by H. R. Hobbs
Jabari ignored this. “The procession will have reached the pyramid by now. Rehema and Metjen will notice that I am not there and come looking for me.”
“And then what? They aren’t going to be able to get into the palace. Besides, Ammon could still be skulking around here somewhere.”
Mitch was starting to think Brock was right. They were never going to get out of here, let alone home.
“The high priest’s presence would be missed at the pyramid. I am certain he will have left by now,” Jabari said confidently. “I anticipate one of them will be along shortly.”
Jabari’s optimism irritated Mitch. The guards were no joke—he was sure that they’d be able to overpower Metjen and Rehema with ease. Brock didn’t seem convinced either. Mitch could hear his sandal scuffing back and forth against the stone floor over and over. The rhythmic sound gave Mitch something to focus on other than their situation. Hopefully, they weren’t going to be here long enough for Brock to wear a groove in the stone.
“I just want to go home.” Brock choked out the words.
“Me too,” Mitch whispered.
The cell was quiet. Mitch and Brock said nothing, each wrapped in the despair of their predicament. Mitch closed his eyes and imagined the farm. He smiled to himself, thinking of his pigs. He ached to see his parents and sister.
“Who do you miss the most?”
Brock didn’t answer right away, and Mitch thought maybe he’d gone to sleep too.
“My parents.”
“Yeah. What about your brother?”
“Eric?” Brock paused. “If you asked me that before we came here, I would have said not a chance. But now, if he called me ‘pipsqueak,’ I’d hug him rather than hit him.”
Mitch chuckled.
“That’s how I feel about Alyssa. Except she is always tattling on me. Still, I’d probably hug her for that too.”
The boys lapsed back into silence.
Mitch picked up some pebbles from the floor and began throwing them at the bars of their cell, which made him think about baseball and how he was pretty sure he’d never play that again. The rocks tinged off the bars with a satisfying sound. After the third one, a guard banged his spear against the bars and said something Mitch didn’t understand. But he guessed it was along the lines of “Cut that out!”
With nothing left to do, Mitch closed his eyes.
He was jolted awake with a kick to his foot.
“What . . . ?”
“Shh!”
Jabari slowly rose and went to the door of the cell. Sliding his arm between the bars, he gestured to someone.
Who was out there?
Just as Mitch was about to stand to see what was going on, Metjen was standing on the other side of the bars. He and Jabari spoke quietly as Metjen unlocked the door and opened it.
Brock and Mitch scrambled to their feet.
“Come. We must be quick!” Jabari said. “It took them longer to take down the guards than they anticipated.”
Metjen waved them out the door and along the dark corridor to the stairs and freedom.
A guard was slouched against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
“Is he dead?” Mitch asked as he gave the guard a wide berth.
“No,” Jabari answered from in front of them. “He is simply having a nice long nap.”
Mitch breathed a sigh of relief and followed Jabari up the stairs.
Rehema was standing watch at the top, casting worried glances in all directions. She spoke to her father sharply. Jabari replied calmly and turned to Mitch and Brock.
“Come. We need to hurry.”
Rehema had already started toward the great room.
“Wait!” Mitch called after her. “We need to get the spyglass and the scarab.”
Rehema frantically waved at them to follow her, frustrated when they didn’t move.
“If we don’t do it now, Brock and I will be stuck here forever. And when Ammon finds out we’ve escaped he’ll search the whole city to find us.”
Jabari said something to Rehema, who reluctantly joined the group.
“It is agreed,” Jabari said. “We need to get the spyglass and scarab before we leave.”
“But we don’t know where they are! We don’t have time to search the whole palace,” Brock noted.
“I think I know where he would put them,” Mitch said.
He started down the corridor toward the pharaoh’s chambers. The rest of the group followed him. When he came to stairs leading to the pharaoh’s chambers, he stopped at the top and checked to make sure there were no guards at their posts.
“There aren’t any guards. Follow me.”
They ran down the hall and turned to the entrance of the room where Mitch knew the book was kept and he figured the scarab and spyglass would be too.
“I was here once before, but I couldn’t get the door open.”
Jabari turned and spoke to Metjen.
Metjen studied the door. He inserted a piece of metal in a small opening and the door popped open. Mitch rushed inside and looked around. There were cupboards and shelves lining the walls.
“Split up and take a section.”
Doors opening and closing was the only sound in the room.
Mitch began to panic that he might have been wrong. Maybe Ammon put it in the cupboard of his office? But they didn’t have time to search there too. With one cupboard left, Mitch pulled open the doors.
It wasn’t there.
Where had Ammon hidden it? He frantically looked around the room. Cupboards covered all the walls but one. Mitch walked over and studied the inscriptions and symbols. When his eyes landed on a scarab, he knew the book had to be nearby. He pressed his thumb in the middle of the scarab’s body.
Suddenly, the piece of stone surrounding it moved back. There, laying in a small compartment, was a box. Taking it out, he opened it and nearly fainted with relief.
The spyglass and the scarab lay inside.
