Marty’s vow of sleep deprivation was more difficult to keep and conceal than he had first thought. About 48 hours after last catching any sleep, he paced around the royal garden outside the main building, his thoughts muddled, his body aching in exhaustion, but his fear of another nightmare and sleepwalking still sharp enough to keep him up and going. He couldn’t wait to go home and tomorrow, supposedly, was going to be the day. Though, Marty hated to admit it, he really didn’t know anymore. Earlier in the day, mostly due to a temper shortened by a night spent doing exactly what doing he was right now, he had blown up at Jules and Verne, and now the boys were pointedly ignoring him. In the argument that he and the boys had had not twelve hours earlier, they had accused Marty -- or "Great One" as they had called him, quite sarcastically -- of getting too demanding and letting all the attention from the Egyptians go to his head. Marty hated letting them think that and hated having the kids mad at him even more, especially since his relationship with the boys wasn’t all the way solid yet, but if he wanted to explain why he was acting the way he was, he was going to have to talk about a bunch of things that he still didn’t want to even think about. Hopefully he’d be able to get them to go back to the future with him; Marty hated to envision what he’d tell Doc and Clara if their kids turned up missing in the ancient past! God, this is torture, he thought as he paused a moment during the midnight walk, sitting down on one of the carved cedar benches in the garden. A dry creek bed ran past the bench and a glance at it reminded Marty once again of King Amenemhet’s expectation that Giza would have rain by the end of his stay. Marty glanced up at the sky, noticing that there wasn’t a single cloud in it -- not even on the far, far horizon. The stars scattered boldly and brightly across the night sky seemed to mock him. A cold breeze gusted through the garden, causing Marty to shiver a little. Since his vow of no sleep, he’d spent the first half of the night outside, walking around in the garden until he had practically memorized every single leaf and grain of sand. The final part of the night was spent indoors, when it became colder outside so that the sheets on his body weren’t very comfortable anymore. It amazed Marty that a desert could get so cold, even if it was at night and the middle of the winter. He stood and headed inside, to the room he shared with Jules and Verne. They hadn’t said a word to him, making things very tense when they were all alone together. The boys also seemed to be a little ticked with each other, for reasons Marty was in the dark about. He had kept one of the lamps lit in the bedroom, so he wouldn’t risk tripping over and waking the boys anything when he came back in. The flame cast flickering shadows on the walls; the shadow movement caused Marty to start and turn as he caught it out of the corner of his eye. He sighed, irritated with his nerves. Since his feet were sore from all the walking he’d done that whole day -- and then at night -- he sat down in the chair next to his bed. He rested his chin in his palm, his elbow propped on the table, and gazed at the steady flame of the lamp. Marty’s mind turned to the inevitable departure and how he was going to get out of the expectation that it would rain in Giza when he left. Too bad Doc hasn’t made anything that can control the weather, he thought, a humorless smile turning the corners of his mouth up. Had the book Verne had found said anything about the Great One bringing the rain back to Giza? Marty couldn’t remember and trying to think just made his headache worse. He sighed again and rested his forehead on the table, giving his eyes a brief reprieve from being open. He wished with all his heart he was back home now and had never let himself be cajoled into this thing by the kids. * * * Verne sat up in bed, rather confused, having heard a noise. It looked like it was the middle of the night still, since the room was mostly dark. Someone had left a lamp lit on the table between his bed and Marty’s, which was dangerous since it could be tipped over and start a fire. Verne had heard more than his share of lectures on that from his parents when they had lived in the Nineteenth Century. He leaned over to blow it out when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, Verne caught a quick glimpse of Marty leaving the room. But it wasn’t even light outside yet. What’s he doing up already? Verne wondered, curious. Though he was kind of mad at Marty for snapping so much and being so touchy the last couple days, Verne got out of bed and decided to follow him to see where he was going. If nothing else, he could share some of his acquired wisdom about the dangers of burning lamps at night. Once out in the hall, it was much harder to see than it had been in the room. Verne had to stop for a minute and let his eyes adjust to the deep blackness before him. After about a minute, he was able to make out faint shapes, like edges of walls and doorways. How can Marty see where he’s going? Verne thought. He shrugged the question off after hardly any thought and began to slowly walk down the hall and out of the building. It was lighter outside, from the moon and stars overhead. Verne could see that in the time he had stopped to get used to the darkness, Marty had already gotten out to the desert. Verne, feeling more puzzled by the minute, started to run after him. After a moment of dealing with an internal battle between his principals and his curiosity, curiosity finally won and Verne broke his self-imposed vow of silence with Marty and called out his name. He expected the teen to stop, but he didn’t, continuing to move out deeper into the desert, his steps slow and determined. That made Verne rather mad -- so now Marty had decided he was too good to associate with them? I’ll show him! he thought. When he’d caught up, Verne grabbed Marty’s arm and stepped before him. It was then he got a surprise that nearly scared him to death! Marty’s eyes were open wide, but he didn’t seem to see Verne and the look in his eyes was strange, kind of blank. He was also walking like one of those zombies that Verne had seen before in some of the old horror movies they showed real early in the morning on cable television, except Marty didn’t have his arms stretched out. It gave Verne such a turn that he just stopped where he was for a moment, his mind whirling. All at once, many things that had been going on the last few days made sense. Marty must be sleepwalking! he realized, feeling pleased he had figured that puzzle out. That’s probably why he’s been so mean the last few days. He’s probably tired from walking around all night. It also explained why Marty had been so touchy when Verne had asked him a few days before if he’d gotten up in the middle of the night: He’s been trying to hide the problem! Verne felt very proud of himself for figuring it all out. Now that he knew what he did, he wanted to talk to Marty and tell him that he knew, so he wouldn’t have to try and hide it anymore. Verne remembered hearing somewhere that you weren’t supposed to wake sleepwalkers when they were in the middle of a stroll, but he never heard why and figured maybe it was just a rumor. He was just starting to go after Marty again when someone grabbed his arm from behind. Letting out a startled gasp, Verne spun around and found himself face to face with his brother. "What are you doing out here?" he demanded, his words coming out harsher than he meant them to as an affect of his startlement. For better or worse, another vow of silence was broken. "I saw you depart and decided to follow and see what was going on," Jules explained. He looked past Verne to Marty. "It appears that Marty is sleepwalking. I wonder if that’s normal for him?" "You didn’t know that?" Verne asked, feeling a stab of satisfaction that he had figured it out before his brother. He shrugged off his brother’s hand and started forward. "I was just going to wake him up." "You’re not allowed to," Jules said, reaching out to grab his brother’s arm again. "You mean that old saying? I’ll bet it’s just like that one about not going swimming on a full stomach -- not true," Verne said, pulling his brother’s hand of his shoulder again. "Actually, it’s not that you’re not supposed to, it is more like you won’t be able to," Jules replied. "Strange as it may sound, when people are sleepwalking, it’s one of the most difficult times to wake them." "Well, I’m going to try," Verne declared, starting after Marty again with Jules following. "I’m sure it won’t be that hard!" It was easier said than done; even Verne had to admit that. The two of them tried grabbing, shaking, pinching, and yelling at Marty, but nothing worked. He continued to walk forward slowly, his eyes focused on something none of them could see. Verne finally decided to just slap him -- but not too hard. He was just drawing his hand back for the strike when Marty suddenly stopped walking and blinked a few times. His face suddenly had an expression of some kind on it again, instead of that weird blank look. "Are you awake now?" Jules asked softly as Verne lowered his hand. Marty looked over at them both, as if seeing them for the first time. "What do you mean, ‘now’?" Marty asked, the tone in his voice making it obvious that he was lying. "Why wouldn’t I be awake?" "We’re not as stupid as you think we are," Verne said, looking at his brother. "We followed you out here. It was easy to see that you were sleepwalking." Marty looked at them for a long time without saying anything, then looked around at the scenery. "Why did you think I was sleepwalking?" he asked softly. "Unless you like to roam the open desert in the dead of night, looking like a zombie and ignoring us if we try to get your attention, you must have been sleepwalking," Jules said in a reasonable voice. "Is that normal for you? I never heard Father say anything about it, but maybe he didn’t know. Of course, I’ve also heard about something like that cropping up when someone is under stress...." Jules allowed his voice to trail off as Marty’s posture changed, growing straighter and more tense. The teen didn’t say anything, instead turning and walking back to the king’s house without a second glance behind him. Verne looked at Jules again and he shrugged. They ran after Marty. "Why are you being so mean to us?" Verne demanded, taking his behavior as one of ignorance. "We’re not doing anything to you!" "I don’t want to talk about," Marty said shortly, his eyes locked on the horizon straight ahead. "If you discuss it with us, it may make you feel better," Jules suggested. "You never know -- and if this has to do with the sleepwalking, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about." Marty stopped walking and gave Jules another long look. "Do you really want to know the whole story?" "Of course," Verne said for the both of them, nodding. Marty sighed. "I’ll tell you when we get back to the king’s house," he said, walking again. "That’s acceptable," Jules readily agreed. Verne thought that they would never get back. It felt like an hour, but it was probably only fifteen minutes later that they entered the king’s grounds. Marty waited until they were back in their room and Jules and Verne were seated on one of the beds before explaining. "I’m really sorry for being kind of a jerk to you both in the last couple days," Marty began, pacing back and forth as he talked, fingering the charm on his necklace. "I’ve been kind of tired, since I haven’t slept that well." "Why?" Verne asked. Marty stopped pacing for a moment and looked at him, somewhat irritated. "I was getting to that," he said tersely. "If you won’t interrupt, I’ll tell you." "I’m so sorry, O Great One," Verne muttered under his breath. Marty heard the comment and sighed, dropping the pendant for a moment to rub his forehead. "Look, I’d rather not talk about this, so if you want me to tell you everything, I’d just like to get it out all at once and not really be interrupted. Okay?" Verne shrugged. Marty began to pace and talk again. "Anyway, ever since we’ve gotten here, I’ve been having these really intense nightmares. The first night it was some mummy strangling me. The second night something pulled me under the sand. And the third night...." Marty shuddered. "The third night this cat attacked me and its owner, a skeleton, came for it." "What about the last night?" Jules asked when Marty had stopped talking. "And tonight?" "I kept myself up," Marty replied, still pacing back and forth. It was beginning to give Verne a headache. "You mean that you’ve not slept since a couple nights ago, at all?" Jules asked, looking worried. "That can be dangerous." "You were both right thinking that I was sleepwalking," Marty went on, ignoring the comment Jules made. "The first night we were here, I woke up in the hallway, which I wrote off as a one time event. Let me say this right now, I’ve never sleepwalked before a couple days ago, ever. But the next night I woke up in the desert, and it was