Tombquest: Book of the Dead

Into the Tomb

The center of the platform was hidden behind a gray curtain hanging down from the ceiling and wrapping around in a semicircle. It reminded Alex of the Under Construction curtains at the Met, but this one was much larger and made of a heavy material that muffled the strange sounds coming from behind it. He and Ren approached it slowly so Todtman could keep up. He was grimacing from the pain but still focused. "If we find the Stung Man," he said to Alex, "you know what you must do."

"Are you sure it will work?" said Alex.

Todtman paused.

"No."

"Wow," said Ren. "Might've been better if you lied to us on that one."

Todtman shrugged. "I think it will work ..." He looked at Ren, started over. "I believe it will — if Alex made the right choice."

Alex looked at both of them. "No pressure or anything," he said.

Ren glanced at him. "No offense, but do you think I should have made the choice?"

Alex didn't even pretend to be offended. He wished she could.

"Wearing the scarab comes with responsibilities, including the choice," said Todtman. "Besides, how much do you know about ancient funereal texts?"

"Good point," said Ren.

Alex looked away. How much did he know about them?

As they reached the curtain, the sounds of construction became louder. They found a long flap running just off center. "Ready?" said Todtman, one hand on the flap, the other on his amulet.

Alex clasped his own amulet and Ren doubled her grip on her flashlight, holding it like a club. "Ready," they said.

Todtman pulled back the curtain. As soon as it was open, the noise became ten times louder. A power saw whined as its diamond-edged blade cut through stone. Steel chains rattled as they slid through a large pulley. Todtman paused for a second and then stepped inside as sneakily as he could. Alex and Ren took deep breaths and followed.

Half a dozen of the beefiest construction workers Alex had ever seen cut and chipped and chiseled away at a large stone structure. None of them even looked up. They continued to work, their eyes blank and their shirts drenched with sweat.

The massive lion statue reclined in front of a tall opening in the back wall. No chiseling necessary, Alex knew. Lions were a symbol of power in ancient Egypt, guardians of the eastern and western horizon. Meanwhile, Ren stared at the facade the men were constructing. Lengths of the marble column had been cut into sections and lined up in front of it.

It didn't take long to find the missing stone blocks from the bridge, either. Alex was so fixated on the individual pieces that it took him a few moments to realize what they were looking at. "It's a tomb," he said.

It reminded him of the large tomb in the first room of the Egyptian wing at the Met, a big stone structure that provided a bold introduction to a culture where people often spent more on their tombs than their homes. But as impressive as it looked, this was just the front. The halved columns and chunky capstones framed a twelve-foot-tall passage leading deeper into the abandoned station. The lion stood guard out front.

"They're re-creating it for him," said Todtman, edging forward. His voice betrayed a certain grudging admiration for the work. "It's the Stung Man's tomb."

"And it will be yours, as well," a voice called out.

Al-Dab'u stepped out from the shadowy mouth of the tomb and advanced directly toward them. He wore the mask, and his guard's uniform had been replaced by a ratty brown robe that Alex could smell from ten feet away.