"The Curse of Great One" Chapters 1

For my high school writing teacher, Deb Monnier, who faithfully read the entire drafts of my early stories....voluntarily!

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy." --William Shakespeare

Chapter One

Monday, January 6, 1986
3:32 P.M.
Hill Valley, California

"I hate school!" Verne Brown announced as he stormed into his house. "It’s so stupid!"

His brother, Jules, followed him inside. "It’s not that terrible," he said, shutting the door behind them.

"That’s because you don’t have to do a project on some Egyptian god for half your grade," Verne retorted, throwing his backpack down on the floor. "And you’ll still be able to travel through time, unlike me if I mess up on this. You remember what Mom and Dad told me before break."

Jules shrugged. "It’s your fault that you got that D on the test. You, of all the people in your class, should know the most in that subject area."

Verne scowled at his brother. "Oh, come on, Jules! We just moved here in November an’ started school here after Thanksgiving. I wasn’t even here for the stuff they covered for the test."

Jules didn’t seem to care about that fact. "Even if I did receive such an assignment, I’m sure that I’d be able to accomplish an A."

"Oh, yeah, because you’re just so smart -- and that’s weird for someone your age," Verne added, trying to get his digs in where he could. "You know, you could’ve had a fresh start in the future, since no one knows you, and you’re already gettin’ the kids to not like you with your show off smarts."

Jules looked like he was going to fire off a comeback of his own but a voice from elsewhere in the house stopped any remark before it left his mouth.

"Jules? Verne? Are you home?"

Before either boy could say a word, their father, Dr. Emmett Brown, appeared in the foyer from the back of the house. "Great, you’re home from school."

"Is anything wrong, Father?" Jules asked, setting down his backpack. "Your mother and I have to run to the store," Doc explained quickly, yanking opening the drawer in the table near the front door and rummaging around. He pulled out a rumpled envelope and reached in, taking a handful of some bills to shove in his pocket. "She needs to get some groceries and paint for the upstairs hallway and I need to get some more parts for the lab modifications. I’m running low on some of the wires."

"We don’t have to come, do we?" Verne asked glumly, already knowing the answer. Ever since they had moved to the future, the weekend before Thanksgiving, he’d been constantly dragged to stores with his parents to pick up house renovating materials or things for his father’s lab or projects. His father, who had been taking care of things for about three weeks on his own prior to their arrival, had managed to get the plumbing and electricity working, though the lights were still prone to flicker from time to time when he was out in his lab pushing the Victorian-era home’s wiring to the brink, and the ceiling repaired and re-roofed so they wouldn’t have to live in a leaky house. When Verne wasn’t in hardware or home improvement stores with his parents, they were making him help with some of the house’s repairs -- mostly painting the inside of the building. The thrill had worn off after a couple hours. He almost wished his family had chosen a brand new house to live in, although it was weirdly comforting to live in the same place that they had moved away from nearly a century before. Strange -- and right now a royal pain tripping over paint cans, wallpaper tubes, and plaster dust -- but nice.

Before Doc could answer Verne’s question, someone knocked on the door. Verne, standing right next to it, opened it up without looking outside, despite the numerous reminders from his parents to become habitual about such a thing in these more dangerous times. "Marty!" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Marty McFly glanced down at Verne, then looked to Doc. He raised an eyebrow in silent query to the scientist. "Didn’t your dad tell you?" he asked. "I’m here to keep an eye on you both while he and your mom shop."

"Father, we do not need a baby-sitter," Jules complained, frowning in irritation at this announcement. "I’m perfectly capable of looking after Verne while you and Mother are out. I just turned ten!"

"Marty isn’t going to baby-sit you, he’s just here to supervise," Doc explained as Clara came down the front stairs. "There’s a lot around this house right now that could be potentially dangerous if you get into it, and I’m not just talking about the wires hanging out of some of the light sockets. Anyway, Jules, you’re not old enough to be left alone without any supervision."

"I don’t need looking after, either," Verne said, frowning at his brother for his needless comment.

Clara glanced at Jules and Verne for a second, a frazzled but sympathetic expression on her face. "It’s not that we don’t trust the both of you," she said, turning to the mirror next to the door. She frowned faintly at her paint-flecked clothes and face, having spent the day working on the kitchen’s painting and wallpapering. "We’ll just feel better if someone older was here with you."

"We’ll bring back a pizza or something to make it up to you," Doc promised.

"Oh, that’s a good bargain," Jules muttered, rolling his eyes. "The kitchen’s all trashed up now, anyway."

Clara frowned as she turned away from the mirror. "We don’t have to get a pizza," she said. "We could have sandwiches again if you’d like."

"No," Verne said immediately. "Go shop and everything. We don’t care," he added, lying.

"We should only be gone a couple of hours," Doc said. He looked at Marty. "Feel free to help yourself to anything, but I’d like you to stay out of the lab. Things are a bit messy out there--"

"Things are messy in here," Jules muttered.

Doc favored his son with a look of warning, then looked back to Marty. "I’m in the process of rewiring the barn now, so I won’t keep blowing fuses every time I plug something in, so I’d just appreciate it if you stayed out of there," he said.

"No problem," Marty agreed. "You guys have fun."

"Fun isn’t exactly the first word that comes to mind," Clara said with a tired smile as she followed her husband out the door. "Thanks for helping us, Marty."

There was a minute of silence after the door clicked shut. Marty stared at the boys, who were watching him. "So... what do you want to do? Homework?"

"Yeah, right," Verne muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I’ve finished mine at school, but Verne has something," Jules said.

Verne frowned at his brother. "Snitch," he said.

"What do you have to do?" Marty asked Verne, heading down the hall towards the kitchen.

"A dumb report on this one god from Egypt," Verne groaned, pausing to open his backpack and pull out the book he’d found at the elementary school library that day before following Marty and Jules to the kitchen. "This is all I have to use, too!" he added, opening the book to a certain page and laying it out on the sheet-covered table.

The page showed a picture of an old Egyptian painting, depicting a man floating a few inches above the ground while people kneeled before him. Unlike the Egyptians in the painting -- who all had dark skin, hair, and eyes -- the person who was floating had fair skin, brown hair, and bright blue eyes.

"‘This painting, discovered in Giza, is the only surviving portrait of the ‘Great One,’ as the floating figure was commonly known,’" Marty read aloud from the paragraph underneath the picture. "‘According to witnesses, Great One arrived from the sky in the middle of a sacred ceremony during a solar eclipse.’"

"It doesn’t even say the date or year that this happened," Verne pointed out, sitting down in one of the sheeted chairs with a sigh. "Just that it’s ‘around’ 2000 B.C."

"I might be able to calculate the precise date," Jules said slowly, gazing intently at the picture. "Wait a moment." He ran out of the kitchen, pushing the swinging door aside hard enough for it to slam into the dining room wall.

Marty looked at Verne, curious. "What’s he up to?"

Verne shrugged. "Don’t ask me. I just share the same room and parents with ‘im." He sighed again, for a different reason this time. "I don’t know why Mom and Dad didn’t let us have our own rooms here. Their reasoning on that stinks, since there’s another bedroom upstairs, but...." He let the rest of the sentence die, peeved just thinking about that cruel twist of fate.

A few minutes later Jules returned with a couple of thick books in his arms. He set them on the table hard, throwing up a faint cloud of plaster dust off the sheets protecting the furniture from the painting and wallpaper renovations. "These books should hold the answer," he announced. "We know for a fact that a solar eclipse occurred when this Great One supposedly showed up."

"So?" Verne asked, not impressed by his brother’s presentation so far. "How’s that gonna help us?"

Jules sat down at the table, flipping open one of the books and pulling out a slip of paper and pencil that had been wedged inside. "One of these books has information about unusual weather phenomena throughout history and the other has some Egyptian history in it," he explained, already turning the pages as he spoke, his eyes on the content.

"So?" Verne asked, still not impressed.

"So, all I gotta do is compare the two and see which date comes up," Jules said, sounding tremendously preoccupied as he started to scrawl something down on the paper.

Marty blinked. "Did you say what I thought you just said?" He smiled, looking a little amused. "Was that slang I heard come out of your mouth?"

Verne was a tad surprised himself. From his earliest memories of Jules, his brother had talked like he was some kind of pompous and stuck-up adult, not a kid. His parents thought it might be the strange books he read, by people like Dickens and Milton and Wells, even science journals and texts, but Verne thought it was a way of showing off, pure and simple. Yet there were moments -- and this seemed to be one of them -- where the veil fell a bit and Jules would sound remarkably sane and normal. A pity, Verne thought, that those moments were so rare. He was already catching some flak at school for being related not only to Jules but for also having Doc Brown for a father. The cracks about his father hurt more than the ones about his sibling; the latter cracks just made him even more annoyed with his weird brother. It was bad enough Jules had to be so dang smart but he had to go and talk and dress like a young Einstein, too. If he wasn’t so set on doing that, Verne didn’t think he’d be so frustrated with him all the time for his brains.

Marty’s comment caused a slight reaction from Jules; the boy stiffened up a little, pausing in his reading and note-taking to look up and give the teen a slightly annoyed look. "I was distracted," he said. "A momentary lapse on my part."

Marty continued to look rather amused. "A little slang never hurt anyone, Jules," he said.

Jules turned back to the books and started to flip between the two, scribbling a word or number here or there. Verne, bored, got up and stepped over the plaster dust, paint cans, wallpaper tubes, and tools to get over to the refrigerator. It kind of surprised him how quickly he’d gotten used to some of the stuff that was in their house in the future, the refrigerator being one of them. They’d had one at home but it was really big and clunky and sometimes broke down. His father had made it himself, too. This one worked better and was made by different people; he’d seen similar things in one of his new friends’ houses that he’d been in back in early December.

As Verne was rummaging around inside the fridge, in search of an after school snack, Jules let out a grunt of satisfaction.

"Got it," he said. "The closest date for a total solar eclipse that was visible in Giza, Egypt is January first, 1985 B.C."

"The day is January first?" Marty asked. "That’s kind of weird. You know, new year and all."

"Perhaps to us, but the Egyptians went by a different calendar." Jules tore off a corner of the paper and scribbled the date as Verne wandered back over, munching on an apple. "As strange as it may be to you, that’s when it happened." He looked at Verne. "Will that help you at all, Verne?"

Verne stopped chewing for a moment as he stared at the textbook page and the paper with the date on it. A glimmer of an idea began to creep up on him. A dangerous, daring, exciting idea that would practically guarantee him a passing grade for his paper. He set down his partially eaten apple on the table, trying not to show his excitement.

"Oh yeah," he said slowly, taking the paper from his brother’s hand. "It helps a lot." Verne suddenly made a dash for the back door, jumping over the stuff on the floor as he went. "I’m going back there!" he announced when he had reached the door, opening it up. "Wanna come with me?"

"Oh no, you don’t!" Marty exclaimed, on his feet immediately. Verne didn’t wait for more of a reaction, turning and running for the lab. "Your father would kill you!" he heard Marty yell.

"But he’s not here," Verne called over his shoulder as he ran through the recently cut grass, across the lawn to the old barn that contained Doc’s lab and the new DeLorean time machine. Verne risked a look back halfway to his goal and saw Marty and Jules chasing after him.

"You can’t do this!" Marty shouted as he ran, closing the distance a little. "People in Egypt don’t even speak English... so how would you even understand anything?"