the same the nights after. I always seem to end up in the same place, too. That’s why I kept myself up. I knew that if I fell asleep I’d have one of those nightmares and wind up out in the middle of nowhere again." Marty sighed, looking over at the lamp Verne had never gotten around to blowing out. "I should’ve never put my head down tonight," he muttered. "That was just stupid." "Did you have another nightmare?" Verne asked, leaning forward as he waited for the answer. Personally, he found this subject matter real interesting, much more so than anything else in this place. Marty hesitated then nodded, his face pale in the lamplight. "I was standing on the edge of this big, dark hole and someone pushed me. I felt like I was falling forever and as I fell, I heard someone laughing -- like something out of a horror movie. Right before I hit the ground, I woke up and saw you both standing outside, staring at me." "Have you ever had dreams like this before coming here?" Jules asked slowly, looking thoughtful. Marty shook his head, finally sitting down on the edge of his bed, across from the boys. "Never," he said, stifling a yawn. "Perhaps the dreams and sleepwalking are trying to tell you something," Jules speculated. Marty managed a smile. "If you think that I’m cursed..." he began. "Think about it!" Jules said, jumping to his feet with a swiftness that startled even Verne. "What do all your dreams have in common? Someone is dead and wishes for you to join them! And each time you wake, you’re in the same location. Perhaps something, like the dead King Theban’s spirit, is trying to communicate with you!" Verne stared at his brother in astonishment. What Jules had just said was totally contrary to his measured, calculated, and rational little mind. Either he was up to something or else the late hour was getting to him. Marty apparently thought so, too. "So, let me get this straight. You think that the spot that I end up at every night has some significance?" "Perhaps. Can you remember where it is? We could walk out there and look around." Marty shrugged. "I can’t remember exactly. Even if I could, I don’t want to." Jules looked over at his brother and Verne could see a gleam in his eye. Jules had something up his sleeve, all right. Verne was still baffled on what it might be, however. "Why don’t you go to sleep now and, if you start to sleepwalk, we can follow you and discover the location that you end up at?" Jules suggested. Marty shook his head firmly. "No way! I’ll just have to make it until we go back to the future tomorrow. I’m sure things’ll be fine, then." Verne didn’t want to leave this apparent mystery hanging off forever. "Come on, Marty," he urged. "We’ll be right there. Nothing will happen to you, we’ll make sure you don’t walk off cliffs or somethin’." Marty continued to shake his head. "It’s not that, it’s those damned nightmares! If you guys knew what those were like, you wouldn’t want to go to sleep either!" "But this might answer some questions for you," Jules pointed out. "Don’t you wonder at all why you’re having this happen to you at all?" Marty went very still for a moment, the wheels in his head clearly turning. He nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess. But maybe I’m better off not knowing." "Not if it’s interrupting your sleep cycle," Jules said. "You’re letting dreams get the better of you, Marty. Dreams. Dreams are supposed to be derived from our subconscious and the like and they cannot hurt you. They’re just images in our heads. But you’re letting that control your behavior?" He shook his head, as if he was disappointed. Marty sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I give up," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "You mean you’ll try this?" Verne asked. Marty sighed again and nodded, the shadows under his eyes in sharp contrast with his pale face. "Once," he said. "Just once. If it doesn’t work, that’s it. No more sleep for me while we’re here, which isn’t really a big deal anyway. Agreed?" Jules and Verne both nodded. Marty stared at them from a moment, looking like he was about to change his mind, then he lay back on his bed and shut his eyes. Jules and Verne got up from their seats and leaned over him, watching his face closely. After just a minute, Marty opened his eyes and looked up at them. "Wow, that was quick," Verne whispered to Jules. "I’m not asleep," Marty said, frowning. "I can’t relax with you both staring at me like that. It’s creepy." "Sorry," Jules said, leaning back. He pulled Verne away with him. "We’ll keep ourselves occupied while you work on falling asleep." Marty settled down on the bed again as Jules pulled Verne to the other end of the room. "What now?" Verne asked, keeping his voice low. "How long do you think this will take?" "Not long, I hope," Jules said, glancing at the windows. "Dawn is just a few hours off." "Do you think Marty will sleepwalk again tonight? If he doesn’t, we’ll miss our chance to solve this." Jules glanced over at the bed where their friend lay. "We still have a chance, I think. If not, then I guess it wasn’t meant to be." The boys lapsed into silence then, waiting. After ten minutes had passed, Jules crept over to where Marty lay. Verne followed right at his heels. "Is he asleep?" he whispered to his brother. Jules leaned over Marty for a moment, then nodded. "I believe so." Verne looked at Marty. "How can you tell?" "Two reasons," Jules said. "First of all, if he was still awake he’d snap at us to not watch him. Second of all, you can tell he’s breathing differently." "So now what do we do?" Verne asked for the second time that night. "Have some patience, Verne," Jules chided, sitting down on the bed next to Marty’s. "We have to wait a bit." Verne rolled his eyes and sat down next to Jules. They both stared at Marty, waiting. It wasn’t much later when it happened. One second, Marty was lying down, eyes closed, motionless; the next he was sitting up in bed, his eyes open with that strange blank look. "That is so creepy!" Verne said as Marty got stiffly to his feet. "He looks like a walking dead person!" Jules jumped to the floor. "Creepy or not, it’s happening. Let’s go!"
The black cat had returned. Creeping silently, it joined Marty as he walked across the sandy, empty landscape, staying close to his ankles. It was night again, a soft breeze stirring the air. Marty didn’t know why he was out in the middle of the desert walking with a cat, but he didn’t question it. The black cat had round green eyes and a collar around its neck, with gold and jewels on it. Marty could see some kind of building on the horizon. He picked up his pace a little but, drawing closer, he slowed down to get a better look at the structure from a slight distance. It was some kind of low stone building. All the stones were crumbling with age and steps led down into the building. Marty went over to the head of the stairs and leaned over, trying to see how far the steps went. He only saw three before the rest were swallowed up by darkness. Next to the steps was a small square stone, about one foot high, with some hieroglyphs chiseled into it. Marty bent down to examine the stone better, the cat necklace swinging down and gently bumping against the worn carvings. There were only about five symbols on the stone, lined up in some kind of pattern. Marty traced them with his fingers, as if doing that would tell him what they meant, but he didn’t even have an idea why the stone was there, let alone what it was supposed to tell him. Marty wasn’t given much time to puzzle it out. The cat suddenly let out a sharp hiss and before he had time to turn around, the animal had jumped on his back, digging its sharp claws into his skin. Not expecting the unprovoked attack, he fell forward on the sand, his back burning in pain. "Get off me!" he yelled, swatting hard at the black creature. The cat held on tightly, as if its life depended on it. Marty rolled onto his back, hoping to either knock the feline off or knock the wind out of it. The cat fell off him, hissing, the green eyes hardening into slits of pure hatred. Not put off at all, the animal jumped onto his stomach and drew back a claw, getting ready to scratch his face. Marty screwed his eyes shut, a frightening image of the creature clawing his eyes out dancing through his head. His whole body jerked as something touched his face, but it wasn’t the cat. "Are you okay?" a voice asked. It took Marty almost a minute to realize that he was standing out in the middle of the desert -- again! This time, though, he saw Jules and Verne were with him. Verne was the one who had spoken and touched his face. "Did... was I sleepwalking again?" he asked with a weary sigh. God, will this nightmare of nightmares ever end? "Yes," Jules said. He looked around where they were standing. "Is this where you end up every night? Previous footprints stop here." Marty rubbed his eyes and at the sand. Jules was right -- all footsteps ended where they stood. "Yeah, I think this is it." "I think we should look around this area," Jules suggested. "Perhaps we’ll find out why this area has some unconscious draw for you." Marty shrugged, ready to try just about anything now. "Fine." He turned around and had taken a few steps when his foot hooked over something. Marty gasped, unable to catch his balance, and toppled to the ground. "Are you okay?" Verne asked for the second time that night, sounding concerned. "What did you trip over?" Marty got to his feet, brushing the sand off his clothes. "I’m fine," he answered irritably. "Something tripped me." He eyed the rock protruding a little from the sandy grains with distaste. "A stone or something." Jules bent down next to the stone and brushed some sand away from it. "A stone with hieroglyphics on it," he said, examining it carefully. Marty could almost feel his face go white. "Let me see!" he demanded, leaning over so close to the stone his nose was almost touching it. A shiver ran up Marty’s spine when he saw that the stone -- everything about the stone, in fact -- was identical to the one in the dream he had just had! "Is something wrong?" Verne asked as he joined Marty and Jules, crouched next to the partially uncovered stone. "I don’t know," Marty whispered, his hands shaking as he carefully brushing away sand off the piece of crumbling rock. This is getting heavy! "What is it?" Jules asked, noticing the expression on his face. "I’ve seen this before," Marty murmured. "In my dream. The one I just had, in fact." Jules jumped to his feet, grinning. "I knew it! The dreams and sleepwalking were connected!" "Oh, perfect!" Marty said, rolling his eyes. "Does that mean some cat is going to come over and scratch my eyes out? That some mummy is going to strangle me?" "I doubt it, but you never know," Jules said, bending down to scoop some more sand away from the stone. "Can you read what it says?" Marty asked. Jules shook his head, looking a little disappointed. "Unfortunately, no. At this point, hieroglyphics are a little out of my league. I haven’t even learned a foreign language yet, at least not beyond the basics." Marty knew it had been a long shot but couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed anyway. He helped the dark haired boy uncover more of the artifact. Verne watched them for a moment, then decided he wanted to help them out as well. The younger boy leaned forward, just as Jules leaned back and bumped him a little. The unexpected gesture threw Verne off enough so that he wobbled off balance and started to fall. His hand shot out and grabbed the stone to catch himself. There was a low rumbling sound from deep in the ground, like two rocks scraping against each other, and the stone moved over a foot. Verne jumped away from the stone as if it was on fire, his eyes wide. Marty heard a strange hissing sound behind him and spun around to see something large rising out of the ground, causing the sand to stream off the sides. The three of them backed up a few feet and watched in silent astonishment as a low chamber that was about two feet tall and five feet wide emerged. A small opening was set in one side of it, the entrance darker than the night. A few sandy steps lead down to the dark depths. "What did you do?" Jules whispered to Verne, tearing his eyes off the structure long enough to stare at his brother. Marty couldn’t say anything at all, staring in shock at the crumbling building that had suddenly emerged from the depths of the desert. He had also seen the same building in his dream. This is getting really creepy! he thought with a shiver. "I didn’t do anything!" Verne protested. "I just had to put a hand on that stone so I wouldn’t fall, and then it moved and this happened! It’s not my fault, I swear!" Marty took a few careful steps towards the structure. The stones above the opening had more hieroglyphics on it. These ones were not as worn as the ones on the small stone. Marty wondered how he could see them so clearly when it was night outside -- then he realized it wasn’t quite so much night anymore. "The sun’s beginning to rise," he said aloud, turning to the two