The Haunting Hour Read online

  “But check this out, Connor.” Josh bent into the closet and pulled out a ball of something. “Strips of cloth,” he said. He started to pull it apart.

  “They probably use it for dusting,” I said.

  “But it looks a lot like mummy gauze,” Josh replied. “There’s piles and piles of it in there.” He laughed. “Enough to make our own mummy.”

  I stared at Josh. Josh stared back at me.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.

  He was.

  We had to work fast. It was a simple plan. Josh wrapped me up in the cloth until I looked like a mummy. Then I climbed into the empty mummy case. I crossed my arms over my chest and stretched out.

  “Quick. Go get Joanna,” I said. The layer of cloth muffled my voice. “Hurry, Josh. It’s hard to breathe.”

  Josh peered down at me. I could barely see him through the gauze. “After I bring Joanna and the others, you sit up very very slowly, okay? And whisper Joanna’s name.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  “She’ll jump out of her skin!” Josh exclaimed.

  “Just hurry…” I begged. “My face itches, and I can’t scratch. And it’s hot in here.”

  He disappeared. I settled against the stone case bottom. I tried to relax, but I was really uncomfortable.

  The stone was hard. And I was already sweating.

  I shut my eyes and counted to ten.

  Where are they? What is taking so long?

  Finally I heard voices. I sucked in a deep breath and held it. It would spoil the joke if someone saw me breathing.

  Poor Joanna, I thought. In a few seconds I’m going to scare her to death!

  The voices came closer. I could hear them right above me.

  My heart started to race. Time to do my mummy act, I told myself.

  Slowly, very slowly, I raised my head and began to sit up. “Joanna…” I whispered.

  I waited for the screams.

  Instead, I heard a man’s voice. “Prince Akor, there you are.”

  “Huh?” I gasped. I sat up straight.

  “We have been searching for you,” the man said.

  “Whoa. I’m s-sorry?” I stammered. He’s a museum guard, I thought. He’s caught me in this valuable mummy case. I’m in major trouble.

  I fumbled with the strips of cloth and managed to tug the cloth away from my eyes. “I—I’m really sorry,” I started. “It was just a joke. I—”

  I gasped as I saw the men standing around the mummy case.

  They were short and thin and very tanned. Their heads were shaved bald.

  They wore knee-length white robes that looked a lot like girls’ dresses. And leather sandals with straps that went all the way up their legs.

  I frantically tore away strips of cloth. “Who…are you?” I asked.

  And as I stared at them in shock, I realized that the room had changed. The dark, tiled museum walls were gone, as was the low green ceiling. These walls were made of bright-yellow brick that seemed to reach up to the sky. The room was enormous!

  The other mummy case had vanished. Flaming torches hung on the walls. A giant golden statue of an owl towered over the doorway.

  My mind was spinning. “This…this is unreal,” I whispered.

  An older man in a long white gown reached out a tiny tanned hand to help me from the case. He had bright-blue eyes and a tight smile. Wrapped around his head was a white-and-blue headdress that hung down over the sides of his face to his shoulders.

  “Prince Akor,” he said. “So this is where you are hiding. We have been searching for you since the sun’s first light.”

  “Prince what?” I cried. “There is a big mix-up here. I’m—I’m not a prince.” My voice came out high and shrill. I was so frightened, so stunned and confused, I didn’t sound like me at all.

  His smile faded. Those bright-blue eyes burned into mine. “Fear not,” the man said. “You are in my hands, Prince Akor. As you have always been.”

  “But—but—you don’t understand!” I sputtered. “I don’t know how I got here. I—”

  “We all know why you were hiding here,” the man said, nodding solemnly. He placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed them. “We cast no blame for your terror.”

  “My—what?” I cried out again.

  The man turned to the others. I counted six of them, all tanned and bald, all standing stiffly in their white robes. “Priests, take the prince to the altar,” he ordered.

  They all bowed their heads in unison. “Yes, High Priest,” they said.

