Curse of the Mummy's Uncle (2 page)

Dad drove most of the way to the airport with his hands locked on the steering wheel and his lips pressed tightly together.

“You're not still upset that that I wouldn't let you wear your costume, are you?” Mom asked.

“I told you, it wasn't a costume,” Dad said, staring straight ahead. “It was a hat to keep the sun out of my eyes, and a jacket to . . . to keep the bugs off.”

“I'm sure a heavy leather jacket would be comfortable in the middle of a rain forest,” Mom said. “Let me guess—the whip was for mosquitoes?”

Dad glared at her. “Wait until a tiger is running straight for you, lady. Then you'll wish I'd
thought to bring a weapon.”

“Technically,” Angelo said, “tigers live in—”

“Shhh,” Nick hissed. He'd seen his mom and dad disagree enough to know that they'd go on like this for a few more minutes. Then one of them would crack a joke. And the next thing you knew, they'd be all lovey-dovey again, like they'd never been arguing. It was one of the things he liked best about his parents. Plus, he wasn't about to mention that he'd seen his dad sneak the whip into his suitcase when Mom wasn't looking.

“I was just going to say that tigers live in Asia,” Angelo said softly. “There could be jaguars or pumas where we're going, and plenty of dangerous snakes, but no tigers.”

Nick was pretty sure that if his mom overheard Angelo talking about all the dangerous animals they could encounter, this trip would end before it ever got started. So he quickly changed the subject. “What was that you were saying back at the house about aliens?”

As soon as the word
alien
left Nick's mouth, Angelo pulled out his monster notebook. He took the thick binder with him everywhere. It was filled with information about unusual things they'd seen in the past, and things he thought they might run across in their travels. After all the weird stuff that had happened to them, it
was getting almost too thick to carry.

Angelo flipped through the pages until he reached a map of different pyramids with lines drawn from one to the other, and lots of scribbled notes. “A lot of people think most, if not all, of the pyramids were built by aliens. The hieroglyphs carved into the walls could be their writings.”

Carter guffawed. “So if you unwrap one of the mummies you'd find little green guys with three arms and antennas? And the hyro-whatchamacallits actually translate into ‘Take me to your leader'?”

“Very funny,” Angelo said, clearly not amused. “Maybe
you
don't believe it. But scientists still aren't sure how some of the biggest rocks in the pyramids were moved there. And I read somewhere that the mortar used in the Great Pyramid of Egypt is so unusual no one has been able to reproduce it, even with modern technology.”

Nick was impressed, but still not convinced. “Why would aliens want to build pyramids?”

“There are lots of theories.” Angelo thumbed through the pages. “Landing sites for the spaceships, markers to guide them from space—kind of like lighthouses. Maybe they were used as some sort of interstellar communication towers.”

“I don't know,” Nick said. “That seems like kind of a stretch.”

“Does it?” Angelo sounded unusually edgy. He snapped open a map of an Egyptian pyramid and tapped his finger on a circle. “This is the spot where the Egyptians dug up most of the rocks they used to build the Great Pyramid. Remembering that some of those stones weighed as much as seventy tons, and had to be pushed or pulled to the site without modern machinery, where would you build your pyramid?”

“As close as I could get,” Carter said.

“Yeah,” Nick added, studying the map. “Somewhere easy to get to. With no hills between it and the—what's the place where you dig called, a quarry?”

“That's what most people would do.” Angelo pointed to another spot on the map. “But whoever built the Great Pyramid dragged more than two million stones here, hundreds of miles away—even though there were other locations just as good much closer.”

Dad glanced at Angelo in the rearview mirror. “That's all well and good, but we're not going to Egypt. The Mexican pyramids were built by the Mayans.”

“Maybe they were and maybe they weren't,” Angelo said. He reached over the seat to touch his DNA tester. “The builders of Aktun could have moved it a few miles
north or south and chosen a spot much easier to reach. Instead they erected it in the middle of a thick rain forest. Why would they do that?”

“To be near McDonald's?” Carter joked.

Angelo didn't even bother responding to that.

Nick didn't have an answer. And after some of the things they'd seen in their own town during the last couple of months, he wasn't willing to say anything was impossible. “Maybe the pyramids were like huge garages for their spaceships,” he suggested. “Do you think we could find evidence of ETs in the pyramid we're going to? Like, you know, alien bodies or flying saucers?”

“I doubt it,” Angelo said. “They were too smart to leave much behind. If not, people would have discovered something by now. But they may have left evidence too small to see. Bits of alien skin, or hair, or even blood. That's why I brought my DNA-testing kit. If I can find tissue samples that don't belong to any earthly humans or animals, that would prove ETs were there.”