"That’s not a problem!" Verne yelled back, grabbing a key from under the doormat and unlocking the building, still resembling a run down barn on the outside rather than a lab. He darted inside, towards the new DeLorean parked near the barn’s large double doors, his voice echoing faintly against the high ceiling. "Dad has these language translators that you can stick in you ear that let you speak and understand any language perfectly."

"But Verne, those are still in the experimental stage!" Jules said, as he entered the lab. Marty, who had come in ahead of Jules, caught up with Verne and clamped a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. Jules, sidetracked now, picked up one of the six pencil eraser sized translators from one of the numerous boxes scattered about the rooms and on the tables. The lab, if possible, was even more messy than the house at the moment, acting as temporary storage for some of the stuff that couldn’t be in the house until certain repairs were finished. "Father only got them on the weekend."

"Well, my project is due on Thursday, and I’ll have to risk it," Verne replied, squirming from Marty’s grasp, dodging the boxes, and snatching one of the translators from Jules. He slipped it into his ear just as his father had demonstrated to the family the day before. "I don’t care what you guys say, I’m going to Egypt to meet the Great One myself!"

"I’d like to see you try and drive a car, Verne," Marty said, leaning against the driver’s side door of the DeLorean. "It’s harder than it looks."

"Dad took us to drive go-carts once, at the arcade," Verne said, remembering one of his first adventures in this time period. "It wasn’t that hard and real fun."

"The DeLorean has a standard transmission," Marty said. "Not an automatic. It took me a while to master that when I got my permit a couple years ago."

Jules eyed Verne for a moment, looked at Marty, then shrugged. "Well, I’ll come along, too, just to make sure you don’t do anything foolish, Verne." He picked up two of the language translators and held one out to Marty, across the room. "Will you be accompanying us, Marty?"

"Whoa, wait a minute you guys! You can’t go back there -- Doc would kill you and, if I went with you, he’d kill me!"

"But it’s an emergency," Verne said, pouting. "Anyway, he doesn’t have to find out. I won’t tell if you won’t an’ all that."

"He’d notice," Marty said, remaining stubborn. "Doc probably has the car parked in a certain way so he’ll know if it’s moved."

Verne snorted at that. "Yeah, right. This place is so messy he wouldn’t notice if the car was even missing! Come on, Marty, it’ll be fun."

Jules started to rummage around on the tables as Marty continued to block one of the car doors. "Verne, this is insane! Time travel is dangerous -- you can’t take off every time you have some kind of homework assignment, just to watch history happen."

"Why not?" Verne asked. "We’d be watching, not doing. All I wanna do is go back, see the eclipse and Great One’s arrival, maybe talk to him and get some information from him, then we can leave. This is the only way -- I can’t find anything on this person."

Marty started to waver, a little. "I suppose that’s not very bad...."

"Found the keys," Jules announced, holding up his discovery. "Come on, let’s go."

"Guys," Marty said as Jules and Verne began to approach the car, "why don’t you wait ‘til your parents come home? Maybe your dad’ll take you if you ask."

"Sure," Verne said, rolling his eyes. "He’s already ticked at me from that bad test grade."

Jules held up one of the keys and translators in his fingers, jingling it from the back of the car in a teasing manner. "Marty, Verne is right," he said. "This is a time machine, too. We can be back in a minute."

"Oh, jeez, you guys are stubborn," Marty muttered.

Jules looked to his brother, who had rounded the back of the car and was standing near the passenger-side door. Verne stared at him as Jules held up the keys and raised an eyebrow. Verne nodded, once. Jules tossed the keys through the air, over the car, Verne catching them easily. Marty turned his head at the noise.

"Verne," he warned. "Don’t you dare."

Verne smiled. "I dare," he said, quickly unlocking the car door and hopping inside. Jules ran around the back of the car and slipped inside to join him. By the time Marty had gotten to the other side, the boys had shut the door and locked it.

"Are you with us or not?" Jules asked as Marty gestured for them to unlock the door. "We can leave without your help."

Verne watched as Marty’s face twisted through a quick series of expressions. His resolve was visibly breaking.

"Fine!" he said, crumbling at long last. "Let me in -- but this better just take a few minutes!"

Verne looked at his brother, pleased, and Jules returned the smile. "Certainly," the dark-haired boy agreed. "Verne, unlock the other door."

Verne leaned over the driver’s seat and did as his brother requested. A moment later Marty had the door open. He slipped inside, fuming a little.

"I can’t believe I let you guys con me into this," he said, shutting the door. "Your parents would kill me if they knew I was helping you out on this."

"They won’t," Verne said simply. "Find out, I mean."

"Here," Jules said as Marty took the keys from the dashboard, where Verne had tossed them. He passed the teen one of the language translators. "Put this in your ear. It’s able to distinguish languages from around the world and put them into English you can understand, and let you speak the foreign language as well."

"Really?" Marty asked, skeptical. "Your dad made these?"

"Actually, he got them in the future," Jules said. "He had to go there on the weekend to get the DeLorean hover converted and found those, too."

"Interesting," Marty said, examining it for a minute. "This thing can really translate languages?"

"Yeah," Verne said, impatient. He looked at the dark time circuits. "Let’s see, the day was January first, 1985 B.C., Giza, Egypt...." he said aloud. "What was the time of day?"

"Twelve, noon," Jules said promptly. "I forgot to tell you that."

Verne looked at Marty, who was slipping the translator in his ear. "Start the car so we can turn the time circuits on."

Marty snapped his fingers. "That reminds me -- is the Mr. Fusion loaded?"

"I don’t know," Jules said. "I’ll put something in, just to be sure." He opened the car door, taking some of the miscellaneous trash like crumpled newspapers left over from packing or fast food wrappers, from around the lab and shoving it in the device mounted at the back, over the engine. Marty, in the meantime, twisted the lever between the seats to bring to life the time circuit display. Verne was startled by that; he still wasn’t quite sure how this time machine worked, as it was so new, and, had Marty not caved in, he would’ve been really stuck.

"January first, 1985... B.C.?" Marty muttered. "How do you get B.C. in this?"

"Jules would know," Verne said. "Dad let him help out sometimes when he was making this time machine."

Jules appeared a moment later, his mission accomplished. When Verne asked about that slight year hitch, Jules quickly pointed out the minus symbol on a small alphabetic keyboard that was now beside the numeric one. "Punch that in after you input the year," he explained.

Marty did as he was told, pausing once to clarify the spelling of Giza before hitting the green button that entered the data. The new date appeared on the top line of the LCD display. Below that was the present. Below the present was the last time departed: January 5, 2030, 12:31 A.M., the trip that Doc had taken to get the DeLorean hover converted and pick up a few items that included the language translators. Directly below that, the destination location was projected, set for only the latest destination one put in; due to a lack of room in the DeLorean’s tiny cab, Doc hadn’t bothered to put in a past or present location display.

"If I remember correctly, that’s where the historic Sphinx is located," Jules commented as he shut his door. "Perhaps we’ll be privileged enough to see it before the nose crumbles."

Marty put the keys in the ignition and started the car. It came to life without any trouble. "Verne, how long do you plan on being there?" he asked.

"Just a day, tops," Verne said. "I’ll just figure out who the Great One is and ask him some questions. Our teacher says that we just have to write down in a report what we think our person that we got was like and stuff."

Marty frowned faintly as he stared ahead through the windshield. "How do we get those doors opened?"

"Like this," Jules said. "Watch." He opened the glove box and pulled out a small remote. There was a sharp click as he pushed the button from outside the car, then the doors before the DeLorean slid open on their own.

"Neat, huh?" Jules said, pleased. "Father installed that a couple weeks ago, but he said he didn’t make it on his own. Someone else invented this device."

"Not surprising," Marty said as he revved the car once. "Garage openers have been around for ages." He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "Well, here goes nothing. You guys can still change your mind if you want."

Verne shook his head firmly. "No way. I have got to get an A on this project, or else. Let’s burn rubber!"

Marty looked at his passengers, shrugged, then glanced at the steering wheel. "Hope cars are easy to drive in the air," he muttered, half to himself. "Doc said they are, but I’ve never done it before...."

He pulled out of the building, stopped outside for a moment, then located a switch on the dash near the radio clearly marked, "Hover Circuits." Marty flipped it and a moment later the DeLorean rose up the wheels folding under the car. Tentatively, the teen eased forward a little, pulled the steering wheel towards him a bit, and the new DeLorean rose higher. Marty waited until it had cleared the treeline, then accelerated sharply over the back of the Brown’s wooded property to reach their destination time.

Chapter Two

Sunday, January 1, 1985 B.C.
12:00 P.M.
Giza, Egypt

When the light brought about by their time jump dissipated, the face of the Egyptian Sphinx that Jules had mentioned earlier loomed directly in front of the car. Very directly. Gasping, Marty reacted purely by instinct; he slammed his foot on the break and yanked the wheel all the way to the right in an attempt to avoid hitting the big stone face. The car made a complete spin in the air, cries of surprise emitted from the passengers. There was a soft jolt as something hit the car from the back, then they were moving forward again, away from the historic landmark.

"Is anything damaged?" Marty asked when he had managed to catch his breath. He scanned the readouts scattered across the dash, some of them completely new and therefore unfamiliar to him. Nothing looked unusual or was making any strange noises, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. When he had ruptured the gas tank in 1885, he hadn’t noticed at all until he had parked the car -- and only then he’d noticed from the distinctive odor the liquid had.

Jules and Verne looked about the cab. "The nose to that big thing we almost ran into is," Verne reported after a moment, his eyes locked on the passenger-side rearview mirror. "It’s smashed almost clean off."

"We’ve caused the damage to one of the most mysterious and famous sculptures in the world?" Jules asked, aghast.

"It probably would’ve crumbled anyway in a few hundred years or so anyway," Verne said, shrugging. He looked away from the mirror and craned his neck to see out the window, past his brother in the seat next to him. "Whoa!" he said, gasping. "Look!"

Marty shifted his eyes away from the rearview mirror on his side of the car, where he’d been trying to get a look at the sphinx retreating behind them, and really looked for the first time through the windshield. "Oh wow," he murmured.

The sight before him was breathtaking. The sky surrounding them was clear, but the sun was not in sight; a large object, the moon, was covering it up. All that remained visible of the sun was a fiery orange ring that outlined the moon. Stars, a lot of them, were shining in the navy blue sky. Below this strange phenomenon, hundreds of Egyptians were gathered kneeling before the largest of three pyramids. Beyond the pyramids, an ocean of sand stretched as far as the eye could see.

"This is the first solar eclipse I’ve ever observed," Jules said softly, breaking the silence in the car. "I can now understand why they were thought to be signs from the gods."

"Yeah," Verne said. "So where is the Great One? The book said that he got here now."

"Maybe he’s already down there," Marty suggested as he brought the DeLorean closer to the ground, hoping that none of the Egyptians were going to be looking up before they landed. Doc had been right about one thing, he found; driving a flying car wasn’t really that hard to do, once one got used to it. "He could’ve come here a few minutes before us."

Verne turned his head to peer through the windshield, squinting at the people below. "According to the book, the Great One looked different. He had blue eyes, brown hair, and floats."

"He might not necessarily float," Jules corrected. "The hovering could be symbolic, an example of the otherworldly powers that the Egyptians might have thought that the Great One possessed."

Verne signed. "Man, I hope not. If he looks too normal, we might not find him."

"Oh, if your text is accurate, we’ll know him when we meet him," Jules said without hesitation.

Marty took the DeLorean around the back of the pyramid furthest away from the crowd, figuring it would be a good a place to touch down as anywhere else. "Let’s get out," he said as soon as he had shut the car off. "I’ve got a feeling that we’re not going to see something like this again."

