Diary of a Mad Mummy Read online

  “The others are always saying the same thing,” Marvin explains. “Pretending they have families to get to. I can’t leave them alone for a minute. They’d try to escape. And I wouldn’t be a very good museum director if I let all my mummies go, would I?”

  What’s he talking about? Are the other mummies alive, too? Is he not going to let you go?

  “You’re an important artifact from ancient Egypt,” he adds. “A major addition to our collection. You’ll understand if I have to keep you under lock and key.”

  He’s carrying you over to a storage locker! A big one in the far corner. He’s putting you in it! Wait a minute. You thought he was going to help!

  You move your hand up and down like mad. Pretending to write. Hoping he’ll give you the pencil and paper again!

  “Don’t worry,” he adds as he swings the locker door shut. “You’ll get to see your family again someday — we’ll send them tickets to the exhibition!”

  THE END

  Consult this page so you can study the map. But turn to PAGE 65.

  These doctors are creeps, you decide. They’re looking at you as if they’ve just won the lottery — and you’re the prize!

  You’ve got to get away from them. You yank your wrist hard. You dash out of the alcove and back onto the sidewalk.

  Luckily, the limousine driver doesn’t seem to notice you. Even with your bandages trailing behind you.

  The doctors chase you, but you manage to slip away from them. You sneak into a side door of the hotel and take the elevator to the fourteenth floor. You rush to the room you share with your family.

  Then you reach for your room key. Your heart starts to pound. Oh, no! You forgot. You’re a mummy! No pockets, no room key.

  You knock on the door. What else can you do?

  You hear footsteps inside the room. Good. Someone’s coming.

  But who?

  You hope it’s your older brother, Derek. He can be a jerk sometimes, but usually the two of you get along.

  You wrap your face back up as best you can and put your hand on your hip — trying to look casual.

  The door swings open.

  When you see who’s there, a scream rises in your throat.

  Who’s at the door? Find out on PAGE 66.

  Before you know it, Derek and your dad rush forward and grab your arms. Roughly, they wrestle you to the floor.

  “No, Dad. It’s me!” you want to scream.

  But it’s Susie who does the screaming. You glance at your mother, hoping that at least she will recognize you. Your own mother!

  But her eyes grow wide with fear. She reaches out and yanks Susie toward her. She hugs your little sister close to protect her. From you!

  You’d never hurt your own sister!

  You struggle to get up, but Derek sits on your legs. Your dad holds your arms.

  You flail around and pull one arm free — just for an instant. With a gauzy finger, you point accusingly at the mummy. Then you point at yourself, tapping your own chest. Then you point back at the mummy again.

  Will they get it? Will your parents see what you’re trying to tell them? That the mummy is not really you? And you aren’t really the mummy?

  For just an instant, they seem to understand.

  Go on to PAGE 102.

  Hey — good for you! You’ve got a great spirit of adventure.

  There’s only one pitfall with that kind of attitude. You never know when you’re going to stumble into something bad.

  Did we say pitfall?

  Did we say stumble?

  You take two more steps and your foot suddenly gets caught in a small crack in the floor. You stumble forward — and fall.

  “Aaahhhhh!” you scream as you find yourself falling.

  Falling … falling … into a pit a hundred feet deep!

  You finally land on the bottom. At least you land on something soft. But then you start to sink.

  Thick warm ooze covers your body, sucking you under. The ooze grows warmer and warmer. Now it’s burning hot, scorching your skin.

  You realize the ooze is tar—burning hot tar!

  You learned about tar pits in school. That’s where archaeologists found the remains of cavemen and dinosaurs. The hot tar coats the body and preserves the bones.

  Congratulations! You’re saved … for the next thousand years at least!

  THE END

  The mummy’s leathery face softens and then fills out. His dried skin becomes fleshy and alive.

  Hey! That’s your face! Not only that, he’s even wearing your clothes!

  Then he turns and runs away.

  Your face and body start to tingle. Something’s happening. Something horrible!

  You grab and claw at the bandages that wrap you tightly. Under the bandages, you can feel your flesh shriveling and drying — as if you’ve been sitting in an oven for four thousand years.

  It’s the bandages, you realize. The bandages are doing something to your skin!

  You notice a loose end of cloth dangling from a long bandage. You yank it and the cloth around your head begins to unwind.

  You have to see what’s happened to you! You race toward the elevators, frantically unwrapping as you go. You gaze into the polished chrome elevator doors.

  No!

  Your heart pounds in terror when you see your reflection.

  Your face! It’s brown and leathery. Your skin is dried and shrunken. Your mouth is a gaping hole.

  You’ve turned into the mummy!

  Turn to PAGE 103.

  No way, you think, shaking your head. This can’t be happening. It isn’t real.

  How can I be in Egypt? you wonder. How?

  Stay calm, you tell yourself over and over. You just came out of the Pyramid Building in San Francisco. In the United States of America. You can’t be in Egypt!

  But you are. You see the pyramids and the camels. You hear the wind blowing across the desert. You feel the sand in your eyes. You can even smell and taste a sweet, flowery fragrance in the air.