boys. "We’d better go now. The king’ll be up and we don’t want him to see that we aren’t in our room." "Let’s come back here tonight with the proper equipment to go into that tunnel," Jules said, leaning forward to see it better. "I wonder if this could be the mythical King Theban’s tomb?" "Tomb?" Verne asked, his face lighting up with excitement. "You mean that there’s a dead body inside? Cool!" "We’re supposed to leave today," Marty protested. "Remember?" The kids turned as one to stare at him, as if he’d said the most insane thing in the universe. "Oh, Marty, really," Jules said, rolling his eyes. "We’ve just made a discovery that people have been trying to find for years! We can’t leave now." "It would be real stupid," Verne added. Marty took a moment to grit his teeth in minor frustration, then managed a smile bordering on the edge of a grimace. "Fine," he said. "We’ll stay long enough to check this out, and that’s it." The kids didn’t answer him, starting to circle the structure. "I wonder if we should show Tannenan this place, since he’s so interested in King Theban," Marty said aloud. "The king would be pretty interested as well." "No way Tannenan should know about this place!" Verne cried suddenly, shaking his head hard. "He’d rob it clean in a second!" "Actually, I agree with Verne," Jules interjected before Marty could say anything. "This location will be told to everyone if we tell others and that was never to be so when the people buried King Theban. Tombs were supposed to be places where the deceased could rest peacefully for eternity, not deal with tourists." "But people wouldn’t rob the tomb now -- they believe in curses. They’d just come and pay their respects, I think." "Don’t," Jules said, looking at Marty seriously. "I know that we can’t stop you if you wish to show it to others, but it will be a bad idea." Marty bristled a little at a ten-year-old telling him what to do. "You’re right, you can’t stop me. Don’t worry, I’ll just tell the king about it and nothing bad will happen. They’ll probably let me off the hook with all that rain garbage, too." "You’d better be right," Verne muttered. * * * "It’s not much further," Marty told Tannenan later that afternoon, the first chance he’d been able to bring the servant to the tomb site without anyone around him. "We could be hitting it any minute." "Are you sure that you really saw the lost tomb of the great King Theban?" Tannenan asked. "Not that I doubt your infinite wisdom, Great One!" "Of course I’m sure!" Marty said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. Maybe the stones they’d were just old ruins from an old building -- not a tomb. Maybe the whole incident was just some kind of strange dream. Maybe the stones are covered with sand and impossible to find again. Maybe-- Marty stumbled over something, startling himself out of his thoughts. Looking down, he saw a partially exposed piece of rock with some figures on it. Next to it, he could see the tomb’s entrance, covered with a thin layer of sand. The wind had been blowing steadily all day, covering it pretty well. "It’s right here!" Marty cried, pointing to the stones. Tannenan’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Oh -- oh, is it not beautiful?" he said with a gasp, hurrying to brush handfuls of sand off the top of the tomb’s entrance. Marty looked carefully at the stones, all worn and crumbling around the edges, seeing no beauty with his eyes. To each their own, he figured with a shrug. "I guess." Tannenan spun around, his eyes wide and wild. "You brought the torches?" Marty nodded and handed him an unlit one from the cloth bag that he’d carried with him out to the site. "All we need to do it figure out how to light ‘em." Tannenan didn’t look terribly concerned. "Allow me," he said, taking another unlit torch from the bag. He took the two sticks of wood and scraped them against each other a few times. A small flame appeared on one and quickly grew bigger as it reached the portion of the wood at the top covered with treated material. Tannenan put the other stick to the lit one and the torch caught and began to burn as well. Passing one of the torches to Marty, the servant walked slowly over to the dark doorway of the tomb’s entrance and stood there for a moment, peering inside. "You brought rope?" Tannenan finally asked, leaning forward inside the tomb with the torch extended as far as he could stretch his arm. The light bounced off the stones and made it clear to see the ten foot drop after the third step. Whoever had built the tomb had apparently not wanted anyone to get in very easily. Beyond the drop was a long, long hall that the torchlight failed to reach entirely. "It’s right here," Marty replied, pulling the coil of roughly woven fibers out of the bag. "How’d you know that we would need it?" Tannenan took the rope from Marty’s hands and kept his eyes on it as he unwound it. "I know much, Great One," he said softly. Marty edged forward until he was standing on the edge of the third step. He crouched down a little, holding his torch out to see the floor below better. "Where’re you going to tie the rope?" he asked, starting to straighten up. Something hit him hard from the side, knocking him off balance. Startled, the torch fell from his hand to the floor, ten feet below. Marty reached out, trying to catch himself against the wall. After a moment of heart-pounding wobbling, he was able to brace himself against the wall. "That was close!" he muttered, reminding himself to breathe. He had hardly begun relaxed when another blow came -- harder and more from behind. Unprepared again, Marty felt himself pitch forward. This time, he wasn’t fast enough to catch himself. It was strange descent, from his perspective. He felt as if he was falling in slow motion, time slowing down and grossly exaggerating everything -- the sound of his breathing, the speed of his fall, the appearance of the ground hurtling towards him. The only thing that seemed to move normally were his thoughts -- and a most ridiculous one at that. Guess my reflexes aren’t as quick as they used to be. Marty hit the ground hard, landing on his right side. His forehead smacked against the cool stone floor, stars literally exploding before his eyes. He almost lost it then, but the blow seemed to bring more than pain into his awareness. Marty turned his head with great effort, seeing Tannenan standing at what appeared miles above him, his laughter echoing off the stone walls. It was a sound he’d heard before, in his dream. Everything is like my damned dream! "That will teach you not to rob from my treasure!" the servant shouted, turning his back to Marty and stepping out of the tomb. Marty fought hard against the darkness that threatened to descend over his eyes, though the temptation to give in was almost overwhelming. Verne was right,he realized. Tannenan was... putting on an act! He just tried to kill me! It was too much for him to deal with right now. Moaning softly, Marty stopped fighting the darkness and let it overcome him. * * * It took almost all of Jules’ strength to restrain his brother. "Don’t!" he hissed, struggling to keep his voice quiet as to not attract the attention of Tannenan. Verne broke free of his sibling’s hands and spun around, his face a mixture of horror and anger. "But he just pushed Marty off that ledge!" Jules took a slow deep breath, feeling the same need for vengeance as his brother. He tried to contain his, however, as they had more important things to worry about. Such as, is Marty okay? The drop would be enough to hurt someone, definitely. "I want to get Tannenan just as much as you do, but now isn’t the time nor the place," he whispered. "I told you that Tannenan was bad," Verne muttered, taking a step back and glaring at the servant in the purest hatred Jules had ever seen on his face before. Tannenan’s back was to them, bent over the rope that Marty had brought. The boys were only about ten feet away from the doorway to the tomb, crouched behind a mound of sand. "I know," Jules said, nodding. "I never thought that I’d be saying this, but you were actually correct in your hypothesis." "We have to do something!" Verne said in a low voice. "We can’t let that jerk hurt Marty!" "Yes," Jules agreed again. "Any ideas?" "I don’t know," Verne sighed, shooting another glare at Tannenan’s back. "What about you?" "The DeLorean," Jules whispered, inspiration striking. "We could go back home!" "And leave Marty behind?" Verne asked, staring at him goggle-eyed. "Are you crazy?" Jules shook his head firmly, realizing Verne had misunderstood. "No! We could get Father and bring him back here with us. I’m certain that he will know what to do." "Do you know much trouble we’ll get into if we do that?" Verne asked, frowning. "Do you know how much trouble we’ll get into if something happens to Marty?" Jules countered. Verne shrugged. "Fine, fine, I see your point. Let’s get the time machine and get back here before the jerk can do anything else to Marty." The two boys ducked behind their sand dune and hurried back to the pyramids. The structures didn’t seem that far away at first glance but, in the desert, looks were deceiving. It took almost half an hour for them to reach their goal, alternately running and walking through the thick sand. The DeLorean was completely concealed, sand covering every inch of it. Without speaking, the boys quickly went to work, brushing sand off as quickly as they could. In about five minutes they had enough of the car uncovered to get inside. Jules had pinned the key to the DeLorean in the hem of his Egyptian clothing after their room had been ransacked. If they’d lost it, they would have been in big trouble and might’ve had to hotwire the car to get back home -- and even Jules didn’t know how to do that. He quickly unlocked the doors to the car and jumped inside the driver’s side. When Verne was safely in, Jules turned the time circuits on and programmed them to go back to January 6, 1986 at 5 P.M. in Hill Valley, California, a time when their parents would most likely be back from the store. Once that task was taken care of, he jammed the key into the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. "What are you waiting for?" Verne asked impatiently. "Let’s go!" Jules turned the key again. This time the engine made a painful grinding sound before it fell off into silence again. "Something’s wrong," he muttered, his eyes scanning the dashboard controls for any sign of a problem. Nothing looked amiss. "What’s wrong?" "I’m not sure." Jules tried starting the car again and was greeted by silence. "I’m going to have a look at the engine. Wait here." "Hey Jules!" Jules paused as he reached for the doorlatch. "What is it?" "I think you have to push in that pedal next to the door when you turn the key," Verne pointed out. Jules glanced at the gearshift between the seats. The DeLorean was in first. "Of course!" he cried, smacking his forehead. "The DeLorean was in gear!" Jules sat on the edge of the seat and pushed the clutch in, shifting into neutral. This time, the car started. Jules took a moment, his mind reeling. How do you operate a standard transmission correctly? he wondered, his eyes wide. As if he could read his brother’s thoughts, Verne spoke up. "I hope you know how to drive this car," he said. "You do, don’t you?" "Of course," Jules said, far more confidently than he felt. He pressed the clutch in and shifted into first, then hit the gas. The car stalled. "Are you sure?" Verne asked as Jules started the engine up again. "Look, Verne, I’d like to see how well you can drive a vehicle with a standard transmission!" Jules snapped. "These aren’t like the cars you drive around at the arcade, where one pedal is go and the other stop. Learning how to drive these cars take time!" "Well, we don’t have much of that so you’d better learn fast," Verne warned him. Jules took a deep breath and nodded. He tried to move the car again. It stalled. Jules started it, attempted the same thing. Again, it stalled. Jules felt like beating his head against the steering wheel in frustration. "Jules, calm down," Verne said softly, perhaps noticing the tense expression on his brother’s face. "I’m sure you, of all people, can figure out how to drive this thing." Jules stopped and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "I know," he said softly, staring at the three pedals on the floor. "I’m just worried about Marty. What if he’s really hurt?" "Try starting the car again," Verne said instead. Jules reached for the keys once more and started the car. He put the DeLorean in first, then slowly eased his foot off the clutch while pressing the gas pedal down. The car lurched forward, then started bumping through the sand. "You did it!" Verne cheered. Jules smiled tightly, the expression not really one of happiness so much as it was one of cautious relief, reaching over to flip the flying circuits on. The car shook slightly as it rose into the air, buffeted by a strong wind. Jules turned the car around to empty space and accelerated, carefully shifting gears up to 88, then vanishing into the future.
