"Hello from Sunny Hamunaptra!"
By Nancy Lorenz
Cast:
Rick O'Connell
Eveyln O'Connell
Alex O'Connell
Jonathan Carnahan
Ardeth Bay
Constance Adams
Rating: F13
Spoilers: The Mummy and The Mummy Returns.
Disclaimer: All of this belongs to Universal Pictures - except Constance.
Author’s Note: Please understand that the story of King Akhenaten is ever evolving, and subject to much different interpretation of the evidence and artifacts found at Tel-el-Amarna. The city is simply called Amarna in the prologue below because the real name of the place, ‘Akhetaten’, is far too close to the name of the Mummy we’re dealing with in this case. I’ve taken liberty with the story of Akhenaten so that it fits within this story. Understand that it’s richer, deeper, far more tragic and more interesting than I’ve shown you here. It’s one of my favourite stories of Ancient Egypt – and trust me, I have a lot of stories that I’ve read and liked. Before you ask – yes, there is a sequel. There is also a webpage.
Story Website: http://www.nancylorenz.com/mummy
~~*~~
THEBES
There was once a great Pharaoh in the Lands of
His name was Akhenaten and he looked to the sun for worship, called it Aten and God, and with his beautiful wife Nefertiti, set out to build a new holy city - the City of Amarna.
For years the followers of Akhenaten and his god Aten lived in a paradise within the walls of Amarna, but there were those in Thebes that hated the One-God religion the Pharaoh had created and wanted him destroyed.
With the aid of their most powerful priests and prophets the angry nobility of Thebes cursed the land of Amarna, begging the great Osiris to deny the city nourishment of the earth and water for their crops. Hateful of the new religion that stole him of his followers, Osiris obliged, and Amarna was plunged into famine.
To aid Osiris, Anubis swept over the city, burying the inhabitants with mountains of sand in a dust-storm like none that had ever been before. His jackal-headed warriors beheaded those not already dead, and no one within the city were ever mummified. Instead they were preserved in the dry salty desert sands, their souls never sent to the Afterlife. The next King left a seal at the steps of Amarna by order of Anubis warning that anyone who entered the City of Heretics, either reading the words of the Cult of Aten or showing reverence to the false God would suffer a most painful and slow death, worse than the cruelest man could imagine.
Somewhere in the deserts of Egypt the city of el-Amarna lies buried, its walls to the brim with words of worship to the god Aten, lying in wait till it is entered again.
~~*~~
Time: 8am
Date: November 5th, 1934
Dear Diary.
Have set off for Hamunaptra, with the good company (?) of a Mr. Jonathan Carnahan, older brother to my high school bosom buddy Evelyn. The train ride is long and arduous, but one could not afford the ridiculous price of an aeroplane ride.
Mr. Carnahan's attentions are quite unsettling. He keeps inviting me out for drinks in the dining car, and I've repeatedly told him that I am a modern woman, happily single. He says there is no harm in a little drink. I told him to prove it.
Five flutes of champagne later, he proved that indeed, alcohol can do quite a bit of damage.
I am looking quite forward to seeing dear Evelyn again. She's written me many letters regarding her handsome dashing husband Rick. I'll be intrigued to see whether the man fulfills her descriptions. I'm most vexed about meeting young Alex. I'm not very good with children at all, and it seems that he spends a lot of time with his parents.
Once at Cairo, Jonathan and I will be taken to Hamunaptra, guided by some strange dirty sandy holy sorts called 'Medjai'. Jonathan assures me we will be quite safe with them. He also assured me that he could drink a whole bottle of champagne with no ill effect, so his word is not exactly trustworthy in my opinion.
God forbid one of those hairy desert sorts get any strange ideas! I've read they're very attracted to Western women.
Well, we are women of culture! I don't find this at all surprising. I just pray that I get to Hamunaptra in one piece.
Constance.
~~*~~
Jonathan leant over, eyeing the edge of the book. At this, Constance Adams pulled it away, glaring at Jonathan with large blue eyes. Although she had met him a few times when they were younger, she didn’t feel sufficiently close enough to him to address him by his first name.
"Mr. Carnahan," she said with a thin, patient tone, "It is quite rude to try and read a lady's private journal whilst she's writing in it."
Jonathan blinked. "What, you want me to wait till you're finished, then?"
Constance sighed, "Very funny."
The mischievous looking man smiled and Constance couldn't help but find it a little infectious. Encouragement enough for Jonathan, the man nudged her.
"So! Regaling your lovely book about my good looks then?"
"Uh..." Constance gave a blink of great distaste, "Not quite."
Jonathan frowned. "What's it gonna take to get you to lighten up a bit then, eh?"
Constance sighed once more. "I only wish to be on my way to Hamunaptra. It is not my intent to drink to excess or life a live of indulgence on my way there."