  “No. Wait!” I shouted. “It’s a mistake! I—I’ve got to find Joanna and the other kids.”

  I took off. I didn’t know who these men were. I just knew I had to get away.

  I started for the door, but the men surrounded me. They formed a tight wedge and forced me to move with them. The High Priest led the way.

  “You’re making a big mistake!” I shouted. “I’m not who you think I am!”

  We walked through a long, wide tunnel lighted by torches all along the wall. The tunnel seemed endless. My legs shook so hard, I could barely walk. My brain spun with questions.

  How did this happen? I asked myself. This looks like ancient Egypt. But how can that be? Who is Prince Akor? Where are these men taking me?

  The tunnel led to a big chamber that reminded me of a church. The altar at one end was covered with tall candles. Black cats stalked everywhere. A large golden sun hung across from the altar.

  “All bow to Ra, the God of Sunlight,” the High Priest ordered. The priests all bowed, murmuring strange words to themselves.

  The High Priest stepped forward and took my hand. “I am sorry for your fear, Prince Akor. But it will not last long.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but only a squeak came out. My heart was beating too hard for me to talk!

  The High Priest led me away from the altar. We crossed to the other end of the vast chamber.

  “Oh no,” I said when I saw what stretched across the back of the room. An enormous square pit of bubbling tar.

  “We have all heard of the plot against your life,” the High Priest said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Your enemies plan to murder you—and leave your body unmummified. These evil ones plan to rob you of your afterlife!”

  I stared at him. My mouth dropped open. His words weren’t making any sense to me.

  Was he saying that someone planned to kill the Prince? And not turn him into a mummy?

  I knew that the ancient Egyptians believed in life after death. And I knew they believed that a body had to be mummified in order to have a life after death. But what did all that have to do with me?

  “Fear not,” the High Priest said, taking my hand again. “I have taken care of you since childhood, my Prince. I shall not allow these enemies of Egypt to rob you of your afterlife. I will mummify you today!”

  “No!” I finally found my voice. I finally understood what he was saying.

  “Listen to me!” I screamed. “You’ve got it all wrong!”

  The six priests all gasped in shock. The High Priest took a step back.

  “You’re trying to kill the wrong guy!” I told them. “I’m not your Prince Akor. My name is Connor Franklin. And I don’t come from here. I’m from Cincinnati, Ohio.”

  The men started to mutter. The High Priest waved to them to stop. He frowned at me, his blue eyes studying me hard.

  “I live in the United States!” I cried. “In the twenty-first century! This is all some kind of crazy mix-up.”

  By the time I finished, I was gasping for breath, my chest heaving up and down. I waited for the High Priest to speak.

  “You have had these dreams before, Prince Akor,” he said softly. The priests all nodded.

  The High Priest reached forward and began to unwind the strips of cloth that still covered me. I gasped when I saw what I was wearing underneath. Not my jeans and T-shirt. A short white skirt!

  “This is crazy!” I cried. “I
don’t come from here. I come from far in the future!”

  “If that is true, how do you understand us?” the High Priest asked, speaking softly and patiently. “How do you speak our language?”

  Good question.

  I stared at him openmouthed. I didn’t have an answer.

  “You have dreamed before that you lived in a future time,” the High Priest said. “But you must realize that you are awake now. The dream is ended.”

  He placed his hand tenderly on my shoulder. “I promised your father, the Pharaoh, that I would always take care of you. And I will keep that promise. I will mummify you before the night falls.”

  My whole body shuddered. “No, please. Listen to me!” I begged.

  “Of course you are afraid, my Prince,” the High Priest said. “But you will be given a potion to dull your senses. You will not feel the burn of the hot tar. When the ceremony is over, you will be lost to Egypt. But you shall live forever with the gods in the afterworld.”

  A low cry escaped my throat.

  No thanks, I thought. I’m outta here! As soon as someone turns his back, I’m outta here!

  “Priests, take him to rest in his chamber while I prepare the tools,” the High Priest commanded.

