How DOES One Stop a Mummy?

Mr. Thorndyke was concerned. “Set has located us. That was quick, far too quick. I should have accounted for Djed-hor's presence when returning here.”

“Not your fault,” I reassured. “None of us considered it. Why should we? Who expects a mummy to wake and walk?”

“We must deactivate it quickly,” Mr. Thorndyke declared. “Set will be able to track us through it. At least,” he added, “I expect he will be able to do so.”

“We can try our Spectral Disrupter again,” Harry offered. “It worked downstairs.”

“You can try,” responded Mr. Thorndyke. “I fear Set will be expecting it now and it won't have the same impact.”

“But it's worth a try?” I confirmed. Mr. Thorndyke nodded. “Then let's do it. I've got no better idea.”

Larry once again drew the device I'd seen in the Jewels exhibit and activated it. The mummy stopped progressing towards us but didn't collapse as the undead gun men had downstairs.

Mr. Thorndyke looked glum. “I fear my theory was correct. The effect of the device is blunted.” He rubbed at his temples. With some strain in his voice, he continued. “An additional plan is necessary.”

“How does one stop a mummy?” I pondered aloud. I'm sure I know the answer, having read it at some point, but, now that I needed the information, it was lost to me. To be fair, it's not information I need on  a regular basis. I'm not often trying to stop a mummy from walking. I blanked on quality options and offered “We could set it on fire.”

Ms. Chapman exploded. “Are you crazy? Fire?”

“No one else was offering any suggestions,” I responded defensively. “I say that all the time as a joke. I don't want to burn old Djed here. I like Djed. I've been visiting Djed for most of my life. I remember when Djed was down on the first floor. He's already history and I would just as soon not join him just yet. If it's him or me, well, I'm going to try and make it him.”

“There are all sorts of ways to stop a mummy in the texts,” Ms. Chapman noted. “Ways that don't involve fire.”

“Just as?” Harry prompted.

“Well,” she started, “there's readings in the Scroll of Life, withholding tana leaves, counter-spells from the Book of the Dead...”

“Do we have access to any of those things?” Harry asked.

“No,” she admitted.

“Well, then that doesn't help us much at the moment,” Harry stated.

Larry piped in. “Why don't we just walk away? Mummies are slow, aren't they?”

For a moment we just stood there. “Sometimes the simple solutions elude us,” I noted.

“Where do we walk to?” Ms. Chapman asked. “We have no plan, no destination.”

“Does it matter at this point?” Mr. Thorndyke snapped. “Let's just go and be done with it.”

“It's dark if we go deeper into Africa, no pun intended of course,” Harry stated. “Or we walk past the mummy to the stairs.”

“The stairs are our best bet,” I observed. “We'll want to keep our access to the exits, retail our mobility.” Cautiously, I walked towards the mummy as it was unclear how frozen in place it was and not keen to have a wrapped hand wrapped around my throat.

There was a krackle. Larry frowned and thumped the device in his hand. Something had broken within it. The mummy silently stepped forward.

I spun on my heel and strode away. “On the other hand, I hear Africa is quite nice this time of year.”

An Unexpected Guest

After we finished with the introduction part of the process, we got down to the more important matters at hand: comparing notes.

Larry and Harry had managed to get down to the ground floor without incident. While creeping around there, they bumped into Mr. Thorndyke. Once he expressed that he was not with the gun men and could direct them to the office where the hostages were being held, they followed Mr. Thorndyke. While not experts at dealing with armed gun men, Larry and Harry got the drop on the two gun men in the office, disarming and restraining them. With the grateful hostages freed and promising to contact the police, the three men then came to assist us. And just in time too.

Our news, that the head gun man had not only touched the gem of Kah-So-Bey but was holding it, proved very distressing to Mr. Thorndyke and, to a lesser degree, Harry. “Why, that gem has a curse on it,” Harry explained, mopping at his forehead with a handkerchief.

Ms. Chapman nodded. “I told him about it but I was ignored.” She paused before continuing. “I didn't believe in the curse. Why would I? It sounded like a nice story to put on a sign. When you see a man drop dead in front of you, from just a touch?” Her voice grew very quiet. “I believe now.”

