I stood and took a few steps forward. The sounds abruptly ceased and my heart stilled. Was someone hiding? A museum employee would have answered me.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I rounded the corner only to come face to face with a wall of plastic. This must be the section they’re working on, I thought. It was too dark to make out any shapes inside the room, so I stood there for a full minute gathering my courage.
I ran my fingers along the thick plastic lining until I found an opening, gasping when I saw a figure staring back at me, not inches from where I stood. But the frightened girl clutching the plastic drape was just me: her slightly wavy, product-enhanced, long brown hair, pale skin, and white designer blouse now marked with dust. Yep, me. The tile beneath the large artifact read ANCIENT COPPER MIRROR. I shook my head as I tried to make out what else was in the room.
The polished floor was protected by a heavy drop cloth, which was covered with sawdust, and several boards, cut in various shapes, lay haphazardly on the floor. I used one to prop open the plastic curtain, taking advantage of whatever meager light I could get, and moved deeper into the room.
Dark shapes and statues filled makeshift shelves, with stacked crates blocking every path. Now that I knew this shipment was so recent, I rationalized that what I’d heard was most likely a rat or a mouse making its home in one of the boxes. That would explain the silence since I’d come in.
I saw nothing that looked out of place in a museum. A box of tools here, a circular saw there. Opened crates filled with Egyptian treasures resting on the straw. True to my word, I didn’t touch any of the pieces, and moved through the space carefully and quietly until a golden light behind some boxes caught my eye. I let out a small gasp as I came upon an enormous sarcophagus.
The lid, resting at an angle on the lower half of the coffin, was breathtaking. As I focused on all the little details—the handsome carved face, with polished green stones for eyes, the crook and flail he held crossways on his chest, the precious gold details that meant he was likely someone of importance—my fingers itched for my pencil and notebook.
Right away I noticed the patterns of three—three birds, three gods, three sets of wings, three bands on the arms. I wondered what they signified and began coming up with possible scenarios as I continued exploring. The packing slip on the coffin-sized crate nearby read:
UNKNOWN MUMMY
DISCOVERED 1989
VALLEY OF THE KINGS
EGYPT
Despite my fascination with the upcoming exhibit, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. No rat tails or droppings that I could see. No squeaking mouse hiding in a corner. No grave robbers or cursed mummies. Not even any museum employees.
As I turned to leave, I looked down and suddenly realized two things: first, the straw-filled sarcophagus didn’t contain a mummy, and second, there was a set of footprints other than my own in the sawdust, ones made by two bare feet, and they led away from the coffin.
An intense curiosity took hold of me, and ignoring strong reservations, I followed the footprints. They led me on a path between boxes and crates until I met a dead end. No climactic movie music was triggered. No rancid scents of decay or death assaulted my nose. No creepy monster leered at me from the darkness.
Recognizing I’d let my imagination get the best of me, I began making my way back toward the plastic curtain. I was passing the copper mirror when a hand shot out of the darkness and locked on my arm. My choked scream echoed, the shriek bouncing off relics. The golden gods and stony statues kept their icy eyes forward, remaining as still and dead as everything around them.