  Once again the six men surrounded me and forced me to walk with them. They led me to a large chamber filled with brightly colored cushions. Hanging from the high ceiling, silky blue curtains fluttered in a gentle breeze.

  “Rest, Prince Akor,” one of the priests said, bowing his head. “We will come for you soon.”

  The heavy door closed hard behind them.

  I realized I didn’t have a second to waste.

  I ran to the door and tried it. Bolted shut.

  I turned and saw the long curtains swaying gently. There is a breeze, I realized, so there must be a window.

  Yes! Hidden behind the curtains was a small window, shaped like a triangle, high on the yellow stone wall.

  I scrambled over the cushions to the wall. The window was over my head. But I grabbed the sill with both hands and pulled myself up.

  I looked outside. In the far distance a red sun was setting over low hills of yellow sand. I stared down to a brick courtyard far below. It was a steep drop straight down. Nothing to break my fall.

  It was a tight fit, and the window was tiny. But I had no choice. I had to try it. It was my only chance to keep my brain from being pulled out of my nose and my body from being wrapped in hot tar and gauze.

  Huddled on the narrow sill, I swung my legs out the window. Then I slowly pushed my head out…my chest…my arms.

  I took a deep breath—and jumped, landing hard on my feet.

  “Ow.” Pain shot up from both ankles. My legs folded. I fell to the pavement.

  Get up! I ordered myself. No time to waste.

  Ignoring the pain, I climbed to my feet. I searched the courtyard. No one here. But I knew that the High Priest would soon be sending all of his men after me.

  My eyes scanned the wall of the building. It seemed to stretch forever. Was that a doorway down near the far end?

  I took off, running despite the pain that throbbed from my ankles. I needed someplace to hide, someplace where I could think. Where I could try to figure out my next move.

  I ducked into the darkness of the open doorway. I blinked hard, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light.

  I saw torches on the walls. And then, in their darting light, I saw the mummy case.

  I was back in the chamber where they had found me. I took a deep breath and held it, trying to slow my racing heart. The mummy case glowed dully in the dancing torchlight.

  Suddenly I had an idea. A desperate idea. But an idea.

  My sweaty hands slipped on the stone as I hoisted myself into the mummy case. Quickly I stretched out on my back and crossed my hands over my chest.

  The High Priest said I’ve had dreams before, I thought.

  But this is the dream. This isn’t real. I’m dreaming now.

  I’m dreaming that I’m in ancient Egypt. I’m dreaming that I’m a Prince who is about to be mummified.

  If I can fall asleep, I can dream myself back. I can wake up back in Cincinnati where I belong. If I can fall asleep, I can get myself back to Joanna’s birthday party.

  I shut my eyes. The stone case felt cool on my hot body. I tried to force myself to relax.

  “Please—let me wake up in that mummy case in the science museum,” I begged out loud. “Please—let me wake up in the twenty-first century. Let me wake up in that mummy case….”

  I forced myself to breathe slowly…slowly….

  I tried to clear my mind.

  Darkness washed over me. A soothing, calm darkness.

  I don’t know how long I slept. But as I awakened, I heard voices.

  I gazed up and saw a low green ceiling over my head.

  Yes!

  I’m back, I realized. I wished myself back to the twenty-first century. What a horrifying dream I had!

  I felt so happy, I wanted to jump up and dance around the museum.

  But for some reason I couldn’t move.

  Why can’t I move? I wondered.

  The voices came closer. They were right above me now.

  Kids poked their heads over the mummy case. They gazed down at me.

  Who are those kids? I don’t know them. Where are my friends?

  “Ooh, gross,” a boy said, shrinking back from me.

  “Sick,” a girl beside him groaned. “Look at the putrid stains. He’s all decayed.”

  Wait. Why are they saying that? I thought.

  “Bet he has worms crawling in him,” a boy said.

  “That’s disgusting.”

  The faces disappeared. I stared up at the ceiling, thinking hard.

  And I knew what had happened. It took me a while, but I figured it out.