With lax jaw, Jonathan blinked. "But - that's the best bit about travelling! The 'getting drunk and living it up' bit!"
The look of distaste returned to Constance's face, and she primped her neat blonde hair as she looked away from the man. "Really."
"Sure!" nodded Jonathan, "But if that's not your thing, that's okay. Just tell me - you know - what is your thing?"
"I doubt that you would find it very intriguing."
"Try me."
Constance met the twinkling blue eyes of the man next to her before turning to him, pressing her thin sculpted lips together.
"Have you ever heard of Spiritism?"
"What," Jonathan waved a hand, "Séances with cotton wool stuffed in crazy people's mouths and all that gaff?" Constance gasped. Salvaging the situation, Jonathan nodded with a slapped-on smile. "Oh yeah, totally love the lot of it."
Constance shook her head. "Spiritists are not crazy people, and it's not cotton wool in their mouths!"
"No?"
"No!" she said.
"Oh. What is it then?"
Constance straightened. "Ectoplasm."
Jonathan's eyes watered a touch, and reaching for yet another glass of white bubbly wine, the man sniggered, swallowing down vocal chuckles.
"I'm glad you find this so very amusing," said Constance.
"Oh no, oh no," Jonathan giggled, waving a hand, "I believe you, love!"
The young woman sighed, looking out the window of the train cabin they both sat in.
"So how does a pretty thing like you get into Spiritism, of all things?"
Batting her eyelids, Constance shrugged. "As I said, I'm a modern woman, Mr. Carnahan."
"Please," moaned Jonathan drunkenly, "Just call me Jonny!"
Closing her journal, Constance ticked a brow. "You can call me Miss Adams."
~~*~~
Time: 11.5 am
Date: November 12th, 1934
Dear Diary,
I am only a few minutes from Cairo station. The boat trip to Egypt was thankfully uneventful, but devilishly hot. I quite forgot that the Mediterranean could be so muggy and searing! I've written it down now, so I mustn’t forget again.
I haven't written because this trip has been so terribly DULL! I meditated in my cabin when I could, but it was most difficult with that irritating measure of a man around me. Jonathan is sweet, but not conducive to contacting the wise ones from beyond! I settled with having dinners with him, and this appeased his yearning for female company.
Sadly, these are now my last moments on a train, a vestige of civilization, as I'm lead out into the wild unknown of Egypt's deserts towards Hamunaptra.
May God and his heavenly spirits watch over me in my following days!
~~*~~
A large number of suitcases were piled next to her on the platform by uncertain looking station hands. She was resplendent in a light lilac dress suit, the skirt to mid-calf, the jacket form-fitting with padded shoulders and dark purple strip trim, the vision of a Western woman. Her blonde hair and self-assured gait were the perfect touch in making her completely peculiar to the scene.
Lifting her nose, she looked about her, Jonathan staggering to her side, overloaded with suitcases.
"Geez, Miss Adams," he panted, "How many of these cases do you need?"
"All of them," Constance said, pointing to one of the cases in Jonathan's arms, "You be careful with that! It has my crystal ball inside of it."
Constance pulled an unfortunate looking man in a porter's uniform aside, pointing to her suitcases. "You will help me with these."
Nodding frantically, the man nodded. "Yes, ma'am!" He grabbed the handles, lugging them towards the train.
Constance grabbed him by the sleeve, almost yelping. "Young MAN!" she gasped, "What is it you think you are doing?!"
"Loading de train," the man replied.
She shook her head. "I wanted you to help me take my bags to my next transport."
Jonathan ran his tongue around his lips, wincing with uncertainty.
"You say that's for your next transport?"
"Yes."
Jonathan cleared his throat. "Not for a hotel?"
"No."
Jonathan rocked from tip-toe to heel. "Aaah..."
Constance blinked, "Ah?"
Jonathan nodded. "Ah." There was a moment of silence, and Jonathan continued with that mischievous smile. "I have a funny little story to tell about that..."
Constance cocked a neat light brown eyebrow.
Pointing behind her, Jonathan swayed a little, and the young woman turned. Dark brown eyes… That was the first thing that registered as she looked behind her, and an engulfing gust of air musky with the scent of camel.
"Ardeth, old Mate!" Jonathan smiled, slapping the dark, heavily robed man in front of them on the shoulder. "How you been then, eh?"
"Thankfully, the same," the man called 'Ardeth' said, his head wrapped in dark fabrics, long dark curls tumbling out from underneath the turban. His wide shoulders were accentuated by the ornate silver trim that decorated his robes, and he was positively bird-like in his posture. Constance shrunk as she eyed the hieroglyphic tattoos on his cheeks.
"Ardeth Bay, this is Miss Constance Adams," Jonathan said, pushing Constance forward by the small of her back.