Up front, Dad chuckled. “I don't think you're going to find any aliens. But there are some pretty cool things about the Mexican pyramids. Things that might keep you awake late at night.” He said the last part in a creepy-movie voice.

“Yeah?” Carter leaned forward in his seat. “What kinds of things?”

Dad glanced at Mom with a mischievous smile. “I don't know if I should tell you. Some of the stories are pretty gory. Your mother might not approve.”

“You mean like blood and guts?” Carter asked excitedly. “Tell us. Tell us.”

Mom waved her hand. “Go ahead. It can't be any worse than some of the stuff they see on TV.”

“Well,” Dad said, obviously getting back into a good mood, “you probably know that many of the pyramids were used as burial sites.”

Nick had seen plenty of scary movies about pyramids. “Sure. Mummies and treasure and stuff like that.”

Dad nodded. “But that wasn't all they were used for. Many Mayans and Aztecs performed rituals that often included human sacrifice.”

Nick shivered. “You mean they killed people inside?”

“Not
inside
,” Dad said, glancing at the boys in the rearview mirror. “On
top
. They actually painted some of the pyramids red to match the bloodstains. Most of those people were prisoners of war, and criminals. But to appease their gods, some of the victims were—”

“All right,” Mom said so loud it made all four boys jump. “I think we've had enough pyramid stories for a
while. What if we listen to some nice music for the rest of the drive?”

“Fine by me,” Dad said. “I thought they should know that some of those victims are probably still there. Hanging around as ghosts. Aktun was discovered more than fifty years ago. But the government stopped exploration until just recently. Because it's supposed to be
cursed
.”

Nick shivered. Even as someone who liked monsters and scary stories, this hit a little too close to home. Were they really going to be entering a pyramid where people had been killed? He could imagine headless corpses coming back to life in the middle of the night to hunt down anyone who dared intrude on their graves.

Now it was Mom's turn to stare at the road. She tuned the radio to classical—Dad's least favorite kind of music—and sat silently next to him.

Angelo glared at his monster notebook, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white. “Just because the Mayans used the pyramids for sacrifices doesn't mean they built them. For all we know the aliens were the ones who started the ceremonies.”

Nick shrugged. “Maybe so.”

“Not maybe.
Definitely.
” Angelo slammed the notebook shut.

Nick looked at him closely. “Is everything okay?”

Angelo seemed on the verge of saying something, then shook his head. “I just really want to prove the existence of extraterrestrials, all right?”

“Sure,” Nick said. “Let me know how I can help.”

Carter, who had been the most interested in hearing the stories, seemed the least bothered by them. He twisted around in his seat, trying to dig through the luggage in the back. “Can you grab my bag?” he asked Nick. “It's got my Nintendo DS, my PSP, and all my video games in it.”

“You brought video games?” Nick asked.

“Yeah. I'd die without them for a whole week. Same goes for my candy stash.”

Nick pushed around the suitcases and bags until he found Carter's black bag covered with stickers of various monsters.

“Not that one,” Carter said. “That has my clothes and stuff. My games are in the red bag.”

“A long one?” Angelo asked. “With a black drawstring?”

Carter nodded. “Yeah. Do you see it?”

“I
saw
it,” Angelo said. “On the kitchen table right before we got in the car.”

Nick pushed around a couple of bags and shook his head. “I'm not seeing it back here, dude. I think you might have left it behind.”

“We have to go back. We
havvvve
to!” Carter clasped his hands in front of his chest and begged, even though they were already in line, getting onto the plane. “We can take another flight, or ask the pilot to wait.”

“I'm sorry, Carter, but for the last time, we can't,” Nick's dad said. “Being without video games for a week will be good for you. When I was a boy we didn't have video games. We didn't even have toys. The rich kids at least had rocks and sticks to hit each other with. We had to throw imaginary rocks at each other and pretend to bleed.”

“Ignore him,” Nick said. “My dad gets some weird kind of pleasure out of seeing kids suffer. One time our
TV was out for a month and he told me if I needed to watch something, I could bang my head against the wall until I saw stars.”

“You don't understand.” Carter looked desperately back into the terminal. “I have some kind of allergy. If I don't play video games every day, I get this weird rash on my palms, my feet go all sweaty, and my whole body starts to shake.”

Nick patted him on the back, trying to comfort him. “How about if you read a book? I've got a couple in my pack.”

“A
book
?” Carter ran both hands through his hair. “Would you offer a man who was dying of thirst a bag of pretzels? You're killing me.”

