The Mummy's Curse Page 4

“You know—for the sake of our mission.”

  It was getting late, and we were both totally beat. We got ready for bed and were halfway to dreamland when a piercing scream brought us both back to full alertness.

  It came from the direction of Sam Chilton’s cabin.

  We ran for all we were worth. The door to Sam’s cabin was wide open. She was inside—alive, thank goodness. She looked shaken up, though.

  “What happened?” I asked, taking her gently by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I mean, no! I’m not fine. You wouldn’t be fine either, if you’d just been knocked down by a mummy!”

  5 Things Start to Unravel

  At first I thought she was joking. I’d read in the tabloids that Samantha Chilton had pulled off some pretty extreme pranks in her time. But she seemed really scared—her face was ghostly white, and she was shaking all over.

  “Calm down,” Joe told her, holding her firmly by the shoulders and leaning his forehead against hers. “Take a deep breath. That’s it.”

  Samantha had her eyes closed, but she was still shaking like a leaf.

  “You’d better sit down,” Joe said, “and tell us what happened.”

  She sat on the edge of her bed, and Joe sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders, comforting her.

  Just as I was thinking what Tommy would do if he saw the two of them like that, he burst in through the door. With a roar, he grabbed Joe, yanked him to his feet, lifted him up, and shook him like a rag doll.

  “What did you do to my girl?” he yelled. “I swear I’ll tear you from limb to limb if you hurt her!”

  “Tommy, stop it!” Samantha shouted. “Leave him alone—he was just trying to help me.”

  “Yeah, right. Keep your hands off her,” he told Joe before throwing him across the cabin.

  Joe landed hard. “Ow!” he said. “Hey, what’d I ever do to you?”

  “Did he hurt you?” Tommy asked her, ignoring Joe.

  “They just came in here because I screamed,” she tried to explain.

  “Why’d you scream?”

  “Because there was a mummy in here!” she said, getting all riled up again.

  “A what?”

  “A mummy! A mummy! What are you, deaf?”

  “What do you mean, a mummy?” Tommy asked.

  “I was up at the front of the ship, trying to get a cell phone signal so I could call my mom. Of course I couldn’t get through—it’s just one big dead zone around here.”

  Dr. Volsky’s head peered around the side of the door, followed by Theo’s. “What’s going on?” Theo asked.

  Dr. Mounir appeared, and Leila, Nels, and Jurgen followed, crowding into the doorway.

  “There,” Joe told Sam. “Everybody’s here now. You can just tell the story once and be done with it.”

  “I came back here to the cabin, and my door was locked. And I thought, ‘That’s funny, they only lock from the inside.’ And just as I was about to go get the steward, the door opens, and this … this thing is standing there! I started screaming, and it knocked me over and ran.”

  “Which way did it go?” Theo asked.

  “I don’t know … that way, I think,” she said, pointing toward the stern. “But I’m not really sure. I was just so scared….”

  “Did you chase after the mummy?” Leila asked her.

  “Are you kidding me? Would you have? I’m telling you, I was totally terrified. I still am!”

  “We know,” Volsky said. “We all heard the scream.”

  “Well, there’s a mummy on this boat,” Samantha said. “You’d have screamed too if you saw him!”

  “Listen,” Dr. Volsky said, “you’re overtired. You probably had a bad dream that seemed very real—”

  “I did not have a dream!” Samantha insisted. “I was wide awake! Doesn’t anybody here believe me? Dr. Mounir, you believe in mummies, right?”

  Mounir looked embarrassed. “I do indeed—but the ones I have seen with my own eyes have always been as still as the grave.”

  “You said yourself, there are mummies’ curses!”

  “Yes. And I believe it is true that you saw the mummy, Ms. Chilton, but perhaps it was only in your mind—perhaps you have been sent this vision because the Golden Mummy’s spirit does not want foreigners to enter his burial chamber. Perhaps you should stay behind and allow Egyptians to lead the expedition to uncover the tomb.”

  Was Mounir taking advantage of Samantha to get what he wanted?

