Tut

by P. J. Hoover

  I figured I better hurry if I wanted to keep my guts out of Canopic jars. I bent down to examine the weapons. Like the sword, they were mine—things I used on a regular basis. Part of me wanted to grab them all and shove them into my tunic, but I didn’t figure that would help. So I grabbed the longest, pointiest knife of the bunch.

  “And this, Great Master,” the shabti leader said.

  Two shabtis stepped forward, holding a golden box over their heads. They flipped it open, and inside I saw the scrolls of the Book of the Dead. It was the single most powerful religious object in Egypt. The priests swore that spells from the Book of the Dead actually worked. That the spells summoned the power of the gods. But I’d never seen the magic or the power of the gods. All I’d seen so far was death.

  I took the scrolls. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

  “Use a spell, Great Pharaoh,” the leader said. “‘The Judgment of the Dead.’”

  “The spells don’t work.” Amun knows, I’d tried enough times.

  “They will,” the shabti leader said. “You must have faith in the gods.”

  Since I had nothing else, I figured I might as well give faith a shot. If the spell actually worked, it would give Horemheb a one-way ticket to the afterworld. And when his dead heart was judged by the gods by placing it on a scale and weighing it, there was no way he’d pass on to the Fields of the Blessed. He’d be eaten by the crocodile goddess, Ammut. I, on the other hand, would be free to find a way out of this tomb and figure out what I was going to do about Egypt.

  “Faith in the gods,” I said. “I’ll give it a try. May you live your days in the Fields of the Blessed.” I wasn’t sure if shabtis went to the Fields of the Blessed, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

  “We are here to serve you, Great Pharaoh,” the leader said. “Give us your next command.”

  “Nothing now.” Unless the shabtis could disembowel Horemheb and magically transport me out of here, I needed to do it myself.

  I ran into the burial chamber and set the box on the sarcophagus, flipping it open. I uncurled the scrolls, found the right spell, and started chanting the words, making sure I pronounced each word correctly. I wanted to give the gods every chance to help me.

  Nothing happened.

  “You understand that I had to do it, don’t you, Tut?” Horemheb sauntered into the room, acting like he was already pharaoh in my place.

  I wasn’t sure what he was talking about: killing my family, ousting me from the throne, or destroying every bit of trust I had in the world. I started the spell again. I chanted faster.

  “When my son died, I was lost,” Horemheb went on. “But the gods found me. Set found me. He saved me from my despair. He showed me the future. I fought him at first, telling him it wasn’t right. That your father shouldn’t die. But Set insisted. Just as he insists I kill you now.”

  I kept chanting even though at this point, the chance of the spell working was about the same as the sphinx coming to life. Horemheb lunged for me, grabbing me and pushing me against the sarcophagus. The scrolls fell from my hand. The lid of the sarcophagus slid open, and I just had time to look in at the golden coffin before Horemheb was on me, pressing me against the mummy case. The aroma of perfume mixed with incense crept up my nose until I forced myself not to breathe.

  “Do you like what you see, little Tut? Are you ready to take your proper place inside?” Horemheb had me pinned like a scorpion under a knife.

  Great Osiris, please don’t let him mummify me. Anything but mummification.

  “What’s wrong?” Horemheb asked. “Don’t you want to join your father in the afterlife?” He pressed his knife into my side.

  “Don’t you dare talk about my father.” I managed to get the words out even though my throat had constricted to about the width of a grain of sand.

  A drop of Horemheb’s disgusting sweat fell into my eye. I tried not to blink. That knife could be in my side faster than a cobra.

  “Akhenaton was a fool to anger the gods the way he did. He brought about his own end.” Horemheb twisted the knife into my tunic.

  “I told you not to talk about him. You’re unworthy to utter his name.”

  The Book of the Dead had failed me. The gods had failed me. I only had one option. I fumbled until I found the handle of my own knife, and I prepared to strike.

  But Horemheb struck first, tearing his knife into my side.

  My body reacted before my mind. I raised my knife and struck back.

