Entombed Read online

The paper was covered in what at first looked like an inky mess, but on careful inspection turned out to be a tiny, complicated diagram of the inside of the Pyramid. Strange symbols were marked on some of the tunnels and rooms.

  The old man jabbed his finger down on one of the central rooms. “This is where you need to go. If my information is correct, the document I need you to get is somewhere in that chamber.”

  “That’s a big If,” Akil mumbled.

  The man looked into his eyes. “It’s the best I can do.”

  They journeyed together to the Pyramid. On the way, Akil studied the map. It was a tentative sketch of three layers of rabbit-like warrens and tunnels, fake walls, and corridors that ended in nothing. In the center was the large chamber: his destination.

  When they arrived there, Akil stared up at the Great Pyramid in awe. He’d always known of the ancient sites that stood just outside his city, but he’d never had the time or inclination to go see them.

  The Pyramid rose nearly five hundred feet in the air above his head. The old man had told him it was made from 2.3 million stone blocks, each weighing over two tons. Thousands of years before he was born, in ancient times, Egyptians had cut these stone blocks using only primitive copper tools and their own bare hands. Akil couldn’t imagine how it had been possible. Plus, the four sides of the pyramid were almost exactly even, differing only by a few inches. And they were perfectly aligned to match up with the four points of the compass.

  The Great Pyramid was the tallest, but it wasn’t the only one. Two other pyramids and the Great Sphinx loomed above Akil to one side. All around them, the desert shimmered in the heat.

  The first step, of course, was to get inside the massive pyramid.

  There were a few options. The Pyramid had an original entrance, which had been hidden for thousands of years but now had been uncovered. Then there was an entrance that had been broken through the rock, hundreds of years ago. But the old man insisted that Akil use neither of those.

  Still, he eyed the original entrance longingly. Flanked by large boulders, it was about halfway up the Pyramid. It would have been a scramble, but once there it looked like the most direct way to the heart of the Pyramid.

  He tried one more time to convince the old man. “You want this to be quick, right? Then why don’t you let me —”

  “Absolutely not. Do you think the SQ doesn’t know that there are still undiscovered treasures resting inside the Pyramid? Of course it’s been looted many times throughout the ages, but anyone with half a brain knows that the greatest treasures are still undiscovered within. Any entrance you see here is sure to be rigged with traps.”

  “So we make our own entrance.”

  “Now you get it.” The old man settled back comfortably in the sand while Akil got to work.

  He was using an old method, but one that worked. First, he’d studied the old man’s map and found the spot where he thought he was most likely to enter on a useful corridor if he broke through just one layer of rock. After evaluating the actual pyramid and doing his best to locate the area that he’d found on the map, Akil scrambled up to the spot. The slanting wall was not smooth; rocks jutted out at regular intervals. When he was in position, Akil knelt and built a fire. The smoke spiraling up into the sky felt a little too much like a signal fire, potentially attracting attention to them, but he pushed that thought away and sat back, conserving his strength, waiting for the fire to get hot.

  Sitting on the foot of the sphinx was a man named Seth. The sight of smoke pouring up from the Great Pyramid caught his attention. He was a camel herder and wouldn’t have normally given it another thought, but lately there’d been a lot of activity at the Pyramids. And just last week a guy had slipped him ten piastre and promised him ten more if Seth would let him know if he ever saw anything unusual in this part of the desert. Was this unusual? Seth made his way toward the Pyramid.

  There was an old man napping at the foot of the Pyramid, and a young boy making a fire halfway up. Was that unusual? He still wasn’t sure. Then he paused to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

  Wait a second! he thought, the realization dawning on him. Who needed a fire in this heat? It must be unusual. Seth decided to head to Cairo and report his sighting.

