Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
As they moved toward the intersection, Carter glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “What’s she doing here?”
Dave looked back at Clarabell. Her eyes were wide behind her glasses and what looked like red wine was splashed across the front of her white pant suit, but it couldn’t dim the determination in her expression. “She’s got a lot of knowledge about this kind of stuff. And she’s brave as shit.”
Carter grunted. “Brave doesn’t always equal smart.” He stopped at the hallway, motioning for them all to follow his lead and press back against the wall.
“I’ll take point,” Carter said quietly. “Montroig go right, Keaton go left.” He turned to the rest of them and pointed to Lucia, Gayle, Demetrius, Robin, and Dave. “You five, stay back two feet. The rest of you stay right fucking here, is that clear?”
Roman opened his mouth to protest, but a glare from the detective made him close it again.
“Remember whoever this fuck is, he’s got a hostage,” Carter said.
Dave shifted his weight impatiently. They were wasting time. It could be breaking Oliver’s arms and legs right now. They had to move.
The detective slipped out into the intersection and the officers followed. They slowly made their way toward the end of the hall, guns up, attention focused.
“Which door?” Carter asked without taking his eyes from the exit doors.
“The last one on the right. It’s open,” Robin said. “There’re two rooms inside. The coffin’s in the farthest one.”
“Montroig, Keaton, continue to flank me. I’m going to swing out wide and keep my attention on that door. You watch my six and the exit.”
“Copy,” both officers said.
Dave wanted to scream at the slow pace of their approach. He managed to hold his tongue, but caught himself opening and closing his fists. If only he’d gone after the mummy a few seconds earlier, he might have avoided the detective and this slow advance.
Carter was directly across from the open door when they all heard a quiet thump from inside the room. A low rumbling moan followed, almost sounding like speech.
“That’s it,” Dave whispered. “That’s what it sounds like.”
“Stay back, everyone,” Carter said. “We’ll go in and handle it.”
He moved up to the door, hesitated, then vanished inside the room. Montroig and Keaton followed. Dave was right behind Keaton and able to see over her head. A shadow shifted within the interior room, a flash of what had to be someone covered in dirty strips of linen.
“There!” He pointed over her shoulder. “In the other room.”
As Carter and the officers approached the open door to the interior room, Dave checked all around the control room. No sign of Oliver. He moved to the control panel and peered through the glass.
The mummy stood by its coffin, staring back at him. It clenched its bony fists and shrieked before turning toward the door.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
Carter stood at the interior door as the mummy moved into view. He fired, the shots like a sonic boom inside the small space.
“No! Oliver!” Dave shouted, but it was drowned out by the gunfire.
The bullets struck the mummy’s chest in tiny puffs of dust and shredded bandages. It staggered slightly but continued forward, breaching the doorway and crowding into the room where they were all backing away.
Except for Dave.
He was cut off from the exit to the hallway.
He crouched and pressed himself into a corner of the control panel.
The mummy continued to advance on Carter and the officers, forcing them as well as Demetrius, Robin, and Clarabell from the room.
Demetrius met Dave’s eyes over Montroig’s shoulder.
He called his name then moved as if he intended to dart across and join him.
But Montroig swept his arm out and blocked him, forcing him out the door.
Carter’s gun clicked, and he cursed. “I’m out!”
Montroig stepped into his place and fired his weapon into the mummy’s chest and head. Other than rocking it back and briefly impeding its forward motion, Dave could see no other effect.
When Carter was almost out of the room, he cast a fearful, almost apologetic look at Dave, and then he was gone from sight.
Keaton was next, and finally Montroig, who by that time had emptied his own weapon.
The mummy tromped ahead, moaning and swiping, bandages swaying beneath its arms, its bony fingers tipped with long, sharp nails.
Dave saw his chance. He slid along the control panel, forcing himself to take slow, steady breaths. The air was heavy with the smell of gunpowder. Keeping his eyes on the mummy’s back, he slipped through the door and entered the work room.
The coffin lay on a wheeled cart pushed against the far wall.
Its sides were tall, preventing him from seeing the interior.
Moving quickly and as quietly as possible, he kept low as he searched every shadowed corner for any sign of Oliver.
He tried the handle of a supply closet. It gave slightly but resisted his pull.
A quiet moan made him stop. It came again and Dave abandoned the supply closet for the coffin. The top edges were rough and dusty under his fingers as he peered inside.
Oliver lay in the bottom, a trickle of blood running from a small cut under his hairline. His face was pale and dirty, a bruise coming up on one side of his jaw. But he was alive and moving. No broken limbs as far as Dave could see, no neck bruising.
“Babe,” Dave whispered. He checked over his shoulder. The mummy was in the outer doorway, growling and swiping at the others. “Oliver. Hey, come on. Can you wake up?”
