Cursed Times - Only Yesterday! Sequel to Wattys 2015 winner!

Chapter 28: Metjen - Night at the Museum Part 1

Metjen leaned on the ornamental balustrade and contemplated the objects littering the ground floor. Backlit by floodlight from the outside, confusing shadows criss-crossed the collection of statues and sarcophagi crammed into the atrium. As expected, he did not sense anybody nearby and the little cameras of the alarm system were blind. Any rustling or creaking in the corridors was due to the stresses and strains of an old building settling for the night, not resident rodents, guards--or animated exhibits roaming the museum.

Observing the relics of the past made him wonder what the denizens of the 21st century would think--or do--if they knew that somewhere far away it was indeed only yesterday. And that nothing but a defective portal stood between them, another world and a new beginning. Or the final countdown.

Their ancestors had cheated. Had called in the dark hordes and left this world to its own devices. Only the so-called civilisations had counted. Not all those people out there. In the wastelands, the jungles, the steppes of the East. You had either been in on the ruse--or out there with the demons.

Out here.

Metjen sighed.

Already his stint in the past felt like a fever dream and he found himself back in the harsh reality he had been born into. All things considered, mankind in this world had done astonishingly well. Still, this version of Earth was a festering wound, crawling with demons that would like nothing better than to worm their way into Kemet as well.

And this was not the end of it. The darkness was spreading, not only on their planet, it was winning everywhere, Ra had said. And he, Metjen, was to lead the forces of the light in yet another battle to end them all. Not on his own, though. That would have been too easy.

Why me? Metjen thought as he strode along the open corridor towards the Tutankhamun exhibits.

The showcase at the far end of the room held the collection of walking sticks. Metjen had known what he would find, but his father had insisted that he verified things were still as they should be. This was indeed the case; he found the same selection which had been gathering dust for years. His all time favourite was the staff in gilded bronze, its handle decorated with the joined torsos of two bound foreigners. When the clubfooted king had gone for a walk, he would have supported himself on the bodies of his enemies.

As beautiful as the piece was, it projected the prejudices of its time. Also, it was not what they were looking for. The object of their desire was either hidden in one of the boxes Seisi was still mind-hefting around in the cellar or Howard Carter had smuggled it out of the country a long time ago.

Carter's triple-great grandson, Francis, had been a trainee archaeologist at the Al-Nour excavation. While Carter junior had been nothing more than a general nuisance, he had idolised Metjen's father. Their only hope was that the guy could be convinced to let his erstwhile professor rummage through some of the family's treasures. If need be, with a mind-nudge from Metjen.

Unless they discovered something downstairs, the next stop in their journey would be Britain. On the other hand, having to travel to the UK would allow him to keep closer tabs on Trueth once she set off on her quest. He still was not convinced it was a good idea to let her go, not after the demons had flexed their muscles.

If only he was able to discern the possible futures, he would have a much better idea of what to do. The strands with myriads of possibilities were right there, spread out in front of his mind like a glittery cable tree reaching all the way into the universe. But every time he tried to focus on one string, it slipped away as if greased. All he got was flickering images. With demons showing in far too many of them.