  2

  WHERE I TALK TO THE GODS

  I fell to the ground, vaguely aware of Horemheb falling to the ground across from me. The world slowed down. Giant drops of blood fell onto the scrolls of the Book of the Dead.

  This was it. I was too late. I was going to die, and my only consolation was that Horemheb was going to die also. As I stared up at the painted ceiling, black mist filled the air, and words from the Book of the Dead twisted around in my mind. Days passed in that moment. Years. Time had no meaning. My body separated from reality and drifted.

  The god Osiris glided up to me. I knew it was him because his skin was dark green and he had a funny pointed hat with some ostrich feathers perched on his head. The two harvesting tools he was always holding were tucked under one arm. At his feet, palm fronds and flowers sprouted from the ground, and insects trailed after him by the thousands. They swarmed me just as he reached down with one hand and pulled me to my feet.

  “I can’t be dead,” I said. Horemheb was back in my tomb. What if he wasn’t dead? He’d rule Egypt and get away with his crimes. “You have to send me back.”

  “You assume I can,” Osiris said.

  “You’re a god. Can’t you do that?”

  “You tell me, Tutankhamun. Do you think I have the power?”

  I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been the most reverent pharaoh. The gods had done nothing for me so far in life except take away my family. But here was Osiris in front of me. And if there was a chance that he was real, I had to take it.

  “I think you have the power,” I said.

  Osiris grinned, so I figured it was the right answer.

  “I knew you believed in me,” Osiris said. “Horus always said you were a good kid. Said there was something special about you.”

  I highly doubted the gods were spending much time discussing me. I nodded so Osiris wouldn’t think I was being rude and so he would get on with making me alive again.

  “Are you ready for your future?” Osiris asked, waving his crook and flail in the air in front of him like some sort of witch doctor.

  “I’m ready.”

  No sooner were the words out of my mouth than Osiris began chanting. A glowing orb appeared on his palm. It pulsed light like the beating of a heart. I couldn’t stop staring at it, not even when he thrust his hands forward and shoved the object deep inside my chest.

  I snapped back to reality. I was in the tomb, on the floor. Light poured from my chest, illuminating the ceiling above me. Energy filled me. The pain where Horemheb had stabbed me was gone. I touched my stomach, but the blood was gone, too. There was no wound. Osiris had healed me. He’d put the glowing object inside me.

  I jumped to my feet. Horemheb was still on his back, and black mist pooled in the air above him. But the place where I’d stabbed him was gone, too. And just like me, there was a light coming from his chest. Maybe Osiris had healed me, but Set must have healed Horemheb also.

  The black mist grew and filled the air, making the light coming from my chest bounce around everywhere. Horemheb got to his feet.

  I ran for him, knife back in my hand, but this time, when my knife cut into his flesh, it healed over instantly. Horemheb started laughing. And then he took his knife and retaliated. My chest pounded, but not on the left where I usually felt my heart beating after running. This was in the center, where Osiris had put the glowing object. I pushed Horemheb away. Not only was there no pain in my side, I healed as quickly as Horemheb had. That st
opped Horemheb’s laughter.

  It seemed that, thanks to the will of the gods, I couldn’t kill Horemheb. The good part seemed to be that he couldn’t kill me, either. Horemheb looked as shocked as I did. His hands covered his own chest, but light exploded around his fingers. And then he started praying.

  “Great Set, you have granted me your favor. Curse my enemy and this tomb forever. Grant my freedom. Allow me, your humble servant, to rule the world in your name.”

  At his words, the black mist thickened and spread everywhere like it was alive and a thick sulfur smell filled the air, almost making me gag.

  I felt a tug on my sandal and looked down.

  “Osiris has granted you a way out,” the shabti leader said.

  “Out! I can’t leave Horemheb here alive.”

  But the shabti leader wrung his little hands. “You must. He’s invoked the wrath of Set. You heard the prayers. The gods have cursed these walls.”

  I shot one last look behind me. I could come back for Horemheb. Bring some help with me. He could have lied about the palace guard being dead. About the whole revolution thing. Even if he couldn’t die, he could be arrested and tortured for the rest of eternity for what he’d done.

