Curse of the Mummy's Uncle

To Jack, Lizzie, and Grey, who have many monster-hunting days ahead of them

Warm beaches, a log cabin in the woods, a theme park filled with roller coasters and cotton candy. These are what most people think of when planning their perfect getaway.

Of course, by now I am well aware that you are not
most people
. When you think of beaches, you imagine strange and dangerous creatures lurking beneath the surface of an otherwise calm bay. The thrill of a roller coaster is far too tame for you, and woods are only as interesting as the things that come creeping out late at night.

Nick, Carter, and Angelo are leaving for a vacation that may be right down your alley. A cursed pyramid, oddly named demons, and strange disappearances are only the beginning. I'm afraid I won't be going on this trip. When I fly the night skies I don't use an airplane.

But I've asked a friend to look in on them from time to time and take notes. If you're in the area, please do the same. I'll be sure to update everything that happens right here in Case File 13.

And in the meantime: if you find yourself visited by an (incredibly) old friend, wrapped from head to foot in bandages, don't go crying to your mummy.

Nick grabbed his bags, glanced one last time in the mirror to make sure everything was perfect, and headed down the stairs. He still couldn't believe his dad had won an all-expenses-paid trip to Mexico. And if that wasn't awesome enough, they were going to join an archaeology group helping dig out a newly discovered pyramid called Aktun. A name he wasn't sure he could pronounce, but that sounded totally cool anyway. The best part was Nick's two closest friends and fellow Monsterteers, Angelo and Carter, got to come too. Although it meant delaying Christmas for a few days, he couldn't imagine a better way to spend the holidays than looking for mummies.

Whistling the theme song from one of his favorite movies, he jumped the last two steps and headed into the kitchen, where his mom was going over a checklist on her computer. “All packed?” she asked as he dropped his bags next to the back door.

“Checked and doubled.” He walked up behind his mom's chair, waiting for her to look at him. But her eyes were locked on the monitor.

“Toothbrush and toothpaste?” Mom asked, hovering her cursor over an item called toiletries.

“Electric, nonelectric in case they don't have outlets we can use, and minty fresh,” Nick said.

Mom highlighted the next item on her list. “Swimsuit, water shoes, and shorts?”

“Like a boss.” He edged around her chair, hoping she would see him from the corner of her eye.

“A clean pair of underwear for every day?”

“Mom!” He groaned. “Do you really have to ask me about my underwear? It's not like I go around asking you about your . . . you know.
Stuff.
” The last way he wanted to start his winter break was talking to his mom about underwear.

“We're going to be in Mexico for a week, and we may not have any place to wash clothes,” Mom said in a no-nonsense voice. “It's not my fault boys smell like spoiled bologna after a day of doing whatever it is they
do.” She pushed back her chair, turned around, and looked him up and down. “What is that on your head?”

Nick grinned, tugged the felt fedora over his forehead, and said in a gruff voice, “It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage.”

Mom glared. “Excuse me?”

“It's from
Raiders of the Lost Ark
,” Nick said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I can't believe you didn't recognize the quote or the hat.”

From the other side of the room came a knock at the door. Nick hurried to answer it, knowing it would be either Carter or Angelo. They'd recognize the hat for sure.

He swung open the door to find Angelo standing outside with his shoulders squared and a sneer on his face. “We do not follow maps to buried treasure, and X never, ever marks the spot,” Angelo said, quoting an
Indiana Jones
line.

Nick couldn't believe his eyes. “Who said you could wear a fedora? You are so ripping me off.”

Angelo looked just as surprised as Nick felt. “I told you
I
was wearing it. If anyone ripped anyone off, it's you.” He grabbed his bags and carried them into the kitchen.

“You did not.” Nick couldn't believe they'd both decided to wear their Indiana Jones hats. “What's
that?” Nick asked, noticing something new sticking out of the top of his friend's backpack.

“Oh, this?” Angelo looked down casually, as if he hadn't left the piece of equipment sticking out on purpose. Angelo was a total brain. Besides knowing everything there was to know about monsters, monster movies, and anything supernatural, he also invented things. Just a few weeks before, he'd come up with a machine that could track corpses by smell. Nick's dad called Angelo the Smarticle Particle, although Angelo was nearly as tall as an adult.

Angelo unzipped the pack and removed a weird little device the size of a lunch box. It looked like someone had ripped open a toaster, torn the guts from a microwave oven, and combined them with random test tubes and other pieces from a chemistry kit. Proudly he held out the device for Nick's inspection. “I don't want to brag or anything. But you've heard of a DNA sequencer, right?”

“Surrrre,” Nick said slowly. Although he thought he'd heard the words before, he wasn't quite as sure he knew what they meant. “DNA is the stuff in your body that decides what color your eyes will be or if you'll have hair all over your back. And a sequencer, um . . . sequences things.”

