The Mummy (8 page)

Darrah played with her lunch again without talking. All of the fingers on her right hand held a ring, three fingers of her left. Lana knew that in India the women wore much jewelry. They wore their wealth instead of using a savings account. She wondered if that same idea prevailed in modern Egypt. It wasn't something she could ask comfortably. There was something else she wanted Darrah's opinion on, though.

“Darrah, I've been having strange dreams. Tell me what you think of them. I'm always in ancient Egypt. I seem to be a princess or a queen by the way I'm dressed. Such strong feelings come with the dreams as if I'm really there instead of dreaming. Last night I woke up frightened because someone was trying to kill me.” Now Lana played with her own food.

“There is much mystery in our land,” Darrah said. “Much magic. Black magic. Sometimes it is dangerous to delve too deep into those mysteries. This dream may be a message for you.”

“What message?”

“One that says you are interfering in something you do not understand. That you should step away from it. There is also much power in our mythology. But misused power is dangerous.”

Lana looked straight into Darrah's eyes. “Are you telling me to mind my own business?”

“You have this saying.” Darrah smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. “If the shoe fits, wear it.” She got up and left the cafeteria quickly.

Lana stared at the retreating girl. She felt confused by Darrah's attitude, and her warning, if that was what it was. Her talk of Lana misusing some mysterious power certainly made no sense. Lana felt powerless in what was happening to her. She had no control over her dreams. Her strong feelings for Nefra could probably be explained by an overactive imagination. And her thinking he had moved that one time — well, that was certainly a flight of fantasy. Tired and excited, she had gotten carried away and her eyes had tricked her.

As for someone speaking to her in the dark museum, and then the mummy approaching her in the park, that
had
to be a trick. A prank to frighten her. She didn't know why. It had worked at the time, however, but now, sitting in the high school cafeteria, she could hardly believe that either had happened.

No mystery. No power. Just confusion. Lana had been so excited about the museum exhibit, the most important event in her whole life. But now that some of the newness had worn off, what was she left with? A very strange and helpless feeling of pieces of her life being totally out of control.

Chapter 10

For a week nothing out of the ordinary happened. Lana daydreamed through five periods at school. She had arranged to get out early every day she worked. She hurried to the museum and watched what seemed like thousands of people stroll through the exhibit — busloads of schoolchildren, vans of senior citizens, young mothers pushing strollers. She talked to them all, answered their questions when she could.

She kept an eye on Antef, who seemed no different, except that he stopped flirting with her. Blair Vaughn came in on that Thursday and stopped to talk to Lana at a slow time.

“You get a coffee break soon?” Blair asked. “I'll treat at the T-Rex.”

Since it was quiet, Lana waved to Marge that she was leaving. Marge gave her a thumbs-up okay signal.

Blair was quiet walking downstairs. Selecting an espresso plus a huge piece of carrot cake, she paid for her food and Lana's Coke, then led them to the farthest table in the back hall.

“I apologize for jumping on you the other night, Lana,” Blair said, eating the cake out from under the cream cheese frosting. Lana wondered if she was saving it till last or dieting. “I was just so upset that anyone would think of stealing that necklace.”

“That's all right, Blair. I was upset, too. At the time everyone was upset, but also everyone was suspect. I didn't take it personally.” Lana had taken it a bit personally at first, but once she calmed down she understood.

“I guess I take everything personally.” Blair laughed.

Lana felt she had the opening for a more personal statement and maybe a chance to find out more about Blair. “Dr. Walters told me your father didn't want you to be an archaeologist, but that your grandfather worked in Egypt at one time. Tell me about him.”

“There's nothing to tell. And my father's dead.” Blair's voice turned cold.

Lana had made a mistake. She had accidentally trod on sensitive territory, but she remembered what else Dr. Walters had said, so apologized quickly.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know. My father is dead, too. But I think he would have wanted me to do what I had to do, really
wanted
to do with my life.”