"Where are Marty and the boys?" Clara asked her husband as they carried bags inside to the kitchen from their shopping excursion. "The house seems terribly quiet." "I don’t know," Doc said, frowning. He looked around the kitchen, a little puzzled. "I saw Marty’s truck outside, so they have to still be here." He froze for a minute, straining his ears and hearing nothing else but the quiet of the house. "Maybe they’re just doing something upstairs." The back door flew open, shattering the silence in the house, and both Jules and Verne ran into the kitchen. Doc looked at them, startled, and did a double take. "What on earth..." he began, staring at their sweaty, sandy faces and the plain white fabric they they were both wearing around their waists, falling to their knees. "Father, I can explain--" Jules started, just as Verne yelled, "You’ve got to come back with us right now!" "Why are you both dressed like that?" Doc asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach already telling him the answer he didn’t want to know. "Where’s Marty?" "Give me a moment and I’ll explain everything to you," Jules said, holding his hand up. "You see, we’ve been in Ancient Egypt -- 1985 B.C. in Giza -- for the last few days--" "You took one of the time machines without permission?" Doc asked, his voice rising. "If I recall correctly, I forbad any of you to do so! Time travel is far too dangerous for you both to be messing with on your own!" "Hey, I had to go back and get some information for school on something really hard," Verne insisted. "Anyway, Marty was with us. It’s not like we went alone." "Where is Marty?" Doc asked again, suspending his lecture for the moment. From the looks on his sons’ faces, something had gone seriously wrong. "Let me talk and I can tell you!" Jules exclaimed, frustrated. "We’ve got no time to waste!" "Then talk," Doc said with a nod. "You see, as I said before, we’ve been in Ancient Egypt. Verne needed to go there to get some material on a mythical god called the Great One, so Marty and I accompanied him. When we arrived there, it became obvious that the Great One was Marty. The three of us decided to stay for a few days and see what we could do about the report on the Great One. "The king -- King Amenemhet -- assigned us a personal servant when we arrived and he let us stay at his estate. The servant was an ancestor of the Tannens -- his name was Tannenan. He seemed perfectly kind and amiable to us, but he wasn’t." "Yeah, and I’m the one who knew it, too," Verne interrupted. "Jules thought he was so nice." Jules gave his brother a hard look before continuing. "Unknown to Verne and I, the first night we were there Marty began having intense nightmares and sleepwalking. This went on for a few days, until Verne and I discovered the secret he was trying to hide. I convinced him to sleep and let us follow him when he sleepwalked, as he seemed to end up in the same location every night." Jules paused to take a breath. "We did that and discovered the hidden tomb of an ancient king named King Theban. This all happened around dawn, so we were going to return later with the proper equipment for excavating the tomb. Marty insisted on telling Tannenan of our find and brought him out to see it. It was then that Tannenan showed us his real motives and pushed Marty off the ten foot drop in the tomb!" Doc’s eyed widened. "Is Marty okay?" he asked. Jules and Verne looked at each other and shrugged. "We don’t know," Verne said, speaking for the both of them. "We left to get you as soon as this happened because we thought you might be able to help us. You will, won’t you?" Doc glanced at Clara, who had stopped to listen to the story as well. "Of course I will," he promised. "I’m guessing that you took the DeLorean?" Jules nodded. "We had a brief problem with it on our departure, but I think it’ll be all right if you drive it." Doc turned back to Clara. "I’d like you to stay here, in case something happens to the DeLorean and we need back up." Clara nodded. "How long do you want me to wait?" "One hour will be enough. If we don’t return in one hour, take the train and come after us. You remember that I showed you how to use it?" Clara nodded again, a little hesitantly this time. Doc turned his attention to the boys. "Do you remember what time you left?" Verne looked at Jules, who appeared to be thinking hard. "My estimate is approximately 4:40 P.M.," he said finally. "It was growing dark when we left." "Okay, let’s go," Doc said, pushing Jules and Verne to the door. "As you said before, we’ve no time to lose!" * * * Marty stepped into the room before him, filled with the warm, welcoming glow of light. His surroundings looked slightly familiar to him and at first he couldn’t place where he had seen this all before. It hit him a minute later -- he was in the mummy’s tomb again, the same place where the creature had strangled him in a dream. But this time he didn’t feel any fear. Someone else was in the room, standing with their back to him before the table that was covered with food for the afterlife. "I have been waiting for you," the figure said. They turned around slowly and Marty found himself looking at a fairly young man, who couldn’t’ve been older than his twenties -- but, at the same time, he appeared older than that. Their were lines around his eyes and mouth that people in their twenties didn’t normally have. The man was clothed in fancy garments, covered with strange patterns and bold colors. Like all the Egyptians his eyes and skin were all dark, his head and face clean shaven, and he wore a lot of gold jewelry -- rings, necklaces, bracelets, even an earring or two. "Who are you?" Marty asked, stepping back. The man raised his hands, his face calm. "Do not be afraid," he said. "I am Theban, the King of Egypt." Marty didn’t know what to say to this. "But aren’t you dead?" he blurted out, taking a few more steps back. "In your world, perhaps," King Theban agreed. "But I have the power to communicate with people in your world." "Why me?" Marty asked, staring at the king suspiciously. "What have I done?" "Nothing. But I did not know that until now," the king added, sighing. "I am very sorry that I caused you those dreams. I thought you were the enemy." Marty didn’t understand. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Allow me to explain as well I can," the king said. He pointed to Marty’s necklace. "The charm that you wear around your neck is special. Through it, the wearer can communicate with those in the afterlife if they know how -- or those from the afterlife can communicate with them." Marty looked down at the golden cat. "Is that what you meant by ‘causing’ my dreams?" King Theban nodded. "I have been communicating with you in the state of sleep, through your dreams. I have been causing you to walk in your sleep." "But why?" The king sighed, looking around his tomb. "Because I thought that you were planning to rob me of my riches here," he replied. "Then I saw what the servant Tannenan did to you and I see now that he is the true enemy." "I know," Marty whispered, remembering something he’d forgotten until now. Tannenan had pushed him off something and he had fallen a long way... and then what? As if the king could read his mind, he said, "Your mortal body is currently lying unconscious on the ground at the entrance of the tunnel to my tomb." King Theban took a few steps forward, staring at Marty with an urgent expression. "Tannenan is headed for this place and you must stop him!" "Why can’t you?" Marty asked, rubbing his forehead. He was beginning to get a slight headache. Unlike most of the ones he’d had in his life, this one grew more painful with every second that passed. Is this really a dream? King Theban pointed again to the necklace. "Tannenan is not wearing that, therefore I cannot communicate with him. You are my only hope. If he robs my tomb, my spirit will rest uneasily for centuries to come, and I will hold you responsible." The king’s eyes narrowed and grew darker than their natural color. "You will wish that you were never born." "How can I stop him though?" Marty asked. "Can’t you help me at all?" He winced suddenly as a sharp pain shot through his head. "You can do it, I have faith," King Theban said. "You have stopped this family before and friends of yours are on their way to help as we speak." The king stopped and cocked his head to one side, as if he was listening intently to something Marty couldn’t hear. "We are out of time now. Remember my words." Marty opened his mouth to ask more questions. Before he could get one word out, King Theban waved a hand and all the lights went out, plunging him into utter and total blackness. For a moment, Marty felt a strange sensation shoot through his body, like he was floating and suspended in a place where there was no time. The moment was so brief that he thought he was imagining it. Marty next felt cold stones pressing against his back. And the pain, very sharp and vivid pain, arching through his head. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes. Everything was all fuzzy and shadowy. Marty had to blink a few times before his vision snapped into better focus. He was staring up into a piece of the night sky between high narrow walls. A rope dangled down, looped securely over a stone. Light jumped around the walls from the torch he had dropped earlier when Tannenan had pushed him the first time. Marty was tempted to close his eyes again. He couldn’t remember ever having such a headache before! He reached up and tentatively felt his forehead, where he had struck the floor. It wasn’t bleeding, but could feel a big bruise forming there. It hurt just to have his fingers brush against it! The pain was a relief, in a way. It meant that he was alive. He sat up, the room tilting at odd angles. Marty ignored it, knowing he had to go after Tannenan, even if it was at a crawl. Remembering the strange dream -- how much of a dream, was it? -- he looked down at the necklace. The cat’s eyes were glowing again, but instead of evil beams of light, they seemed encouraging. They also carried a silent warning -- succeed or else! Marty climbed painfully to his feet, doing his best to ignore the intense dizziness that turned his head and stomach, picked up his still-burning torch, then began walking down the long, long tunnel. * * * It was much windier outside than it had been before -- and darker. Jules must’ve gotten the time later than it originally was. Oh well, Verne thought. He guessed that was a good thing. It meant that they wouldn’t be running into themselves. "The tomb is somewhere over there," Verne told his father from the front seat, pointing to some sand dunes that he recognized. "Are you gonna land next to it?" Doc shook his head, fighting to keep the DeLorean stable. "No, we don’t want to risk anyone seeing it." "Like Tannenan," Jules agreed from next to Verne. "The sand dunes below will be sufficient in obscuring the DeLorean from sight." "I see it!" Verne exclaimed, jabbing his finger against the window glass. "The entrance to the tomb! It’s almost right below us!" Doc guided the car to the ground below, landing behind one of the largest sand dunes. "I want you both to stay here," he said, reaching for the flashlight in the glove compartment. Doc paused, then -- for some reason -- also grabbed a hoverboard from the backseat, where a handful of time travel-related items were kicking around. "Why are you taking that?" Jules asked, nodding toward the hoverboard. "You said there was a drop," Doc said. "I don’t have any rope in this car and if I’ve got to jump, it would be a bit safer on this." "Why can’t we come?" Verne asked. "I don’t wanna miss anything." "Tannenan could be dangerous, and I don’t want either of you two getting hurt," Doc said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He reached for the door handle and opened it up. "Stay here until I come back," he said before shutting the door on them. Verne turned furiously to his brother, watching their father until he vanished around the side of the dune. "I can’t believe it! How could he keep us here when he gets to have all the fun?" "We can be the backup," Jules said, climbing over the time circuit control switch and into the driver’s seat. "Huh?" "If Tannenan exits the tomb, we can easily catch him, unlike Marty or Father." Verne thought that over for a moment. "I guess that’s okay, but I wanted to see the tomb and everything!" Jules looked at the time display. It was currently 4:52 P.M. "I can almost guarantee that you’ll be able to see it before we leave -- unless Father wants us to depart tonight. Remember, we -- or rather, Marty -- are considered gods and gods always get what they desire. You’ll only need to mention it in passing to King Amenemhet and he’ll let you see it." Time passed and it grew darker out. The lights from the time display were the only thing that broke the darkness. It was 5:20 when Verne couldn’t take it any longer! "I have to get out of here!" he cried, opening the door and stepping out into the cool night air. "I’ve gotta see what’s going on!" "Verne, stop!" he heard Jules call, his voice nearly lost in the strong wind. "You must stay here! You don’t know what’s happening down there" Verne ignored him, heading straight for the tomb’s entrance. If there was something going on, he wanted to be part of it -- permission or not!