"Miss Adams," said Ardeth in his low, even tone, sweeping in a bow and holding her hand graciously. "A pleasure. Now if you'll come with me..."
His accent struck her. Well spoken, yet exotic. Constance took a huffing breath, now grabbing Ardeth roughly by the sleeve. "Now listen here, my good man, I have my things here ready to be transported. Now, if you'd kindly get your men to..."
Constance drifted off as the wild looking holy man turned slowly, his look firm, deadly, but gentle all at once.
"There isn't the room," he said, "You may choose two of your bags. Get the porter to store the rest at the station."
Letting her jaw drop, Constance gasped.
"Two?!" she cried, "Two?! Now, now, now!" She tugged at Ardeth's sleeve again. "This just won't do! I don't know how your women live, Mr. Dethbay or whatever, but we modern women need our MODERN comforts!"
"You are in Egypt, Miss Adams," said Ardeth. "There will be time for luxuries when you return home to England."
Constance huffed, looking to her things. "Honestly! There *must* be some room in your car!"
At this, Ardeth just smiled, teeth surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the natives. "Car?"
"Well, yes," said Constance. "Car. Thing with four wheels. Goes vroom!" She mimed the motion of the vehicle requested with a flat hand soaring past her chest.
Ardeth's smile turned to a grin. "This way, Miss Adams."
The desert man turned in a swooping movement, his robes fluttering behind him in his brisk gait. Constance had time to grab the smallest of her bags before stuffing some money into a porter's hands for storage.
"Is it an aeroplane then?" stuttered Constance, "I- I would have liked to have been told about these travel arrangements prior to..."
Her words dragged to nothing as Ardeth stopped in front of the crowded dusty station, and the band of animals tied up to the railing in front of it. Constance paled.
"C-" She choked. "CAMELS?!"
Ardeth nodded silently, striding over to the beasts, Jonathan following him with his own two bags.
"Come on then, Connie," smiled Jonathan, "They're not that bad. Just don't go near the spitting end!"
Ardeth smiled at that before stopping at Constance's ride. "Her name is Hathor," he said, "Named for the Goddess of Destruction. She was the most docile and cooperative camel I could find."
If it were possible, Constance grew more pale. "You don't say."
Jonathan shook his head, "Ardeth, there isn't any such thing as a cooperative camel."
Ardeth cocked a brow. "I said of what I could find... I did not say it was a reasonable beast." Immediately, Ardeth seized the woman by her slim waist, hoisting her up onto the animal. Constance gave a choked shriek, grasping at his hands and glaring at him.
"What in the name of God's green earth do you think you're-"
"Careful, Miss Adams," he said, interrupting her cries, "Legs up."
Looking around her, understanding his purpose in lifting her, she calmed some. She then scrabbled at the seat on the back of the camel, legs flailing, whimpering.
"I can't, Mr. Dethbay!" she cried, "This skirt!"
Sighing, Ardeth sat her sideways on the camel. Her right knee was supposed to wrap around the sizable fabric-wrapped mound at the front of the camel's mounting, to give her stability. Instead her legs jutted off the edge of the camel, parallel, like that of a porcelain doll. "You will slip more often this way."
She swallowed, straightening her hair, and the small veiled hat on top of it. "Really." Ardeth nodded. "Well... I'll just have to manage."
Ardeth sighed. "You don't have any trousers or loose dresses amongst your things?"
Constance straightened. "You ask me about my belongings?"
The desert man nearly rolled his eyes. "It would make things much easier on you."
Tilting her nose up in the air, Constance looked to the horizon. "I have some in my suitcase."
Nodding, Ardeth mounted his own camel with ease, patting the animal. "I suggest when we make camp, you put them on."
~~*~~
Time: 7 pm
Date: November 12th, 1934
Location: Somewhere in the bloody wilderness!!
Today, I rode my first camel. What an experience. Kept slipping off the blasted thing because I couldn’t mount the thing properly. That sandy letch Mr. Dethbay kept laughing at me. Jonathan did too, but he stopped once I glared death at him.
The desert is absolutely abysmal! I wish I never came here! Lord knows what dear Evy sees in this Godforsaken place!
We have no lamps, no modern conveniences! If I want to go relieve myself, I must traipse out into the dunes and risk being bitten by SCORPIONS! The very idea!
It was during one of these trips that I put on my pants, and some more sturdy boots. I look like a man! Not that a woman hasn’t every right to don practical clothing, but I feel ever so unattractive in it.
Either way, Ardeth has turned suddenly stoic, and Jonathan more amourous. He says I look smashing in the 'boyish' clothing. I told him if he continued to look at me in such a way I would strike him.
I will be greatly impressed with my survival skills if I leave this awful country alive!
~~*~~
Hello From Sunny Hamunaptra – Chapter 2