Jules and Verne didn’t argue. By the time the three of them had left the car, the peak of the solar eclipse was beginning to shift; the moon had already started to slip off the sun and the sky was growing lighter by the moment. Marty watched the eclipse for a moment, until he remembered that staring at the sun -- even if it was during a solar eclipse -- wasn’t very smart or safe. He shifted his eyes to the other things surrounding him.

The pyramids looming close by caught his attention first. They weren’t crumbled like they appeared in the future, but looked almost brand new. The structures were also enormous this close up, making him feel almost like an ant in comparison. The smallest one alone, the one they were behind, went up so high that it appeared the top point of it was touching the sun as it came out of the eclipse. That would make a fabulous picture, Marty thought, wishing he had brought his camera as he looked up.

He managed to tear his eyes away from the site and turned around, walking to the back of the car to see if everything was all right. Jules and Verne hardly noticed, both staring at the sky with their own expressions of amazement and awe on their faces. Marty tentatively touched the still-cold body of the car and knelt down to look at the bumper. As far as he could tell when he had finished his examination, nothing had been damaged at all. Not even a scratch. The only thing he noticed was that the right rear tire had what looked like some dust or stone smudges on it; probably the same material that the sphinx had been carved from. The tire must’ve bumped against the nose and the rubber absorbed the shock, Marty realized. Had they struck the figure with any other part of the car, something would’ve chipped or dented. They’d been extremely lucky.

"So, where should we go to find the Great One?" Verne asked, when the thrill of the eclipse had presumably worn off.

"Well, uh...." Marty let his voice trail off as he heard a faint murmuring in the air, the sound getting closer. "What’s that?"

"What?" Jules asked, confused. "Are you talking about the natural phenomenon above?"

"No.... I’m talking about that noise. Listen, I think it’s getting closer!"

It was. From the expressions now set on the boys’ faces, it was clear that they heard it as well. "Sounds like a crowd," Verne finally said. "Like when people are waiting for an assembly to start at school or somethin’."

Marty turned around, his head cocked to one side as he looked at their surroundings. "Maybe, but -- oh my God!"

The kids turned at his exclamation. "Oh, wow!" Verne whispered, stunned at the sight.

An enormous crowd of people was running their way. It looked to Marty as if the entire crowd that had been kneeling before the pyramid during the eclipse was coming their way. He hadn’t seen a crowd so large running like that before and the sight made him take a couple steps back. It was overwhelming.

"Uh oh," Jules said at the sight of them. He turned around, his eyes wide with a sort of panic. "What are we going to do about the DeLorean?"

Marty didn’t know and it didn’t matter much, anyway. A minute after they had first spotted the crowd, the first of the people arrived. Another minute later and they were trapped as the crowd swarmed around the three of them and the DeLorean. A man stepped through the swarm, people quickly parting a path for him as he came through. The man finally stopped before Marty a moment later. He studied the confused teen up and down, from the dusty sneakers he was wearing to the roots of his hair. Marty examined him as well. The man’s head was shaved bald and he was clad in the fanciest clothing of the group, trimmed in gold jewelry with what were probably precious jewels and carvings in it all.

"It is you," the man said eventually in a strangely accented voice. Marty frowned for a moment as the man spoke, realizing that he likely spoke a language -- Egyptian? -- that was completely foreign to him. And yet the words sounded like English! Man, those translators are pretty good, he thought. He did wonder why the Egyptian’s voice was accented, guessing maybe it was normal, that perhaps the translators didn’t completely remove the foreign accent from the foreign words it translated.

The man’s statement confused him, however. Marty wondered if the translator was one of those weird deals where it would literally translate words to English and vice versa, coming up with strange meanings and concepts that didn’t quite cross over. There was one way to find out, he supposed.

"What do you mean it’s me?" he asked.

The man knelt down at Marty’s feet and bowed his head. Marty took a step back, startled by the behavior. "The gods foretold of your coming, O Great One," the man said. "The afternoon darkness signaled that it was to be now." He raised his head, gazing up at Marty with dark eyes that sparkled with happiness.

"Great One!?" Jules and Verne exclaimed in unison, from behind. "No way!" Verne added.

Marty’s jaw dropped as all the Egyptians knelt in the sand behind the man. It looked like a sea of people suddenly dropping all at once. "I speak for us all when I say how honored we are to be in your presence," the man said, taking Marty’s hand. "Let me take you to my royal estate for your stay in Giza."

"Wait a minute!" Marty exclaimed, the touch of the man breaking through some of the numbness around him. He pulled his hand away and took a step back. "I don’t even know who you are!"

The man bowed his head again, as if ashamed of his behavior. "Please forgive me for being so rude, Great One. I am Amenemhet, King of Egypt."

Well, that cleared one thing up. Marty opened his mouth to ask more questions, the top one being why they thought he was this Great One, but Verne spoke before he was able.

"What makes you think we’d even want to go with you?" he asked.

King Amenemhet glanced up at the blond boy, watching him with his hands on his hips, and Jules, standing a few feet away. The king’s eyes widened as he saw them for the first time. "Who are those children? Are they your sons?"

Marty gasped, the reaction shared by both Jules and Verne. "You’ve gotta be joking! I’m not even eighteen yet!"

King Amenemhet looked puzzled. "You are not married? I thought that all gods joined in marriage when we do, at the age of eleven."

"Well, where I come from people don’t marry until much later!" Marty explained quickly, trying to imagine what it would be like to be married at eleven. Jeez, talk about growing up too fast!

The king seem to accept that. He stood up and snapped his fingers three times. Another man, this one smiling widely, stood up from the crowd and came to King Amenemhet’s side. "This is one of my most faithful servants, Tannenan. But for your stay, he will be yours."

"Oh Christ," Marty muttered under his breath, blinking as he looked at the servant. The name alone was familiar, but coupled with the face, there could be no doubt. His skin, eyes, and hair were all darker, but the expression on his face brought to mind too many bad memories. It was the Tannen smile, reserved for situations where authority needed to be put at ease, one filled with insincerity.

"Let me serve your every need," the Tannen servant said solemnly, "and show you to the Royal Estate for your stay."

Marty held back the urge to refuse the offer though that was his first and immediate reaction. Is it my curse in life to run into one of these guys every time I get in a time machine? he wondered. He shrugged instead at Tannenan’s words, already uncomfortable from the intense stares the locals were giving him. "If you want to," he said. He glanced at Jules and Verne, watching the scene before them with interest. "They have to come too, though. They’re my, uh, well... I have to look after them. I promised a friend."

"Do as the Great One wishes," King Amenemhet ordered Tannenan. "Get some camels for them to ride to the Nile. A god should not have to walk."

Three camels were found quickly and Marty realized with some unease that they were about to be moved somewhere else. He looked at the DeLorean, then at the boys, both watching him and waiting for him to say something. He shrugged a little at them, then took out his translator for a moment to speak to them without the locals knowing what they were saying.

"What do we do about the car?"

Jules followed his example, pulling his translator out to respond. The Egyptians close enough to hear their words, meanwhile, wore slightly puzzled expressions on their faces at this foreign language being uttered by the strangers.

"We might as well leave the vehicle here," he said. "It might be too dangerous to tow. Maybe we could come back later and move it."

The suggestion was all right. Marty nodded and slipped the translator back in place. "Show us to this place, then," he said to the king.

The royal estate turned out to be about a mile and a half away from the pyramids, near the shoreline of the Nile river. The trip there was a little strange. Marty had never ridden on a camel before and it proved to be an interesting experience. He’d thought that camels had two humps but these ones in particular all had one -- maybe it was a breeding thing. Riding them wasn’t very different from a horse -- except for the hump and the spitting the animals liked to do. The camel that Marty was on seemed content to walk at a slow pace, but Jules and Verne insisted on having races between their camels every few minutes. The camels did not seem amused.

Except for the king and the three time travelers, the people of Giza all traveled on foot.

By the time they reached the shore of the Nile river, looking rather dry and shrunken, the sun had come completely out of the eclipse and was high in the sky. The heat radiating off the sand was incredible. It had to be at least ninety degrees. Crops that were some kind of plants, brown and wilting, were a few feet away from the shore of the river.

"The Nile is almost gone from the drought," King Amenemhet explained as they passed the seemingly endless rows of dead or dying crops. "We knew that the afternoon darkness meant that help was coming and answering our prayers. Might you grant us some rain, Great One?"

"I don’t know if I can," Marty said honestly. Would these people kill him or something if he told them that he wasn’t even close to a being a god? I’m getting in way over my head, here, he realized, even as he knew that it was too late to turn back now. His protests at being identified as Great One, even if he voiced them, would likely be looked upon as an example of modesty or something of that nature.

By the time they reached the royal estate, all the people -- except for King Amenemhet, Tannenan, Marty, Jules, Verne, and two more servants that belonged to the king -- had fallen by the wayside. The royal estate was the largest and most extravagant of all the buildings that were constructed right next to the Nile. The king led the group through the sandy streets, lined with homes and businesses, to the enormous two story building. The grounds of the estate were filled with well-tended gardens, all protected by a high wall.

"It took almost three years to erect, but this is my palace, where the three of you shall live during your stay here," King Amenemhet said, gesturing to the sprawling grounds. His two servants helped the man off the camel, then he walked into the house though the open doorway without waiting for his guests to get off their own animals. They were helped off their camels by Tannenan and the other two servants, then escorted inside. It was surprisingly cool inside the building and Marty sighed at that, relieved by the temperature drop. Hill Valley had been going through one of its chillier spells and the jeans and sweatshirt he was currently wearing were baking him alive.

"Show them to the special chamber on this floor," the king told Tannenan as they came into the front room.

"Yes, sir," Tannenan said politely. When the king left the room, however, with the other two servants following him, Tannenan turned around and gave Marty a good hard glare. "You must give us rain," he said in a low voice. "If you do not, then I know you for the mortal you are." He turned around and began to walk the path the king had gone.

"Do we have to go with him?" Verne asked when Tannenan was out of earshot. "He could be taking us to some kind of prison."

"Somehow I seriously doubt that," Jules said, watching their servant recede down the hall. "If you thought that someone could move the moon and sun with the wave of a hand, would you try to evoke their anger and be prepared to suffer the wrath?"

Marty swallowed hard, not liking Jules little reminder about the Egyptians’ beliefs in him. "Maybe we should get back to the DeLorean and go home," he suggested hopefully. "Who knows what these people will do to us -- especially me -- if they knew that we’re as normal as them?"

"But I have to do the report and interview the Great One!" Verne said stubbornly, shaking his head hard against Marty’s suggestion. He looked up at the teen. "Since the Great One is you, I think we should stick around here for at least a day to see what happens so I can get the stuff I need. Okay?" That said, he ran down the hall that the king and Tannenan had gone before Marty could answer him. Jules looked at their temporary guardian and shrugged.

"A day couldn’t hurt much," he said. "If we leave now, it might insult all the people here -- and we could skew history in some way."

Marty wondered if that book was what he was thinking about. Was that supposed to be him in the painting? And if so, what the heck did that say about destiny and freedom of choice? Doc had told him that the future was whatever you made it, which seemed to indicate to Marty that he could pretty much do whatever he wanted with his life, that there was no set path. But if he was Great One and had turned up in the book before they had even left, did that mean that they were supposed to come here? Marty sighed; he was starting to get a good headache just trying to figure it out. He’d have to ask Doc about that later.