  Once the fire had been blazing brightly for long enough, Akil took out a jug of cold vinegar. He splashed it all over the rock that he’d heated. The cold vinegar would weaken the hot rock. After waiting a moment, Akil pulled out a hammer and chisel, and gave the rock a hard pound. His arm vibrated with the impact, but the weakened stone split under his hammer, cracks spreading across its surface. He smiled. So far, this was going pretty well. He was trying to stay focused on the work, but it was hard not to daydream a little about all the things he would buy for his family once he was done. A new house with more rooms would be first. And a feast, with meat and fish and fruit . . . He settled in to the hard work of breaking up the stone, his daydreams keeping his mind occupied.

  Akil lost track of time. All he knew was that when he at last gave the final blow, and the huge rock crumbled into pieces at his feet, his arms were aching with the effort.

  Down below, the old man gave a whoop of excitement. Akil could see him punching his fists in the air and kicking up his legs in a weird old-person dance. Eager to begin, Akil turned away from the desert and toward the tunnel that had just opened up in front of him.

  He’d thought he wasn’t afraid of anything, but he could feel his heart race as he stared into the Pyramid. Behind him was the heat and light of the afternoon. In front of him was just darkness. It was like staring into the throat of a giant crocodile: cold, damp breath blasted out at Akil. He lit his lantern and took a tentative first step inside.

  The stupid ghost stories that Omari had tried to scare him with swarmed his brain, but Akil wrenched his attention back to reality. Holding his lantern high, he stepped into the narrow passageway.

  Shadows bounced around as the lantern swung from his hand. All he had to do was follow the (nearly incomprehensible) map, hope that none of the passages had gotten blocked by collapsed rocks in the past few thousand years, and find a secret document written in unreadable hieroglyphs, one that could hold the key to history. Easy, right?

  The old man watched excitedly as Akil shattered the ancient stone, and found himself holding his breath as Akil disappeared into the dark opening. They were so close to getting the precious document, but now it was all out of his hands. There was nothing left to do but wait. He settled back in the warm sand. He’d take the role of watchman, keep an eye on the area.

  Moments later, his eyes drifted closed, and he fell asleep.

  The next thing he knew, rough hands were grabbing him, yanking him to his feet and binding his wrists tightly behind his back. He tried to struggle and shout for help, but a rag was shoved into his mouth, muffling his screams.

  His heart raced in his chest. He couldn’t see who his captors were, but he could take a pretty good guess. SQ. But were they just after him — the old, feeble leader of the local Hystorians — or had they noticed the small hole chopped into the side of the Great Pyramid? How far had that boy gotten by now? Would he be smart enough to check the area before coming back out? Would they —

  A blow to the head knocked him over, and he fell to the ground. Spots swam in front of his eyes and darkness started to enfold him.

  The last thing he heard before he slipped into unconsciousness was a man’s voice saying, “Now let’s go after that boy.”

  Akil had been moving steadily uphill. The stone floor had been polished until it was silky smooth, so even in the dim lantern light he could move quickly and quietly without worrying about tripping. He wished he had some way of judging how much time had passed, but inside the Pyramid it was eternal night — just like those creepy pharaohs would have wanted it, he thought.

  The thought of those ghostly pharaohs gave him goose bump
s. Omari’s stories seemed way more plausible now that Akil was actually here. What if he disturbed a sleeping cobra? Or worse, the spirit of a sleeping cobra?

  Just then, Akil heard a noise. A rustling sound . . . like a dried-out old mummy moving for the first time in centuries . . .

  He rounded a corner, and a rush of motion around his head caused Akil to let out a yelp of surprise — and drop his lantern to the ground. The light went out, but not before he saw a swarm of giant black wings coming toward him, engulfing him.

  He ducked down to the ground and threw his arms over his face, bracing for whatever horrible attack would come next from these creatures.

  The rushing sound passed by overhead, and the tunnel grew quiet again.

  Was he not going to get torn limb from limb by a demon?

  The only noise left was the frantic pounding of his heart. When he was calm enough to hold the lantern with a steady hand, Akil stood up and relit it.

  Now he could see that this section of the tunnel was covered in white stains that looked suspiciously like . . . He looked up. Yup, guano. Huge bats hung upside down from the ceiling. He must have startled some of them.

