نفرین آرامگاه مومیایی فصل 8

The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb - Chapter 8

Ahmed stopped a few feet in front of us. He was panting like a dog, gasping for air, and holding his side. He glared at us angrily.

Sari glanced at me. She looked pale, really frightened. We both had our backs pressed against the wall.

I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight and dry.

What was he going to do to us?

“Why did you run?” Ahmed finally managed to say, still holding his side as if he had a cramp. “Why?” We didn’t reply. We both stared back at him, waiting to see what he was about to do.

“I came with a message from your father,” he told Sari, breathing hard. He raised the red bandanna from his neck and wiped his perspiring forehead with it. “Why did you run?” “A message?” Sari stammered.

“Yes,” Ahmed said. “You know me. We met again yesterday. I don’t understand why you ran.” “I’m sorry,” Sari said quickly, glancing guiltily at me.

“We weren’t thinking clearly,” I said. “Sari frightened me, and I followed her.”

“Gabe was telling me all this frightening stuff,” she said, jabbing me hard in the side with her elbow. “It was his fault. He scared me with all this mummy stuff. So when I saw you, I wasn’t thinking clearly, and…” Both of us were babbling. We both felt so relieved that he wasn’t chasing us—and so embarrassed that we had run away from him.

“Your father sent me to get you,” Ahmed said, his dark eyes trained on me. “I didn’t think I’d have to chase you through the whole museum.” “Sorry,” Sari and I said in unison.

I felt like a complete jerk. I’m sure Sari did, too.

“Daddy came back to the hotel and saw Gabe’s note?” Sari asked, straightening her hair with her hand as she moved away from the wall.

“Yes.” Ahmed nodded.

“He got back from the hospital awfully fast,” Sari said, glancing at her wrist watch.

“Yes,” Ahmed replied again. “Come. I will take you back to the hotel. He is waiting for you there.” We followed him in silence, Sari and I walking side by side a few steps behind him.

As we made our way down the long stairway, we glanced sheepishly at each other. We were both feeling really foolish for running away like that.

A short while later, we were back on the crowded, noisy sidewalk, an unending stream of cars honking past, all moving in starts and stops, drivers hanging out of car windows, shouting and shaking their fists.

Ahmed checked to make sure we were with him, then turned right and began leading the way through the crowd. The sun was high over the buildings now. The air was hot and humid.

“Hey, wait—” I called.

Ahmed turned back, but kept walking.

“We’re going the wrong way,” I called to him, shouting over the cries of a street peddler behind a cart of vegetables. “The hotel is back that way.” I pointed.

Ahmed shook his head. “My car is just up there.”

“We’re driving back to the hotel?” Sari asked, her voice revealing her surprise.

“It’s only two blocks,” I said to Ahmed. “Sari and I could walk back by ourselves if you want. You really don’t have to take us.” “It is no trouble,” Ahmed replied, and he placed his hands firmly, one on my shoulder, one on Sari’s, and continued to guide us to his car.

We crossed the street and continued walking. The sidewalk grew even more crowded. A man swinging a leather briefcase accidentally clipped my shoulder with it. I cried out in pain.

Sari laughed.

“You have a great sense of humor,” I muttered sarcastically.

“I know,” she replied.

“If we’d walked, we would have been at the hotel already,” I said.

Ahmed must have overheard, because he said, “The car’s in the next block.”

We made our way quickly through the crowds. A short while later, Ahmed stopped at a small, four-door station wagon. It was covered with dust, and the fender on the driver’s side was crunched.

He pulled open the back door, and Sari and I piled in. “Ow,” I complained. The leather seats were burning hot.

“The wheel is hot, too,” Ahmed said, climbing in and fastening his seat belt. He touched the steering wheel a few times with both hands, trying to get used to the heat. “They should invent a car that stays cool inside when it is parked.” The engine started on the second try, and he pulled away from the curb and into the line of traffic.

Immediately, he began honking the horn at the car in front of us. We moved slowly, stopping every few seconds, through the narrow street.

“I wonder why Daddy didn’t come to get us,” Sari said to me, her eyes on the crowds passing by the dusty car window.

“He said he would wait for you at the hotel,” Ahmed replied from the front seat.

He made a sudden sharp turn onto a wider avenue and began to pick up speed.

It took me a long while to realize that we were heading in the wrong direction—away from our hotel. “Uh… Ahmed… I think the hotel is back that way,” I said, pointing toward the back window.

“I believe you are mistaken,” he replied softly, staring straight ahead through the windshield. “We will be there shortly.” “No. Really,” I insisted.

One thing about me is I have a really good sense of direction. Mom and Dad always say they don’t need a map when I’m around. I almost always know when I’m heading the wrong way.

Sari turned to glance at me, an expression of concern beginning to tighten her features.

“Settle back and enjoy the ride,” Ahmed said, staring at me through the rearview mirror. “Have you fastened your seat belts? Better do it right now.” He had a smile on his face, but his voice was cold. His words sounded like a threat.

“Ahmed, we’ve gone too far,” I insisted, starting to feel really afraid.

Outside the window, the buildings were lower, more rundown. We seemed to be heading away from the downtown area.

“Just settle back,” he replied with growing impatience. “I know where I’m going.”

Sari and I exchanged glances. She looked as worried as I did. We both realized that Ahmed was lying to us. He wasn’t taking us to the hotel. He was taking us out of town.

We were being kidnapped.