We're Doing What Now?

The second floor seemed calm but we took no chances. Moving quickly but cautiously, we walked around the Bison Hunt diorama, heading for the secondary doors to the Jewels exhibit, the ones by which we'd left in a hurry some time previous. How long has it been now? It's getting late.

As we walked, Mr. Thorndyke further explained his thoughts. “Set may be powerful but by no means is he all powerful. If we have the right artifacts available to us, we may be able to trap him.”

“Do you mean to form a pentagramic pyramid around him?” Ms. Chapman asked.

Mr. Thorndyke grew quite animated. “That is it precisely! If you know of it, then I'm sure you know more about it than I do, you being an expert in the field.”

Ms. Chapman smiled. “You are helping to jog my memory. This isn't the sort of information I normally need in a moment of crisis.”

“What's a pentagramic pyramid?” I asked. “I mean, I know what a pentagram is and what a pyramid is but not the combination of the two.”

“A pentagramic pyramid is an ancient symbol of mystical power,” Ms Chapman explained, “formed by the five points of the pentagram with a sixth point creating the pyramid point. Many of the sorcerers of Ancient Egypt believed it to be a conduit of power supplied by the gods themselves.”

“Was there some special process involved in activating this pyramid?” Harry asked. “It seems to me that they'd use it all the time if it was simple.”

We entered the exhibit, paused for a moment to adjust to the different gloom levels, and headed for the first display area. “It's all about math,” Ms. Chapman explained. “Angles and shapes. The pyramids are filled with similar patterns as part of their anti-grave robbing traps.”

“Considering how some of those were cleaned out, that doesn't seem to bode well for our plan,” I observed.

“There are other factors at play there,” Mr. Thorndyke explained as he began working to open a display case. “Over time the shapes in the pyramids lost some of their precision as the energy feeding them ceased to flow.”

I had to think about that for a moment. It seemed like a strangely specific level of detail. “Really?” As he opened a display case, Mr. Thorndyke took a moment to nod to me. I stood there, in the gloom, suddenly aware of a hazy green glow emerging over the interior walls of the exhibit. Was this knowledge any stranger than anything else I'd experienced tonight? Not really. For that matter, he may well be guessing, theorizing, extrapolating even.

I was tired. I was nervous. I was fearful. I had already decided to trust Mr. Thorndyke. This piece of knowledge was not much of a stretch but it did make me wonder.

Mr. Thorndyke waved me closer in order to to hand me a canopic jar, one with the faint shape of a falcon still visible in it. It was heavier than I expected and I quickly brought my other hand in to prevent myself from dropping it. “This is stone.”

“What did you expect something from Ancient Egypt to be made of? Plastic?” asked Ms. Chapman.

I just stared at the eroded, aged, carved figure in my hands. The age, the history, seeped from it. “This is real?” I dumbly mumbled. “I just didn't think... I mean, for some reason it never occurred to me that...” I brushed the top of the jar with the back of my hand. “Where have you been and what have you seen?”

Mr. Thorndyke quickly broke my moment. “Mostly the inside of a tomb. I'm sure it's not as exciting as you think.” He pried a picture from its mount on the wall, provoking an excitable reaction from Ms. Chapman. Mr. Thorndyke waved her off. “If we survive, it can be glued back on to the display. If not, well, we won't have to worry about it, will we?”

Needing a Stick

Central America, the part on the third floor, was also mostly dark. We had to slow our pace in order to make sure nothing was hiding in the shadows to get us but we couldn't go too slowly for fear our pursuers, who would have no such concerns, would be able to catch up with us. Nothing new there.

From where we were at that stairwell to the entrance of the exhibit hall was not far compared to the distance we'd traveled through Africa. There was a sharp right turn, a few dozen feet of displays before the hallway veered to the right for a few steps, another junction where we continued forward instead of turning right, taking the next right into a small room that featured the entrance to the exhibit, unless, like us, you approached it from this angle where it worked as an exit. We walked into the large, well lit, open area that featured elevators, display cases, and a marketplace diorama. Most importantly under the circumstances were the escalators and the freedom they represented.

“We're here,” I declared. “Now what?”

Harry smiled. “Well now we...” His enthusiasm faded. “Say, what are we going to do next? I'd gotten so wrapped up in the concerns of the moment, I stopped considering a larger plan.”

“Could we just hit Set in the hand with a stick so he drops the gem in his hand?” Larry asked. “Would that break the spell?”

Harry just looked at him. “Hit his hand with a stick?” he echoed. “Why that's the silliest thing I ever heard.”

“Had the possession not been complete, it wouldn't be unreasonable,” Mr. Thorndyke noted. “I imagine that it is too late for that action now.”

“I wonder if his death touch would go through the stick, like electricity?” I questioned.

“We could throw the stick,” Larry offered.

“Good thought,” I responded.

“Enough with the sticks,” Harry grumbled. “Can't you see this is serious?”

“And we are seriously stuck for a plan,” I retorted. “We might as well talk about what we have worked out.”

“I can see no way to fight Set directly,” Mr. Thorndyke thoughtfully declared. “It may be possible to return him to the prison he escaped from earlier today.” To Ms. Chapman he asked “Are you using any storage on this floor or would we have to find our way upstairs to reach a supply of Egyptian antiquities?”

“We have nothing here,” she informed. “It depends on what you're thinking of. We have a number of items on display in the Jewels exhibit for context.”

“Yes, of course!” Mr. Thorndyke exclaimed excitedly. “The very location that returned Set to this plane of existence may also provide the means of dismissing him from it.”