  “Just bats,” he whispered to himself. “They’re just enormous . . . freakish . . . tomb-guarding . . . bats.”

  He kept walking, glancing down at his map every now and then to make sure he was on the right path. At irregular intervals, a tunnel would branch off from the main walkway. Some looked like they made loops before connecting back to the corridor he was on. Some were just as large as the main path; others were small crawl spaces. Some only went five feet before being blocked by a slab of stone. Akil wondered what was down all these paths. Treasure? Traps?

  The old man had instructed him to turn on the side branch with an entrance built higher into the wall, so Akil kept constantly scanning the top of the wall with his eyes. Finally, he saw it: an alcove carved in halfway to the ceiling. In order to get there he’d have to drag over one of the big rocks that he’d passed so that he could reach the ledge. Pushing the rock across the floor made such a loud scraping sound that he was sure he would wake the dead.

  And then, while pausing to catch his breath, he did hear something. Footsteps. Far away, but coming closer.

  As quickly as he could, he scrambled up on top of the rock and jumped. He was just barely able to catch the ledge with his fingers. Once again, he had cause to be thankful for the tough calluses that covered his hands. He swung, but his grip held. His arms straining, Akil hauled himself up into the alcove. Just as he tucked his body fully into the small enclosure, he saw a beam of light appear from around the corner. The footsteps were getting louder still.

  Akil quickly blew out his own lantern and froze.

  The footsteps rounded the corner, and Akil saw the bodies that they belonged to:

  Mo. And his father, Abbas.

  “I’m sure I heard something in this direction,” Mo was saying. Akil could see the sweat glistening on Mo’s forehead as they passed below.

  “Well, let’s keep going, then,” his father replied impatiently. “Hurry up.”

  They ran on, leaving a pool of darkness behind them.

  If those thugs were here, then Akil was in trouble. He’d better hurry. It wouldn’t take them long before they realized they’d lost his trail, and then they would double back.

  He relit his lantern, and scouted out this new tunnel. The alcove was low, but after crawling for about ten feet, it opened up into another large corridor, tall enough for Akil to stand comfortably.

  He was getting close. He started running.

  It wasn’t much later that the corridor dead-ended at a door. Panting, Akil reached out and pushed it open. This had to be the chamber. Akil was momentarily worried he’d see a real mummified body, but there weren’t any sarcophagi in the room.

  The walls were covered with intricate carvings: little pictures that he knew were hieroglyphs, the writing of the ancient Egyptians. They showed tiny falcons, owls, cupped hands, zigzags, a slithery snake. . . . There were also larger pictures, showing noblemen seated on thrones, wild jackals on the prowl. Gems winked in the light from his lantern. They added color to the images — the emerald-green eye of a crocodile, the ruby-red light of the sun.

  Akil found himself running his hands over the carvings, testing each gem to see if it had any give. Without meaning to, he found that he’d quickly analyzed how best to remove a jewel from the wall: A flick of a knife point was all it would take, he was pretty sure. He wasted precious minutes in a daze, hesitating.

  He could forget the quest, the document. He could just take one of these gems and it would probably be enough to support his family. Enough that he could give up his thieving.

  But stealing an ancient treasure from this untouched chamber felt somehow wrong. . . .

  The old man, on the other hand, was strange, but he was also utterly convinced of the rightness of his cause. What if that document did have the potential to help people, like he’d said? What if Akil could finally give something, instead of only taking?

  A faint noise from somewhere in the Pyramid snapped him out of his musings. He didn’t have much time before they found the rock he’d dragged, followed his trail, and caught up with him. Akil brought his attention back to his goal: getting the document.

  What had he expected, that it would be lying out on a table in the center of the room? Well, it definitely wasn’t.

  Akil started searching through the room. There were statues, and even a pile of what looked like back scratchers. He began throwing open the trunks that lined one wall. In the first he found heaps of carefully folded linens. Ancient robes? He picked one up to look more closely, and the cloth crumbled away in his hands.