Marty was starting to have serious doubts about continuing. He had been walking through the tunnel for what seemed like hours and his head was starting to give him some serious pain. If he wasn’t so intent on going after Tannenan, Marty would have turned right around and hiked back, or maybe taken a short rest. But he didn’t have any time to lose. Tannenan had already had a major head start on him while he had been unconscious. The designs on the walls were getting more elaborate the further he went. Marty stopped for a moment, stepping close to one and holding the torch next to the wall. It amazed him that the Egyptians -- without any help from modern tools -- had done these fancy detailed artworks. Then again, this was probably nothing considering that they’d built the pyramids without any cranes and stuff to help. It was a few minutes later when Marty saw a faint light coming from what might have been the end of the tunnel His sore feet suddenly felt a whole lot better and he almost ran the rest of the way. As he got closer, he slowed down and suddenly starting to worry. What would Tannenan do to him if the Great One interrupted his tomb robbing? Marty knew that Tannenan could easily overpower him and wouldn’t hesitate in the least to try and kill him. He’s already tried that once. "What am I supposed to do?" he whispered under his breath. Marty leaned forward just enough to see through the hole Tannenan had put through the wall to enter the tomb. The servant was scurrying around the room, grabbing anything that looked valuable -- which was basically everything in the room that wasn’t too big or heavy to move -- and tossing it onto a blanket he had spread out over the ground. Marty drew back into the shadows. It was only then he remembered something the king said right before he woke up, something about friends of his on their way. "Does that mean Jules and Verne are coming after me?" he asked the darkness, mentally chiding himself even as he spoke for believing in a dream. Marty hoped the king’s words weren’t true. They would outnumber Tannenan, perhaps, but that might not really matter. Marty had to do something, before they came to get him and got hurt or worse! He dropped his torch to the ground and stepped through the hole. "Hello, Tannenan," he said softly. "Nice meeting you here." Tannenan had been bending over the open tomb, where the king’s body lay, when Marty spoke. As soon as he heard the Great One, the servant jerked his head up and whirled around, surprise showing clearly on his face. "I bet you thought I was dead, right?" Marty continued, slowly walking forward. "Did you forget that I’m a god and immortal?" Tannenan scowled across the room at him. "You are not a God, you are as mortal as I!" he said in disgust. "If you were a god, you would have shown us your powers by now and brought rain back to Egypt!" Marty had to stop his slow advance towards Tannenan for a moment. A sharp pain snaked through his head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing it away. This was no time for dizzy spells! After a long minute the pain faded a notch. Marty let out a deep breath and opened his eyes. "No mortal could have survived such a fall, but I did," he said, staring at the servant. "A god would not have become unconscious in the fall," Tannenan countered. "Why, you don’t even know which god you are. What is your god name?" This was a new one to Marty. "My -- my god name?" Tannenan smirked. "Yes. Tell me, O Great One, what is your god name and which god are you?" Marty’s mind struggled to think of an answer to this question. "Uh... well, I’m a rock god.... Jimi Hendrix," he said, improvising like hell. Tannenan appeared skeptical. "I’ve heard not of a god of rocks, or any by that name. I know you are not a god -- and I shall prove it!" He picked a silver knife off the table containing the afterlife food and held it up. "I will stab you and when you bleed, I know you to be mortal!" Marty swallowed hard, his eyes on the shiny blade. Perfect. He would have to come to this place unarmed. * * * Doc approached the entrance to the room containing the king’s grave with caution, not sure on what to expect. Before leaving 1986, he had put one of the universal translators in his ear and was pleased to see that it was working perfect. Every word he could hear was in regular Twentieth Century English, though the translators were not able to erase accents -- at least not with the technology that he had bought in 2030. Doc heard two voices now, one of which he recognized as Marty’s. He couldn’t have begun to describe the relief he’d felt when he saw that Marty was not lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the drop. Doc didn’t even want to consider what might’ve happened if that had occurred! The scientist switched the flashlight off and crept slowly to the hole in the wall that led to the other room where Marty and the servant -- Tannenan, Jules and Verne had called him -- were. Keeping pressed against the wall, allowing the shadows to conceal him from view, Doc slowly looked in -- and gasped. It was true that Jules and Verne had told him ahead of time that Tannenan was related to the Tannen family line, but seeing the family resemblance came as a shock. He must be an ancestor, no doubt, he reasoned. As he looked in, Doc saw Tannenan holding a sharp knife in one hand, the point aimed at Marty. "Now wait a minute," Marty said, his back to Doc. "Why do you want to kill me?" Tannenan smiled, lowing the knife for only a second. "You are trying to rob me of my fortune," he said. "What makes you think that?" Marty asked, taking a step back. "Who do you think went through your room that one day?" Tannenan asked with a chuckle. "You did not seriously think it to be the curse, did you?" Marty didn’t answer that. "What makes you think that I am trying to rob you of your fortune?" he repeated. "Or should I say, King Theban’s fortune?" Tannenan sighed. "I knew why you came here. I am not a fool. I decided to check your room to be sure the tomb was the reason. But I wasn’t completely sure, not until I started to follow you and saw you walk straight to the tomb site every night. Then I knew." Marty backed up some more until Doc was able to see his face. He thought the teenager looked rather pale. Marty lifted a hand and rubbed his forehead as he spoke. "I didn’t even know about this place until today. And if I’d known about it, I wouldn’t’ve ever dreamed of robbing it like you did." He shut his eyes tight for a moment, drawing in a sharp breath. Doc’s heart started pounding faster when he noticed Marty swaying a bit, like he was about to faint. But, a few seconds later, he opened his eyes and seemed to regain his balance. "That is the difference from me and you then, Great One," Tannenan sneered, taking another menacing step forward and raising the knife. "But it does not matter. You may have survived the fall from the stairs, but you will not survive the knife." The hoverboard that Doc had tucked under one arm slipped to the ground, unnoticed. He hadn’t needed it, not with a rope already in place to climb down, but he didn’t want to leave it behind and have a risk of a local finding it. Doc was too preoccupied with the events taking place before him to really notice the board. It was only when he saw Tannenan stop and gaze past Marty, his face draining of all color, that Doc realized the hoverboard had drifted into the room. Marty noticed the look on Tannenan’s face, the way his attention had shifted to something behind him, and spun around. Doc could tell by the way Marty’s eyes went wide that he had seen him in the shadows, but it was no time for questions. "Great One, what is that floating in the air?" Tannenan whispered, the knife forgotten. "That?" Marty asked innocently, pointing to the pink hoverboard. He picked it up and held it out to the servant, a smirky sort of smile on his face. "Do you want to see my board? Those mortals who touch it -- or even see it -- can die horrible deaths if I want them to!" Now it was Tannenan’s turn to step back. The knife fell to the ground as he threw his hands across his face, as if the very sight of the hoverboard would blind him. "No, oh, no!" he cried. "Please, let me live!" Marty reached for a necklace around his neck that Doc hadn’t noticed before. The charm on the links of gold seemed to be a green eyed cat. Marty twisted the chain around his fingers, considering Tannenan’s words. "Maybe," he said slowly. "I might let you live -- if you do exactly what I say!" Tannenan nodded quickly. "Of course, Great One," he agreed, kneeling down before Marty. "Just tell me and I shall do it." Doc could tell his friend was really enjoying this. "Well, first you have to apologize to me for thinking that I’m a mortal." "Oh yes," Tannenan said, coming close to babbling. "Forgive me for doubting you, please." Marty dropped the hoverboard to the ground and stepped up on it, his smile growing bigger at the look of horror and amazement on Tannenan’s face as he watched the Great One float six inches off the ground. "Next," Marty continued, "you must return everything back to its original site in this tomb and then come with me to King Amenemhet and turn yourself in for your crimes." Tannenan stood, his expression changing to one of uncertainty. "What if I do not?" Marty chuckled, the sound threatening. "Then you’ll be sorry." Tannenan sighed and glanced down at the knife, looking like he was considering the circumstances if he decided to kill Marty. "If I do what you wish," he said, "will you pardon my life?" Marty nodded. "Sure." He stepped off the hoverboard and kicked it up into his hand. "You start putting the things back exactly where they were. I have to step outside for a moment." Tannenan began to slowly replace the valuables he had been piling up on the floor. Marty stepped through the hole, not speaking until he was sure Tannenan was out of earshot. "Doc, what are you doing here?" he whispered, surprise written all over his face. "Jules and Verne came back to get me," Doc explained. "They thought that you might be in trouble, though it looked like you handled yourself pretty well in there -- Great One." "If you hadn’t brought the hoverboard, I don’t know if he would’ve started believing that I’m the Great One and let me go," Marty said. He smiled, looking rather amused. "Did Jules and Verne tell you that everyone here thinks I’m some kind of god?" "They mentioned it. They also mentioned that you’ve been having some interesting dreams and nightly walks. And that Tannenan pushed you off that ledge. Are you okay?" The smile on Marty’s face faded. "I’m fine, I think. I hit my head and it still hurts. But I think I just got a bump on it." Doc switched the flashlight on. "Look me straight in the eyes," he ordered. "I want to check something." Marty frowned, but followed Doc’s orders. He flinched slightly as Doc brought the flashlight up, shining it into his eyes. Doc held it there for almost a minute before turning the light away. "Amazing," he commented. "I don’t think you’ve got a concussion. Are you feeling sick or nauseous or dizzy at all?" "I’ve felt a little dizzy, but that’s it." "And you fell ten feet onto this floor?" Doc shook his head in disbelief. "Were you knocked out from the impact when you hit your head?" "Yeah, I had a really strange dream, too," Marty said. He glanced over his shoulder. "It looks like Tannenan is done putting everything back. I’d better get in there and bring him to the king. Are you going to come, too?" "I can’t leave all of you here without a time machine," Doc said, switching the flashlight off. "Just tell the people we meet that I’m a friend of yours. According to Jules and Verne, it doesn’t sound like they will question anything you say."