“Close enough.” Angelo held out the lunch box thing, clearly proud of his invention. “This isn't a full-on
DNA sequencer. That would be crazy. Although I'd like to try making one sometime. This is a thermal cycler that uses a polymerase chain reaction to—”

“Dude!” Nick held out both hands. “Any more of that scientific blibbity-blabber and my head is going to explode—ruining a perfectly good Indiana Jones fedora, which
I
decided to wear long before you ever did. Get to the point. Using sixth-grade words, what does that science fair project on steroids actually do?”

Angelo looked like someone had insulted his baby sister—if he'd had a baby sister to insult. He gave the lunch box a loving pat and sighed. “It tests DNA. Just like the police do when they want to prove who committed a crime.”

“Uh huh.” Nick bit the tip of his tongue for a second, trying not to hurt his friend's feelings any more than he already had. Like Spider-Man's superpowers, Angelo's genius was both a gift and a curse. “Look, that sounds totally . . . legit. I mean, I couldn't have made something like that in a hundred years. But do you really want to spend our winter break going around testing people's DNA?”

“It's not for testing
people's
DNA,” Angelo said, clearly mortified. “I mean, it could. But what would be the point?”

Now Nick was totally confused. “If you're not going
to use it to test people's DNA, whose DNA are you going to test?”

Angelo's eyes gleamed like he'd been waiting for that exact question. “Aliens'!”

Before Nick could respond, the kitchen door flew open, and Carter came bursting through wearing an Indiana Jones hat of his own. “
Verrugas
,” he said with a terrified look on his face. “
¿Por qué tengo que tener verrugas?
”

Nick could only shake his head. Was he really going to spend a week in a foreign country with these two? “What in the world are you talking about?”

Carter grinned, tossing a couple of duffel bags onto the kitchen table. “It's Spanish, amigo. It means ‘Snakes? Why did it have to be snakes?'”

“Hate to break it to you,” Angelo replied, “but that's not what you just said.” He would know; his mom was from Puerto Rico and his dad was from Chile. Angelo had been raised speaking both Spanish and English, although his mom usually spoke English when they were around other people.

Nick's mom smiled at Carter. “He's right. What you said was ‘Warts. Why do I have to have warts?'”

Nick stared at his mom. “When did
you
learn Spanish?”

Mom got up from the desk and flicked the brim of his hat. “My great-grandfather on my father's side was from Mexico. My grandfather taught us all to speak Spanish when we were little. My speaking skills are a little rusty. But I'm positive
verrugas
means warts.”

Nick looked at his mom like he was seeing her for the first time. Next thing he knew she'd be telling him she hunted vampires in high school.

“Warts?” Carter yelped. “How can that be? I've been practicing that phrase for weeks.” For the first time, he seemed to notice that Angelo and Nick were wearing the same hat as he was. “Hey! You two stole my idea!”

“Stole
your
idea?” Angelo and Nick said at the same time.

“Yeah.” Carter frowned. “The Indiana Jones hat is like my trademart. I've been wearing one for as long as I can remember.”

“I think you mean trade
mark
,” Angelo corrected. “And I've never seen you wear one before. In fact, it looks brand-new.”

“I'll bet you don't even remember where Indy got it from,” Nick said.

“He took it from Garth, a treasure hunter,” Carter snapped back.

“He didn't take it,” Nick said. “Garth gave it to him after Indy stole the Cross of Coronado on a scout trip.”

“Who cares?” Carter stamped his foot, his face turning red. “
I
look the best in it, and I'm
not
taking it off.”

“This is
my
vacation. So that means
I
get to wear it,” Nick said.

“We can't all bring it,” Angelo said. “We'd look stupid wearing the same thing. Like those kids in the
Sound of Music
movie who had to wear matching clothes made out of curtains.”

Nick had no idea what Angelo was talking about. But this was an even worse way to start winter break than discussing underwear with his mother.

Mom took Nick's hat off his head and held out her hands to Carter and Angelo. “I'll settle this argument. None of you are taking the hats. Have any of you considered how childish you'd all seem wearing a costume from some movie on an archaeological excavation? How many tourists do you think show up, trying to look like Indiana Jones?”

Nick looked sheepishly at his friends. It was a pretty dumb thing to fight about. And his mom was probably right. Even though they thought the hats were cool, he guessed they'd make them look like total losers to the
real archaeologists. “Okay. I'll leave mine here.”

“Me too,” Angelo said. “Besides, fedoras aren't nearly as cool on anyone but Indy.”

Nick and Angelo looked at Carter.

“Fine!” Carter said, yanking off his hat and slamming it on the table. “But I think I look amazing in it.”

“Dude!” Nick said. “What did you do to yourself?” Carter was always dyeing his spiky hair a different color. But this time he'd gone overboard. The left side of his head was green, the right side was red, and the middle was white.

Carter patted his head. “I colored it last night. It's in honor of the Mexican flag.”

“Very . . . patriotic,” Mom said. She gave her computer one last check before powering it down. “Now, where's your father? We need to get on the road.”

A series of footsteps sounded from the stairs and a second later, Nick's dad bounded into the kitchen. He was wearing a felt fedora and a leather jacket. In his right hand was an actual bullwhip. With a wide grin, he held out the whip and said, “Fortune and glory, kids. Fortune and glory!”