  The next held an array of bizarre tools. Was that the brain-nose device that Omari had mentioned to him? He slammed that trunk shut as fast as he could. If Mo and Abbas caught up to him, he didn’t want them seeing that thing and getting any nasty ideas.

  He was starting to get nervous. What if he wasn’t able to find the document? To have come all this way only to fail . . .

  Just then he noticed a strange box in the far corner of the chamber. He approached it curiously. It was wide and flat, not a bad size for holding an important piece of papyrus. Attached to the end was a strange kind of crossbar with a hole at the end. When Akil tried pulling the box open and it didn’t give, he realized that the attachment must be some kind of ancient lock. He glanced around wildly. Were there any ancient keys lying around?

  Taking a deep breath to slow himself down, he looked more closely at the lock. The hole for the key looked quite deep, actually. It reminded him of something. . . .

  Akil ran over to the pile of what he’d thought were oddly shaped wooden back scratchers. Were these keys? He grabbed them up and ran back to the box, dropping one on his way. It let out a clatter that could probably be heard all the way back in Cairo. He bit his lip in horror. That would help Mo find his way here, all right.

  He knelt down. Would he have to waste time trying each key? Then he noticed some kind of hieroglyphic code on the outside of the box: a small marking of a bird with a human head. Now he noticed that each key had a different marking as well.

  Akil started shuffling through them — one with an eye, one with a pair of hands. . . . Finally, he picked up one with a matching bird-human marking. He wiggled the key into the attachment on the box. Immediately, he felt the teeth of the key click into the tumblers, and the lock lifted, the lid of the box swinging open.

  There, printed on a piece of ancient papyrus, was the looping snake the old man had told him to look for. Painted in a metallic gold, untouched by light or wind for thousands of years, it shone brightly in the flickering glow of his flame. A snake, looped and bent, and with its own tail caught in its fangs.

  Below it were symbols — hieroglyphs — that he supposed spelled out
a word in some forgotten language: a symbol that looked like a loaf of bread, a flowering reed, an owl, and an outstretched forearm.

  He carefully lifted the paper out and started to roll it up, aware that this was his final job. Once this scroll was safely delivered to the old man, Akil would never have to steal again. He allowed himself a brief smile and then —

  “Gotcha.”

  There in the doorway was Abbas, Mo right behind him.

  “Thought you could get away, did you?” Mo sneered. “You’ve gotta be crazy. When have you ever gotten past me?”

  Akil looked around in a panic, but there was no other way out of the chamber. Gripping the scroll tightly, he did the only thing he could think of, the desperate act of a cornered thief: He took off running straight toward them, hoping he could use the element of surprise to burst past and his speed to sprint away into the labyrinth before they could grab him.

  It didn’t work.

  Abbas reached out and caught Akil as easily as Akil would catch one of his little brothers. Before he knew it, Akil was wrapped in a big bear hug.

  “He’s holding something, Mo,” Abbas growled. “Take it from him.”

  Akil wasn’t sure if he should let the scroll go without a fight, or keep his hold on it no matter what. Would the old man prefer that Abbas and Mo see the document and it remain pristine, or that its contents stay secret but get torn up in a scuffle?

  Akil released his grip and Mo danced away holding the sheet of papyrus.

  “It’s — it’s — Dad, I don’t know what this is. It’s just a bunch of little pictures.”

  “They’re hieroglyphs.” His dad sighed. “Don’t talk so much. It’ll help you sound less stupid.”

  Abbas held Akil out at arm’s length. His scowling face was the second-to-last thing Akil saw. A huge fist coming right at him was the last.

  Ten minutes later, Akil found himself on the floor of the chamber, in utter darkness, without the scroll. His head ached, and he moaned at the pain still ringing in his cheek, where Abbas’s fist had made contact. He groped around the floor and touched something sharp. He could only assume it was the smashed remains of his lantern. Well, at least they hadn’t tied him up. Or killed him outright. But that left him to assume that they’d done something else to prevent him from making it out of this giant tomb alive.