“I’ve got it!”
Everyone crowded around him to get a look.
Rehema hurried to the door, calling for them to follow.
“We need the book too!” Mitch said, panicking.
“Is this the book you’re talking about?” Brock held up the leather-bound book in triumph. “It was in the compartment under the box.”
Mitch stared, dumbfounded. In all the excitement of finding the spyglass and the scarab, Mitch hadn’t checked to see what else was in the compartment.
“Yes!” Mitch hugged Brock. “Now we can get out of here!”
With Metjen in the lead, the rest of the group followed him down the hallway to the corridor. There were no guards to be seen. They crept down the corridor and made their way to the great room.
It was then that they heard voices. Lots of them.
Rehema cried out in fear.
Mitch looked around for an escape. Finding none, he said, “We’ll go to my room. Ammon thinks we’re still in the dungeon. We’ll try to leave from there.”
Mitch started to lead them towards his room when he noticed that Jabari and Metjen still stood in the same spot. Brock and Rehema turned to see what he was looking at. Jabari gave Metjen a solemn nod and clasped Metjen’s hand.
“No!” Brock cried, understanding faster than Mitch. “Metjen, you have to come with us. If you stay here, they’ll kill you.”
Rehema pulled on Metjen’s arm. Words and sobs tangled together as Rehema pleaded with him to stay.
“It’s the only way,” Jabari said sadly. “Thank you, my friend. I can only hope to repay you for your sacrifice when we meet in the afterlife.”
Brock wrapped his arms around Metjen. “Thank you for everything you taught me.”
Metjen stood uncomfortably in Brock’s embrace before patting him on the back and uttering the only word he ever spoke in English. “Goodbye.”
Brock swiped at the tears on his face and nodded.
/> Metjen patted Mitch on the back. Mitch said nothing because of the lump in his throat.
Leaving Metjen, the group hurried off.
Thankfully, they made it to Mitch’s room without encountering anyone. On the balcony, they stood in a circle as Mitch removed the spyglass and scarab from the box.
“Are you sure this is going to work? The scarab hasn’t been blessed.”
“No, it hasn’t, but look! Praise be to the goddess Tefnut!”
Jabari pointed to the sky where dark clouds were circling. A boom of thunder, followed by a bolt of lightning, lit up the sky.
They watched as the storm drew closer and the wind picked up. Mitch gave the scarab to Brock and turned to Jabari. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. Please get out of here before Ammon finds you.”
“We will. Travel safely.” Jabari hugged them both.
Finally, Brock turned to Rehema. “If it wasn’t for you, we’d never have this chance. I’m going to miss you.” Rehema blushed, understanding his words. “If you’re ever in the future . . . look us up.” He laughed and she nodded shyly.
Mitch hugged Rehema. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.
Then he turned to where Brock waited with the scarab. “Ready?” he asked.
“More than ready.”
Mitch turned the sections of the spyglass to line up the arrows and then grasped Brock’s hand that held the scarab.
Immediately, the black mist began to circle their feet.
“Remember, get out of here,” Mitch repeated, feeling the earth fall away from them. Just as they were about to disappear, Jabari shoved the book in Mitch’s arms.
“Take that with you. Then you will never have to worry about Ammon again.”
And with that they were encircled in the mist. They began tumbling. Mitch clutched the book to his chest, afraid he would lose it, at the same time holding tight to Brock’s hand.
After what seemed like forever, they landed with a thump.
Chapter 28
Mitch groaned and rolled over. Straw? Had they only travelled back to the pig pen in the marketplace? For a brief second, Mitch wondered if the spyglass had only sent them in a time loop, and Rehema was about to walk in on them just as she had the first time they’d fell in here.
“We need to find a better way to land,” Brock said from beside him. “This is getting hard on my body.” Brock rolled over and groaned. “Don’t tell me. It didn’t work.”
At that moment, a pig came and sniffed Mitch’s face—and he let out a crow of delight. Grabbing the startled pig around the neck, he hugged him tight. “We’re home!” Mitch laughed. “I’ve never been so excited to see a pig in my life!”
“Where are we?”
“We’re in the barn at my house. It worked!” He grabbed two handfuls of hay and threw them in the air.
Brock looked around in awe. “We did it! We did it!” he repeated over and over.
“What are we going to tell our parents?”
Brock stopped his celebrations. “I never thought of that. I really didn’t expect us to get home, so I didn’t worry about it.”
Mitch picked up the spyglass and book. “Let’s go put these in the treehouse. By that time, we can think up a story on the way.”
Hopping out of the pen, they ran to the treehouse. His great-grandpa’s journal lay on the floor where they had left it.
Mitch picked it up.
“That’s weird. I thought for sure our parents would have found this when they were looking for us.”
“Maybe they didn’t look here?”
“Maybe . . .” Mitch agreed, but it still seemed strange.
With the book, spyglass, and scarab safely stashed in the wooden box, they started up to the house. Puddles of water lined the path as though it had just rained.
