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  He reached for his pouch. That was still there . . . and it felt like the map was still safely tucked inside. So they hadn’t known that he had it. Little good it would do him, though, if he couldn’t get some light.

  Akil tried to piece together what he’d seen of the room before being knocked out. If he remembered correctly, there were ceramic bowls along the wall to his right. He could fill one with some of the dried old fabric from the trunk, and perhaps set fire to the scraps. That could work as a temporary light until he figured out his next step.

  He started crawling, keeping his right hand against the wall so that he wouldn’t lose his bearings. Soon enough, he knocked his knee against something hard. A ceramic bowl. He took it, then continued making his way around the room until he got to the trunks, and pulled open the one he thought he remembered having the cloth. There it was. He stuffed it into the bowl and used his flint to strike a flame.

  To his relief, he soon had a little bowl of fire burning away.

  He headed out of the room and back down the corridor toward the alcove where it connected up to the main branch. He was wary of traps, but saw none as he retraced his earlier steps.

  How was it that they’d left without ensuring that he’d be trapped?

  His question was answered as soon as he reached the alcove. They’d caused a cave-in right at the narrow spot where the tunnel narrowed into the crawl space. Where before there had been a passage large enough to squeeze through, now there was a pile of rubble.

  Akil ran his hands through his hair, willing himself not to panic. With the opening to the outside cut off, would he run out of air? Again, he pushed the dangerous thoughts away. He had to focus on finding a way out.

  Removing all the stones — if that was even possible — would take ages. Some of the pieces were boulder-size, probably weighing tons. And if the stability of the tunnel had been damaged, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go through that way anyway.

  Okay, then, his choice was clear. He’d have to find another way out.

  Akil pulled out the map and studied it carefully. He hadn’t noticed any small paths branching off as he’d gone down this passage, but he’d been rushing, not looking for another exit. Maybe he’d missed something.

  There was a smudge on the map that could have been dirt caught in an ancient crease — or could have been another tunnel.

  Akil retraced his steps.

  There — he saw it. Half-hidden behind a boulder was a hip-high passage. Sighing, he got down on his hands and knees. Pushing the bowl with the flickering flame ahead of him, he started to crawl.

  It felt like an eternity that Akil was stuck in the depths of the Pyramid. His hands and knees were sore and bruised. Blood from the cut on his face had congealed, leaving his face feeling stiff and sticky. He was sure that every inch of his body was covered in dirt and grime. But with no other option, he kept crawling.

  Finally, the passage opened up into what looked like the main corridor. Of course he couldn’t be sure that’s what it truly was. He stuck his head and shoulders out of the tunnel. He was perched on a pile of rocks and rubble, about two feet off the ground. And — could he be imagining it? — he heard a noise. With a sinking feeling, he blew out his flame.

  A minute later, a bobbing light in the distance appeared. It was Mo and Abbas, heading back out to the open air. His tunnel had been a shortcut, bringing him out ahead of them!

  Akil drew silently back into the tunnel and watched as they approached.

  Abbas was in the lead with the torch. Behind him followed Mo, looking tired and bored.

  As they walked past him, he saw that Mo had the papyrus scroll rolled up and tucked into the back of his waistband.

  Akil’s thief fingers itched. Would he risk it? He hesitated for a moment too long, and then Mo and Abbas had continued down the hallway, just out of his reach. Akil cursed himself. What had happened to his instincts, his savvy, his courage? The light moved farther away as the two thugs kept walking, taking Akil’s future with them.

  He could hear Abbas talking about someone else they’d have to beat up the next day, no shame in his voice. Akil knew he couldn’t let them win.

  He scanned the hallway. The last flickers of light moved on the walls and ceiling — but there was something else moving, too.

  Yes.

  Akil slipped off one of his sandals and took careful aim at a spot just down the corridor, between his hiding spot and the two figures. He cocked his arm back — and threw.

  The shoe curved up in a perfect arc, scraping the ceiling. He could see it brushing by a thick cluster of tightly folded wings . . . and the bats reacted as he’d hoped they would. They blasted off their perches like a dark wind, sweeping down the tunnel. He watched as Mo and Abbas reacted to the sound of rustling wings by spinning around — then the cloud of wings and silent claws was on them, scaring and disorienting them. This was his moment.

  Akil took a handful of stones from the rubble piled around his feet and started pelting them in all directions. He threw stones back down the tunnel he’d come through, so that the sound of the impact echoed through the very heart of the Pyramid, like ancient demons were coming back to life. He showered them down on the main corridor in front of him — and he let out a full-throated howl, a sound, he hoped, much like that of an angry mummy whose slumber had been disturbed.

  He could hear Mo’s shrieks, and Abbas calling for Mo to be quiet, and he could see them floundering, turning in tight circles and peering into the darkness to try to pinpoint the source of the terror.

  Silently, Akil darted down the corridor, keeping to the shadowy sides. He sidled up within a foot of Mo. Bat wings beat all around him, making it hard for him to tell whether the beating of his heart was as loud as it sounded in his own ears. Delicately, he reached out and slipped the papyrus from Mo’s waistband.

  Had he felt anything?

  Akil darted back into the tunnel, into the shadows.

  Disoriented, Mo and Abbas took off running down the corridor — in the wrong direction. They ran away from the entrance that led out into the desert sun, and deeper into the heart of the Pyramid. Their heavy footfalls set off tiny rockslides, more sounds that reverberated in the stone structure.

  Akil stood frozen, waiting. The echoes died down, and the bats slowly settled.

  He opened his mouth in a silent scream of victory. The scroll was his. He ran exuberantly toward the light. He could already feel the heat from outside seeping into the cold tunnel.

  Whatever information the scroll held about time — moving time, changing time, bending time — was all well and good. What he couldn’t wait for was showing up back home with his arms loaded with as much food as he could carry.

  Akil never did steal again, but that doesn’t mean that he behaved himself either. In fact, his adventure in the Great Pyramid of Giza awoke within him a passion for pranks and mischief. From that day forward, he made it his personal mission to make life difficult for Mo and anyone else who sided with the SQ. The people of Cairo rallied behind him, and the SQ eventually fell out of favor throughout Egypt.

  He went on to become a successful archaeologist, discovering that his deft fingers made him a natural at the careful excavation of lost and forgotten treasures. If he was ever tempted to keep any of those treasures for himself, he hid the temptation well.

  — Arin

  The author gratefully acknowledges Emily Seife.

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  e-ISBN 978-0-545-52265-6

  First edition, December 2013

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