the first course here,” he said, and he started putting plates in front of us.

  I had no intention of eating. The only reason I was here was because of what Henry had said.

  “So, Mr. Drake, I hear you have a solar research lab,” I said.

  Blair’s dad fixed his eyes on me. And like Blair, he didn’t seem to really blink. Maybe it was a genetic non-blinking thing they had going on. Henry was bound to have some explanation.

  “Totally, I have a solar research lab,” Mr. Drake said. “And I have a carnival. And a museum. And, oh, have you heard about that new restaurant that just opened?”

  I didn’t care about his restaurant. Mr. Drake was getting creepier by the second. But Henry, with his never-ending appetite, said, “Which one?”

  “Some Like it Raw,” Mr. Drake said. “We serve everything raw. Raw meat. Raw vegetables. It’s going to be the new rage.”

  That I wasn’t so sure of, but I also didn’t think it would matter what the rage was if the world ended.

  “Sounds … interesting,” Henry said. It was the first time in six months that he hadn’t drooled at the mention of food.

  “Blair says you know what’s going on with the sun,” I said.

  “I know exactly what’s going on,” Mr. Drake said. “It’s all we’ve been researching. We have top-of-the-line solar telescopes. German ones. They’re the absolute best.” He still hadn’t blinked. I forced myself to break eye contact because it creeped me out.

  “It’s a solar flare issue, I bet,” Henry said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Tut. Solar flares occur all the time. Some get really big.”

  Solar flares did not suck the sun from the sky.

  Overhead, the birds flocked around in circles. Also there were bats. I would have recognized their horrible screeching anywhere.

  “You are smart, Henry, just like Blair said,” Mr. Drake answered. “It is a solar flare.”

  Henry turned to me. “I told you, Tut.” He lifted the lid off his plate and kind of frowned at whatever was inside. “Is this raw?”

  “Totally raw,” Mr. Drake said. “A specialty from our restaurant. It’s Blair’s favorite. She requested it just for you.”

  Henry poked at whatever it was with his fork. I could almost see the battle in his mind. It would be crazy-rude to not eat it now, after that, especially if he wanted to make a good impression on Blair. But instead of taking a bite, he set his fork down and took a huge sip of water.

  “What’s causing the solar flare?” I asked.

  “Solar flares are caused by all sorts—” Henry started, like he was dying to give me the answer.

  I shook my head. “I know what causes normal solar flares. But this one is different.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Drake said, and his unblinking eyes widened. “It is different. That’s what makes it so special.” At his words, the music, which was already pretty loud, increased in volume. Gil loved heavy metal music. Me? I wasn’t such a fan. Sure, I’d gone to concerts with Gil and things like that, but that’s because I wanted to spend time with him. To do what he wanted to do.

  “Why is it different?” I asked, finally pulling the cover from my plate. In front of me was some kind of appetizer that was pink and slimy and looked like pieces of chopped-up baby squirrels. I’d eaten my share of exotic foods in my immortal life, but I was willing to bet that if this was the kind of food Blair’s dad was serving at their res
taurant, it wasn’t going to stay open very long.

  “Well, that’s easy,” Mr. Drake said. “The solar flare is happening because of a magnetic pull on the sun, coming from somewhere else.”

  Henry snapped his fingers. “That’s why it looks like a funnel, right?”

  “Exactly,” Mr. Drake said.

  It was all a bunch of hogwash. Weird things were going on, and I was not going to write them off scientifically. The gods were one hundred percent at work here. I’d had about as much of this dinner as I wanted to waste time on.

  I stood up and scooted my chair out. “I need to use the bathroom,” I yelled over the music.

  “Oh. Blair will show you where it is,” Mr. Drake said, pressing his lips together into a thin line. He stuck his tongue out the smallest amount, like there was a tiny crumb he wanted to get.

  I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. Just tell me where it is.” I didn’t plan to stick around here any longer. I needed to find Gil.

  “Sure,” Blair said, smiling as if she was thrilled no matter what. “It’s just back inside, down the hall on the left.”

  “Thanks.” I headed back into the house. I’d cut out of here and text Henry later. He could finish the disgusting raw-food dinner and meet me later. I was about to head for the front door, but the two guards stood there, the skinny one back in his guard uniform. He couldn’t have changed that fast. It was like he was a clone. Still, whether they were guards or waiters, I didn’t want to have to make excuses. So I took the hall to the left, toward the bathroom. I’d find a side door out of this place.

  I pretended to go into the bathroom, just in case the guards were watching, but at the last minute, I crouched low and moved down the hallway, opening doors as I came to them. There was one room that looked like a weird style salon, with four different mannequins dressed in outfits I was sure I’d seen Blair wear to camp, including the shirt she and Henry had both had on. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting the headless figures everywhere. The heads, not attached to the bodies, sat on a shelf with blond wigs on them. Two of the wigs looked just like Blair’s curly blond hair, and two of them were mullets, exactly like Mr. Drake’s heavy-metal-rocker style. It was hard to imagine that Blair and her dad were both bald. Maybe they shaved their heads, like in a religious ritual or something like that.