“There's no such thing as a video game allergy,” Angelo said, typing something into his iPad.

Carter's eyes fixed on Angelo's tablet. “Dude, please tell me you have games on that thing.”

Angelo shook his head at once. “Not a chance. I've been downloading all the information I can find on Mexican pyramids. I've got a ton of research to do. I'm not letting you kill my battery with games.”

The five of them reached their seats. Nick's mom and dad sat on one side with an open seat between them, while Nick, Angelo, and Carter slid into the other
side. Carter was breathing heavily. “I think I'm going to have an attack or something.”

“Maybe they'll have an arcade at the hotel,” Nick said.

Carter gasped like a fish flopping about on the bank of a lake. “How, how long . . . is . . . the . . . flight?”

Nick checked his ticket. “Just over eight hours to Mexico City. Then another two hours to . . .” He scratched his head. “How do you say the name of this place?
Tuxtla Gutiérrez
?”

Angelo said something that sounded sort of like
tootsla gooty-erez
. “It's the capital of Chiapas.”

“I'm going to have to practice that,” Nick said. “Anyway, according to this, we get in just after midnight.”

“I can't make it that long,” Carter said. “Seriously, guys, I have to get off the plane.” He unbuckled his seat belt and started to get up. Before he could stand, Nick's mom reached across the aisle and plopped a light blue ball into his lap. A large metal pin stuck out from one side. “What's this?” Carter asked.

“Yarn and a knitting needle,” Mom said. “It's the best relaxation there is.”

Carter shoved the ball back toward her. “No way. I'm getting off the—”

“All right,” Mom said, taking the yarn. “You probably wouldn't have been good at this game anyway. It's much harder than anything on your Nintendo. I'll bet you couldn't even get past the first level.”

Carter paused halfway into the aisle. “It has levels?”

Mom started to put the ball into her bag. “Level one is called Cast On. You get a hundred points if you pass it. Like I said, though, it's probably too hard for you.”

“Excuse me,” a flight attendant in a dark blue suit said, “we're getting ready to close the door. You have to take your seats now.”

Carter looked uncertainly from the front of the plane to the ball. “One hundred points?” he whispered.

“
If
you get past level one,” Mom said. “It's not as easy as killing zombies. You have to hold the needle in your right hand and drape a length of yarn over your left thumb and finger.”

Almost without Carter even noticing, Mom gently pushed him into his seat and fastened his belt. She handed him the yarn and showed him how to wrap it around his thumb and pull the knitting needle in such a way that the yarn looped around it.

Nick watched, amazed, as his mom walked Carter through creating one loop after another on his needle. “Great job!” she said. “That's fifty points. Keep it up
and soon you'll reach level two, Knit Stitch. And you'll earn a second needle.”

Carter was so caught up in making his stitches, he didn't notice when the plane pulled away from the terminal and rose into the air.

“Are you watching this?” Nick said, leaning over to Angelo.

“Huh?” Angelo looked up briefly from his tablet, then returned to his reading.

“It's like Carter totally forgot about his video games,” Nick whispered, afraid he would break whatever spell his mom had cast on his friend.

“Yeah, that's, um, great,” Angelo muttered.

Nick leaned over to get a better view of the screen. “What's that you're reading?”

“There's some pretty amazing stuff about pyramids here,” Angelo said. “Did you know there are more pyramids in China than in any other country? They're all over the world. In fact, if you include mound pyramids, they're on every continent but Antarctica. There's even one in the United States.”

“No way,” Nick said, sure that Angelo was messing with him. He would have heard if there was a pyramid in his own country.

Angelo tilted the tablet so Nick could see a
grass-covered hill with stairs going up the middle of it. “Monk's Mound is located just a few miles from St. Louis, Missouri. It's about the same size as the Great Pyramid of Giza, and historians think it was built over a thousand years ago.”

Nick studied the picture. How had he never heard about that?

“That's not all,” Angelo said. “What your dad told us about the sacrifices is true. Most of the time, pyramids were used for religious purposes. Many cultures viewed them as a way to communicate with the gods. But some of them were used for human sacrifices.” He ran his finger down a line of text and whistled. “Listen to this. In the late 1400s, the Aztecs reconsecrated the Pyramid of Tenochtitlan by sacrificing as many as eighty thousand people in four days.”

“That can't be right.” Nick tried to the do the math in his head. “That would be like eight hundred people an hour.” It sounded like something his dad would make up to scare him.

Angelo blew out his cheeks. “It's true. If you think of all those deaths, it's no wonder so many people believe the pyramids are cursed.”

Nick leaned closer to Angelo so his mom couldn't overhear them. “Cursed like . . . ghosts and stuff?”