Jules traced his brother’s steps down the hall and Marty followed, reluctantly. At the end of the corridor, illuminated by what looked like lamps of some kind, was a large room. The walls throughout the house, Marty had so far noticed, had designs and pictures painted on them, but this room had unusually colorful pictures and designs. There were two small windows in the same wall, across from the doorway. The windows didn’t have glass -- instead, they had some kind of gauzy netting on them, like a screen. They were set high in the wall, about an inch under the low ceiling.

Very old and worn looking rugs covered a floor that looked like it was made from straw woven together. Four beds were also in the room, close to the ground, with the carved wooden headboards all pushed up against the far wall. Two of the beds had one side up against another wall, the other two were between them, in the center of the room.

Wooden cedar chests, decorated in fancy carvings, rested at the foot of each bed, the lids closed. Silver saucers filled with oil and floating wicks were placed on top of each chest. Small tables were next each bed, each with a chair. All the furniture, save for the chests, was covered with what looked like gold paint. Marty wouldn’t’ve been surprised if that was real gold on the wood, though, and not a cheap imitation. On one wall, by the door, an ancient mirror was hung, the reflection uneven and wavery.

"This is the best room in the palace, and it is yours while you are here," Tannenan told the three of them as they looked around. "I am to be your personal servant, so if you need anything, anything at all, you may reach me in the room directly next to this one. Is there anything that you desire at this time?"

Marty shook his head, still examining the room. "No, you can go now. We need to talk about some things alone."

Tannenan bowed. "As you wish," he said, leaving the room.

Marty slowly walked around, taking a great interest in some of the details of the room’s furniture. All the legs of the chairs, tables, and beds were carved in the shape of animal’s legs and feet. The beds had woven cords for what went as a mattress, with linen blankets folded at the foot of it. The chairs had what was probably ivory inlaid in the backs of them, stretched leather for the seat. He picked up one of the oil lamps from the chest, moving it to the table next to the bed, then opened the chest up. It looked like there was clothing inside, or maybe sheets; it was hard to tell from this perspective. Marty reached in and slowly pulled out the white fabric. The garment fell open as he held it up, hanging down to his knees. It appeared to be a type of dress or skirt -- clean, white, and spotless.

"What’s this?" Marty wondered aloud, examining it. "A skirt?"

"Actually, I believe that’s the type of clothing the men wore now," Jules said. "The women’s attire has bands over the shoulders and were more tightly fitted. Those would be called loincloths, too, not skirts."

Marty looked at the garment, incredibly skeptical. "Like what Tarzan wears? No way. There’s too much fabric."

Jules shrugged. "That’s what they’re called. It’s not so much like Tarzan -- it’s more like Scottish kilts, I suppose."

"You wouldn’t catch me dead in one of those things!" Verne announced, climbing up on one of the beds and trying to see out one of the windows.

"Actually, I think we should dress like everybody else while we’re staying here," Jules said, looking through a couple of the small covered pots on the tables. "It might be a good idea to blend in with the locals."

"But we’re not local," Marty pointed out. "They already think we’re from somewhere else."

"Perhaps," Jules concurred. "But I know that my current clothing is not suited for this kind of weather."

Marty definitely saw the point in that argument. The idea of wearing his heavy clothes in this kind of heat for even a day made him eye the lighter clothing with renewed interest.

"There’s no way that I’m gonna wear girl’s clothes!" Verne protested immediately. "What if someone from school heard about this? I’d never be able to live it down!"

"Trust me, no one at school will find out about this," Marty assured Verne as he examined the outfit in his hand and tried to see how it might be put on. "Not unless you’re prepared to tell them all about what your father can do."

"We’re not supposed to," Verne said. "It’s a real tight family secret."

Jules picked up one of the pots and held it out, tilting it enough to allow Marty and Verne a look at the contents. "We should also wear this."

The pot held what looked to the teen like some small solid black crayons. "What is that?" he asked, curling his lips slightly in revulsion. "Some sort of bizarro sun block? Looks like the charcoal we had to use in art class."

"Close," Jules said, nodding. "It’s kohl and was made from charcoal. Egyptians used it now to cut the sun’s glare by wearing it around their eyes. Rather like what I’ve seen professional football players wear on television."

"Make-up!" Verne said, getting straight to the point. "No way I’m wearin’ that, uh uh! I’d rather wear sunglasses!"

"Which we can’t because no one brought any," Marty said, glancing at the blond boy. "I’d rather skip it, though," he added, turning back to Jules. "It is too much like make-up for my tastes and I don’t think they’ll hold it against us if we go without."

"I’d like to go without these clothes, too," Verne muttered, casting another sour look at the outfit in Marty’s hand.

"Verne, I won’t tell anyone about wearing that sort of thing if you won’t," Jules said, slipping the lid back on the kohl pot. "People would think our current attire is more strange than the loincloths. Anyway, it’s a moot point. I don’t know about you, but I’m not spending a minute longer in my sweater than I have to."

"But we’re only going to be here for a day," Marty said. "No more, just a day."

Verne nodded but Marty had the sinking sensation that things wouldn’t work out quite that neatly. He sighed and started to untie his shoes.

Chapter Three

Sunday, January 1, 1985 B.C.
1:49 P.M.

"This is unbelievable!" Verne said with a gasp, only a short time later.

"For once, I‘m in agreement with you," Jules said from next to his brother, awe clearly in his voice. "I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a sight!"

Marty just shook his head in wonder, speechless.

After changing into the cooler Egyptian clothes, the three of them had stepped outside to get a better look at where they actually were. It was then that the people had started to arrive -- first in pairs, then in larger and larger groups. Every one of them had brought something in tow. All the people went straight to where Marty stood, at the entrance to the royal estate’s property, and piled their things at his feet while they knelt before him and spoke.

"Great One, here is the finest blanket that my wife has woven," an older man said as he and a women stepped before Marty and both knelt on the sand. He set the folded blanket on the ground, next to other things that had already piled up from other Egyptians’ generosity. Marty had never seen or experienced anything remotely like this in his entire life, and it felt way too weird. All these people were literally throwing themselves at his feet because they thought he was someone important that could give them their wishes or take them away on a whim. It made him wonder if this was what being a famous rock star would be like and, surprisingly, the thought made him feel slightly sick.

"Uh, gee, thanks," Marty told the old couple. His eyes were distracted for a moment by the line that stretched out behind them, a line that seemed to have no end. Marty swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry in the winter heat. He looked back at the couple, waiting. "But, really, you don’t have to do this for me."

Jules edged next to Marty. "You should never ever turn down the offers of the people," he said in a low voice. "It’s a great insult to them and their pride. No matter what they give or offer you, always accept it graciously."

"But I’m probably taking these people’s finest things, just because they think I’m a god," Marty returned in a low voice of his own. "It’s not right."

"You do not want our gift to you?" the old man asked, the smile on his face fading to a look that was a mix of utter horror and disappointment.

Marty cast a pleading look at Jules, asking him for a way out of this, but the boy took it the wrong way. "Of course he wants your gift," Jules told the old couple, smiling at them in a most charming way. "He would like nothing more than to have it."

The pair smiled back and, with one more awed look to Marty, stood and walked away to allow the next person in line their visit.

"What are we going to do with all this stuff?" Marty asked before the next group of people came up. "We can’t take it back with us!"

"We can keep it in our room for now, then give it all to King Amenemhet as a token of our thanks when we depart," Jules said reasonably. Before Marty could say anything in response to that, the next few people dumped their gifts on the sand and began to implore Marty to bring the rains back to Giza. He accepted it all with a wan smile.

* * *

The sun had dipped low behind the pyramids before the last person had a chance to donate something to the growing pile of gifts. Blankets, bottles, bowls, cups, chests and baskets, foods -- it was all there, in an overwhelmingly large pile. Marty heaved a huge sigh of relief when the last person had left, leaving just him and Doc’s two kids outside.

"That’s something I never want to go through again in my life," Marty said with a sigh, sitting down in the sand and rubbing his sore, sandaled feet. He had been standing for almost four hours straight, and the sandals that he’d found in the bottom of his cedar chest left much to be desired in the way of comfort. He could already feel blisters forming in several places.

"You’re telling me!" Verne agreed, dropping down in the sand next to Marty and all the gifts. The sand -- like the air -- had been scorching hot all afternoon, but it had now cooled down enough to be comfortable. The breeze that was stirring the air brought the warning of cooler nighttime weather. "I’m starving. When are we gonna eat?"

"Great One?"

Marty turned around at the sound of Tannenan’s voice. The man was standing in front of the king’s house. "King Amenemhet wishes for you to join him in his meal now."

"That’s fine," Marty said, getting slowly to his feet. "Tell him we’ll be there in a minute."

"Your Majesty, tell His Majesty that we will be there," Jules corrected quickly after Tannenan had gone back inside. "Never ever address a king or queen so casually."

"I’ll remember that next time," Marty said evenly, rather than argue. He was too hungry, thirsty and tired to argue. As an added bonus from standing outside in the sun all day, he could feel the beginnings of a nasty sunburn on his skin. The last thing he wanted to do was get into an argument about something as stupid as what to call Egyptian royalty.

The three of them went into the building and followed the sound of voices through the narrow halls on the first floor. They found King Amenemhet in a room at the other end of the building, seated in a fancy golden chair. Lamps lit the room so that it was filled with a warm, rosy glow. Food of all types rested on golden plates and tables, the biggest platter being home to a cooked goose. Other dishes spread around the room included breads, cakes, dates -- and a few golden pitchers filled with different drinks.

"Have a seat, Great One," the king offered, making a gesture to Tannenan with one hand. Tannenan pulled a chair out for Marty before the teen could even move an inch. He sat down hesitantly, still surprised from all the attention everyone was giving him. Tannenan remained standing next to him after he was seated.

"Is there anything that I could do for you, Great One?" he asked when Jules and Verne had been seated as well.

"Um... could you could bring in all the stuff that everyone gave me today and put it in our room?" Marty asked, after thinking about that for a moment.

Tannenan bowed. "Of course, Great One. I am honored to do such a thing for you." He left the room immediately.

"How was your day, Great One?" the king asked anxiously. "Has everything been pleasing for you?"

"It’s fine, everything’s fine," Marty assured him, before the king could feel compelled to do something else for him. He was starting to hate the way everyone was bending over backwards to be nice to him. This is really driving me crazy! he realized, slightly surprised.

"Let us feast, then. I know that this food is not nearly as fine as the food you are used to, but this is the best we have," the king explained, almost apologetically. He made a gesture to one of the two servants that were standing beside him. The one on his right stepped forward and picked up one of the gold pitchers, pouring something into the gold cup before Marty. "This is the finest drink we have," the king told him.

"What do we get?" Verne asked when the servant placed the pitcher back on the table without pouring either himself or Jules anything.

"You may have some goat’s milk," King Amenemhet said as the servant reached for a different pitcher. "May I ask who the two of you are?" he added, looking between Jules and Verne.

"I am the, uh, Great One’s advisor," Jules said, sounding slightly doubtful about his job.

"I am... the advisor of the advisor," Verne told the king, looking pleased with his quick thinking.

The king nodded without any further questions on that matter. Relieved they had gotten past that hurdle, Marty picked up the cup. He took a sip from it and almost choked. The king had given him wine -- and not just wine but the worst tasting kind he’d ever had! He tried not to cough as he set the cup down. The king looked at him, his eyes critical.

"Is our finest drink pleasing to you?"

Marty cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way it burned as he did so. "Ah, yeah, it’s just great," he lied.

Jules and Verne both stared at him, perhaps knowing that he was lying through his teeth. The king, however, didn’t pursue the subject any more and turned his attention to the food on his plate that the servants were dishing out.