  You swallow hard and try to figure out how … why …

  Suddenly, it hits you. The diary. This must have something to do with the mummy’s diary!

  You yank the ancient pages out from under your shirt and open the diary again.

  The words you read just a few minutes ago are gone.

  Instead, the whole diary is filled with symbols and pictures.

  Hieroglyphics!

  Go back to PAGE 60.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Derek says. “It’s weird that the mummy disappeared last night, just like I wrote in the diary. It must be some freaky coincidence.”

  “Yeah,” you agree weakly. “I guess so.”

  But you’re not one hundred percent sure.

  Still, you feel a lot better knowing that it was all a big joke, even if you do feel dumb. At least there isn’t any mad mummy after you, trying to get revenge.

  You do a lot of great things for the rest of your vacation. You ride a cable car, then visit Golden Gate Park. You even take a ferry to Alcatraz, the island prison.

  It isn’t until you get back home that you finally see the headlines in the paper: FBI NABS MUMMY-NAPPERS, RESTORES 4000-YEAR-OLD MUMMY TO SAN FRANCISCO OFFICE BUILDING

  Looks like you weren’t alone in the Pyramid Building that night, after all.

  THE END

  Hey — you’re no fool. You aren’t drinking any lemonade!

  “What’s wrong?” Web says. “Don’t you want to try your lemonade? I’m sure it’s much better now that I’ve sweetened it for you.”

  You shake your head. “I’m not thirsty,” you declare.

  Web Woobly eyes you carefully. Then he puts down the glass. A huge smile spreads across his face.

  “Congratulations,” he says. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a wallet. When he flips it open, you see his ID card.

  “I’m from the FBI,” he explains. “You’ve passed the test. Good job! I’m happy to inform
you that you’ve been chosen to be part of a small team of kids who are going to help us catch international art-treasure thieves.”

  “Huh?” you grunt. You feel totally confused.

  “You passed the test!” Web repeats, gleefully. “You didn’t drink that lemonade, which shows that you have good sense and great instincts. You also have a good head for negotiating for valuable art treasures, I must add.”

  “I do?” you ask. What’s this guy talking about?

  Turn to PAGE 130.

  Finally, all is silent.

  You open your eyes.

  You are all alone, standing on top of Coit Tower. You gaze at the glittering lights of the city below you. You shake your head a few times, trying to clear it.

  Then you feel a hand tap you on the back.

  “Thank you,” a gentle voice says softly.

  You whirl around to find a short, tan-skinned young man standing behind you. He wears an ancient-looking robe, trimmed in purple and gold. On his neck you see a birthmark shaped like a question mark. The birthmark that frightened his people, just as it said in the diary.

  “Are you — were you — the mummy?” you ask him.

  “I am the last great king of Egypt,” he says, smiling shyly. “Thank you for giving me my life.”

  Then, before you can ask him anything else, he turns and vanishes into thin air.

  “Wait!” you call out. “Come back!”

  And then you see him again. At the base of the tower, far below. How did he get there so quickly? you wonder.

  He strolls out into the night. You watch as his brightly-colored robe disappears into the fog.

  Turn to PAGE 124.

  “An appointment?” you say. “Uh, no. But, uh, he’s working for the government. He’s supposed to, you know, check this place out and find out if your ads are true. Like when they say that you can make people look younger. Can you? Because if you can’t, we’ll have to close this place down.”

  “Really?” the receptionist asks nervously. “Oh — well, come on in. I’m sure we can work him in somehow.”

  Soon, the mummy is up to his neck in a bathtub full of green slimy stuff. A body wrap, they call it. It’s supposed to make his skin young and smooth.

  “Whoa!” the young woman spa attendant says to the mummy. “It’s going to take more than a body wrap to get you into shape. Have you been spending a lot of time in the sun or something?”

  “Yes …” the mummy says, wheezing between words. “It’s … very … hot … where … I … come … from.”

  You pace up and down while the mummy has the full spa treatment. Juice drinks, steam facials, mud baths, chemical skin injections, vitamin pills, herbal teas — and a massage to top it all off.

  What are the chances this is going to work? you ask yourself. And what will the mummy do if it doesn’t?

  Get some answers on PAGE 120.

  You and Derek stare at each other in horror.

  “Your … arms!” Derek cries, pointing.

  He’s right. Your arms and legs are shriveling up even more than before. Your skin is becoming harder. Drier. More prunelike. So is his.

  In a matter of minutes, both you and Derek have shrunken so much that your clothes hang on you loosely. They look as if they are three sizes too big.

  And you’re still shrinking.

  Finally, you and your brother are nothing but dust. A strong wind off the bay blows your remains all the way to Egypt. Your dust scatters through the grains of sand in front of an ancient pyramid.

  This adventure has come to a dry, dusty

  END

  “Get out!” Marvin yells at the guards, sending them away.

  He lifts your rotting body out of the mummy case. Gently and carefully.

  He grabs a handful of gauze rolls from a drawer. Then he starts wrapping you up again.

