Happy Halloween
In a rundown flophouse, Jim was wearily trying to extract information from his assailant. After threats, deals, and bribery failed, he resulted to a different approach; forcing bottle after bottle of beer down the man's throat seeing if his tongue would loosen up.
"Where is the bracelet?"
"South Street Seaport," the man had slurred the words in an unthinking stupor.
Jim was relieved to be making some progress, "Can you be more specific?"
He gave him the address, "It does not matter though, and they will very soon have awakened Prince Ahmose." Jim recognized the name and ran down the hall to make a quick call to the police.
"Listen, there's a cult at the South Street Seaport, they've stolen a bracelet from the museum, and they're planning to revive-"
"Now you listen," He was told by a gruff policeman on the other end, "we have no time for a Halloween shenanigan and at your age, I'd expect better." The officer hung up the phone, "same thing every year; kids breaking windows, sawing down telephone poles, releasing animals, starting fires… it's not funny anymore."
At the masquerade party, Doug was competing with three partygoers at bobbing for apples as Ann looked over his shoulder giving advice. "That one," she pointed, "try to get that big mackintosh against the edge." Doug opened his jaw wide and pushed the apple to the edge of the tub. He pulled his head out, proudly displaying the apple in his mouth to the applause of the other guests.
Althea was blindfolded, playing blow out the candle. She was turned around three times and led to a table where three colored candles were set six inches apart. After missing the candles twice she managed to blow one out.
"Orange! You're going to take a trip," one of her friends told her.
Tony felt a buzzing on his hip; someone was trying to get through on the radio clipped to his belt. He excused himself and stepped outside.
"Hello?"
"Hello Tony, this is Jim. I need a little help."
"Okay, where are you?"
Jim quickly filled him in on his location and what had happened up to that point.
The address had led Jim to a boathouse in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. He peered in through the window; lit by candles he could see six men in black robes surrounding a withered mummy that lay on a table. They spoke, reciting something in an ancient language he had never heard before. One placed the bracelet onto the mummy's wrist. He then held his own arm out over the body, slicing it with a knife and letting the blood trickle onto the corpse.
Did… did it just move? He thought it might be his imagination.
The body slowly sat up. It had no visible eyes but turned its head as if it were looking over its surroundings. The men stepped back and it carefully set its feet on the ground. The thing took one uneasy step, then another.
"General are you seeing this?" Jim whispered into his radio. "Because if you're not seeing this, you're never going to believe me."
"We can hear you, the viewscreen's having trouble maintaining a picture. What's happening?"
Jim didn't answer.