Tannenan gave Doc a curious look when Marty introduced them to each other. Doc thought part of the reason was due to his attire. He’d been in such a rush to get back here that he had never changed out of his 1986 clothes and into something a little less conspicuous. Oh well, it’s too late now, Doc thought. The Egyptians already thought that they came from some far away place. Whether or not they wore the right clothes wouldn’t make much of a difference, then. Halfway back to the tomb’s entrance, they ran into Verne. It would be more accurate to say that Verne ran into them, literally. Doc caught a glimpse of a white blur running toward them, then it smacked against against his side, causing him to drop the flashlight. The light hit the hard floor and went out. Marty had a torch in hand, however, and it was easy to see Verne in its light. "What are you doing here?" Doc demanded, grabbing his son’s arm before he could take off again. "I distinctly recall telling you to wait in the car!" Verne smiled sheepishly. "I know that, but you were taking so long and I didn’t want to miss anything exciting." He looked around, visibly disappointed. "Let me guess, I missed the fun stuff?" "If you think seeing me almost killed is some of that fun stuff," Marty said from beside Doc. Verne turned to him. "Are you okay? We saw Tannenan push you off the stairs!" "I’m fine," Marty answered, his voice carrying an edge to it. Verne looked at his father. "Is he okay?" he asked when Marty and Tannenan had gone a few feet ahead of them, out of earshot. "He appears to be," Doc agreed. "I’m surprised, I’ll admit." He paused a moment, peering past Verne. "Where’s your brother? Didn’t he follow you?" Verne shrugged. "I don’t know. I’ll bet he stayed back, afraid of getting in trouble." Doc looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Speaking of trouble...." Verne gave his father a big smile. "Can we discuss that later? Like in 1986? I have to go now and, um, take some notes... for my report." He started running down the hall again, the opposite way he had come, dodging Tannenan and Marty. Half an hour later, they were all safely out of the tomb. Night had fallen during the time they had been under the ground, and the wind had died down. Tannenan, shoulders slumped, walked slowly in the direction of the pyramids. Marty didn’t follow him, probably figuring that if Tannenan thought he had the power to kill him he wouldn’t try escaping. Instead, he followed Doc, heading straight for the DeLorean behind the sand dune. "I can’t wait until we get back to the king’s house," Marty said, rubbing his forehead again. "I’m exhausted." "Is your head still bothering you?" Doc asked with concern. Marty nodded. "A little, but I’ll bet it’ll go away once I get some sleep." Jules and Verne were waiting in the car for the two of them. "I’ll have you know, Father, that I tried to stop Verne from leaving the car and that I’m not at fault in this," Jules said in greeting. "I realize that," Doc said. He got into the car, gesturing for Marty to do the same. "Are we going back to 1986 now?" he asked with some surprise, squeezing in the passenger seat. Jules was forced into the narrow area behind the seats as Marty shared the front with Verne. Doc shook his head at the question. "No, the three of you have to finish your business here first, make sure Tannenan is indeed brought before the king. I just thought that this would be a quicker way to get to the king’s house, as long as one of you directs me." It took only a few minutes of flight before they landed behind the high wall that surrounded the king’s estate at the back. After securing the time machine, the four of them entered the king’s grounds. A man met them at the door, dressed so elaborately that Doc immediately knew he was looking at someone high up in the ranks of Egypt. "Great One, I have been wondering over your whereabouts," the man said. He took a step back at the sight of Doc, his mouth dropping open a little. Doc wondered if his brightly colored clothes had anything to do with it, or possibly his age -- people generally didn’t live past their thirties in this time and place. "Who is this?" "This is a friend of mine who came to visit me here," Marty told the man. "Doc, this is King Amenemhet." The king nodded at Doc. "I am pleased to meet you," he said politely, then turned back to Marty. "Where is Tannenan?" Marty glanced around. "There he is," he said after a moment, pointing. The servant was walking slowly towards them, his head bowed. When he reached the five of them, he stood silent for a moment before speaking. "Forgive me, my king, for I have committed a horrendous crime." King Amenemhet stared at him for a long moment. "We should go to my private chambers to speak about this," he said. He gestured to a couple servants nearby, who took hold of Tannenan’s arms, perhaps worrying that he would try to escape if given the chance. The king entered the building, Tannenan brought behind him. Jules, and Verne followed the small group. Doc hung back, not wanting to get involved, noticing that Marty made no move to go after the group either. That was slightly puzzling. "Aren’t you going? I think they wanted your input." Marty shook his head, leaning against the wall as if he couldn’t be on his feet without support any longer. "I need to get some sleep," he said softly. "I don’t think I could make it through a long discussion. I hate to admit it, but all this god stuff has really gotten on my nerves, too," he added. "It’s beyond bizarre for people to be into you like this. I just don’t want to deal with it any more today." Doc nodded, managing to hide a smile at those words, uttered by someone who used to wish for that kind of fame on a daily basis. "I understand. I’ll go in your place and tell the king you need your rest." Marty gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks," he said, heading inside. Doc followed him to a room at the end of the hall, where Marty paused to point out to him the general direction where the group had gone. Doc followed the direction, mounting the stairs and walking a little slowly through the building. The ceiling was low, causing him to stoop over rather uncomfortably and making walking a little more challenging than normal. The upper level of the estate only had two huge rooms in it. Doc found the group in the first one he looked into, the biggest one at the end of the brief hall. The room contained a large bed carved with fancy etchings. Benches and chairs lines the walls, along with tables, piled high with food, statues, and jewelry. Oil lamps burned, illuminating the almost windowless room. "Have a seat," King Amenemhet said, gesturing to the benches and chairs. "Would any of you like some food or drink?" Everyone shook their heads. Doc, Jules, and Verne all sat down on one of the long benches. Tannenan remained standing by the door, the servants still keeping a hold of him. "Now Tannenan," King Amenemhet said to the servant, settling into a padded chair. "What is it you wish to confess?" Tannenan stared at the floor, a rather sullen expression on his face. After a moment, he raised his head and began to speak. "I, by chance, discovered the fine King Theban’s tomb site the last time the moon was full. When the Great One arrived, I believed he had come to take my treasure away from me. The necklace he wore made me even more certain of this, since it came from King Theban’s tomb. I was the one who searched his room, breaking things, to find out if my guess was right." Tannenan paused a moment, looking at the king. King Amenemhet stared at him, his eyes growing darker by the minute as he watched his servant. Tannenan took a deep breath before continuing. "This day I followed the Great One when he said he was going to show me the tomb and when he was leaning to look in, I pushed him to the ground, a good distance below. I believed him to be mortal and therefore to be killed in the fall." King Amenemhet gasped. "Was the Great One hurt?" he asked, horrified. Doc answered the question. "No, he’s fine. He’s just resting right now." The king looked relieved. He turned back to Tannenan, his face hardening as he looked at his servant. "Continue." Tannenan nodded. "I climbed down the rope to the floor and I do swear that I at least stunned the Great One by the fall. I thought he was just pretending to be a god. Otherwise he would have given us the rain we need. I went down the hall to collect my treasure and then leave Giza with my fortune and live well the rest of my mortal life." Tannenan scowled. "I would have made it, too, except that the Great One came after me. He confronted me and then showed me he was a god by floating above the earth." King Amenemhet gasped again. "Is that so?" he asked. Tannenan nodded. "The Great One told me that I would die a horrible death if I did not confess to you, King, my crimes." Tannenan bowed to the king, then knelt on the ground. "Please forgive me." King Amenemhet looked at him without a shred of kindness in his face. "I cannot forgive you for such a crime as you have committed," he said, his voice tight and full of anger. "You have done a great dishonor for King Theban and given our guest a poor example of our gratitude for his arrival. What has the Great One to say about what you have done? Has he forgiven you for your unjust behavior?" Tannenan looked taken aback. "Well, yes I believe he has." King Amenemhet pointed a finger at Tannenan. "Then your punishment for committing such evil deeds will be banishment from Giza." Tannenan winced visibly at the words. "You must leave at dawn," the king added, "with only the personal items you now bear. If you ever again return from this exile, I will be forced to bring death upon you for going against my order. Is that understood?" Tannenan nodded, his face grave. "I understand. I shall leave tomorrow with all haste." The king looked at the two men holding him captive. "You may release him." They did so. Tannenan bowed to the king before leaving the chamber. King Amenemhet let out a long sigh. "How can I ever apologize to you kind people and the Great One for what has happened? I feel so much in your debt." "Don’t worry about it," Doc insisted. "No one was hurt in this -- at least not seriously -- and you couldn’t have known about Tannenan." The king sighed again. "I should have. Tannenan’s father was a thief and was killed by those habits. The boy came to live in my estate after his father’s death, as a slave. He was taught as well he could by my people, but I see now that it was not enough." "Don’t worry, people like Tannenan run in his family," Verne assured the king. "Yes, it must be in the genetics," Jules agreed. King Amenemhet looked confused at the boys words, but thankfully said nothing about it. "Will you be staying the night?" he asked Doc. "I suppose so, but I can just stay in the same room as the Great One and the boys," Doc said. He stood. "I think that we’ll be going there now." King Amenemhet appeared upset about something. "Tannenan was my only servant not committed to other work," he said. "That’s okay, we don’t need a new one," Verne said, jumping off the bench. "We’re used to not having one." The king seemed a bit confused again but bid them a good night instead of asking questions. The three of them left the king’s chamber, Jules and Verne leading the way back to the guest room. When they reached it, they found Marty sound asleep on his bed... with a black cat lying next to him. "Hey, where’d the cat come from?" Verne asked, heading over to the animal. Before Doc could stop him, Verne was reaching across Marty to pick up the cat. The feline, which had been lying peacefully next to Marty, suddenly leaped to it’s feet and hissed at Verne, raising a paw adorned with sharp claws. Verne jumped back, startled. "Why’d it do that?" he wondered aloud. "Shhhhh," Doc warned. "Keep your voice down. You don’t want to wake Marty." Verne didn’t appear to hear him. He moved towards the cat again. The animal glared at him, hissing again. Verne looked troubled. "Sheesh, that thing must be in a bad mood!" He looked at his father. "Can you get it for me?" "Leave it alone, Verne," Doc said instead. Verne sighed, disappointed, and wandered over to the other end of the room. Doc looked at the cat, settling back down. The creature watched him warily, but he didn’t notice; Doc’s eyes were drawn to the necklace Marty wore around his neck. It looked like it was made from solid gold, with a small charm dangling from it. A cat, I think, Doc recalled from the tomb. But he couldn’t remember any more details than that, or get a closer look at it, not right now, anyway; Marty’s hand was clenched around it. Doc turned around and looked at Jules and Verne. "What’s on Marty’s necklace?" he asked, careful to keep his voice low. "A gold carving of a cat, if memory serves me well," Jules replied. He glanced at Marty for a moment. "He’s been wearing it since the night he received it -- the first night we were here." Doc nodded. He looked back at Marty, noticing a faint bruise forming on his friend’s forehead. Doc reached a hand out, intending to get a better look at