He reached inside the coffin, the material of his jacket snagging on the edges. Touching Oliver’s face, Dave gave his cheek a quick stroke with his thumb, then gently shook his shoulder.
“Oliver, wake up. We have to go.”
He had no escape plan. All he wanted was to get Oliver out of the goddamn coffin.
With a flutter of eyelids, Oliver came around. He’d lost his glasses somewhere along the way, and he squinted to make out Dave’s features.
“Dave?”
“Hi, hey. God, it’s good to see you awake. Can you sit up?”
Dave glanced toward the window but didn’t see the mummy. Either it was pursuing the others down the hall or lurking in the room behind him. He spun to check the other side of the room and cried out in alarm.
It stood a few feet away, arms extended as it approached.
Before Dave could move, it shoved him. He tumbled sideways, shoulder banging against the concrete floor and a bolt of pain lancing up the back of his skull.
“No! Oliver!”
Clutching the edge of a work table, Dave pulled himself up. A hot line of pain ran from his shoulder up the back of his neck and around his skull. The room spun around him and he closed his eyes.
Oliver screamed.
Dave’s eyes flew open. Crowbars were lined up on the surface of the work table. Grabbing one, he turned. The mummy leaned over the coffin, hands inside, doing God knew what to Oliver.
“Leave him alone!”
Dave charged, the bar held high. The mummy turned and smacked him aside, sending him flying across the room. The crowbar clanged against the concrete floor, and Dave hit the far wall then dropped into a heap. He groaned, unable to stand.
Someone took his arm and he startled, trying to pull away.
“It’s me,” Demetrius said in a quiet voice.
“Oliver,” Dave said, holding a hand to his head and pointing with the other. “Get Oliver.”
“We’re working on it.”
“Hey, fuck face!”
Too unsteady to get to his feet, Dave could only sit with his back against the wall and watch as Jugs swung the bar at the back of the mummy’s skull. It connected, rocking the mummy’s head to one side. Dave heard the crack, saw how its head now canted slightly to the left.
It turned on Jugs. He backed away, swinging wildly. The mummy batted the bar aside, sending it skittering off into a corner. It took Jugs by the neck, lifted him off his feet, and shook him.
“No!”
Demetrius was up and moving. He retrieved the crowbar and circled the mummy, striking it again on the back of the skull.
Another crack of bone, and the mummy’s head jerked once more to the side, hanging even lower toward its shoulder.
It released Jugs who stumbled back, coughing and gasping, one hand at his throat.
Agatha was there to support him as best she could, helping him retreat.
The mummy swung at Demetrius, but he danced back out of the way and smacked its arms down with the crowbar.
Dave pushed himself up the wall, pausing a moment to steady himself before shoving off. The room felt slanted, but he kept his eyes on the coffin, one arm extended as he moved. Oliver gripped the edge. Dave straightened his back and pushed himself a bit harder, reaching for the coffin.
When he got to it, Dave leaned against the side. He bent over the edge and helped Oliver to sit up.
“Come on, we’ve gotta go,” Dave said.
“Where the fuck am I?” Oliver’s expression was tight as he looked around. His eyes widened when he saw their friends all holding crowbars and taking turns swinging at the mummy. “Jesus.”
“Can you climb out?”
Oliver felt the sides of the coffin. “Am I inside the coffin? Did it put me in here?”
“Yes. Come on, get out. We have to go.”
“Fucking hell.” Oliver turned and got up on all fours. “This is creepy as fuck.”
“I know, but there’s no time, come on.”
Carter and the officers were in the room now, crowding the mummy, taunting and distracting it to give Dave and Oliver precious seconds to escape. They’d holstered their weapons, but Carter had a crowbar and Montroig and Keaton held their batons, both jabbing and swinging at it.
Oliver dropped to the floor beside him and swayed. Dave put an arm around him, feeling Oliver’s arm around his waist. They started for the door.
The mummy turned. It bellowed and lurched toward them, head wobbling.
Dave tightened his grip around Oliver. But Oliver stopped. He took a step away from Dave, back toward the mummy.
“Oliver, no!” Dave whispered, his voice frantic. “What are you doing?”
Oliver held up a hand toward him without taking his eyes off it. “Amenmose, you need to stop. I’m right here.”
To Dave’s shock, the mummy halted. Montroig, Keaton, and Carter all froze, weapons held up and ready.
Demetrius stood off to one side, breathing heavily.
Lucia, Gayle, and Robin all clustered around him.
Jugs sat against the wall, hand at his throat, Agatha crouching beside him while Clarabell hovered in the doorway.
The mummy lowered its arms and, even with its head practically lying on its shoulder, Dave could see its expression soften. Its jaw worked, and in a soft and ruined voice, he heard it say, “Mery.”