The lights had dimmed to level 1—the level they would be at after a run—and once again, DeMeo felt a stab of suspicion.
“Hey, Jayce!” he called out. “Pizza delivery!”
His voice echoed and died away.
“Jayce!”
He descended the staircase, walked down the corridor, and went as far as the bridge over the well before pausing again.
“Jayce! Pizza time!”
He listened while the echoes died away. Lipper wouldn’t have done an initial test run without him: not after all the time they’d put in on the project together. He wasn’t that much of an asshole. He probably had his earphones on, checking the sound track or something. Or maybe he was listening to his iPod—sometimes he did that while working. DeMeo ventured across the bridge and entered their main work area in the Hall of the Chariots.
As he did so, he heard a distant footstep. At least he thought it was a footstep. But it had made an odd thumping sound. It came from deeper within the tomb, probably the burial chamber.
“That you, Jayce?” For the first time, DeMeo felt a creeping sense of alarm. He put the pizzas down on the worktable and took a few steps toward the Hall of Truth and the burial chamber beyond. He could see that it was quite dark—still at level 1 lighting, like the rest of the tomb. He couldn’t see a damn thing, to tell the truth.
He went back to the worktable, looked at the computer. It was fully booted, the software loaded and waiting in standby mode. He moused over to the lighting icon, trying to remember how to raise the light levels. Lipper had done it a hundred times, but he’d never paid much attention. There were some software sliders visible in an open window and he clicked the one labeled Hall of the Chariots.
Christ! The lights dimmed, sending the disquieting Egyptian carvings and stone statuary even further into gloom. He quickly moused the slider in the other direction, and the lights intensified. Then he began brightening the lights in the rest of the tomb.
He heard a thump and turned with a jerk. “Jayce?”
It had definitely come from the burial chamber.
DeMeo laughed. “Hey, Jayce, c’mere. I got the pizzas.”
There was that strange noise again: Draaaag-thump. Draaaag-thump. As if somebody, or some thing, was dragging one limb.
“It sounds just like The Mummy’s Curse. Ha, ha, Jayce—good one!”
No answer.
DeMeo, still chuckling, turned from the computer and strode through the Hall of Truth. He turned his eyes away from the squatting form of Ammut—something about the Egyptian god, the eater of hearts with a crocodile head and lion’s mane, creeped him out even worse than the rest of the tomb.
He paused beyond the door to the burial chamber. “You’re a funny guy, Jayce.”
He waited for Lipper’s laugh, for the sight of his skinny form emerging from behind a pilaster. But there was nothing. The silence was absolute. With a nervous swallow, he ducked inside, peered about the tomb.
Nothing. The other doors leading away from the burial chamber were dark—they weren’t part of the computer lighting scheme. Lipper must be hiding in one of those rooms, preparing to jump out and scare him half to death.
“Hey, Jayce, come on. The pizzas are cold and getting colder.”
The lights suddenly went out.
“Hey!”
DeMeo spun around, but the tomb doglegged at the Hall of Truth and he could not see back into the Hall of the Chariots—nor could he see the comforting blue glow of the LCD screen.
He spun again, hearing the strange, dragging footfalls behind him, moving closer now.
“This isn’t funny, Jay.”
He felt for his flashlight—but of course he wasn’t carrying it; it was back in the chariots hall, on the table. Why couldn’t he see the indirect glow of the LCD? Had the power been cut as well? The darkness was total.
“Look, Jay, cut the crap. I’m serious.”
He shuffled backward in the dark, came up against one of the pillars, began feeling his way around it. The steps drew still closer.
Draaaag-thump. Draaaag-thump.
“Jay, come on. Cut the bullshit.”
Suddenly, from closer than he ever expected, he heard the raspy sound of air escaping from a dry throat. A rattle that was almost a hiss, full of something like hatred.
“Jesus!” DeMeo took a step forward and swiped his heavy fist through the air, striking something that shuffled back with another snakelike hiss.
“Stop it! Stop it!”
He both heard and felt the thing rush at him with a high keening sound. He tried to twist aside but felt, with astonishment, a terrible blow. Searing heat knifed through his chest. With a shriek, he fell backward, clawing at the darkness, and as he hit the ground, he felt something heavy and cold stamp on his throat and bear down with shocking weight. He lashed about with his hands as he heard the bones crackling in his neck and a sudden, dazzling explosion of urine-colored light flashed in his eyes—and then nothing.