“Believing is all well and good,” I noted. “Greater things in heaven and earth than dreamt of in your philosophy and all that. We have a creature that was worshiped in Ancient Egypt as a god. What do we do about it? He seemed to have an interest in killing people. A lot of people.”

“A fine way to get to the nub of the problem,” Mr. Thorndyke said with enthusiasm. “No matter that your details are suspect, the point is still how do we stop him?” He turned to Ms. Chapman. “What do we know about Set?” She just looked at him. “Come, come, you are in the Egyptology department, are you not?”

“I am,” she reassured. “The myths about Set are often contradictory. I... let me think...”

Her pondering was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. There was a moment of panic, of us looking at each other in surprise, all apparently sharing my 'what was that?' thought. It sounded very nearby, as if it was just around the corner...

Oh. Oh dear.

Considering the looks I got, I made this expression of concern out loud. “Think about it for a moment. What's right outside? Much of the remnants of the 'Temples, Tells, and Tombs' exhibit that was once on the second floor.”

Harry must not have realized what he'd been walking past. “So what?”

Ms. Chapman's eyes brightened with understanding. “Djed-hor!”

I nodded, walking to the doorway to confirm my theory. “Set said something about having been gone awhile so he'd stick with something familiar.” The lighting in the hallway confirmed that I was right. Sometimes I really hate being right. A broken display case, glass on the floor, and a shambling bandaged figure struggling to free itself from the case. It stood, its face rotted away by millennia of decay. Slowly, at first, the feet shuffled forward, dragging the creature towards us.

Completely aware that my next words would sound ridiculous, I grimly noted “The mummy walks!”

Introductions

Our group returned to Morocco. It was starting to feel like a second home for me. Being here was comfortable.

This opinion did not seem to be shared by Ms. Chapman. “Why did we return here?” she asked as Larry snipped off her plastic wrist restraint.

“There are plans to develop as well as items to discuss,” explained the new gentleman. This felt like an accurate descriptor of him. He wasn't tall, being an inch or so shorter than myself, and he was mostly deprived of hair, apart from a dark 'U' shaped fringe. On the plus side, he was wearing a suit, which put him a step above me in the natty department. There was also a calmness about him, a quiet reassurance that all would be dealt with successfully. I got no feeling of panic from him, which was helpful under the circumstances. I had some panic for him it he wanted it.

If Ms. Chapman picked up on any of these gentlemanly qualities they did nothing to alter her opinion of the situation. “Oh really? Who are you to make such a decision for us?”

This questioning of his position seemed to politely wound him. “I am an employee of this fine establishment. As such I feel a certain... connection with it and wish to see it preserved, not damaged by mere hooligans.”

I massaged my freed wrists. “We seem to be past the point of mere hooligans sir.”

Ms. Chapman was not yet done. “I am an employee of the Museum and I don't find you familiar. At all.”

“Are you, perhaps, seeking to express the thought that you know all the employees of this establishment and, therefore, any individual unknown to you cannot also be an employee?” he questioned.

“Well, no,” she admitted. “I have worked here for a number of years and do know most of the other long time employees.”

“Are you now trying to call me old?” he wondered.

“No more than I'm trying to say that I'm old,” she defensively replied.

The man smiled at her kindly. “I fear I must admit that I have you at something of a disadvantage. You see, I recognize you as Diana Chapman but you appear to not recognize me.”

“It's not an appearance,” she reassured. “I don't recognize you.”

“For some reason, you look familiar to me,” I noted. It was weird, but the more I observed him, the more comfortable he felt to me.

It was now my turn to receive his smile. “That is most gratifying to hear.” He extended a hand. “Mr...?”

“Patrick Thompson. If we've met before, I can't say I remember your name but I must also admit to being horrible at remembering names. Faces, yes, but not names.”

We shook hands. “James P. Thorndyke.”

I considered this for a moment. “The name's not ringing a bell I'm afraid.”

He showed no signs of disappointment. “No matter. You can't have everything.”