"What’s wrong?" Jules asked as quietly as he could. "You look as if you swallowed poison."

"It’s nothing," Marty said, not wanting to get into a conversation about it here. The king saved him from any further queries.

"Would you like some dates?" King Amenemhet held out a bowl full of the fruit. "They are of the finest quality."

Marty shrugged, figuring it couldn’t be as bad as the drink. "Sure," he agreed, taking the bowl and, after picking out a few dates, passing it on to Jules and Verne.

The meal lasted an hour. During that time, the king fired questions off at Marty faster then he could answer them -- and some that he didn’t want to answer. Especially about their origins, which Marty passed off with the vague reply that it was "a far away place." With almost every question came whispered commentary from Jules about how to answer the inquiries, or what to eat, or how to act. Marty listened to it all with gritted teeth and a tight smile. It took every ounce of his concentration not to snap at the kid to leave him alone!

"It’s getting late," Marty finally told the king. "My... advisors and I would like to go to our room now. We’re all tired from the long trip we made today."

The king nodded quickly, suddenly uneasy. "Please forgive me for delaying you, then. Will you be here in this room tomorrow for the morning meal, when the sun is just over the horizon?"

"We’ll be here," Jules answered for them, flashing Marty an irritated look. Marty ignored the look, not even sure why he was getting such treatment, and stood, pushing Tannenan’s assistance away.

"Goodnight," he told the king with a quick nod before leaving the rooms. Jules and Verne pursued him close -- too close, in Marty’s opinion. Without thinking about it, he turned sharply away from their bedroom, towards the front doorway.

"I’m going to get some air," he told the boys. "I’ve gotta be alone for a few minutes, okay?" Marty didn’t wait for them to answer. He was outside in seconds. He took a deep breath of the crisp night air and walked towards the exit of the royal grounds, where the gifts had piled up earlier. For the first time in hours, complete silence surrounded him and he was completely alone, no one hanging on his every word. Marty sighed in relief and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the reprieve. When he opened them, a figure stood before him. Marty took a step back, startled at the sight. He hadn’t heard anything.

"Great One," the figure whispered, stepping close to Marty. Marty took another step back. The form pushed back the hood that covered his head and Marty saw it was an old man who stood before him.

"Yeah?" Marty said warily. The old man reached into the depths of his tattered clothing and pulled out something that dangled from a chain.

"I have a gift for you," the old man said, his voice raspy. He held it out to Marty.

Marty looked at the old man for a moment, wondering whether or not to accept it. Well, I don’t think they had the technology yet for bombs or guns, he reasoned, finally taking the object from the old man. "What is it?" he asked, holding it up close to his face.

"A special necklace," the old man said. A look flickered across his face that Marty couldn’t quite decipher. "May it bring you better fortune then it has me."

"Well, uh, thanks," Marty said, looking down at the gift in his palm. It was a necklace, and probably an expensive one at that. Small links of what felt like solid gold were strung together, with a charm suspended from it: a small gold cat. The cat was posed sitting up straight, looking very regal, and had two tiny green jewels for eyes, probably the real thing and not some costume stuff, either. The jewels glittered in the moonlight, almost seeming to glow in the dark.

"It’s really nice," he said, looking up, "I--"

Marty’s words ground to a halt as he raised his head. The man was gone. He looked around, wondering if the stranger might’ve moved while he had been examining the necklace. But there was no sign that anyone had been by. A glance searching for footprints told him nothing. So many people had been by that day that the sand was heaped into thousands of uneven mounds.

"Hey!" Marty called out, hoping to get a response. Silence answered him. He was alone again.

What did that guy do, vanish into thin air? he thought. Marty laughed, a little nervous. He decided it might be a good time to head back inside.

Jules and Verne were waiting for him in the room. Someone had lit the oil lamps so the place was filed with a warm, albeit dim, glow. Marty sat down on the edge of one of the beds and leaned close to one of the burning lamps. He held the necklace close to the flame, trying to get a better look at it.

"What’s that?" Verne asked, joining his side for a look.

"Another gift," Marty said, his eyes still on the charm.

"You should wear that, then," Jules advised, "on the chance that the person who gave that to you will see you. That would be a great honor for them."

"I know that," Marty said, a harsh edge to his voice. He immediately felt bad -- his relationship with the boys, Jules in particular, was still not rock solid -- but not bad enough to apologize. He pulled the chain over his head. "There, happy now?"

Jules leaned over and eyed the necklace. "It looks quite valuable. Do you remember who gave you that gift?"

Marty lay back on his bed, resting his head on his arms. "Yeah," he said, not wishing to elaborate. Frankly, the more he thought about that strange meeting, the creepier it made him feel.

"The king wants us to join him for breakfast early tomorrow," Jules said, changing the subject.

"I know," Marty said, his eyes on the ceiling. He shifted them over to the boys, Verne in particular. "We should leave tomorrow, right after."

Verne didn’t say anything, save for a vague grunt of acknowledgment that he had heard his words.

There was a soft rap from the doorway, then their servant stepped into the room. "Is their anything else that you three would like?" Tannenan asked.

"We’ll be fine," Marty said, glancing at the servant.

"Remember, I will be here if you need me," Tannenan said. "Do not hesitate to call." He smiled, a rather chilly expression on his face, then left. His footsteps had scarcely faded before Verne spoke up.

"I don’t trust him," he said.

"Why not?" Jules asked. He seems perfectly amiable."

Verne shrugged. "He’s a Tannen. They’re all not to be trusted, no matter when you are. Remember what Dad said? I just have a bad feeling about him, that’s all."

"I’m sure that he’s perfectly trustworthy," Jules insisted.

"Looks can be deceiving," Marty said. "I’ve had more experience with that family than you guys. I’m going to have to agree with Verne on this one."

"Ha!" Verne cried to his brother. "Marty agrees with me! Tannenan is up to something!"

Jules sighed. "Verne, when will you cease to be so melodramatic with matters like this? Unlike all those motion pictures and television shows you have been stuffing your mind with since we moved, there is not a conspiracy to be found around every corner. Most things are what they appear to be."

"Oh yeah? Well--"

"Will you guys please continue this conversation somewhere else?" Marty asked, interrupting them and a little irritated. "I’d like to get some sleep tonight, especially if we have to be up early tomorrow."

The kids looked a little irritated themselves and Marty wished suddenly he hadn’t said anything. "Touchy, touchy," Verne said, heading for the door.

"Yeah, well, you weren’t followed around all day asking if everything was okay a million times," Marty muttered. "I haven’t had a second alone since, hardly."

"What a hard life," Verne said, rolling his eyes. "Didn’t Dad say you wanted to be famous or somethin’? I think that’s what fame is like, y’know."

"Come on, Verne," Jules said, heading for the door himself. "Let’s leave the Great One alone for a while." Marty detected a touch of sarcasm in those words. But he was too frustrated to really care.

"Man, we’d better leave this place tomorrow," he groaned, rolling over and closing his eyes.

Chapter Four

Monday, January 2, 1985 B.C.
4:46 A.M.

The hallway stretched out before him, long and dark. Flickering light from torches set in the walls cast eerie shadows, making the painted figures on the wall appear to move. Marty turned, hoping to find a way out, the way he’d come, but behind him the hall continued until the end faded into blackness. He turned back around and started to walk down the corridor. The hallway had no end or turns. It continued a straight course, the smooth stone floor sloping downward ever so slightly. His footsteps echoed eerily through the air, the only sound heard.

As he walked, Marty had a chance to examine the pictures on the wall. Most of the pictures were hieroglyphs, symbols and pictures that the ancient Egyptians used to communicate with each other. Most of the hieroglyphics surrounded paintings of the Egyptians, figures frozen forever in acts that likely had deeper meanings. The farther that Marty walked, the more elaborate the wall decoration became.

Just as Marty was seriously considering turning back -- even though he had no idea on how to get out of this place -- the tunnel stopped, running to another wall so there looked to be no way of escape. The wall that was before him was the fanciest of all, with a scene of a great and powerful-looking man painted on the wall. The man was shown scowling down at people below him.

The only thing that was wrong with the picture was the huge gash in the wall that had left a large gaping hole. It was impossible to see what was in the hole, despite the fact it was big enough to allow a small child to walk through. The light from the torches wouldn’t reach that far. Marty stepped over to one of the torches and carefully lifted it out of the holder. Once he had it safely in his hand, he returned to the hole, put the torch inside, and slowly looked in.

Marty gasped. He was staring straight into an Egyptian tomb! As carefully as he could, Marty stepped through the hole and into the room, turning in a circle to see all there was to see. Chairs, tables, and chests bordered the walls of the room, all gleaming gold through a layer of dust. Dried fruits and other foods sat on the tables, uneaten, waiting for the tomb’s owner to return. Expensive looking clothes hung on wooden hooks set in the wall. Every inch of the walls were covered with fancy pictures and hieroglyphs. Marty wished that he knew what they read.

The centerpiece of the tomb was the coffin itself, for the mummified body of whomever owned the tomb. The stone slab that covered the golden sarcophagus, which held the mummy, was askew. Holding his breath, Marty leaned over and looked inside. The sarcophagus sparkled in the light from the torch. It was solid gold, with all kinds of jewels embedded in it. More of the hieroglyphics were on the casing. The face carved in the golden sarcophagus strongly resembled the painting of the man that had been on the outside of the tomb. Marty was about to turn away when a sudden noise from behind startled him, a scurrying noise like a rat might make. He fumbled and dropped the torch, where it immediately snuffed out. Deep darkness filled the room, so intense he couldn’t see his hand before his eyes.

Well, this is a nice turn of events, Marty thought, trying to stay calm. He didn’t think anything could be worse that being trapped in a tomb with a mummy -- even though it was dead -- in pitch blackness. But that was before he heard the sound -- and this sound was definitely not made by a rat!

It was a moan. Deep, sinister; it sounded mad. And it was coming from the direction of mummy. Marty’s eyes narrowed, straining to see through the darkness. A moment later he saw a ghostly white shape rise from the tomb. Marty gasped as he stared at it, petrified and unable to look away. He couldn’t move! The shape growled and, in a flash, was suddenly standing beside Marty.

From the faint glow of the torches from the hallway, leaking into the room through the hole, Marty could see that it was a mummy. The white bandages were loose and trailing on the floor, revealing desiccated pieces of flesh below. The eyes began to glow an evil red, like a psychotic toy in a horror movie, and the mummy gave another moan. It stiffly raised an arm. Before Marty had a chance to react, the mummy reached out and wrapped its fingers around his neck, tightening the grip until he couldn’t breathe!

Marty’s hands shot up and tugged in vain at the iron grip of the mummy. But he couldn’t budge it! He fought hard but it was all in vain. His legs began to weaken and Marty suddenly felt too tired to fight anymore. He sank to his knees, the mummy still holding on. The last thing he saw was the glowing red eyes, seeming to mock him as he closed his own.

Then, there was nothing.

* * *

Marty came awake with a jolt, gasping for air, his heart thudding against his ribs. His surroundings startled him almost as much as the dream had; he was standing up, staring at one of the many decorated walls in King Amenemhet’s estate.

"What the hell...?" he muttered, blinking hard and looking around, almost expecting his surroundings to dissolve. Is this another dream? Am I still asleep? But his environment remained stable and unchanging. Marty realized he was in the hall just outside his room. Yeah, I’m awake, he realized. But the burning question is, what the hell am I doing out here?

"This is weird," he said aloud, stepping toward his room. He almost ran into Verne, coming out.