“Maybe,” Angelo agreed. “But also traps, cave-ins, and poisonous snakes. Sometimes people who disturb the resting place of the undead just suddenly have heart attacks and die.”

Nick leaned back in his seat and rubbed his eyes. Human sacrifices, traps, snakes . . . It sounded like this vacation was going to be a lot more than he had bargained for. “Do you really think the pyramid
we're
going to is cursed?”

Angelo shrugged. “I guess we won't know until we get there. But you remember how your dad said it was discovered fifty years ago? Well, I looked up the group of archaeologists who found the pyramid and started to explore it. They were hoping it was filled with treasure. Then, only a day after they managed to find the entrance, the entire expedition was called off.”

“They just decided to go home?” Nick asked. “What about the treasure?”

“They didn't go home,” Angelo said, his eyes huge and dark behind his glasses. “They didn't go anywhere. They sent a couple of men back to bring more supplies. But when the men returned, the entire camp was abandoned. No bodies. No notes. Just gone. The two men were so scared, they ran all the way back to town. The pyramid has been off-limits since then, until just over
a month ago when the Mexican government suddenly agreed to a new expedition.”

Nick ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips. “Alien abduction?”

“That's what I'm thinking,” Angelo said.

“Or maybe the aliens left some kind of trap. Those explorers could still be inside with their guts sucked out of them. Or maybe they're still alive somehow—all wrapped in bandages and mummified, moaning and groaning to be let out.”

Angelo tilted his head. “I wouldn't be surprised.” He grabbed his monster notebook and turned to a picture of a shambling corpse covered with brown, scabby-looking bandages. The bandages hung in shreds from the mummy's hands and face, like he'd clawed them open with his own fingers, revealing empty black eye sockets and stumpy brown teeth.

Nick looked from the picture to Angelo. Slowly both the boys began to grin. “This is going to be the coolest vacation ever.”

The rest of the flight was fairly uneventful. Nick tried reading one of his books, but even though the story was interesting enough, his mind kept slipping back to what Angelo had said about the first archaeologists to explore the pyramid.

They couldn't have been attacked by wild animals or they would have left behind blood and other evidence. Maybe they'd discovered proof of the extraterrestrials and the aliens kidnapped them to hide the truth. He could see the explorers racing out of the pyramid entrance, shaking with excitement about what they had discovered. Then, as they step outside, a huge shadow moves over the pyramid, and a purple tractor beam sucks them all up into the ship like ants through a straw.

He knew one thing for sure. If Mom got sucked up by aliens for exploring this pyramid, she would never forgive Dad for winning this vacation.

He wished he had someone to talk to about his fears, but Angelo was focused on his reading, and Carter had moved across the aisle to sit by Nick's mom. The two of them were flashing their needles back and forth like it was some kind of contest.

“That's awesome,” Mom said. “You're a natural. Now we need to learn how to do a purl stitch.”

Nick leaned across the aisle. “Dude,” he whispered to Carter, “it's nice of you to hang out with my mom, but you really don't have to do that.”

Carter frowned. “Your mom's cool.”

Nick stared at his friend, wondering if the altitude
had done something to his brain. “Don't you think a kid our age knitting is kind of . . .
weird
? It seems more like something a grandma would do.”

Carter slowly set down his knitting needles, eyes narrowed almost to slits. “You're just jealous that she taught me and not you.”

“I am not.” Nick twisted his paperback. He wasn't jealous, was he? Sure, he was surprised to learn his mom spoke Spanish and had never told him about it. And now she was teaching his best friend to knit when she'd never offered to teach him.

He scowled at Carter. “Fine. Just don't blame me if your skin turns pruny and you start talking about the days before they had color television.”

Carter sneered. “Go back to your reading.”

Nick leaned over to Angelo. “Don't you think it's kind of weird that my best friend and my mom are knitting together?”

Angelo looked up from his tablet. “Have you ever heard of something called the
Popol Vuh
?”

“The purple what?”

“It's an ancient Mayan text about the creation of man, and this place called Xibalba, which is supposed to be the underworld. Only what if Xibalba isn't the underworld at all? What if it's really a . . .” Angelo's
voice trailed off and his eyes got a faraway look as he returned to his reading.

Nick sighed. Out of all the kids in the world he could have brought on vacation, he'd ended up with one who wanted to be knitting buddies with his mom and another who was about as fun as a department-store mannequin. Maybe next time he'd invite Angie and her friends—the girls who were always trying to one-up Nick, Carter, and Angelo on their monster hunts. At least they'd be interesting to argue with.