  Yes, I was back in Cincinnati. Yes, I was in the mummy case in the science museum.

  “No!” I wanted to scream. “No! It can’t be! It can’t be! I’M THE MUMMY!”

  Are We There Yet?

  INTRODUCTION

  ILLUSTRATED BY GREG CALL

  For our summer vacations, my parents used to take us on long car trips. My brother and sister and I were squeezed in the backseat—and we’d argue and fight the whole way.

  As we rode, my mom would point out every cow and horse. My dad always got lost. We hated these trips! They always ended with the three of us kids screaming, “Let us out of this car!”

  “No problem,” my mom would shoot back. “This is a one-way trip. You don’t have to ride back with us.” She meant it as a joke. But I always wondered—what if she was serious?

  My brother, Artie, and I did not want to go on a long car trip with my parents. We were unhappy, and we didn’t keep it a secret.

  “Are we there yet?” Artie whined, hunched beside me in the backseat.

  Mom laughed. “Artie—we just backed down the driveway!”

  “But when are we going to get there?” he asked.

  “We’ll get there when we get there,” Dad said, slowing for a stop sign. Dad likes to talk in mysteries.

  I don’t like mysteries. I like to get to the point. “Why are we taking this stupid car trip?” I groaned.

  “For a vacation,” Mom said.

  “But we always go to the beach for our vacation,” I said.

  “Not this year,” Dad said, his eyes straight ahead on the road.

  Beside me, Artie had settled back against the seat and was punching away at the Game Boy he held in his lap. “Richie Corwin went on a car trip with his parents last week,” Artie said.

  “Did he enjoy it?” Mom asked.

  Artie shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t come back yet.”

  We passed several cars as Dad slid into the center lane of the highway. “Pam and Kelly went on car trips this summer too,” I said.

  “See, Tammi? It’s the cool thing to do!” Mom said.

  “Did either of them come back
yet?” Dad asked.

  Something about the way he asked that question made me pause. His voice sounded so strange—kind of tight.

  “No. Not yet,” I said.

  “Where are we?” I asked. “We’ve been driving for hours, and there’s nothing out there but farms and flat fields.”

  “It’s a big country,” Dad said.

  I grabbed the back of Mom’s seat and leaned forward. “Come on. Give me a hint where we’re going. Just a hint.” I reached for the road map spread out on Mom’s lap. “Let me see where we are.”

  “Here.” Mom picked up the map and did her usual comedy act with it. Unfolding it. Turning it from side to side. Crumpling it up. Uncrumpling it. Turning it upside down and inside out.

  Dad started to laugh. He loves Mom’s comedy acts.

  I finally got fed up, tried to pull the wrinkled map from her hands—and ripped it in half!

  That made Mom and Dad roar with laughter.

  “We have two maps now,” Dad said. “So we must be in two places at once!”

  That didn’t make any sense at all.

  “We’ve driven right off the map!” Mom exclaimed.

  More laughter.

  But the laughter stopped when Artie opened his mouth in a horrified scream. “Stop the car! Dad, stop the car!”

  Dad hit the brakes hard. The tires squealed as the car slid, swerving onto the tall grass beside the highway.

  I grabbed the door handle, swung it up, and pushed open the door.

  “What on earth is this about?” I heard Mom cry.

  But I was already out the door, running through the grass, chasing after the dog Artie and I had spotted out of the car window.

  “Here, boy—come! Don’t be afraid!” Artie called.

  The big dog stopped at the edge of the highway. A truck roared past, blowing the dog’s yellow-white fur up on its back.

  “I think it’s a collie,” I said breathlessly, catching up to it.

  “Is it a stray?” Artie asked. “Do you think someone let it loose on the highway?”

  I glanced back and saw Mom and Dad standing beside the open car doors, watching us, hands on their hips.

  “Good dog! Good dog!” Artie called softly, bending down.

  The big collie’s thick fur was all tangled. It lowered its head, nuzzled Artie’s hand, and began to lick it. I petted the dog’s back.