"Marty!" Verne cried, surprised. "What are you doing out here?"

"I don’t know," Marty said honestly, made uncomfortable by the question.

"King Amenemhet wants to see all of us now," Verne said. "His servant just came by. Jules and I thought you were already there."

"Why’s that?"

"You weren’t in here when we got up," Verne said, shrugging. "So we thought you might’ve left earlier."

"What time was that?" Marty asked as Jules came out of the room.

Verne shrugged again. "I don’t know. Maybe half an hour ago. Why?"

Half an hour! Marty swallowed hard, a feeling of unease gnawing at him. What the hell is going on here?

Verne, perhaps sensing his strange thoughts or else noticing weird expressions on his face, looked at him strangely.

"Are you feeling ill this morning, Marty?" Jules asked, joining in the conversation. "You appear pale."

"I’m fine," Marty muttered. "Just fine."

He heard footsteps approach him from behind. Marty whirled around, his reflexes still on edge, and saw Tannenan coming their way. Tannenan bowed when he reached Marty. "The king is requesting all of you to meet him for the morning feast," he announced.

"We’ll be right there," Marty said. Tannenan bowed again, then turned and walked away.

"We must be prompt, now," Jules said to Marty. "The king might take our tardiness as an insult."

"I know, I know, just let me think here for a minute," Marty said, trying to sort things out in his mind. I went to sleep in bed and I think I had some weird dream... and I woke up in this hall, on my feet....

"Now, Marty!" Jules said rather sharply, tugging on his arm. Marty followed him without another word, deciding that would be the only way he could think.

On the walk to the king’s dining room, Marty stumbled over a loose stone in the floor. As he looked down and caught his balance against the wall, he caught sight of the gold cat hanging on the gold chain around his neck. He had almost forgotten about that strange encounter the night before. Marty stopped walking, Jules and Verne continuing on, and took the charm in his hand. He held it up and squinted at it. The cat’s jeweled eyes seemed to grow brighter and brighter as he watched. Marty blinked, wondering if he was imagining this -- but the eyes were still glowing. It was only then he noticed the ray of sunlight he was standing in. The jewels must have caught the light. Marty nearly laughed out loud at what he’d been thinking before that. He let go of the cat and continued down the hall.

But the glowing eyes... it reminded him of something. Something like.... Marty froze, the comparison coming to him.

"The mummy," he whispered, his nightmare flooding back to him. The mummy that attacked him with the glowing red eyes. The long endless walk down the tunnel. The tomb full of riches... and the mummy. It seemed so real. Even now looking back on it from a wide awake perspective, it seemed impossible that it had been just a dream. But it had to be!

"I hope I don’t have that dream again any time soon!" he said under his breath, starting to walk again. Now that he thought about it, Marty wondered why he hadn’t remembered the dream sooner. It had been the worst nightmare he’d had in years. He could still feel the sharp, boney fingers digging into his neck and feel the coolness of the tunnel’s air. Without thinking about it, Marty reached up and touched his neck. Relief seeped into him when he didn’t feel any bruises.

It was just a dream, nothing more, Marty told himself firmly as he stepped into the king’s dining room. Everyone was already seated, waiting for his arrival.

"Hi, sorry I’m late," he said, looking at the king.

King Amenemhet nodded, looking anxious. "Was your night well?" he asked. "Were things agreeable with you?"

"They were fine, thanks," Marty said, taking a seat.

Verne leaned over towards him as the king turned to his servants. "We’re going to have to stay here longer," he whispered.

Marty frowned, not liking this news in the slightest. "How much longer is longer?" he wanted to know.

"Until I can figure out what to do about my report," Verne replied. "I mean, I seriously doubt that my teacher knew that one of my friends was the Great One. What am I supposed to do? I can’t tell her the truth!"

"We can discuss that later," Jules interrupted, his eyes on the king. The king was beginning to give them a curious look.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked, staring at Marty as the servants began to pass the food around.

"Everything’s fine," Marty said, forcing a smile on his face. He looked down distastefully at the cold mutton that had been set on his plate. The food back here left a lot to be desired.

After breakfast, Jules pulled Marty and Verne outside in the king’s garden, wanting to discuss their situation without a chance of being overheard. Marty was relieved to discover that Tannenan had not followed them.

"Now tell me," Jules said to Verne, who was sitting on a hand carved bench, "precisely how long do you wish that we remain here?"

Verne shrugged. "I don’t know. Do you have any ideas on how I can do this report on a god with someone who isn’t?" He reached out and tore a leaf off one of the bushes next to them, beginning to twist it between his fingers.

"We could stay here for a few days and see how Marty adapts to this type of life," Jules suggested. "That might help you."

Marty decided it was time for him to speak up. "Hold it. May I remind you, Verne, that you promised that we would be here maybe a day, tops?"

"I need that A!" Verne said stubbornly. He threw the leaf on the ground. "Come on, Marty, a week won’t hurt nothin’!"

"A week!" Marty exclaimed. "No way! Absolutely not!"

"I don’t mind," Jules said, looking at Marty. "If nothing else, you could look at this as a vacation from school."

"I just had a vacation from school -- and spending a week in the ancient past isn’t my idea of a vacation, anyway," Marty said.

Verne looked at the teen pleadingly. "Marty, help me out with this! You are the Great One, after all. Please? I’ll owe you real big!"

Marty sighed. "Guys, I don’t like it here. It’s too weird and creepy. We could get killed if they find out I’m not who they think I am."

"They won’t," Jules said. "Our futuristic clothes and the time machine have only served to hammer the point home that we’re not of this world."

"We’re not staying a week," Marty said, realizing he was outnumbered even as he spoke. "Maybe a few days, but not a week. I refuse, all right?"

The compromise seemed to suit Verne. He smiled. "Thank you, Great One," he said. "How can I repay you for your kindness?"

"Stop calling me that, please," Marty said, wincing.

"We’d better get back inside," Jules said. "We don’t want the king to think we’re plotting something."

The three of them returned to the house. The temperature, which was probably already in the eighties outside, dropped about twenty degrees in the earthen building. It took Marty’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dim halls and rooms in the building. Lamps were apparently used only at night and the small high windows did not help much to light up the place.

"I wonder where all the people are?" Jules remarked as they walked through the empty halls. "One might think that King Amenemhet would have servants around."

"His servants are probably with him, dummy," Verne told his brother as they rounded the corner to their room.

"Not necessarily, the servants could--" Jules stopped in mid-sentence as they stepped into their room.

"Oh wow," Verne said under his breath as he looked around.

Marty was the last to see the sight, having been trailing the boys. He gasped at what he saw.

Their room had been trashed. The cedar chests that held clothing, both from now and from the future, were knocked over, their lids torn off and tossed across the room. The clothing that had been in the chests were thrown about the room, along with the gifts that the people had given the "Great One" the day before. Precious vases were broken into worthless pieces of stone and glass. The oil lamps were overturned and dripping onto the floor. All the blankets were lying in torn mounds on the floor. Strangely enough, a few things -- like the mirror and the chairs -- remained untouched, as if the person who had done this was interrupted suddenly.

"What type of person would contrive such a malign act?" Jules asked aloud, surveying the ransacked room.

"I’ll bet it was Tannenan!" Verne cried, his eyes wide. "He probably did it!"

"Oh, come on, Verne," Jules said, rolling his eyes. "What makes you think that our servant would do something like this?"

"I told you last night -- I don’t trust him," Verne repeated. "There’s something about him that I know isn’t right!"

"He’s a Tannen, that’s probably what it is," Marty said, kicking a broken dish aside with his foot. "But I don’t know if he did this. It’s too obvious."

Verne whirled to look at Marty. "I thought you were on my side!"

"I am," Marty said, his eyes scanning the mess on the floor. "But if Tannenan did this, he should know he’d be the prime suspect. I don’t know if he would be that stupid."

"Fine, don’t believe me," Verne said, scowling. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you when Tannenan shows what he’s really like!"

Before anyone could reply to that comment, Tannenan suddenly entered the room. Speak of the devil, Marty thought.

"King Amenemhet is requesting the company of you all to join him on his barge for a journey down the Nile," Tannenan said. His eyes widened as he noticed the state of the room. "What has happened here?"

"We don’t know," Jules said, speaking for all of them. He was probably afraid Marty or Verne might say something about Verne’s suspicions. "We returned here after breakfast and discovered the room this way."

Tannenan’s face darkened. "Great One, be assured that the king shall punish whoever did this to you."

Marty nodded. "Good. Do you think someone could get this place cleaned up before tonight?"

"Oh, certainly. I will tell the king about this crime at once." Tannenan started to leave the room, then stopped. "King Amenemhet is at the shore of the Nile now, waiting for you all. Let me show you to the site, first."

Despite the suspicions in their group, they followed Tannenan to a dock, beside which a long, flat boat rested. The king, with his ever-present servants, was waiting on the dock.

"This is my finest boat, made from cedar, with fine linen sails," the king announced to Marty, Jules, and Verne, gesturing to the large craft that was floating in the murky water. "Because the Nile is so low, we may only sail in the very center of it, so I cannot take you next to the shore for greater viewing, Great One."

"That’s okay," Marty said, forcing himself to smile.

Tannenan turned to the king. "Your Majesty, I have troubling news." He quickly related what had happened to the "Great One’s" room. King Amenemhet’s face darkened.

"Great One, my sincerest apologies on the matter," he said, bowing his head. "You can be certain that this culprit will be found and severely punished. I will send some of my slaves to your room right now to clean it up."

"Thanks..." Marty said slowly. He reached up to the necklace, twisting the chain around his fingers, almost absentmindedly. Good thing this wasn’t in the room, he thought, feeling an unexplainable sensation of relief. He had become used to the weight of the necklace and liked the emerald-eyed charm.

"Why does the water look so gross?" Verne asked the king when they had boarded the boat.

"The water is turning bad for drinking because we have not had rain for so long," the king replied, lowering his head sadly. Then he brightened. "But Great One, you will help us, won’t you?"

"I’ll... see what I can do," Marty said hesitantly, stepping over to the side of the boat and looking out at the sand and pyramids in the distance. Jules took Verne’s arm and pulled him over to the opposite side of the boat from the king, next to Marty.

"What did you mean by asking King Amenemhet why the water looked like it did?" Jules questioned him.

"Why shouldn’t I have?" Verne countered. "There wasn’t anything wrong with that."

"Yes, there is. You gave the king another chance to ask Marty about the rain that he will not be able to cause. If you have another question like that, ask me."

"Oh, like you’d know the answer," Verne scoffed, leaning against the railing of the boat. The shore grew farther away from them as the sails caught the brisk wind and pushed them down the shriveled river.

"I do," Jules said, nodding. "The reason why the water is like that is because it’s stale, and it’s from the very bottom region of the river, where the dirt and sediments sink. You might say that the Egyptians are literally scraping bottom for their water supply."

Verne shrugged, unimpressed. "Who cares? Let’s just forget it." He walked to the back of the boat, Jules trailing after him to continue his lecture.

Marty enjoyed a few minutes of silence before Tannenan came up to him. "Wherever did you get that necklace?" the servant asked.

Marty turned away from the railing, wondering if he had heard right. "What?" he asked Tannenan, his hand automatically reaching for the golden cat.

"The necklace," Tannenan repeated, pointing to it. "Where did you find it?" His face looked troubled as he stared at the cat.

"It was a gift to me," Marty replied, not bothering to mention anything more about that strange encounter.

