The Secret of the Scarab Beetle Page 9

  “What is it?” Lilly asked. “Are we moving again?”

  “No. We’re not moving,” he answered, trying to calm the fears from their last serious family conversation. “It’s about Grandma and Grandpa’s house.”

  “The farm?” Horace asked.

  “Yes, the farm,” his dad continued. “Your mom and I have been talking with your uncle. Apparently, the farm is prime real estate in Cass County. And . . . we’ve decided to sell it.”

  “What?” Horace gasped. “You can’t sell the farm! Grandpa would never want us to sell it! And what about Grandma? When are we going to go see her?”

  “Now calm down, Horace,” his mom replied. “Your grandma is not well. She needs time to adjust to her new home. And we need the money to pay for the nursing home as well.”

  So his grandma was at a nursing home. That was why she hadn’t been at the farm. And the strange man with his uncle at the farm, he must have been a prospective buyer. If they sold the farm, he might never get a chance to go through the portal again.

  Horace stared down at his food in despair. Things were turning from bad to worse.

  After dinner Horace walked up to his room. He still had another hour before he was meeting up with Milton. He closed the door behind him and sat down on the edge of his bed. Everything had fallen apart so fast. Anna was trapped back in Egypt with Meri and Tut, and now his parents were selling the farm.

  Across from his desk was a tall shelf filled with comics, a couple of action figures, and a collection of books he’d been given over the years. As his eyes wandered across the dusty shelves—he hadn’t read many of the books in years—he noticed one he’d barely remembered. A hardcover his grandfather had given him several birthdays ago. Horace felt curiously drawn to the old book. He reached out and grabbed its warped cover.

  For the next hour he riffled through the pages. It was all about King Tut and the discovery of his tomb in 1922. It mentioned a little bit about the mystery surrounding his reign, and at the end even touched on his enigmatic father, Akhenaten.

  From what Horace could piece together, Tut’s family had had a complicated and strange history. Akhenaten had moved their family and the government to Amarna, a new city he’d built in the middle of Egypt. This change had been huge. Every Egyptian city was connected to a god. So, by creating his own city, Akhenaten had also created a new god, his own god. And that had been when, with a dramatic decree, he’d ended the worship of all the other gods and replaced them with one: Aten, the god of the sun.

  Horace sat back for a moment. This was exactly what Meri had told them in Egypt. But why do that? Why risk everything when it was all going so well by outlawing the worship of other gods? And did any of this connect to the Benben Stone?

  He kept reading. At the end of his seventeenth year of rule, Akhenaten had unexpectedly died, and his young son, Tut, had been left to run the country. Here, the story began to fray. From what Horace could tell, a strange set of circumstances had brought the boy pharaoh to the throne. His uncle had played some advisory role and then Tut had also died mysteriously. Yet nowhere in the book was there a single mention of any magical stones.

  As Horace turned the page, a small newspaper clipping fell out. It was dated ten years earlier and described the announcement of a new exhibit at the museum. The Michigan Relics! These were the artifacts Anna and Milton had mentioned at lunch. The article went on to detail both the excitement of the exhibit as well as the controversy that surrounded the relics’ authenticity.

  At the bottom of the page Horace saw a faded black-and-white photograph of his grandfather standing in front of the exhibit, wearing a big smile. Behind him was a glass case full of the objects connected to the exhibit. However, that wasn’t the strangest part. In the corner of the picture was an unmistakable granite pyramid. It was the Benben Stone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Goose bumps covered Horace’s arm. What was the Benben Stone doing in Niles?

  He stared out the window at the evening sun and an overwhelming feeling filled his chest. Had his grandfather known about the magical stone?

  From the first floor he heard the chimes of the clock. Horace snapped out of his daze. He’d totally lost track of time.

  He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Mom, I’m just going for a little bike ride.”

  “Okay, but be home before it’s dark. Dad wants to watch a movie tonight.”

  “Sure, no problem.” He bit down on his lip.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  Horace just shrugged.

  “I know it was hard to hear we might sell the farm.”

  “I just don’t think Grandpa or Grandma would want us to sell it. Can’t we figure out some way to keep it?”

  “Listen, Horace, we’re all doing our best. But how about this: I promise I won’t let your uncle sell it unless we have absolutely no other options. Does that sound like a deal to you?”

  “Okay.”

  “Now try not to think about it too much.”

  Horace feigned a smile. “Sure.” Then he dashed out the door.

  His bike rested against the plastic siding of the garage. The bike was old, its gold-and-black lettering faded and the leather seat full of cracks. He jumped on and was off.

  Horace settled down into a rhythmic cadence of pedaling as he rode through the neighborhood and out past the edge of town. He was just about to get out of his seat for an extra boost of energy when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He was approaching one of the town parks. He dismissed the first shape for a high-school student until he saw another shape, this one from the other side.

  “Oh no . . .” Horace said to himself, swallowing nervously. It was Seth and his gang.

  He had to make a quick decision. There was only one road past the Niles airport, which was on the way to the farm. If he turned around, there was a good chance Seth wouldn’t see him, but he also might never get to the farm. He paused and looked ahead. He’d faced down Seth on the playground, but the streets of Niles were a whole other ball game. On top of it, Shadow was nowhere in sight.