“We're going downstairs then?” I checked. Upon receiving a confirmation nod, I continued. “Good. We need to go somewhere soon as our friends are catching up with us.” The mummy and revived gun men were emerging from the gloom of Central America. Thusly prodded onwards, we eagerly descended the escalator back to the second floor.

The Benefits of Running

“Well? Now what do we do?” Harry asked.

I was doing math in my head. “Hope.”

Ms. Chapman didn't care much for my declaration. “Hope? How is that a plan of action?” She's very excitable.

“I'm just hoping they don't know their way around the building like we do.” I gestured towards the stairwell in front of us. “Central America also goes above us. Come on!” I led the way up the stairs which, thankfully, were clear, as was the exhibit area on the third and a half floor. I glanced back down the stairs, past the rest of my group, to see the gun men heading for the steps. They weren't running but they were following us at a solid pace. Excellent!

The group waited for me at the first turn. Ms. Chapman didn't share my excitement over the fact that we were being followed. “Nice of you to trap us up here rather than down there,” she grumbled.

“I can see you don't understand.” I checked behind me. They were just coming up the steps. “If they're up here, then they're not downstairs.” I started running.

I knew it was a gamble but it did appear to be our best option. How smart were these revived gun men?  How tightly was Set directing them? How aware of the building's layout was Set? It appeared that the gun men had been directed into this position to encircle us but had reacted to chase us. They weren't running but could walk at a good clip, speed walking perhaps. We could outdistance them until we tired.

Then there was the layout of this area. The three hallways branched out from the junction as well as the two stairwells providing access to this upper level of Central America. While there was a reasonably sized exhibit area up here, the two stairwells were only a dozen or so feet apart on the third floor. With a bit of quickness on our part, we could take the long way around upstairs and return to the third floor proper no longer caged in.

This is what happened. We spilled down the other staircase, quickly checked our surroundings, saw the mummy emerge from Africa, and we headed into Central America.

Darkened Africa

Harry was right. It was dark. Sure we had flashlights and there was other functional spotlights set up at regular intervals but it was still more dark than not. Hints of light reflected off of glass eyes so that they glowed back at you. It's just taxidermy animals, nothing to be afraid of at all. The mummy was nothing to be afraid of until Set animated it. Who was to say that he couldn't activate these creatures as well? That suddenly Sim the lion or Timba the elephant would walk again but for the purpose of getting us? Would the death touch of Set be transmitted through the items he animated? We didn't know, nor were we keen to find out.

This made for an interesting walk. On the one hand, we were hesitant, concerned by what might be looming in the gloom to attack us. Yet, on the other hand, we needed to move at a rapid pace to keep ahead of the mummy still shuffling to catch up with us. Even if it was still lingering near Morocco, it was blocking our path. Ahead of us would be unblocked exits, or so we hoped.

Have you ever walked through your home in limited light? It's a place you know well but in the dark it's different. Chairs might trip you. Couches may dart in front of you. The corner of a table is never as sharp as it is when it stabs you in the thigh in the dark.

A minor victory for me was my path through this maze. Even in the dark, I knew where I was and where I was headed. Of course, there were no couches here to trip on, although there was some intentionally uneven ground to lose one's footing over. I recalled the turns in the path better than Ms. Chapman. I needed something to go right and this little success was cheering in some way. I even managed to keep her from getting hung up in that weird corner near the gnus. You know the spot, where the wall shifts like it will split off into another corridor but doesn't? Good thing I stopped her as the remains of a beer stand were stacked in that area. No couches, but there was a table available to crack Harry in the shins. As he tried to recover, he opened his eyes at the moment Larry turned to see what had happened and Harry caught the full energy of Larry's flashlight in his eyes. Sputtering, he stumbled back into the table, crashing through it. He was fine but it did make quite the racket.

Once we were this deep into the exhibit hall, it grew very dark indeed. The path loops back on itself, more or less, and the lights are placed in such a way that the bulk of the hallway is untouched by illumination. According to Ms. Chapman, this was to help protect light sensitive objects in the displays. This is all well and good until you're eluding a mummy in the dark.

Thankfully the junction was well lit. This area was the reason why I was not too concerned about heading into Africa. Three hallways as well as a couple of stairwells met up here and there should be a way available to us. I patted the smooth nose of the Easter Island head model as I scanned the are. The coast was clear. Another minor victory. It was relaxing to just stand in the light and not be struggling to see. For a moment, I stood there, letting the pressure lessen, while I waited for the rest of the group to catch up.

Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. “I must admit to being turned around in the dark. Where are we now?”

“Just out of Africa,” I noted. Gestured to the left, I added “That way takes us through the Islands of the Sea aka the Oceanic hall, whereas the other path takes us through Central America.”

“How do we get out of here?” Harry asked, keeping us on point.

“Eitherway will get us back to the entrance,” Ms. Chapman explained, “but the path through Central America is more direct.”

“And it lets out right by the escalator near the entrance to Africa,” I added.

“You don't need to tell me twice.” Quickly Harry headed for the doorway. He stopped suddenly as one of the reanimated gun men stepped from the gloom to cut him off. Smiling nervously, Harry turned back towards us and chuckled. “Then again, we could all use more exercise in our lives. Perhaps the longer way would be best.” He only managed a step or two before the other undead gun man cut off that egress.

The mummy was behind us. The gun men to either side. All possibly carrying the touch of death with them.

This was not good.

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.”