“You're lucky.” Blair indicated that talk about fathers was finished. “I'll tell you about my dig in Egypt. I'm eager to get back.” Blair went on to describe where she was working, what she hoped to find, what she had already found. Once she got caught up in talking about her work, Blair was so friendly that Lana almost told her about her dreams, almost told her about the magnetic pull that Nefra seemed to have on her. But she was afraid Blair would think she was silly. She admired the woman so much it would be hard to take Blair's laughing at her.

“Lana,” Blair stopped abruptly, “Dr. Walters said you thought it was a man who stole the necklace. Do you think it could have been Rodney Newland?”

“Rod?” Lana was shocked. “I don't think so.” Apparently, Dr. Walters hadn't shared all he knew with Blair. “Why on earth would he do such a thing?”

“To help Darrah Bey. I knew her parents in Egypt. I can't see how they had the money to send her over here.”

“Maybe there's a fund that pays for exchange students. I think there is.” Lana had no idea, but a fund made sense. Probably lots of foreign students had no money to come to the United States. Someone had to sponsor them.

Lana wondered if she should tell Blair that she suspected Antef, and why. But if Antef wasn't guilty, Lana didn't want to jeopardize his job. This was all so confusing. Who to tell what, how much to talk about the theft. How much gossip to start was probably more like it. She really had no provable facts.

“Rod's father was an archaeologist. Rod would know where to sell something like that.” Blair was still thinking about Rod being the thief.

“I thought his father worked for the World Health Organization.”

“That's his stepfather. His birth father died in an excavation cave-in. Rod was pretty young at the time. The cave-in was close to where archaeologists found Urbena's tomb. Egyptian workers refused to dig any more. They said the accident was caused by Urbena, by her curse.”

Why had Rod never told her that? Lana wondered. “You don't believe in that curse — in
any
curse — do you, Blair?”

Blair smiled at Lana. “Stranger things have happened. I find I believe in one thing when I'm here in Denver, but I can start to believe in others when I'm in Egypt. There are forces at work around the tombs that you can't ignore.”

Lana glanced at her watch. “I'd better get back. If Marge doesn't get her late afternoon tea, she's grouchy, and I wanted to ask her for a ride home.”

“I'll take you,” Blair offered.

“Thanks, but Marge lives close. She takes me home all the time. And you'd have to wait till after five.”

Blair shrugged and went back for another coffee, leaving her things on their table. Lana waved and hurried back upstairs.

Then, that night, she had the strangest dream of all.

Unable to sleep, I walk in the gardens. The night air is sweet with lotus blossoms. Palm fronds waft gently back and forth in the soft breeze. Nefra's monkey squeals, making me jump. He skitters across my path, chased by another monkey
.

Moonlight shines through the row of columns, creating a pattern of light and dark that pleases me
.

Tomorrow night I will feel no loneliness. My arms will not be empty, nor cold. I will hold my prince, Nefra, and he will hold me. I will sleep in his arms
.

Suddenly the shriek of a falcon rips through the stillness, piercing the air and my heart
.

Nefra! What is wrong, my prince?

I feel his pain. I know he reaches out for me and I am not there for him
.

Oh, Nefra, Nefra, my love
.

Lana sat straight up in bed, the ache inside her unbearable. The pain was so real, as if a poisoned brew had flooded her own chest and pierced her heart.

Looking up, she stopped breathing, her body turning as cold and stiff as any granite that surrounded a king's coffin.

Standing at the foot of her bed was the boy-king, Nefra. His arms reached out to her.

“Urbena, my princess, I have lost you. My love is so great, my longing so unbearable. Come to me. Come and fill my arms with your warmth, your own love. You must return to me or I will continue to die a thousand deaths. I will never sleep until I have you in my arms again.”

Chapter 11

The next morning, when Lana woke again, emotion flooded over her until she knew she had to put the dream and the — what happened next — the vision — away for a time or she could not get out of bed. She could not go to school or to work, certainly not back to the museum with her history class field trip.

Taking deep breaths, she forced her mind to go blank, for it to stay that way until she dared look inside again.