  Samantha put her hands to her head and screamed again. “It was not a vision! It was a real mummy—it knocked me down, for goodness’ sake! Why does nobody believe me?!”

  “All right, all right,” Tommy said. “We’ll go search the ship. If there’s a mummy on board, we’ll find him for you. And I’ll snap his neck like a twig!”

  “It won’t help,” Joe said. “Mummies are already dead.”

  Tommy’s lip curled menacingly. “I don’t care,” he said, giving Joe a warning look. “Nobody messes with my girlfriend. Nobody, alive or dead.”

  “Thank you, Poopsie,” Samantha told Tommy. “But somebody’s got to stay with me—I can’t be alone in here, and I’m not going searching for that … that thing!”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Joe offered.

  “Not a chance, pal,” Tommy said, stepping between him and Samantha. “I’ll stay with her. You go search.”

  “Whatever,” Joe said, knowing better than to argue with a former Mr. Universe who’d already shown us what he could do to people he disliked.

  “Come on, everybody,” I said. “Let’s break into groups and search the whole ship. Check every cabin, every closet.”

  Leila, Mounir, and Volsky took the bow. Theo and his video crew went down below, to the crew’s quarters and the engine room. Joe and I headed toward the stern, where Sam had last seen the so-called mummy.

  We checked every cabin along the way. As Samantha had noticed, the doors to the cabins locked only from the inside, and they were all empty, since everyone was out searching for the mummy.

  “You’ve really made a friend in Tommy,” I joked, opening a door and peeking inside.

  But Joe didn’t laugh. “Hey, Frank, you don’t believe in this mummy story of hers, do you?”

  I looked around, found nothing, and shut the door. “I don’t believe in walking, talking mummies who knock women down, no. But somebody was in that cabin, nosing around.”

  “Oh, yeah? How do you know? It didn’t look ransacked or anything.”

  “No,” I agreed, continuing on to the next door. “Whoever went through it was being careful. They took the trouble to dress like a mummy, so that if they got caught, they could get away without their identity being revealed.”

  “But who could it have been?” Joe wondered.

  “Anyone,” I said. “Everyone was in his or her cabin, supposedly.”

  “So somebody wraps up to look like a mummy, in case he or she is caught?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You think someone on the ship is after Roger Corson’s map?” he asked.

  “Exactly. That map has to be in Samantha’s cabin. If someone got their hands on it, they could beat everyone else to the tomb and make off with the entire treasure!”

  “Do you think the criminal found it?”

  “No, or the mummy would have been gone by the time Sam came back.”

  We were at the stern now. “Sam’s cabin is pretty near the bow,” Joe said. “So it makes sense that the mummy would run this way. More places to hide.”

  “There’s another reason,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  “They had to get rid of the wrapping.”

  “The wrapping?”

  “Joe, if you want to dress up like a mummy, you need a whole lot of gauze.”

  “Riiight …,” Joe said, getting it. “So they came back here, knowing everyone would be rushing to Sam’s cabin. And they tossed the wrappin
g overboard, so there wouldn’t be any proof of Sam’s story.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, then, there’s not much point in our staying back here, is there?”

  “No. Unless …”

  “Unless they didn’t toss it far enough,” Joe finished for me. He leaned over the railing, peering down in the darkness. “Hey … I think I see something down there!”

  He climbed over the railing and lowered himself over the other side.

  “Hey! Be careful!” I shouted after him as he dangled, swinging back and forth until he dropped down on the edge of the lower deck, where the crew had their quarters. Then he reached over that railing and down toward the water.

  Something was trailing off a hook that protruded from the back of the ship, near the exhaust pipe.

  Something white, streaming out into the black water.

  Joe reeled it in and held it up for me to see. “Gauze!” he shouted.

  So much for the live mummy theory.

  We took our find back to show the others. They had already finished their searches and had found nothing.

  “So it wasn’t a real mummy after all,” Samantha said, her hands on her hips.

  She had really been scared when she thought there was a real mummy around. But no mere human wrapped in gauze was going to keep Sam Chilton from being the first to find the Golden Mummy’s tomb and getting all the televised glory for herself.

