Chapter 11 #3
Oliver hesitated a moment, considering, then tucked Samira’s notebook into his bag before following. Dave stopped in front of the row of bushes. He took his phone out, activated the flashlight, and leaned in close. Oliver stood beside him, squinting to see better.
A piece of material had caught on a branch. It fluttered in the gentle breeze, and a cold shiver of fear ran through him.
“No fucking way,” he whispered.
“What is it?” Dave asked. “Do you know?”
“I think it’s a piece of one of the bandages the mummy was wrapped in.”
Dave’s eyes were wide. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I mean, I’m not an archaeology major, but that’s exactly what it appears to be.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dave repeated, but lower this time. He looked around at the shadows and empty sidewalks. “We need to get home. We need to call this into the police.”
“Yeah, but…” Oliver made a face. “The police aren’t going to know what to do with this.” He waved toward the strip of material. “They’re going to think some human had the bandage on him, or, I don’t know, was carrying the mummy with him as he ran around to the back of the library.”
Dave searched the shadows at the corner of the library. Oliver could see the fear in his expression and felt the same churning within as an internal voice screamed for him to run, to save himself.
“We should see if she’s back there,” Dave said. “If it was you or me, I’d want someone to try to help.”
“You’re right.” Oliver reached into his bag and pulled out his own notebook he used in classes.
He tore out a piece of blank paper and folded it in half.
Holding the paper between the fingers and thumb of one hand, he used it to free the material from the branch.
Carefully folding the edges of the paper, he fashioned a crude envelope with the fabric inside, then slid it into a front pocket of his bag, away from his other belongings.
“Are you sure that was a smart thing to do?” Dave asked. “Removing evidence from a possible crime scene?”
“Nope. Not at all. But, if we’re right about what’s going on, it won’t be any help to the police.” He adjusted the strap across his chest. “Let’s go check around back.”
Using their phones as flashlights, they rounded the corner of the library and made their way toward the back of the building. Oliver tried to be as quiet as possible, but wondered if his pounding heart would give him away.
If the mummy was attacking members of Dr. Brennan’s team, what had resurrected him? And why had he murdered two, possibly now three, of them? Was it a curse, spelled out in the scroll they’d found entombed with him? Or maybe something about the material that had sprayed on them all?
An open expanse of lawn behind the library led to a small grove of hardwood trees. They stood at the edge of the trees, shining their flashlights inside and calling Samira’s name. There was no response.
“This feels bad,” Oliver said.
“It does.” Dave switched off his flashlight. “We need to call it in.”
Oliver groaned. “They’re going to arrest me if I’m caught at the scene of another crime.”
“Yep, they probably would. But not if we call in an anonymous tip.”
“That’s a good idea. But are there really anonymous tips these days? They can track any phone number in seconds.”
“True. But what if it’s from a payphone?”
Oliver frowned. “Are you going to travel back to the 1900s?”
Dave laughed. “No, smart ass. On the two trips I’ve made to town lately, I noticed a payphone outside the 7-Eleven. We can stop and call in an anonymous tip, say we heard a scream and think someone might be in trouble around the library.”
“Okay. I like that. Let’s go.”
They were quiet on the walk back to the car.
Oliver was tired from the events of the day—had it all happened in just one day?
—and he knew Dave had been through an emotional roller coaster as well.
When they reached the car, Dave directed him to the payphone and had him park toward the back of the building.
He leaned into the back and shifted some things around.
“I know, I need to clean that crap out,” Oliver said. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for…this.” Dave turned and put a baseball hat on his head, pulling the brim down low to hide his face. “What do you think?”
“You’re suspicious,” Oliver said with a chuckle, then cocked his head. “Also, kinda hot.”
Dave got out of the car and, head down, approached the payphone. He lifted the receiver, listened, then punched in 911. He spoke briefly before hanging up. Then he picked up the receiver again, used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it clean and then wiped his fingerprints from the keys.
When he got back in the car, Oliver was smiling. “I am impressed with your spy capabilities.”
Dave grinned. “Yeah? Maybe it’s a new career move. Let’s get out of here.”
Oliver pulled out of the lot and headed for home.
Once they’d left Glenmont, he felt a gentle calm—or was it exhaustion?
—fill him. Dave put a hand on his leg, his palm warm and reassuring as the car chased its headlights.
Everything else could be figured out. He hoped Samira was safe, but he was also ready to dig into her notes and study the material they'd found.
Maybe then some of this would start to make sense.