"You will do best to part with that, then," Tannenan said, his eyes growing wide. He took a few steps back. "That is King Theban’s sacred necklace."

Marty gave him a puzzled look. "Who?"

"Allow me to explain," Tannenan said, seeing Marty’s frown. "The King Theban was a great and powerful ruler when Egypt and Giza had just begun. His tomb, which is said to be great in riches and beauty, was built here. But the records that allow the location have been lost over the years. King Theban’s tomb is one of the deepest puzzles in Giza."

"So, what’s the necklace have to do with that?" Marty asked. He leaned against the railing of the boat, wishing that the temperature wasn’t as hot as it was, or there was at least more of a breeze. Even being on the river didn’t help things get any cooler.

"King Theban adored the sacred cat, the creature that is on the necklace," Tannenan continued, pointing to the charm. "The necklace was a prized possession of his. The cat that the charm was modeled after was the king’s own treasured pet, Kalila. The green of her eyes were magic, and so it is said are the jewels in the charm. After Kalila died, King Theban had the necklace made and the jewels touched by sacred priests so that the king and his pet could keep in contact beyond this world."

"Really?" Marty said, now interested in this little history lesson. He looked at the emeralds and they did seem to have an unearthly glow about them. But it was probably caused by nothing more than the power of suggestion. He certainly didn’t believe the story.

Tannenan nodded. "The king died and was buried in his sacred tomb. It is said that he who disturbs any possessions or sleep of the great king will be cursed for the rest of their being, here and in the afterlife. You," he said, pointing to Marty, "are wearing the king’s most prized possession and the curse of the tomb shall hang heavy on you."

Marty almost laughed out loud at the serious and fearful expression that Tannenan wore. "Oh yeah? What will happen if I do continue to wear it?" he asked, managing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Your room was a warning, I believe," Tannenan said in a hushed voice. "Many worse things shall happen if you do not rid yourself of the cursed necklace."

Marty shrugged. "I don’t believe in curses," he announced. "I think they’re a bunch of stories that have been told to make sure that no one robs the tombs."

Tannenan’s eyes narrowed and darkened. "You will soon think differently, Great One," he said in a low voice, then turned and walked over to the big silk sails on the boat, beginning to adjust them.

"I cannot believe you said just that," Jules said suddenly from behind. Marty turned to see Doc Brown’s oldest son frowning at him.

"Said what?" Marty asked. "That I don’t believe in curses?" He shook his head. "What’s wrong with that? Don’t tell me that you think they’re true," he added, chucking.

"I feel about them the same way you do, but in this time curses are taken very seriously," Jules said briskly. "Where we come from, they’re looked upon as folklore and legend, but now they’re quite real. The people now are not like us."

"No kidding!" Verne exclaimed, coming over to join in the conversation. "People here don’t even have decent clothes. No wonder they believe in curses and people like the Great One here." He glanced slyly over at Marty. "No way would anyone from our time think that Marty was a god!"

"I do have to wonder about that necklace, though," Marty admitted, glancing out at the hills of sand, broken only by the pyramids, other buildings from the people of Giza, and the occasional palm tree. "The person who gave it to me was really... strange."

"Perhaps that person found the tomb, took the necklace and gave it to you as a token of their gratitude," Jules speculated.

"Maybe," Marty said slowly, remembering that old man. He reached for the necklace again, twisting it as he thought. The links felt solid, real, and that somehow assured him even more that Tannenan’s story was merely legend.

* * *

The rest of the day passed quickly. After the boat ride, the king took the three of them, plus Tannenan, to another meeting with more people from Giza. That lasted the rest of the day, during which Marty was touched, pleaded with, and given more gifts by the people of the town. After dinner, the three of them returned to their room, sparsely cleaned now, and went to bed. Despite having a mind cluttered with worries about Tannenan and their mysteriously vandalized room, Marty fell asleep quickly and had another strange dream -- or nightmare.

It was outside this time. A cold, windswept night. Marty was surrounded by nothing but sand, grains of the stuff striking him from all sides as the wind gusted. The pyramids were gone, vanished in the fog that seemed to suddenly surround him.

"Hello?" Marty shouted, straining his ears for a reply. "Is anyone out here?"

"Yes," came the faint reply in a low, raspy voice, sweeping across the desolate earth.

"Where are you?" Marty yelled, turning around in a circle, looking for the source of the words.

"Trapped," came the faint reply.

"Trapped?" Marty repeated. "Trapped where?"

"Close..." the voice replied.

"But where?" Marty persisted. "I can help you if you tell me where you are!"

"If you wish," the voice said. Marty looked down suddenly as he felt the sand beneath his feet give way slightly. Before he could jump out of the way, a strong, boney hand wrapped itself around his ankle, tugging him down. Marty fell backwards, a faint cry of horror and surprise escaping his lips. He dug his fingers in the sand, trying to find something to hold onto and stop the deadly decent into the ground. But the sand oozed uselessly between his fingers like water.

The hand only had hold of one of his ankles. The other one was still free. Marty lifted the free leg and gave the hand a good, hard kick. The hand had begun to disappear under the sand, but the grip loosened for a moment at the impact. Before Marty could react and pull free, the hand tightened harder than before and continued the fierce tug of war.

Though struggling hard for a way out, the hand had soon pulled Marty under the sand up to his waist. Then, before he knew it, the sand was up to his chin and the hand still continued its deadly tug. It was then the laughter started, deep sinister laughter from that same voice that had called to him earlier. The laughter was the last thing Marty heard before the sand closed in over his head.

He awoke with a start, his heart pounding. Blinking, Marty looked at his surroundings in surprise. He was standing alone in the middle of the desert, nothing but sand surrounding him. The moon hung low in the sky, indicating that it was late in the night.

"How did I get out here?" Marty whispered, looking around as if he could find the answer lying nearby. It was deadly quiet now, not a sound heard at all. Unlike the dream, the wind was calm and not stirring the air in the least. Marty wondered for a moment if the dream was not over yet, if it was still going on. He reached out an gave his arm a good pinch, the classic test. His surroundings remained. It was real.

After a minute, Marty noticed a set of footprints behind him, the only blemish on the ocean of smooth flat sand. He turned and followed them, hoping that they might lead him back to the king’s estate. As he walked, he tried to figure out what in the hell he was doing all the way out here, and how he got there. There was only one set of footprints.

Am I sleepwalking? Marty asked himself, the idea just now occurring to him. Sleepwalking. It sounded like a good guess -- except that he knew that he had never sleepwalked before in his entire life, not unless he’d always made it back to bed before waking up and, while out for a stroll, had never woken up anyone in his family. Marty looked up at the clear night sky, remembering that horrible dream he’d been having before he had discovered himself outside. He glanced at the sand, feeling a shiver go down his spine as he remembered the hands pulling him down under the grains.

When Marty reached the top of a slight rise in the sand, he realized he could now see the pyramids and, set before the large structures, King Amenemhet’s home. He wasn’t as far as he had first thought from the royal estate. The rise had been hiding it from view. Marty quickened his steps, his bare feet slipping a little through the cool sand. When he left, he had apparently not put his sandals on first.

The king’s estate appeared closer then it was, since it took Marty a good ten minutes to hike back. As he crept into his room again, he took note that the blankets on his bed looked like they had been hastily thrown to the side, like he had been in a hurry to get somewhere. Getting back into bed, Marty happened to glance down at King Theban’s necklace. For just an instant, it looked as if the cat’s emerald eyes were not emeralds. They seemed alive and evil, glaring at Marty in hatred. Then the image faded and they were just fancy green jewels again.

Marty shut his eyes tightly, hoping to drive all the scenes of the cat charm and the dream from his head, and also trying to forget about the mysterious walk in the desert. Why did I end up at about the same place where the dream took place? Why am I sleepwalking? Why am I having these nightmares?

Despite his best efforts, however, the questions and pictures refused to leave, keeping him up the rest of the night.

Chapter Five

Tuesday, January 3, 1985 B.C.
11:23 P.M.

"Something is bugging Marty," Verne said to his brother the next afternoon, while they were loitering just outside of the king’s estate grounds. So far, this day had been filled with less activity than the previous, allowing the time travelers to spend the day, so far, on the grounds of the king’s estate. Jules and Verne had gone off exploring for a time, looking around the gardens and in some of the other buildings as Marty had spent some time with the king, at the older man’s request.

"What makes you suspect that?" Jules asked, looking over at Marty where he was currently speaking with King Amenemhet by the estate’s outer wall.

"Well, he seemed quiet during breakfast today," Verne said thoughtfully, "and before we went off to look around, he got all mad at me for no reason, just because I asked him if he went out somewhere last night."

"Why did you question him about something like that?" Jules wondered, thinking that perhaps Verne could be right about something bothering Marty. He had been somewhat short tempered with them this morning. More so than they had seen him before.

"I thought I heard someone get up in the middle of the night and leave the room and when I looked at his bed later, it was empty," Verne explained. "It’d be pretty weird if I dreamed that."

"I do agree with you that something could perhaps be on Marty’s mind, but it will probably pass," Jules said. "He is under a lot of strain right now, what with this whole god situation." He changed the subject. "If we’re to be here for a couple more days, I think it would be best if we move the DeLorean to a more stable and secluded location until our return to the future."

"How do you suggest we do that with The Shark hanging around us all the time?" Verne asked, tilting his head to Tannenan, standing beside Marty and King Amenemhet. Verne had started to refer to their servant as "The Shark" because, according to Verne, "Sharks attack without warning and mercy, and so will Tannenan -- wait and see!" Jules wished his younger brother would stop thinking that Tannenan was harboring an evil side. What if Tannenan or the king overhears one of the accusations? he worried. That could be very bad for us.

"Why do you persist on the matter that Tannenan is not as he appears?" Jules asked with a sigh. "He’s done nothing to give the slightest notion that he is anything but what he shows."

"Oh, yes, he has!" Verne disagreed, nodding vigorously. "He trashed our room!"

Jules sighed again. "While I agree with you that someone mortal vandalized the room -- not some strange reaction from a curse -- I can almost guarantee that it was not Tannenan." Jules was getting to be more than a little frustrated on his brother’s stubbornness. Can’t he see that this Tannen is different?

"Then why didn’t he follow us out to the garden after breakfast? Can you explain that, Einstein?" Verne asked, looking at Jules rather smugly.

Even Jules did not know the answer to that question and he decided it would be a good idea to bring the topic back to the DeLorean. The last thing we need is for Verne to go off on one of his Tannen tirades, Jules thought. "As I was saying before we were sidetracked, I think we should go out to where the DeLorean is now and store it in a more secure place. I don’t favor the idea that anyone could, right now, get inside the time machine and then find themselves lost in time."

"Okay, but we still need to ditch Tannenan," Verne agreed, rather easily.

Jules knew that Verne would want to go to the DeLorean; his brother despised all the cultural stimulation that ancient Egypt and King Amenemhet were providing them with. Personally, Jules didn’t understand why their parents were wanting to forbid Verne from time traveling if he didn’t improve his history grade. They had the whole world of history at their fingertips! Unless it was because of this that they didn’t approve, for Verne always did spend more time in the past ignoring the cultural and historical aspects and concentrating more on the social.

"If we were to slip away from King Amenemhet and Tannenan when they were distracted, as they are now, we wouldn’t be noticed," Jules said.

"You mean leave, right now? What about Marty? Shouldn’t he be coming with us, too?"

"He doesn’t have to accompany us to move the DeLorean," Jules said. "If he was to stay here, the chances of either King Amenemhet or Tannenan noticing that we’re missing decreases a lot."

