"My Master has set a powerful reward on me, for awakening him, for bringing him flesh and life." Mali sneered, "stupid Englishman, I am now more powerful than you could ever dream."
"You are not." Alex smirked back, "you're a servant, and you always will be."
The smile left Mali's face as his finger tightened on the trigger. Alex gasped as the shot rang out and the tiny piece of metal shot through his left shoulder.
"Crap!" he swore as his hand shot to the wound; hot blood squirt between his fingers as he panted with a clenched jaw. "So, what is your mummy after then?" he asked as his blood dripped onto the cold marble floor. Mali laughed then.
"You British, always so brave, what is this called then? A stiff-upper lip?"
"Its called, I'm preventing myself from jumping on you and smashing your head against the wall." Alex panted, "But that doesn't mean the question is less relevant."
Clarke rounded the corner just as the shot echoed through the corridors. She'd been walking slowly, glaring at each mummy case as it was obvious each was appallingly empty. She didn't notice the lack of guards until she heard the gun, and the muffled cry of pain. Then she frantically looked around. There where no guards. Berating herself she followed the voices, not surprised to see both the men, she was about to enter the room and declare their stupid game ended once and for all, when she saw the blood dripping from Alex's arm.
That gave her pause. If it was a game, why would Alex really be hurt? And why would Mali be standing there, holding a gun on his friend if there were no spectators to witness their joke?
Clarke backed away, strode down the corridor quickly, and watched the scene unfold from the door that stood gapingly open behind Mali.
"My Master came from The Valley of the Kings!"
"As did a million other mummy's currently on display in the British Museum, you ninny," Alex rolled his eyes, not certain if he was supposed to be impressed.
"But my Master was not buried with ushebti to aid him in the afterlife. No, mine was buried with cats, to keep guard, to keep him where he lay." Mali scoffed, "then the stupid Englisi had to remove him, and begin his curse anew." He waved his gun as if making a point. "So it is your own fault it got this far."
"Just tell me who the hell it is already, and shoot me if that is your intention. You are a very boring fellow Mali." Alex didn't like that the blood loss was beginning to make him a bit light headed. He needed to figure a way past Mali's itchy trigger finger.
"My Master is Ba'al."
Clarke rolled her eyes. Ba'al, really; the god of the Egyptian underworld had to have better stuff to do than terrorize New Jersey.
"Ba'al? The god Ba'al?" Alex tried, but he couldn't keep a straight face.
"The high priest of the temple commonly took the gods name." Mali chided, reminding Alex of something he thought Alex would have known.
"And this guy has come back to wreck vengeance in the name of his god?"
"He will take his revenge."
"On whom?" Alex asked, "The people who killed him are all dead now!"
"But the ones who stripped him from his grave and those descendants of his murderers are all fair game. As is the rest of the world. He will start where he left off all those millennia ago."
"Oh, yeah? And what is it he is supposed to do?" Alex had to ask, though he was pretty sure of the answer. And, yep, the henchman was gearing up toward a pronouncement. Mali took a deep breath and was about to answer, when a loud shriek from a female throat echoed from behind the door.