“We could say that we went out to the pasture and got lost,” Mitch suggested.
“I’m sure they searched the pasture over. Besides, we couldn’t have got far by the time they would come looking for us.”
“Okay, you come up with a story then.”
Brock thought. “We could tell them we were abducted by aliens?”
Mitch rolled his eyes. “That’s even more farfetched than what actually happened.”
They were nearly to the house. Brock let out a yelp of surprise. “That’s our truck!”
Mitch looked up to see he was right. The truck was sitting in the exact same spot as it had been the day they left.
“Maybe my mom’s here talking to your parents about searching for us.”
“Maybe . . .”
The boys opened the back door of the house.
Mitch hollered, “We’re home!” expecting people to come running from every direction.
Instead, his sister replied “Whoop-de-do” from the living room.
Mitch and Brock looked at each other in stunned silence. This was the welcome they received when they’d been gone for three months? Then Mitch remembered his great-grandpa. He’d been in Ancient Egypt for over a year, which had only been six months in his time.
“Are you ready to go?” Brock’s mom stood in the doorway. “What have you got on? You smell like you’ve been rolling around with the pigs, not playing catch.”
Mitch noticed that Brock’s mom was wearing the same clothes as on the day they left. Had they only been gone for a few hours?
“We . . . lost the ball?” Brock stuttered.
“So we went exploring in the treehouse and found these. We were pretending we were gladiators.”
Mitch heard Alyssa snort at the lie.
Lisa brushed back the hair on Brock’s forehead. “You need a haircut. And it looks like you’ve got a sunburn. We better get you home and get some aloe on that.” She turned back to the kitchen. “Thanks for the coffee, Sandy. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She led Brock out to the truck.
Mitch’s mom came to the doorway. “You guys did get a sunburn! How do you do that on a rainy afternoon? Come on. We better put something on it.”
Mitch waved to Brock in the truck and followed his mom into the house.
Later that night, Mitch laid on his bed staring at the ceiling. The boxes were gone from the end of his bed. He’d spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking his clothes and putting them in his dresser. The souvenirs Pops had given him from his travels lined his bookshelf. His mom stopped by and noticed him unpacking, but said nothing and left him to it.
After supper, instead of playing his video game, he went into the living room and watched television with his dad. His dad gave him a confused look, but said nothing.
Now, he soaked up the softness of his bed and how good his blankets felt. With his head propped on his arms, he felt content. He appreciated everything around him.
He took Great-Grandpa George’s journal off his nightstand and read it again. He turned to the section about when he was discovered in the village. He’d returned to his unit after that and was sent home. He wrote about how glad he was to be home. Mitch understood exactly what he meant. He felt more connected to his great-grandpa than he ever had before.
“Did your dad mention anything about the spyglass?” Brock was sitting on the floor of the treehouse, staring at the spyglass in its wooden box.
It was the next weekend and Brock had just arrived at the farm. Eric had dropped him off, shouting, “I’ll pick you up at four, pipsqueak!”
“I have to put it back today.” Mitch didn’t want to, but after their adventure, Mitch figured his dad was probably right. Then he brought up something that had been bothering him since he’d read his great-grandpa’s diary. “Do you think that George went on some other adventures after being toAncient Egypt?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Hank mentioned that he would disappear every once in a while over the years. Do you think he went on other adventures?”
“It’s possible, that’s for sure.”
/>
Ammon’s book sat in front of Mitch. He was afraid to open it, but felt that the answers lay in its pages.
“I hope Jabari and Rehema are okay.”
Mitch hoped so, too. Had Ammon taken their disappearance out on them? He hoped not.
“I think that if we are going to find out what Ammon was up to . . . the answers are in this book. And I think we owe it to Great-Grandpa George to find out.”
“And Jabari and Rehema and Sara. And Metjen,” Brock replied with a note of sadness.
Giving Brock a long look, Mitch opened the cover.
Acknowledgements
This book was inspired by two of my students and the great friendship that they shared.
Thanks to Kale F. for lending me the treasure chest that helped to inspire this book.
To you, the reader, thank you for taking the time to read my story. There is no greater compliment to a writer than having someone read their book. If you left a review, well, you ROCK!
To my editor, Spencer Hamilton, for your patience with all my questions as I wrote my first time-travel adventure, your editing expertise and suggestions that helped make this the best story it could be.
To Karen and Carla, for beta reading and providing feedback. You’re always there to read my stories and you’ll never know how much I appreciate your love of story and keen eye for detail.
To Dion, my writing accountability partner, for pushing me to do more, faster. Your encouragement helped me get this book out faster than expected.
To my friends, near and far, who have supported this crazy dream of mine. Some of you I’ve known many years and others I know virtually, but you always amaze and humble me with your enthusiasm and support. This wouldn’t be possible without you!
To my children and their families, who, by this time, are not surprised by any new adventure of mine. I hope to be a model that you’re never too old to follow your dreams.
Finally, to my husband, Terry, who keeps the house running, washes dishes, and makes meals while I write. Your support means the world to me!
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