"What about camels? I am not going to walk all the way out to those pyramids!" Verne added firmly, a stubborn glint in his eye. "It’s way too far, especially in this weather."

Jules glanced around at the sandy landscape surrounding them for any camels that had been left unattended. Tied to one of the palm trees that bordered the entrance to the estate were a couple of the animals. The only people who were around the camels -- other than the two of them -- were the king, Tannenan, and Marty. And all three appeared to be engaged in some fascinating and deep conversation. Now would be the ideal time.

"We can borrow a couple of those camels for the trip to and from the present site of the DeLorean," Jules said, starting for the camels while keeping one cautious eye on the other group. Neither of the three gave the slightest sign that they saw anything and the boys were able to get away without arousing any suspicion.

* * *

"Is that the car?" Verne asked, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the bright sunlight. It had taken practically forever to get all the way out to the pyramids, longer than it had on Sunday, it seemed to Verne. Maybe it was because the camels that they were on now were total slow pokes. Even walking would have gone faster!

"I believe so," Jules said, stopping his camel and sliding down to the sand. Verne wasn’t sure on how his brother could be so certain that the sandy mound before them really was the DeLorean from a distance. Not ‘til they got a little closer did Verne see the Mr. Fusion sticking out of the sandy mound.

"Cease staring at the DeLorean and come over to assist me in sweeping all this sand off," Jules ordered, sounding impatient as he took great handfuls of sand and brushed it off to the side. "We must return to the estate before anyone suspects that we’ve left."

"That’ll take forever to do," Verne complained, reluctantly getting off his camel’s back. "Can’t we just leave the DeLorean here?"

Jules shook his head, not looking up from the sandy hood of the DeLorean, beginning to reappear. "We don’t want to risk damaging the time machine, which both sand and being out in the merciless glare of the sun and desert heat could do."

"But where are you planning to keep the car, then? It’s not like you can drive it in a garage out here." Verne took a finger and began to scribble in the sandy layer on the DeLorean.

Jules stopped cleaning the car off and took a good look around for the first time. Verne did too. Nothing but the pyramids and the sand, endless mounds of it, too.

"For once in your life, you’ve asked a valid question," Jules said slowly, his eyes scanning the horizon. "I can’t see any obstruction in which to conceal the DeLorean."

"They why don’t we just let it be here?" Verne asked, rolling his eyes. "It doesn’t look like anyone comes over here that much and if we cover the car up with sand, who’ll know it’s there?"

"But what if something did occur to the time machine? Father would never forgive us." Jules sank down in the sand, staring up at the pyramids and looking thoughtful.

"Just leave it here and keep it covered with the sand," Verne repeated. "It’ll be safe ‘til we leave, probably."

"But not positively," Jules said with a sighed, getting back to his feet. "I suppose we have no choice." He suddenly turned and looked hard at Verne. "But if anything, and I mean anything, happens to the DeLorean, I’m holding you responsible!"

"Me? Why? I wouldn’t have done anything!" Verne exclaimed, matching his brother’s glare.

"You’re the one who wanted to come here in the first place," Jules replied, pointing a finger at Verne. "So if any object as much as scratches the time machine, you’ll be the one that Father will be lecturing, not I."

Verne scowled and pulled himself back on his camel. "You didn’t stay home, Jules. You came with me, so that means you’d get in trouble too!" Wanting to have the last word, Verne gave the camel a good kick and was disappointed when the camel didn’t even blink an eye.

"Come on you big bag of bones, move!"

Verne continued to kick the animal, like he had seen people do with horses to get them to move. But the only thing that happened was the camel turned and gave him a long, slow look.

Jules was watching Verne with a cocky half-smile on his face. "If you persist on doing that, you’ll be sorry," he said, mounting his own camel. Verne watched in annoyance as his brother gave his camel a slight nudge with his feet and his animal started to move.

I’ll show him! Verne thought, kicking his camel again. The camel turned around again and Verne glared at it. Before he could dig his heals into the side of the animal one more time, Verne felt something wet hit him in the face and heard Jules start to laugh.

"That should teach you never to toy with a camel’s temperament," Jules shouted to Verne, still chuckling as he rode off.

Verne wiped the camel’s spit from his face and silently simmered, his blood as hot as the sand below. I’d like to take Jules’s smirky face and rub it down in the sand until he begs for mercy!

Head held high, Verne gave his camel the slightest little nudge and was relieved when the animal actually began to move forward this time. It was on the way to the king’s house where he made a solemn vow never to speak to Jules again, for the rest of the stay in Egypt, at least! Maybe that’ll teach him to stop acting so know-it-all!

* * *

Night fell all too quickly from Marty’s point of view. Though he was tired, having had only a few hours of sleep the night before, his mind kept returning to the long conversation he’d had with King Amenemhet and Tannenan that morning, about King Theban. It made him uneasy and, though Marty still didn’t believe in curses, he was reluctant to go to sleep on the chance that he could have another wicked nightmare.

"The King Theban was known to all as a great, kind ruler," King Amenemhet had said. "Unless you did something to anger him. Then you would long for the peace of the afterlife."

"His tomb is not to be disturbed unless you wish to have the wrath of his anger and curse follow you, night and day," Tannenan added, his face serious.

"Then why are people trying to figure out where it is?" Marty asked, glancing uneasily at the necklace and wondering if it was, indeed, from the dead king’s tomb. It certainly looked rich enough to have come from such a place.

"They do not wish to rob it, they wish to pay their respects to the great ruler," the king explained. He began to talk of the mystery and legends about the location of the tomb.

It was during this time that Marty watched Jules and Verne take two of the camels that were tied up to a palm tree near the entrance of the king’s estate and sneak off. Neither the king nor Tannenan noticed this and Marty didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to get the boys in any trouble and they wouldn’t be hurting anything or anyone -- probably. Plus, he was still feeling bad for being so short-tempered with them earlier, when Verne had innocently asked him if he had gone out the night before. The nightmare thing was so weird that he didn’t dare tell the kids -- for all he knew, that would give them nightmares of their own.

"How old was this King Theban when he died?" Marty asked Amenemhet, who seemed to have an amazing memory for all these facts on the long dead king. It was kind of sad, in a way, how people never did that anymore in the future.

"The king was twenty-five when he died, an old man," the king answered. "It was a tragic accident, his death. The bite of an asp took him to the afterlife."

"You mean he was killed by a snake?" Marty asked.

The king nodded sadly. "It was a dark day, when King Theban died."

Now, as Marty lay in his bed with the darkness deepening as the hours grew closer to midnight, he continued to think of this supposed curse of the mummy. It was easy enough to shrug away and not believe it in the light of day, but at night it seemed more and more possible, especially with those freaky dreams.

"I don’t want to have another nightmare," he whispered aloud, his eyes wide open in the thick darkness.

But he did.

* * *

It was another sandy night in the desert. But something was different this time -- the scenery had changed, the sand was filled with more hills, and the king’s estate was farther away, just a speck in the distance. Though all appeared peaceful as he looked around, Marty felt that someone was watching him and the that spy had dark purposes.

A sound from behind caught his attention, a noise like a growl. Turning fast, Marty saw with relief that it was merely a cat, black as the night around him but with bright green eyes. It approached him, the tail swishing thought the air like a knife, and began to rub against his legs, purring.

"Hey, kitty," he murmured to the cat. "Are you all lost out here?" He knelt down to pet it. The cat’s fur was soft, almost unnaturally so. In the blink of an eye, the cat had jumped into his arms and was nuzzling his hand for more strokes.

Marty didn’t know quite what to make of this. He wasn’t much of a cat person; dogs were more to his liking. Cats could usually sense this or something, not ignoring him altogether but not exactly crawling all over him, either. This one, however, seemed to take an instant liking to him.

Marty hesitantly scratched the cat’s head and, while doing so, felt some kind of collar around the animal’s neck. Parting the thick black fur slightly, Marty could see that it was a golden collar, with green jewels embedded in it and some kind of name spelled out in hieroglyphics.

"Who are you?" Marty wondered, speaking the question aloud. As soon as he said that, the air seemed to grow thick and kind of... heavy. It seemed almost as if someone was listening.

As Marty strained his ears for an answer to his question, the cat suddenly changed personalities. One moment it was purring contentedly in his arms; the next it started yowling as if in pain and started clawing and scratching him.

Marty cried out, startled, and tried to dump the cat out of his arms. But the animal didn’t want that and raked its long, sharp claws against Marty’s arm. He cried out again, this time from pain. What the hell is wrong with that cat?!

As he struggled to get the squirming ball of fur on the ground, the cat twisted around, looked Marty in the eyes, and hissed. The sound sent shivers up his spine and goosebumps popped up all over his body. The hissing was so hateful! The cat’s paws caught on the necklace around his neck, the claws tangling in the chain. The animal tugged at it, yowling loudly the whole time.

At that moment, a dark shadow appeared on the sand, directly before Marty. Catching sight of the new addition to the scene out of the corner of his eye, he glanced in that direction and saw the tall silhouette of a man, dressed in some Egyptian get-up, standing not more than ten feet away.

"Help get this cat off me, will you?" he called out, struggling to remove the cat’s claws from the links without harming himself or the animal in the process.

The man stood where he was for a minute before taking slow, carefully measured steps to help. Marty breathed a little easier. Finally, he was going to get rid of the psychotic cat! The man didn’t reach out an arm for assistance, however; when he reached Marty’s side, he merely stood there, silent. Some kind of hood was on his head, concealing his face from view, and the man reached up to take it off.

The moonlight was bright enough for Marty to see every detail of the man’s face -- or lack of it. The face had no skin, was merely a bare skull, grinning at him. But that wasn’t quite the worst of it. The worst was the red light glowing from the skull’s eye sockets.

Marty had never seen anything so terrifying before in his life. He staggered back a few steps, the cat forgotten. The figure resembling Death gave a low whistle and the cat stopped thrashing. The animal calmly extracted its claws from the necklace and leapt down to the sand, when it then headed over to the figure. Death picked up the feline and held it. Long skeletal fingers stroked the fur and the cat purred loudly.

"Kalila," Death whispered. "My pet." The skull then looked directly at Marty and the naked, toothy mouth seemed to stretch even wider in a mocking grin. Death lifted one hand and pointed a boney finger at him.

"The curse hangs heavy," the form hissed, then vanished.

* * *

Marty woke in the desert, again, a scream locked at the back of his throat. He was almost afraid to open his eyes, for fear of seeing the cat -- Kalila, the figure had called it -- or Death himself.

Again, he had sleepwalked.

"What the hell is going on here!" Marty groaned, frustrated. He looking around, feeling dazed. He was in what looked to be the same place he had been the night before; he even saw his footprints from the night before.

He quickly turned around and began to hike back, his mind still reeling from the intense dream. Who -- or what -- is that thing in the dream and why am I sleepwalking?

Marty was halfway back when he noticed that his right arm -- the one that the cat had scratched in the dream -- was a little sore. Looking down, he saw three scratches, like ones a cat might make, on his arm. They were bleeding, but only slightly. His heart started to skip unpleasantly and the shadows around him suddenly seemed more menacing than they had only a minute ago.

"Was it a dream?" Marty asked himself, his voice little more than a whisper. He half expected someone to answer, but the night air remained cool and quiet.

By the time he reached the king’s estate, he knew one thing for sure: I’m not going to sleep until we leave Egypt. At least then he would have no more nightmares... and if he did there, well, home would be a lot more comforting to be in than this strange place where mortals were believed to be gods and curses were taken seriously.

MORE==>