  The leader of the shabtis took my silence for a yes.

  “This way,” he said, rushing for a tunnel.

  “Where are we going?” I ran behind him, making sure I didn’t step on his battalion. Given that they were only six inches tall, shabtis could run fast. And they did seem to stay out from underfoot.

  “A door shown to us by Osiris himself,” the leader said, stopping when we reached the end of the tunnel. “It’s here.”

  “Set is answering my prayers, Tutankhamun,” Horemheb said from what sounded like only steps behind me. “Soon you will be dead!”

  I glanced down. “If you don’t mind hurrying—”

  The leader moved aside. “You must pass through.”

  The tomb was solid stone. This was nothing but a dead end. “How?”

  The shabti leader only bowed to the ground. “Please, Great Pharaoh. You don’t have much time.”

  I felt the wall. It was solid rock. But the little shabti was insistent. So I closed my mind to sanity and remembered what Osiris had said.

  “I have faith, Osiris,” I prayed. “Show me the way out.”

  The thing in my chest pounded. I stepped forward, ignoring the fact that I was trying to step into solid limestone blocks. And something amazing happened. I passed right through.

  “Gods be praised!” I was halfway through the limestone, but I turned to look at Horemheb tearing down the tunnel after me. There was no way in all the realm of Anubis that Horemheb could be allowed to be free.

  “Tut, this is not over. Do not leave like a coward,” Horemheb said.

  “This is over,” I said. “You can rot in here for eternity!”

  I launched myself the rest of the way through the stone wall and looked at Horemheb one last time. There was no sign of him. Or the tomb. The whole thing had vanished, like it had been covered up by decades of sandstorms. I scanned the horizon, looking for the palace, the capital city, anything. But my Egypt had disappeared, and with it, my future.

  3

  WHERE I GO ON THE WORST FIELD TRIP EVER

  WASHINGTON, D.C.—PRESENT DAY

  Riding a school bus is torture when there are assigned seats. The last mile on the bus, stuck next to Seth Cooper, felt like five centuries instead of five minutes. I’d bet my one-eyed cat Horus’s other eye that Seth hadn’t washed his hands twice since September. And don’t get me started on his breath. It smelled like he ate dead fetal pigs for breakfast two months ago and hadn’t brushed his teeth since.

  I hurried off the bus, praying I wouldn’t be paired up with him for the entire field trip. There were things moving in his greasy red hair.

  “Don’t stick me with Tut,” Seth said to Mr. Plant, our World Cultures teacher.

  Seth hated me. Nobody ever hated me. I couldn’t understand it.

  Mr. Plant ignored Seth and started calling out pairings. I braced myself, waiting for the bad news.

  “Tut, you’re with Henry,” Mr. Plant said.

  Wait, what? If I was lucky enough to be paired with someone besides Seth, why did it have to be Henry Snider? Ever since school started two months ago, he’d been trying way too hard to be my best friend. He sat next to me in every class we had together, which was five out of eight, including lunch and Advisory. He kept asking me to get together and do stuff, like go to the movies or play video games. He talked constantly. It was bad enough that we were already science partners. Why couldn’t I get paired with the cute new girl who’d been sitting in the back of the bus?

  “We’re going to every exhibit,” Henry said, pushing his glasses up higher onto his nose. His shaggy blond hair was going in every direction, like he’d been caught in a sandstorm. Even though it was chilly out, he wore plaid shorts, faded gray Chucks wrapped in duct tape, and a short-sleeved purple shirt that read, SAVE PLUTO. There was nothing about Pluto that deserved to be saved. It never should have been called a planet in the first place.

  “Maybe you are,” I said. I’d seen all these exhibits a million times. Or at least all but one.

  “Partners,” Henry said. “It means we stick together, through it all. Fight the fights. Defeat the foes. I got your back. You got mine.”

  I wasn’t sure what he thought was going to happen on this field trip. Maybe the zombie apocalypse? He’d probably seen too many cheesy horror movies.