  He wasn’t that far from the farm, maybe another half mile. He’d give it his best effort, or die trying. Horace stood up out of his seat and began to pedal at a furious pace, his head down.

  For a brief moment he thought he might actually escape unscathed, but then he heard Seth’s low baritone voice.

  “Hey! Hey, Horace. What are you doing here?”

  Horace looked back and now saw three kids appear out of the bushes behind Seth.

  “Hey, wait up, partner. What’s the rush?”

  Chancing another glance, Horace noticed Seth and his friends had already grabbed their bikes and were headed in his direction.

  “Make this easier for yourself, Horace, and just give up,” Seth chided. “The more we have to chase you, the worse it’s going to be.”

  The second kid riding alongside Seth was pedaling extra hard and looked like he was going to try to jam a stick into Horace’s tire. Horace wasn’t an idiot; if the stick got in his spoke, he was destined for a painful fall, and an even more painful beating.

  He continued to pedal as hard as he could, but the boy was gaining ground. A ditch ran alongside the road, and beyond that a line of trees. Now the kid was only half a tire’s length away from Horace’s bike.

  The whole incident reminded Horace of those chariot races from Ancient Rome. It felt like he was in the giant hippodrome. He’d even seen videos about it, gladiators and warriors racing around the track, slamming into one another and battling for their lives. Suddenly the thought of the chariot races gave Horace an idea. It was gutsy and might cost him dearly, but it also might be his only chance against this kid. Seth and the rest of the gang were still a good five feet behind them.

  The boy was starting to poke at his wheel. He was so close, Horace could see the pimples on his face. Horace waited for him to try again, and actually slowed down a touch to encourage another go at his
back tire. Seth’s friend pulled the stick back again, readying to throw it into the tire. At that second, Horace swung his handlebars hard to the left, driving his tire into the kid’s bike. The force caught the boy totally off guard, and the next thing Horace knew, the boy was tumbling off his bike and slamming into the other two riders behind him.

  Now Seth was the only one who remained. Somehow he’d avoided the collision. But Horace could see he was starting to labor under the long sprint.

  The road still stretched another quarter mile before it reached the driveway to the farm.

  Horace continued to pedal with all his might.

  He could hear Seth’s friend calling, “Leave him for now. We’ll get him later.”

  “We’re tired!” another shouted.

  But Seth wasn’t so easily persuaded. “No, I want this little rat. I’m not letting him go.”

  Seth was just starting to gain speed when, to Horace’s relief, a car pulled onto the road ahead. The sudden appearance of headlights was all it took to get Seth to abandon his hunt.

  “I’ll get you, Horace!” shouted Seth, and he rode off toward the woods after his friends.

  Horace was surprised when Milton’s dad’s head popped out from the driver’s window. “Hey, Horace. How are you?”

  “Good, Officer Williams.”

  “What are you doing out here? This seems like a long way from your house at this time of night.”

  Horace didn’t want to tell him he was heading toward the farm. “Just getting some fresh air, I guess.”

  “Were those boys bothering you?” He nodded in the direction of Seth’s gang.

  “No, just saying hi.”

  “All right.” He looked unconvinced, then continued, “By the way, have you seen Anna? Her parents are looking for her. She never came home after school. I’ve tried to call Milton, but he’s not picking up his phone.”

  “Anna, ummm. I think she was finishing some homework with Milton at your house.” Horace could start to feel his hands getting clammy.

  “Oh, I’ll be sure to tell her parents, then. Those two are always working on their homework together.”

  “Yeah,” Horace nodded. “They are.”

  “Have a good night, but try to keep out of trouble,” Officer Williams added, then headed down the road.

  “I’ll try.”

  Horace got on his bike and continued toward the farm.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Run for it! Horace grabbed Milton by the arm as they charged toward the city’s shattered gates. They’d both gone through the portal at the farm without incident, but when they’d arrived through the obelisk in Amarna, it was as if Smenk’s soldiers had been waiting for them.

  Immediately one of the guards reached out to grab Milton by the robe, but with a single swipe of his forearm, Horace knocked him away. More shouting filled the street behind them as the two sidestepped another soldier.

  Amarna already bore the deep scars of Smenk’s attack. Discarded carts, smashed doors, and decapitated statues littered the streets. The pungent smell of burning wood and paper lingered. The boys took a few more turns through the ravaged streets in an effort to elude their pursuers before hiding at the end of a dark alley.

  “That was a close call,” said Milton between heavy breaths. “I thought the first guard had me until you gave him that forearm to the stomach.”

  Horace was surprised how easily they’d escaped the guards. “Yeah, that was close.” Horace bit down on his lower lip. “It was weird, though. They seemed to know we were coming, but then they just let us go. Don’t you think they should have put more effort into chasing us?”

  “Well, just be grateful we escaped.”

  As the sounds of shouting grew louder, the two knelt even lower and started to plan their next move.

  “We’ve got to get to the temple,” Horace insisted. “I’m guessing that’s where Anna and the others still are.” Horace scanned the unfamiliar alley. “But I have no idea how to get there or even where we are.”