Josh was going to have to look at the old stuff in the exhibit whether he wanted to or not. Their history class piled into a yellow bus and drove to the museum on the field trip. Lana tried to join in the party mood, to laugh and tease and anticipate being a tourist. But twice Josh asked her if anything was wrong.

Marge happened to be the lucky volunteer who got the job of leader for the class. “There is a member of your class who knows more than I'll ever know about Egyptology,” Marge said, smiling, “but I won't put her on the spot.”

Lana felt her face heat up, so Marge might as well have pointed a finger right at her.

Of course, Mr. Drury knew who Marge meant. “She looks as if she stepped right out of Cleopatra's court, too. It's enough to make one believe in reincarnation.”

“Yo, Cleo,” Josh whispered. “Going to the football game with me tonight?”

“You know I have to work,” Lana whispered back.

“I know I'm tired of never seeing you except at school.” Josh was serious about what he said, but he was head cheerleader. Lana wouldn't be able to sit with him even if she did go.

“You'll appreciate me more when this is over,” she said, “but if you want to take someone else you can.” She didn't mean that, but she wanted to give Josh some options. Josh shrugged and stopped at a case full of knives and spearheads.

Lana stopped at the mummy of Nefra and stood beside him while Marge talked. In no time she was surrounded by the warmth she always felt, even though she wasn't alone this time.

“I'm sure you know some of the ritual of preparing a body for burial,” Marge said. “The funeral of a common man was probably similar to a funeral today. But when a king died the entire country took part in seventy-two days of mourning. People wept and tore their clothing. They smeared mud on their heads, and walked the streets singing dirges.”

“What's a dirge?” Sammy Bittner asked.

“It ain't rock and roll,” Mindy Platt said, hanging on his arm, getting the laugh she expected.

“A dirge is a slow, sad piece,” Marge answered. “Also, they didn't eat wheat or animal food, or drink wine. They didn't bathe or recline on couches or make love.”

“Hey, we would do that for you, Dreary.” Sammy used Mr. Drury's nickname. “Wouldn't we class?”

“Yeah, sure, sure we would,” most answered.

“For seventy-two days?” Mindy looked doubtful. “That's over two months.”

“We'd sure stink.” Lucas Murray wrinkled his nose.

Marge wasn't disturbed by all the bantering from the class. “Do you want to hear about making a mummy?”

Everyone did, of course.

“The body was washed and then cut open. The intestines, the heart, the lungs were taken out, washed, and filled with spices. They were smeared with oil and wrapped carefully. You see this jar, the big one. The parts were placed in four alabaster jars. The lids had different figures on top to protect the contents, and the jars were stored with the mummy in the tomb. It was very important to have the intestines preserved intact, for without them a man wouldn't be able to live again.”

Sammy had listened as long as he could. “He'd wander through eternity looking for them. Where are my intestines, oh where — ”

Even Marge laughed. “I know all of this seems strange to us, but the ceremony was very important to the Egyptian people. Seventy days were spent embalming the body and wrapping it carefully. The coffin makers built at least two coffins, one to fit inside the other. This outer coffin is called a sarcophagus and is usually made of stone. The inner coffin, like you see here for Nefra, was decorated beautifully, and carved with the king's likeness.”

Lana looked at Nefra's wooden face. It wasn't hard for her to imagine that he was looking back at her. She remembered her dream and his coming to her last night, and she shivered. Then again, she tried to make her mind a blank and to concentrate on Marge's lecture.

“Is it true that some animals were buried this way, too?” Ann Robbins asked. “I know the Egyptians worshiped cats and other animals. Did they believe the animals would live again?”

“Yes, mummies of cats, crocodiles, hawks, frogs, snakes, scarab beetles, even a scorpion have been found.”

“A mummy of a scorpion, ugh!” Josh laughed. “How would you embalm a scorpion?”

Marge ignored the last question. She probably didn't know the answer. “I'm not sure all those animals were worshiped, but they were held sacred. Do you know that in India today cattle and monkeys are sacred?”