  Yes! you think. The gauze feels cool and clean.

  As soon as the bandages touch your skin, you begin to feel better. More alive! He’s saving you!

  You feel your strength return. You sit up and look Marvin in the eye.

  He doesn’t even flinch! It’s as if he expected you to be alive.

  You move your hand, pretending to write something. And he calmly hands you a pencil and paper.

  “I’m a kid,” you write frantically. “The mummy traded places with me and then escaped. He stole my body! You have to help me. I have to get back to my family.”

  Marvin reads the note over your shoulder and sighs.

  “I know,” he says. “I know.”

  He knows! That’s fantastic! you think. Maybe he knows how to change you back into a kid again!

  Find out what else Marvin knows on PAGE 89.

  You gaze into your mother’s eyes. Please understand, you want to say. Please. It’s me!

  Your mom’s mouth starts to open.

  “Michael?” she whispers to your dad. “I think it’s trying to tell us something.”

  Your dad gazes deeply into your eyes.

  Does he see you in there? Or only empty eye sockets surrounded by horrible, dried, leathery flesh?

  Before your dad can answer, the mummy speaks up.

  “Yeah, he’s telling us something. He’s saying he’s after me!” the mummy cries. “Like I told you!”

  You see a secret twinkle in the mummy’s eye. He knows the truth. He knows he’s stolen your body! He knows he’s telling a huge lie!

  But no one else knows.

  “Call the hotel security,” your father declares. “Better yet, call the police.”

  “Yeah,” the mummy gleefully agrees. “Call the police!”

  Turn to PAGE 80.

  The room spins. You struggle to keep from fainting.

  This can’t be happening!

  But one more look in the chrome-mirrored elevator door convinces you.

  It’s happening.

  You’re a mummy.

  At first, you are too terrified to think. You just stand there in the lobby, stunned.

  Then you hear the sleeping guard start to move.

  Uh-oh. He’s waking up.

  You don’t want to face him — or anyone — looking like this!

  Quickly, you come up with a plan.

  You’ve got to make it back to the hotel. Maybe your family can help. But that means walking through the streets. You’d have to take your chances and hope that no one spots you — a living mummy!

  Then again, you could try to unwrap the horrible mummy bandages right now. Maybe if you get them off, you’ll change back into yourself again. What should you do?

  If you go back to the hotel, turn to PAGE 47.

  If you unwrap yourself, turn to PAGE 115.

  You’d better not try anything. Messing around with a mummy’s spell could backfire.

  The mummy opens the diary and holds it up to the sky.

  “At … last … the … stars … are … right,” the mummy says.

  You glance at the page he’s holding. It’s a map of the stars. Then you gaze up at the sky.

  “He’s right!” you whisper to Derek. “Look! The stars match.”

  “Awesome,” Derek murmurs.

  “In … the … name … of … my … ancestors,” the mummy chants, “I … praise … the … stars … and … all … that … shines … in … the … universe.”

  Then, to your amazement, he pulls a small vial out from under his bandages. It looks like a test tube! Where did that come from? you wonder.

  He rips the page out of the diary. He pours the liquid from the little vial onto the page … and eats it!

  Instantly, you feel that dizzying, spinning motion. The whole world goes black as if you’ve closed your eyes. Then a rushing wind whips your face. Lights — or are they stars? — flash, exploding all around you.

  “Derek!” you cry out. Your ears fill with a horrible wailing. Even if Derek answered, you would never hear it.

  Turn to PAGE 98.

  Give the mummy the diary, or else what? You
are almost too afraid to wonder.

  “The … diary!” the mummy repeats. He shakes you by the throat, making you gag. “I must … have … the … diary’s … magic. That … is … the … only … way … I … can … return … to … life….”

  You feel the mummy’s musty hot breath on your face. It wheezes out between his hard, thin lips. Finally he lets go of your throat. You lurch away from him, but he clutches you tightly by your arm.

  He’s got some grip for a little dead guy!

  “Give him the diary!” you croak. You rub your sore throat with your free hand.

  “No way,” Derek says. “We can’t do that.”

  “Why not? Are you nuts?” you yell. Then you glance toward your parents’ bedroom door. “MOM! DAD!” you shout.

  From behind their door, you hear your mother’s sleepy voice calling back. “Go to sleep. You kids are going to be a wreck in the morning if you don’t settle down.”

  “But, Mom!” you holler.

  “Not another word!” she calls back. “Now, good night!”

  From her tone, you know she means it.

  You’re on your own.

  The mummy tightens his grip on your arm.

  Turn to PAGE 110.

  You turn and dash away. You race across the desert sands.

  You don’t trust either of these guys. Why should you? They’re trying to take the mummy’s diary away from you. The strange diary that magically changed from English to hieroglyphics.

  Sand blows in your face as you leave the Great Pyramid far behind. Who cares? You’ll eat sand, if you have to. All you want is to get out of here alive.

  You try not to let the feeling of cold fear rise into your throat. You swallow hard, choking it back down.

  How am I going to get home? you wonder.

  And how could the diary change like that?