  “Well,” said Dr. Mounir, “I see that in this case, you are correct. It was not a mummy, for sure, but a live human being. That does not mean, however, that there is no mummy’s curse.”

  “Mummy’s curse? Yeah, right,” Tommy said. “Ha! What a load of baloney! I’ll bet you’re the one who did it, just to scare us into calling off the expedition!”

  “That is an outrageous accusation!” Dr. Mounir shouted, pointing a fat finger skyward. “I demand a full apology!”

  “No way!” Tommy shot back.

  “Apologize to Dr. Mounir, Tommy,” Sam demanded.

  “Huh?”

  “It wasn’t him, I’m sure of that.”

  “How do you know?” Tommy asked. “It could have been anybody, since everyone was in their own cabin.”

  “Yes,” Dr. Mounir agreed, glaring at Tommy. “Even you, sir.”

  “It wasn’t Dr. Mounir,” Samantha repeated. “I’d have known. There aren’t too many—ahem—chubby mummies.”

  Dr. Mounir made a face, then glared at everyone—especially me and Joe. Clearly, he was unhappy about the attention. He had tried to convince Sam Chilton to give up the expedition and to let him uncover the mummy’s tomb himself—and now everyone was putting the pieces together. Not just us.

  Joe and I, it seemed, had just made another enemy. And even if Mounir wasn’t the one who’d broken into Sam’s cabin, he might still have been behind it.

  • • • •

  The next morning Joe and I woke up with the sun streaming through the curtains of our cabin. Our ship had already docked, and porters were busy unloading the tents, food, and other goods that would be traveling into the desert with us on the backs of our camels.

  The camels were lined up below, just beyond the dock. Workers were strapping bundles of food, tents, video equipment, and other tools onto their backs.

  Soon we, too, would be riding on those strong backs, into the empty desert that began just a few miles from the river’s edge.

  Everyone was shouting. Foremen barked orders to the porters, the porters yelled at each other, passersby offered advice at the tops of their lungs.

  Theo, Nels, and Jurgen were videotaping the entire scene. I had to admit, this would definitely make a cool opening scene for a reality TV show.

  Over to one side of the row of camels, Samantha was standing with Tommy. He was checking off the names of the workmen on his clipboard, and Sam was paying them with wads of Egyptian money.

  Joe and I got washed and dressed, packed up what little we had unpacked, and headed down the gangplank to join the commotion.

  By the time we got to Samantha and Tommy, they were into yet another argument with Dr. Mounir. This time it seemed to be a fight over which workmen were going to be hired for our journey.

  “No,” Mounir was saying, “I cannot allow those men to join the expedition.” He pointed to a group of six young men in jellabias, the long, white garments reaching down to the knees that several of the locals wore. “They have not been cleared by government security. These are very sensitive treasures we are talking about. Not just anyone is fit to handle them.”

  “And you think those guys are more trustworthy?” Tommy asked, pointing to another group of men standing behind Dr. Mounir.

  This group looked a lot less shipshape than the first bunch. One had a long scar going all the way down the side of his face. Another wore a black eye patch. All six of them wore long, curved knives in their belts, and they looked as if they would kill you as soon as look at you.

  “These men are from my personal staff,” Dr. Mounir assured Samantha and Tommy. “You can trust them with your very lives.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass on that,” Tommy muttered.

  Joe and I were standing about thirty feet away. Suddenly Dr. Volsky appeared beside us. I guess he’d been watching the argument too.

  “I don’t trust that fellow,” he muttered, loud enough for us to hear him.

  “Who? Dr. Mounir?” I asked.

  Volsky nodded. “I’ve known him for years, of course. He forced the old director of antiquities out and brought in his own team. None of them are experts in the field, mind you—but all are completely loyal to him.”

  “Are you saying he’s corrupt?” Joe asked.

