A Girl Like This
by She's a Star
Disclaimer: The faaaabulous movie The Mummy belongs to Stephen Sommers. :) Most of the scenes that weren't featured in the movie are mine; a few are his. (I used an early draft of the script to make sure I had the dialogue right, so it may be a bit different.)
Author's Note: This is my first Mummy fic in over a year, and my first chapter Mummy fic as well. I've always thought Evelyn was a wonderful character (she's definitely on my top 5 list of the best fictional heroines), so I decided to write The Mummy from her perspective with a bit of extra things thrown in. :) I hope I can do the characters justice...wish me luck!
...and review. Reviews are good.
Dedication: To Buffelyn, who is simply wonderful and whose masterpiece Cost of a Glance inspired me to write this in the first place. :)
Chapter One: A Discovery
I now knew for a fact that I shouldn't have gotten out of bed that morning.
Before, I had suspected it. To start the day off on a less-than-glowing note, I'd overslept when the curator of the Cairo Museum of Antiquities had specifically asked that I arrive early. Over the years that I'd worked there, I'd made a few barely significant mistakes that had caused him to grow a bit...wary of me. Then, checking the mail on the way out, I'd made the discovery that the Bembridge scholars had rejected my application for the seventh time, claiming I 'lacked experience in the field'.
And now, due to a most unfortunate incident with a ladder while attempting to put a volume back into the T section, the entirety of the museum library lay strewn about the floor.
Hoping desperately that what I'd just seen had been some kind of hallucination, I studied the toppled-over shelves in horrified shock.
My lips uttered the only word that came to mind.
"Oops."
Perhaps the curator won't notice, I thought desperately. Perhaps he wouldn't have heard...perhaps...
"Look at this!!!"
Or perhaps he would notice and fire me.
It certainly seemed the most likely.
"Sons of the Messiah!" the curator groaned, eyes flashing angrily. "Give me frogs, flies, locusts! Anything but this! Compared to you, the other plagues were a joy!"
"I'm so very sorry," I apologized quickly, attempting to hide my nervousness.
He was going to fire me, my career was as good as destroyed - all thanks to Tuthmosis.
"It was an accident," I continued helplessly.
The curator apparently didn't seem to think the same.
"When Ramses destroyed Syria, that was an accident. You are a catastrophe!"
I would have been wounded if I hadn't heard it what seemed a thousand times before.
"Why do I put up with you??" he asked, almost sounding as though he were questioning himself rather than me.
Attempting not to stumble my words, I adapted my most professional tone and answered.
"You put up with me because...because I can read and write ancient Egyptian," I said quickly, resisting the urge to count off the reasons on my fingers. "decipher hieroglyphics and hieratic, and I'm the only person within a thousand miles who knows how to properly code and catalogue this library!"
I finished triumphantly, but he would have none of it.
"I put up with you because your mother and father were our finest patrons," he corrected me. "Allah rest their souls. Now, straighten out this mess!"
And with that, he turned and stormed from the room.
I groaned inwardly at the prospect of cleaning up the library. Surely it would take weeks, or at least days! And there was no way that I could do it myself.
Nearly ready to collapse into frustrated sobs, I took a deep breath when I noticed a dim light shining from the next room where the mummies were displayed.
Immediately I tensed up, nervousness dancing its way through me.
Surely there was no one there; we were closed. An intruder. It had to be.
Well, I certainly wouldn't be able to put up with one of them. Outside screaming and digging my fingernails into an attacker's flesh, I was absolutely useless at self defense.
Up until now, nothing had ever called for it.
Oh, Evy, I lectured myself, Don't overreact. It's nothing.
Taking a deep breath, I made my way slowly into the room.
"Hello?" I called out nervously, only to have my own voice bounce back at me.
Well, honestly, Evelyn, it's not as though they're going to respond unless they're incredibly stupid.
My eyes nervously scanned the gallery, searching for a trace of movement.
Nothing.
I reached for a torch that lit the corridor and held it as I continued, the slightest bit comforted by its hazy warmth.
"Abdul?" I called timidly. "Mohammed?"
....
"Bob?"
Still nothing. Nothing....
Thump.
I gasped, and continued slowly forward. The noise seemed to come from one of the sarcophagus holding a displayed mummy.
An open sarcophagus.
Maybe...
No, that was foolish...there was no way the mummy could come alive.
It's just a rat or something, I thought, forcing myself to walk forward and inspect.
I leaned over slowly...slowly...
And in a split-second, the mummy sat straight up. Its long-since decomposed face seemed fixed in a malicious grin.
A shrill, forceful screech filled my ears, which I discovered seconds later was my own.
And then laughter.
Very familiar, very drunken laughter.
Jonathan.
I glared at my older brother as he sat up from next to the mummy, shaking with mirth.
I had found the source of its 'resurrection'.
"Have you no respect for the dead?" I snapped furiously, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to still my racing heart.
"Of course I do," he retorted with an easy grin, slinging an arm around the mummy. "Sometimes, I'd rather like to join them!"
"Well," I began angrily, my hand shooting across his cheek in a light slap, "I wish you'd do it sooner rather than later before you ruin my career the way you've ruined yours! Now, get out!!"
He obliged, stumbling a bit before seating himself on a tomb.
"My dear, sweet baby sister," he retorted, drawing out his words, "I'll have you know that at this moment my career is on a high note."
"High note?" I smirked. "Ha! For five years you've been scrounging around Egypt, and what have you to show for it? Nothing!"
I took a seat beside him.
"And the Bembridge scholars have rejected my application again," I continued miserably. "They say I lack experience in the field."
Jonathan smiled and planted a kiss on my forehead. "You always have me, old mum."
I attempted to keep up my furious act, but abandoned it and smiled back.