the injury, then was stopped by the black cat as the animal bolted to it’s feet and lashed out with it’s claws, narrowly missing his hand. The scientist jerked it back, eyes narrowing. "I don’t think she wants me to get near Marty," he said slowly, taking a step away from the bed. The cat eyed Doc carefully before lying down again. "I think you may be right, Father," Jules said, joining Doc. "The cat almost seems to be guarding him." "Weird," Verne said slowly, stepping towards the cat again. Doc grabbed his arm to stop him. "Don’t touch it," he told his son. "I don’t want it to hurt you." Verne continued to stare at the cat, a look of determination on his face. It was clear he didn’t take his father’s warning seriously. Doc decided on a distraction tactic. "Verne," he said, "would you mind getting me a bowl of water from the well outside?" Verne looked away from the cat for a moment. "What for?" Doc gestured to Marty. "He has a good bruise on his forehead from the fall and I think a cool washcloth might keep the swelling down." Verne looked at the bruise himself before nodding. "Okay," he said. Doc watched him pluck an elaborate bowl from a stack of goods and run out the door. "What are you planning to do?" Jules asked Doc when Verne was gone. Doc set his eyes on the cat, which was still watching them. "Get that animal out. I don’t like it’s temperament. What if Marty was to roll over it in his sleep? The creature would probably have a fit!" He started to slowly walk over to Marty and the cat. "Oh, fine, it’s okay for you to get hurt, but not us," Verne said suddenly, entering the room with water sloshing over the sides of the bowl, onto the floor. Doc ignored his son’s comment. When he was less then two feet away from the animal, it stood up again and hissed a warning. He continued the advance, ignoring the hiss. The cat yowled at the top of its lungs, as if it was in pain, causing all those in the room awake to wince. Even Marty stirred at the sound. "Kalila," he mumbled in his sleep. At the sound of the word, the cat almost immediately settled down, though its eyes remained fixed on Doc. Doc let out a long breath, reaching towards the cat. It didn’t move or make a sound. He waited a moment for something to happen, then dropped his hand. "Odd," he commented softly. "Father, why don’t you just leave the cat alone?" Jules said. "It’s obviously not going to leave Marty’s side and I don’t believe that it’ll harm him." "Yeah," Verne agreed, setting down the bowl of water on the table by Marty’s bed. "And don’t forget, it doesn’t like anyone else." Doc nodded. "I get the impression. Very strange. I wonder where it came from?" He reached for a cloth, hanging off the rim of a jug nearby, and soaked it in the silty water. At the sight of the water, Doc was reminded of the expectations Marty had hanging over him from the Egyptians. "They want it to rain, don’t they?" he said to his kids as he set the cool damp cloth on Marty’s forehead. Marty’s eyelids twitched at the touch, but remained closed. "If you are referring to the Egyptians, that’s correct," Jules said. "Is there anything you can do with that request?" Doc shook his head. "It’s out of my hands, at least in this time and place. I wish I could help with that, but they won’t discover a way to change the weather until the early Twenty-First Century -- A.D." * * * Marty opened his eyes and sat up. He looked around the unfamiliar room he was in, trying to determine where he was. It seemed to be some kind of bedroom, plain and sparse of furniture. A handful of lamps were lit to illuminate the room. "Hello?" he called out, climbing off the bed he’d been lying on. He stood up and walked slowly around the chamber, searching for any signs of life. "Welcome," someone said softly from behind. Marty spun around, startled, and saw King Theban standing in the doorway, a faint smile on his face. "What do you want?" he asked suspiciously. "You aren’t going to hurt me, are you? I stopped Tannenan, like you wanted me to." Marty noticed the black cat that had visited him in previous dreams was hovering around King Theban’s feet. He pointed to it. "Is that the same crazy cat that’s always in my dreams?" "One question at a time," the king said, crossing the room. "I am not going to hurt you, rest assured. I knew that you could stop Tannenan from robbing my tomb." King Theban smiled. "Marty. Or would you prefer I call you ‘Great One’?" Marty felt dizzy for a moment when the king spoke his real name. "How do you know?" "I know many things," the king said. "You would be surprised." He walked over to a table and uncapped a bottle, pouring the deep red liquid into a silver goblet. "Would you like some?" Marty shook his head and sat down on the bed, his mind still reeling. Does King Theban know about the time machines? The king recapped the bottle and brought the goblet with him when he went over to Marty, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. Marty had to ask him. "Do you know about... where I’m from?" The king nodded. "Yes. I am aware of that. The afterlife allows you extensive knowledge of many things." "So why am I here with you, if you’re dead? Don’t tell me that Tannenan murdered me!" King Theban chuckled, taking a sip from his drink. "Oh no, you are extremely safe and alive right now. As of this moment you are in your room, in a deep sleep with my pet watching after you." "Your pet?" Marty looked down at the black cat, licking it’s paws on the floor. "Do you mean that cat? And who is that animal, anyway?" "I have sent Kalila to look after you, ensuring that Tannenan no harm will come to you before you leave," the king explained. He glanced at the cat by his feet. "This is Kalila, my beloved pet. She is with your physical body right now, protecting you as you rest." "How can she be in two places at once?" Marty asked, confused. "You are, aren’t you?" Marty thought about that for a moment and decided that it would be a vein of consideration best left alone. "Why am I here?" he wanted to know. The king stopped for a moment, listening to something Marty could not hear, like he had in the tomb. "I wanted to thank you for what you have done," he said after a moment. Marty shrugged. "Well, you’re welcome." "I have decided to do something for you," King Theban added. "What’s that?" Marty asked. The king smiled and shook his head. "I will not tell you now. It is a surprise. However, you will know it was I who was responsible when the time comes. I am also giving you the necklace. I believe that you have earned it. You may sell it in the future and use the wealth it brings as you wish. You will hear no more from me, either, for I have also come to you to tell you good-bye." "You brought me here, just to tell me all of this?" King Theban nodded, then paused again to listen to things Marty couldn’t catch. "It is time for me to leave you. Lie down and close your eyes." Marty settled back on the bed and closed his eyes. "Will I remember any of this?" he murmured, suddenly feeling profoundly exhausted. The king’s voice was distant as he answered. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. It will not matter in the future. Now sleep, get some of the rest that I deprived you of the last few nights." Marty slept.
He awoke gradually, swimming slowly back to consciousness. His whole body was sore, especially his head where something damp and cool rested. Someone shifted nearby, someone he knew. "Mom, is that you?" Marty whispered, his throat dry. "No," the person answered, their tone slightly amused. Marty opened his eyes, squinting in the lamplight shining into his eyes. "Doc," he murmured. "What are you doing here?" "Waiting for you to wake up," his friend replied, seated on the bed beside his. "How’s your head?" Marty reached up and removed the damp cloth from his forehead. "I don’t know, everything’s sore," he said closing his eyes again, somewhat groggy. He yawned. "What time is it?" "It’s after twelve. You’ve been sleeping for nearly eighteen hours now." That woke him up a little. He opened his eyes again. "Really?" he asked, surprised. "That long? You’re kidding!" Doc shook his head. He was still wearing his future clothes, Marty noticed as he sat up. He wondered why he hadn’t changed into Egyptian clothes like the rest of them but didn’t ask. A black cat was lying at the foot of his bed. It looked up at him as he moved, its green eyes bright. Something tugged at the edge of his mind as he stared at the cat, but was lost before he had grasped hold of it. "Why am I so sore?" Marty groaned, carefully stretching. Looking down, he saw a few bruises scattered on his arms and legs. "Remember Tannenan pushing you to the tomb floor? You may have been lucky enough to escape serious injury, but you still hit the ground pretty hard. Is your head feeling any better than it was earlier?" Marty reached up and touched his forehead, wincing a bit from the bruise there. "Yeah, it’s not as bad," he answered. He glanced around the room. "Where are Jules and Verne?" "King Amenemhet is giving the both of them a tour of King Theban’s tomb. You are somewhat of a hero around here among the people, you know. Not only do they think of you as being a god, sent here to protect the king’s tomb from Tannenan, but now the whole village is talking about how you are going to bring back the water to Giza." Marty groaned. Doc looked at him, anxious. "What’s wrong?" "Nothing, it’s just that... what am I going to do about them expecting me to make it rain? I can’t do anything about that!" Doc looked towards the small windows. "Actually, it’s grown overcast outside today. Perhaps that means something." "Do you think it might?" Marty asked hopefully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "You never know," Doc said, getting to his feet. "Aside from being sore, how do you feel?" "Fine. Just hungry." Marty looked over at the cat. "Has she been with me the whole time I’ve been asleep?" he asked Doc, nodding to the green-eyed animal. Doc looked at the creature and frowned. "Yes, as a matter of fact she has. That animal hasn’t left your side for a second -- or let anyone else come near you, for that matter." "Oh," Marty said softly, a part of his dream coming back to him. "Kalila. The cat’s name is Kalila." Doc looked at him strangely, but didn’t say anything. "I’ll get you something to eat." Marty started to stand. "You don’t have to do that, I can go myself--" Doc stopped him, holding up his hand. "No, you wait here. The king might question a god being so self-sufficient." Marty sat back down, deciding not to argue. "That reminds me -- what happened to Tannenan after he told the king about stealing from the tomb?" "King Amenemhet banished Tannenan from Giza this morning, telling him that if he returned that he would be killed," Doc explained. "You don’t have to worry about him anymore." "I wasn’t," Marty whispered, the dream again returning to mind. The cat, King Theban had said, would protect him against Tannenan if the need arose. Doc frowned again as he looked at Marty. "Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little... distant." Marty managed a smile. "I’m fine. Just thinking about something that someone said to me before." Doc nodded, then headed for the door. "I’ll get you some food now," he promised. Marty got to his feet after Doc left. He walked slowly and stiffly, still sore from the fall, over to the other side of the room to check out what looked like new gifts. Doc had said that he was now considered a hero since he had rid the town of Tannenan, the servant gone bad; people must’ve brought these additional gifts while he had been catching up on his sleep. Verne ran into the room. "Hey Dad, where’s the--" He stopped when he saw Marty. "You’re finally up!" "Yeah," Marty said, looking at what appeared to be a cup with hieroglyphics carved all over it. "Where did all this come from?" he asked. "The people decided to shower you with gifts again while you were out," Verne explained. "Where’d Dad go?" "He went to get some food for me," Marty replied, setting the cup down on one of the tables. "Oh," Verne said slowly, frowning. "I’ll just wait here for him, then." He started to sit down on Marty’s bed, then stopped. "That cat’s still here?" "What?" Marty asked, not understanding what Verne had meant. He glanced over and saw Kalila sitting in his bed, washing her face. "Oh yeah, she’s still here." "Strange cat," Verne commented. "She would try to take on anyone who got near you!" "So I’ve heard," Marty said. Doc returned to the room a few minutes later, a plate full of food in his hands. "Verne, what are you doing back so soon?" he asked his son, setting the food on the table next to Marty’s bed. Marty immediately went over to see what he had brought. Some strange looking fruits, bread, and some kind of drink. He picked up the bread and took a bite from it. A little hard and grainy, but not too bad. "I got bored," Verne said, shrugging. "They wouldn’t let us see the mummy itself. Something about respecting the dead." He gave his father a big smile. "Can I have the keys to the DeLorean? I wanna get a video game that’s in there." Doc shook his head