  Volsky let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t have to say it. He reeks of corruption, and everyone in the field knows it. He makes only a modest salary, yet he lives in a fantastic mansion and has chauffeurs to drive him everywhere. Mark my words: Ms. Chilton will rue the day she agreed to let him come along on this expedition.”

  “Seems to me like she didn’t have much choice,” I said.

  He grunted. “Perhaps not. But she will be sorry nevertheless. Dr. Mounir is up to something evil, mark my words.” With that, he walked away to inspect the row of camels.

  “You know,” Joe said, “I have to agree with the little guy. Those camel drivers of Mounir’s look like a bunch of thugs.”

  “You noticed,” I said. “Yep, I think we’d better stay extra alert. Mummy’s curse or not, I’ve got a funny feeling that Sam Chilton’s in real danger here.”

  6 Into the Desert

  I didn’t like the looks of this showdown, and neither did Frank. Our job was to protect Sam Chilton, and Dr. Mounir’s six guys looked like they were ready to strike.

  From the bits of conversation we could hear (lots of it was in Arabic, between the newly hired crew and Mounir), it seemed like two of the men were desert guides, three were porters to lift and carry all our heavy gear, and one was going to be our cook.

  Just when it seemed like things were wrapping up, a tall, thin man in a jellabia stepped forward. He had a long beard, and wore a white kaffiyeh headdress.

  “Please, madam!” he shouted as he approached the group on the dock. “I am Ahmed, the Happy Hippie! I am here to guide you into the desert!”

  “No, thanks, pal,” Tommy said, stepping between the Happy Hippie and Sam. “We’ve already got our guides lined up.”

  “Those two?” Ahmed said with a laugh. “They do not know how to find the back end of a donkey!”

  The two men he was pointing at reached for their knives, but Tommy took charge before things got out of hand. “These are official guides from the Egyptian Ministry of Antiquities,” he told the disappointed Ahmed.

  Suddenly the Happy Hippie smiled again. “I will be your cook, then!” he shouted, clapping his hands and doing a little dance that made Sam laugh.

  None of Mounir’s men even smiled. They looked at Ahmed suspiciously, and why not? This guy had com
e out of nowhere—literally—and was trying to mess up the sweet deal their boss had just rammed down Sam Chilton’s throat.

  “We’ve got our cook, too,” Tommy said, pointing to the guy Mounir had brought in for that purpose.

  “Him? I can see that his hands have never even made hummus!” Ahmed said. “Have you tried his cooking?”

  “My cooking is the best in all of Egypt!” the accused man shot back. His hand reached for the handle of his knife, ready for action.

  “Then you must taste it and decide for yourselves!” Ahmed told Tommy and Sam. “Afterward, you shall taste mine, and then we shall see whose is better.”

  “We don’t have time for that,” Tommy insisted. “We’re getting ready to leave now.”

  “It is all right,” Mounir’s chosen cook said. “I have some of my famous hummus right here.”

  He reached into his sack and took out a covered plastic bowl and some pita bread. He put them down and reached back into the sack. “I know I’ve got a spoon in here somewhere,” he muttered.

  The entire group was watching him try to find the spoon. Meanwhile, unnoticed by everyone (except me and Frank, who were standing right behind him), Ahmed reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. Kneeling down, partly hidden by the other man’s robe, he sprinkled some white powder onto the hummus when no one was looking. Our “Happy Hippie” was an accomplished cheater.

  “Here,” Mounir’s cook said, picking up the bowl and passing it to Sam along with a piece of the bread. “Try my famous hummus for yourself!”

  Sam reached for the bread and dipped it into the hummus.

  “No!” I shouted. “Sam—wait!”

  It had all happened so fast—and I hadn’t acted quickly enough. By the time I shouted my warning, Sam had already tasted the hummus.

  Was I too late? Would she drop dead right there on the dock, poisoned by this sinister stranger?

  Sam made a face. “Yuck!” she said, spitting once or twice just to get rid of the aftertaste. “That is the most awful crud I’ve ever tasted!”

  “What?” the cook said, astonished. “Here, let me taste that.” He tried it, and spat it out just as Sam had. “Something is wrong,” he said, confused.