"Besides," he continued brightly, "I've got just the thing to cheer you up!"
I groaned. "Oh no, Jonathan, not another worthless trinket! If I have to bring one more piece of junk to the curator to try and..."
However, my lecture faded off as he pulled the 'worthless trinket' from his jacket. It was a small, angular-looking golden box. Or at least, I suspected it was gold...it was so worn with age that it was difficult to tell.
Immediately, I snatched the box from Jonathan's hand.
"Where did you get this??"
He replied with nonchalance, "On a dig down in...Thebes."
I hardly paid attention to his reply; instead, I studied the box intently, trying to absorb every aspect of it. I'd never seen anything like this before...
"My whole life I've never found anything," Jonathan continued, hopeful. "Evy, please tell me I've found something."
My fingers worked over the smooth box, and as though on cue, it popped open. Angular edges surrounded it, giving it the appearance of a sun.
"Jonathan..." I started in awe.
From inside the box, I found a piece of papyrus, folded into a small square. It was yellowed with age, and felt as though it would break into worn shreds if handled un-delicately. I carefully unfolded it to reveal a map.
"I think you've found something."
~ * ~
"This is amazing!" Jonathan proclaimed as we made our way to the curator's office. "Absolutely bloody Goddamn amazing!"
"Yes, Jonathan," I responded impatiently. "It certainly is, but is profanity necessary?"
"Of course, old mum!" he said brightly. "It really puts an emphasis on it, you know?"
I rolled my eyes. "Now, Jonathan, I won't have any of your swearing in front of the curator. He's already a bit...annoyed with me as it is, and I don't want you worsening the situation."
"Me?" Jonathan asked innocently. "Please, Evy, have you ever met someone who didn't absolutely bask in the pleasure of my company?"
"I'll choose not to answer that," I replied tersely as we reached the door leading to his office. Taking a deep breath and exchanging a nervous smile with Jonathan, I rapped on it lightly with my knuckles.
"Come in," the curator's voice beckoned.
I swung open the door, shaking a bit with excitement and checking my purse to see that the box was still there.
"Ah, Miss Carnahan," he said with a forced smile. The attempt at a grin disappeared completely when his eyes fell upon Jonathan. "...Mr. Carnahan."
Jonathan was apparently oblivious to his lack of warmth.
"Hey there, old man!" he exclaimed, rushing up to the curator's desk and grabbing at his hand, shaking it vigorously. "How are you?"
"Fine, thank you," the curator replied in a clipped tone, distaste apparent in his features. "To what do I owe this...pleasure?"
I approached his desk with a pleasant smile, making sure to slam my heel-clad foot onto Jonathan's in the way. He let out a yelp of pain which I ignored.
"You see, sir," I said, pulling the box from my purse and showing it to him, "My brother found this on a dig in Thebes."
"How extraordinary," the curator responded dryly, looking the least bit interested. "And why, Miss Carnahan, did you feel compelled to bring it all the way here?"
"Well, you see," I continued, pressing at the slat that triggered it to open. "There's a map inside."
I produced it and handed the faded paper to him.
He studied it, eyes growing wide.
Jonathan really had found something.
But in a split-second, his expression had returned to one of disinterest.
"How interesting, Miss Carnahan."
Looking a bit reluctant, he removed a jeweler's eyepiece from his desk and proceeded in studying the map.
"Oh, it's more than interesting," I assured him, pointing at the map. "See the cartouche there? It's the official royal seal of Seti the First, I'm sure of it."
"Perhaps," the curator said mildly.
A pent-up scream of annoyance began to beg its release. He was a scholar, an expert on Egyptian history, and yet he acted as though this was nothing more than a scrap of paper!
"Two questions," Jonathan cut in, pacing back and forth. "Who the hell is Seti the First? And was he rich?"
Typical.
"He was the last pharaoh of the Old Kingdom," I responded, "Said to be the wealthiest pharaoh of them all."
"Good," Jonathan said, eyes brightening. I halfway expected him to lick his lips in anticipation. "That's good. I like this fellow, like him very much."
The curator lifted the map, looking a bit more interested.
Finally, I thought, relieved, He realizes how important this is!
"I've already dated it," I continued eagerly. "This map is almost four thousand years old. And the hieratics over here..."
I took a deep breath.
"It's Hamunaptra."
Now the curator seemed interested. Or rather, anxious...almost worried.
"My dear girl," he started at once, "Don't be ridiculous. We are scholars, not treasure hunters. Hamunaptra is a myth."
"Are we talking about the Hamunaptra?" Jonathan asked curiously.
"Yes," I responded softly. "The City of the Dead, where the early pharaohs were said to have hidden the wealth of Egypt."
"Right, right," Jonathan said impatiently. "In a big underground treasure chamber. Everybody knows the story. The entire necropolis was rigged to sink into the sand. On Pharaoh's command, a flick of the switch, and the whole place could disappear beneath the dunes."
"All we know is that the city mysteriously vanished around 2,134 BC," I added.
The curator leaned in, studying the map even more intently. Its edge was now dangerously close to the merry orange flame that danced in the candle lamp.
"As the Americans would say," the curator announced, "It's all fairy tales and hokum."
And suddenly the map was engulfed in flames, precious information about to be reduced to cinders. The curator dropped it to the floor, and both Jonathan and I dove down in unison, smothering the fire.
I sighed in relief...the map had been salvaged. But...
"You burnt it!" Jonathan cried, agonized. "You burnt off the part with the lost city!"
"It's for the best, I'm sure," the curator responded casually, as though it were an every day occurrence to go around destroying maps that contained the location of four thousand year old lost cities. "Many men have wasted their lives in the foolish pursuit of Hamunaptra; no one has ever found it."
He paused, a grim sort of smile twisting its way onto his face.
"Most have never returned."