  “I got my own back. Thanks,” I said.

  Henry tried to bump my fist. He missed and ended up punching me in the arm instead.

  This is one of the problems with being immortal in eighth grade. I’d be this age forever. Other kids, like Henry for example, would get older each year. They’d move on, go to high school, be old enough to drive. I never would. I didn’t see much point in making new friends each year.

  “You’re welcome, compadre,” Henry said.

  Great Osiris, help me. I’d have skipped today if Gil hadn’t insisted I come. Just thinking about this whole exhibit was starting to make my skin turn green. Yeah, green. It’s this weird, thanks-to-Osiris thing that happens to me when I get nervous. But in my defense, these were the King Tut treasures we were talking about. Last time I’d seen them was in the seventies. Back then, I’d been the first in line. Big mistake. I was depressed for years. All my stuff being paraded around the country, like some carnival, and I couldn’t have any of it. But the worst part was the memories it brought back. Memories of Egypt and my family and happiness.

  “Seth, you’re with Tia,” Mr. Plant said.

  No way. Seth got the new girl? And I was stuck with Henry?

  Tia wore baggy cargo pants, combat boots, and a bright pink athletic shirt. She had eyes that were as blue as lapis lazuli, which were stones used in all sorts of stuff from ancient Egypt, and a giant pink streak ran through her short dark hair. Her wrists were layered in bracelets, and at least five different necklaces hung from her neck. But the thing that won me over was the way she accidentally jabbed her elbow into Seth when she marched over to join him. He winced and opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. It was almost like they knew each other and already despised each other. Seth had that effect on people.

  “Someone told me she got kicked out of Catholic school for fighting,” Henry whispered to me.

  “Who?” I asked, pretending I wasn’t just staring at her.

  “Tia,” Henry said. “They say this is her third school so far this year.”

  Seeing as how we were only two months into the school year, Tia’s troublemaking skills must be the thing of legend.

  My chance to ask anything else about her was cut off when Mr. Plant blew his whistle. Yes, whistle. I felt like a two-year-old.

  “First, the project,” he said.

  Everyone groaned. Homework was bad enough. A three-week-long project was worse than hauling rocks a
round in the blazing hot desert to build pyramids for dead kings.

  “Your partners assigned here will be your partners for the project. Your job is to study the artifacts you see today and then pick one to present to the class. You’ll be graded not only on your research but on your originality, creativity, and presentation skills. The project will count for fifty percent of your final grade.”

  “You’re in luck,” Henry said. “My presentation skills are awesome.”

  That made sense. He did talk constantly, so he had plenty of practice.

  “And now, I’d like you to meet our tour guide.” Mr. Plant motioned to a redheaded guy with yellow eyes standing next to him. I guess the tour guide was taking the whole King Tut exhibit thing pretty seriously. He was dressed in some toga-looking loincloth tunic that actually resembled the real thing. Maybe he’d patterned it off the images from my tomb. It had been all the rage back in the day. Now he just looked like some kind of Halloween reject.

  The tour guide caught me staring and smiled. My nerves prickled to the very edges of my skin. Coming to this exhibit was a horrible idea. I should have faked being sick today.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Henry said. “You look green.”

  “It’s the lighting,” I said, and tried to make the green go away.

  Henry pulled his wiry glasses from his eyes and cleaned them with the bottom of his Pluto T-shirt.

  “No, you still look green,” he said once he slid his glasses back onto his nose.

  Mr. Plant blew his whistle again and we followed him up the stairs in two lines, me next to Henry and Seth behind us next to Tia. When Mr. Plant got to the King Tut exhibit entrance, he put the whistle to his mouth like he was going to blow it again.

  Our tour guide yanked it from Mr. Plant’s mouth and threw it across the room. “Do not disturb the tomb of the pharaoh,” he bellowed.

  “Tomb of the pharaoh,” Seth said from behind me. “I heard he was a puppet ruler. That he was too incompetent to make a single decision on his own.”

  I bit my tongue. I didn’t need to justify myself or my rule to some smelly eighth-grade loser.