  Milton grinned. From his robe he pulled out a tightly rolled scroll. “I may have taken a little souvenir the last time we were here.” Milton laid out the crumpled papyrus on the ground, and the two boys huddled around it. “I found it in that abandoned room.”

  “What is it?” asked Horace.

  “It’s a map of the whole city. Sorry about all the wrinkles. I tried to dry it out with my mom’s hair dryer after the swim through the cisterns.” There were a few missing sections from where the ink had dissolved, but the temple was an unmistakable rectangular structure in the center of the scroll.

  “This is great!” answered Horace as he began to lay out their route on the map. “When we first came in through the obelisks, we ran to the right and then the left. So that would put us here.” Horace pointed at the end of a narrow alley.

  “Then we just need to circle around and try one of these side entrances.” Milton traced out what seemed like the most direct path to the temple.

  “I think you’re right.”

  Milton nodded. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

  The two boys headed back down the narrow alleyway, paused to make sure the coast was clear, and then ran across the road. Thankfully, there were no guards at this end of the street, and all the discarded debris provided plenty of cover. After a few more minutes and several close calls, one of which was a stray cat Milton almost tripped over, they made their way to what they thought was the entrance. But as soon as they arrived, they noticed a big problem.

  “Ummm, I think we might have taken a wrong turn,” said Horace in frustration. The supposed entrance was a ten-foot stone wall.

  “I’m telling you, the temple is on the other side of this. See here on the map.” Milton pointed adamantly. “We just need to get over this thing. Maybe we could build a ramp or pile this junk up.”

  There were giant stones all over the alley, but there was no way either of the boys had the strength or the size to lift them alone.

  Horace looked down at the map to check their exact position again. “Do you think there’s another way in?”

  As the two boys stood there contemplating their dilemma, the shouting grew especially loud. They watched a group of soldiers chase a man past the alleyway.

  “That guy looks like he’s in a lot of trouble,” commented Milton.

  “Yeah, I wonder who it is,” said Horace half to himself. “Maybe one of the priests.”

  Then the figure ran by again. Horace noted something strangely familiar about him. “I don’t think that’s a man. It looks like a kid.”

  And then the figure came sprinting into the alley, ducking into the far end. The soldiers ran right by.

  “Is that—” Horace whispered to Milton.

  “But how’d he get here?” interrupted Milton.

  “He must have followed me up to the farm.” Horace paused. “Should we help him?”

  This time Milton shook his head in a simple response.

  “But he could help us. He’s big enough to move these stones.”

  Milton continued to shake his head. But Horace began to make his way slowly, step by step, toward the boy now crunched in a ball. He could hear a soft whimpering sound.

  He whispered, “Hey, it’s me, Horace.”

  The figure turned. “Horace!”

  “Shhhhhhh . . .”

  The expression on Seth’s face was one of pure terror.

  Horace tried to be reassuring. “It’s okay.” He paused. “But what are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here? What are you two idiots doing here? I followed you through that tree on the farm. I thought you had some secret clubhouse in there. Instead I find these guys with swords trying to kill me.” Seth looked like he was ready to have a nervous breakdown.

  Milton was now standing by Horace’s side. “See, I told you we should have just left him here.”

  “What is this place?” asked Seth, ignoring Milton’s comment.

>   Horace reached out a helping hand. “You’re in Ancient Egypt.”

  “What?” Seth brushed away the hand, picked himself up, and put both of his arms out defensively.

  “That would be correct. We might have to sacrifice you to the priests, though, since you’re the biggest. That way there’d be more for them to feast upon,” Milton said, instinctively ducking his head to avoid Seth’s fist.

  “Milton, enough joking around.”

  “You two better get me home, or I’ll beat the snot out of you.” Seth looked like he was starting to get back to his old self.

  But the comment did remind Horace why they were here in the first place. “We’ve got to get into the temple.” He pointed at the wall behind them.

  “I’m not going in there.”

  “See, I told you. He’s fine where he is,” said Milton sarcastically.

  More soldiers ran past the end of the street, and the three kids ducked low.

  “We need to get over that wall, Seth, and I think you can help,” said Horace.

  “I’m not helping you.” Seth crossed his arms.

  “Well, you can sit here and pout, but if you don’t help us, we aren’t getting in there, and if we don’t get in there, we aren’t getting out of here.”

  “What’s the worst that can happen to me if I stay here?” Seth pressed.

  “Let me think.” Milton made a mock gesture of actually pondering the question. “You could get captured by those guards, you could be captured, then jailed, or you could get tortured, jailed, then killed. Get the idea?”

  Seth glanced down at the ground, seeming to process the seriousness of his predicament.

  “Listen, Seth, we need your help,” Horace pleaded. “Anna needs your help.”

  Seth’s brow furrowed. “Anna? What is she doing here?”

  “She’s trapped,” Horace said.

  The realization of Anna’s being here, the sound of more shouting guards, and the fading light of the day seemed to hit Seth all at once.

  “Fine. But when we get back to Niles, you two better never mention this.”