hard. "Absolutely not. You know the risks with that sort of thing." Verne pouted. "Oh, come on! I’ll stay in the car if you want me to." Doc shook his head again. "No. Don’t worry, we should be leaving this place soon." "Like when?" Verne asked. "I know I’m all done here!" Doc looked at Marty, sampling the fruit. "Do you think you might be ready to leave today?" Marty stared at Doc, surprised at the question. "Might be? Are you kidding? I’d love to go home today!" "All right, then that’s settled. We’ll leave after dark, so as to not attract any undue attention." Footsteps approached the room, at a fast clip, and a second later Jules ran into the room, his eyes wide. "Father! You have to see this!" he cried. Despite Jules’ obvious excitement, Doc didn’t seem terribly concerned or curious. "What is it? Is it something in the tomb?" Jules shook his head. It wasn’t until then that Marty noticed something rather important. "Your hair is all wet!" he said aloud. Jules nodded. "That’s it! It’s starting to rain outside! The people are beside themselves with excitement! They think Marty is behind it all!" A familiar look crossed Doc’s face -- he had an idea. "Great Scott! Marty, Jules, Verne, let’s go right now! I’ve a wonderful idea on how we can give these people exactly what they want!" * * * "You sure this is safe?" Marty asked Doc again as they climbed into the DeLorean ten minutes later. Doc nodded. "As safe as we can be at a high altitude with lightning involved." Oh, wonderful, Marty thought, uncomforted. "Do you have the hoverboard?" Doc continued, starting the car. Marty held it up, shutting the passenger side door as he did so. "Check," he said, gazing out the window. Dark clouds filled the sky, with occasional flashes of lightning as the rain came down. Verne leaned over Marty to look out the window, too. "This is going to be so cool!" he exclaimed, grinning in anticipation. "I’ll have some real good stuff to put in my report!" "That’s not the only reason Father is doing this," Jules reminded him, crouched behind the seats. "He is doing it for the Egyptians and their belief of the Great One as a god." Doc took the DeLorean into the air. The wind was starting to gust, causing the car to rock a little. Marty watched the buildings grow smaller as they gained more height. He couldn’t believe he’d let Doc talk him into this! It didn’t take that long to get the DeLorean over to the pyramids, where probably ninety percent of the people of Giza were gathered. Doc stopped at the top of the largest pyramids. "Are you ready?" he asked Marty over the low rumbles of thunder. Being up here wasn’t exactly the safest place, but it was the most dramatic. "Yeah, whenever you are," Marty answered, opening the door and looking down. He was about five feet above the top point of the pyramid -- not terribly far from the surface. But the high winds shaking the DeLorean made him nervous, not to mention the altitude that the tip of the pyramid was above the ground was probably at least a thousand feet! The people gathered below looked like dots! "Remember what we discussed," Doc said as Marty was putting his sandaled foot in the hoverboard strap. He nodded, swinging his legs out of the car. "I do," he said, looking down at the drop. Taking a deep breath, he eased himself slowly out of the car, keeping a hand on the DeLorean until he was touching the surface of the pyramid. Instead of being pointed, as they appeared from the ground, the tops were flat, about two feet by two feet. Marty waved at Doc, and Verne shut the door. Doc pulled the DeLorean back and drove it carefully away. Marty hoped that it wouldn’t get struck by lightning again. He didn’t let himself dwell on that dark thought, turning his attention back to the task at hand. Taking another deep breath, Marty started to hoverboard down the pyramid’s side. It went slowly at first, then gained speed until the world was a blur. Marty managed to steer over to a ledge about fifty feet off the ground, on one side, and stopped there. All the people’s eyes were on him, wide with amazement and excitement. It was time, then. Marty pointed to the sky. "I, the Great One, have enjoyed my stay here in Egypt!" he yelled. The wind was gusting, making it hard to be heard. Marty saw King Amenemhet at the front of the crowd, an expression of joy on his face. Marty smiled down at him and lifted his hands up to the sky. "This visit has been a memorable one!" he continued. That was certainly the truth! "So I’ve decided to grant you your wish, the wish for rain!" At that moment, a bolt of lightning split the sky and hit the top of the pyramid that Marty was on. The people gasped, pointing and murmuring amongst themselves. Nice timing, Marty thought, though his heart was racing from that close blow. While the sky was still shaking with thunder, the pour of rain increased, so hard that Marty could hardly see three feet before of him. He was soaked to the bone and, oddly enough, it was then he remembered the rest of his dream on Saturday night. "I have decided to do something for you." "What’s that?" "I will not tell you now. It is a surprise. However, you will know it was I who was responsible when the time comes." Marty reached for the cat necklace, still around his neck He titled his face up to the dark sky, ignoring the cold water that was gushing into his eyes. "Thanks King Theban," he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment and feeling the rain drip down his skin. Then he looked down at the people, gazing up at him with adoration and thanks on their faces, smiles stretching ear-to-ear. Marty grinned at them and waved as he saw the DeLorean flying toward him. As he climbed in, he looked one last time at the crowd, then shut the door behind him. The people of Giza watched the strange vehicle speed up as it floated in the air. It vanished moments later with a bright flash of light and a noise like thunder. Two lines of fire remained after it disappeared, then they, too, vanished. The Great One was gone, but he had given the Egyptians the most precious gift they needed -- water.
The phone rang once. Marty stirred, pulling the blankets over his head. It rang twice. He slipped an arm out from under the sheets, feeling around for the phone. He got it on the third ring, wondering why no one else had picked it up yet. "Hello?" he croaked. "Marty?" the person on the other end asked. "Yeah?" he answered, sitting up in bed and trying to see the time on his clock in the dim room. Almost four thirty. Outside it was dark and grey, rain falling. "It’s Verne. What’s wrong? You sound funny." Marty reached for the box of Kleenex on his nightstand. "I have a bad cold, probably from being in that storm in Egypt. And you just woke me up." "I’m sorry," Verne said. "I just thought that you might like to know that I got an A on my report about you! Or the Great One, as you’re commonly known." Marty blew his nose. "That’s great," he said sincerely. "So does that mean you can travel through time?" "Yeah, the next time we go. Dad says that we’re not going to for a while. He said that we have to live in the present, not the past and future." "That sounds reasonable." "Maybe, but I don’t like it. Anyway, I gotta go now. Just thought that you’d like to know that. Hope you feel better soon!" Verne hung up before Marty could say anything else. With a sigh, he put his cordless phone back and switched on the lamp. He squinted from the sudden light. He had stayed home from school and slept most of the day, trying to get over this cold that had shown up the day before. He didn’t feel any better -- but, on the other hand, he didn’t feel any worse. The house was silent except for the sound of raindrops on the roof. Marty wondered if he was the only one home. Pushing the blankets back, he got out of bed, and pulled on his bathrobe to go down the hall to the kitchen. No one was around, and Marty found out why from a note on the microwave:
Marty -- Dave is working late tonight and Linda will be out on a date. Your father and I are at the Country Club having dinner with the Mitchells. We should be back around ten. There is some stew in the refrigerator that you can heat up if you are hungry. Hope you are feeling better.
Love,
Marty wasn’t hungry yet -- even if all he’d had to eat that day was a bowl of soup -- but he was in the mood for something hot. He reached into the cabinet, pulled out a coffee mug, filled it with milk and stuck it in the microwave for a few minutes to make some hot chocolate. While he was waiting for it to warm up, Marty switched on the TV and started flipping channels, looking for something interesting. MTV was the only thing that had something good on, so he left it there. The microwave beeped a couple minutes later. He set the remote control down and got the steaming cup, dumping a few spoonfuls of cocoa into it and stirring it up before settling in front of the TV again. The hot chocolate felt good going down, not only warming him up but also helping his sore and scratchy throat feel better. Setting the mug down next to the lamp, Marty lay down on the couch, facing the TV. He tried to keep his eyes open and focused on the Huey Lewis video that was on, but between his cold, the soothing sound of the rain on the roof, and the hot chocolate it was just too hard. He was asleep again before he knew it. Strange dreams pursued him. He saw King Theban with his cat, standing before a doorway in a pyramid. Marty kept trying to enter the doorway, but each time the king would stop him, shaking his head and shooing him away. The weirdest thing was that the king never spoke, not once. Marty wanted to ask him why he wasn’t saying anything, but he couldn’t seem to speak himself. Some time later, Marty felt cool hands on his forehead. "Mom, is that you?" he whispered. "Just relax now," she said softly. "You’ve been asleep for a few hours now." Marty sighed. "I had the strangest dream," he murmured. "I was back in ancient Egypt again." There was a slightly puzzled pause. "Well, you’re safe and sound now, at home." Marty slowly opened his eyes and looked up at her. "What time is it?" he asked, coughing. He lifted an arm and threw it across his eyes, shielding them from the light of the lamp. Marty’s mother looked at the clock next to the fireplace. "Nearly ten. Your father wanted to leave a little earlier to get some work done on his book tonight." He sat up, feeling lightheaded for a second. The TV was still on. Marty found the remote control on the floor and switched it off. He had a splitting headache and the noise was making it worse. "Did you have fun?" Mom nodded slowly. "It was nice," she said, then frowned. "Are you feeling any better?" She reached out and touched his cheek with one hand. "It feels like you might have a fever." He sneezed. "I have a headache now," he said, sniffling a little. She nodded and held out her hand. "Let’s get you into bed now. What were you doing out of it, anyway?" "The phone rang and woke me, so I figured I might as well get up for a while," Marty explained, letting his mother help him to his feet. She kept one arm around his shoulders as he walked back to his room. The lamp he had turned on earlier was still burning. Marty took off his bathrobe and slipped into his unmade bed. His mom sat down next to him. "Is anything wrong?" she asked. "Anything you might want to talk about?" Marty looked up at her, surprised at the question. "What makes you think that?" Mom shrugged, looking around the room. "I can’t quit put my finger on it. But you’ve been acting a little strangely these last couple month. Rather unlike your usual self." Maybe that’s because I’m not exactly the same person you raised up to October 26, he thought, wondering how different he was from his counterpart that had been in this world before him. It was something Marty didn’t like to dwell on much at all and thinking about it gave him a good case of the creeps. "Nothing is going on, trust me," he said, not meeting her gaze. She wouldn’t even believe him even if he did tell her. She smiled, believing his lie. "I was hoping that you would say that," she said, her voice full of relief. Marty sighed, glad that he had been able to convince her, and settled down under the blankets. His mother kissed him on the cheek as she stood up to leave. "Goodnight," she said softly, clicking the lamp off. Darkness filled the room. "I hope that you feel better tomorrow." "‘Night," he answered. He heard the door shut behind his mom and rolled over in bed, trying to get more comfortable under the blankets. Marty’s mind returned to the dream he’d had earlier that evening. "I wonder if that means anything," he murmured. King Theban said he wouldn’t bother me in my dreams anymore. Maybe a part of me was trying to talk to him about something and he was trying to tell me to go away. Or maybe because I’m not wearing that necklace now I just can’t hear him if he wants to tell me something. Or maybe -- "Or maybe it was just a dream," Marty sighed, closing his eyes. He pushed the questions out of his mind and concentrated on other things. Minutes later, he was asleep again. And this time, he had no dreams at all.
Mom