Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Khufu

“Do you think it’s him?”

“We’ll know more once we get the fabric carbon-tested, but I think we’ve found him,” he says, beaming. “Point the flashlight over here, Mortimer; there seems to be an entrance to another room, obstructed by some of the artefacts.”

“Another room? Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m almost certain. And I bet you’re thinking the same thing I am, aren’t you?”

“Please, Hunt, don’t talk to me as if I were one of your pupils. Everyone knows it was said he was buried with all his riches—a massive fortune in gold and jewels—and none of that is here, so…”

“So if this really is Khufu, then a secret room could be where they stored his treasure,” Hunt replies, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“You know they won’t let us take any of it for ourselves, don’t you?”

“If it is what we think it is, let them try and stop us,” he says with a nervous laugh. “Now help me move these effigies and other worthless trinkets; we should be able to make enough room for us to squeeze through.”

It takes the two of them over an hour to carve their way through the assorted figurines, vases, and effigies. Finally, they stand in front of the opening. Hunt turns to Mortimer, and they stare at each other, pride evident in their eyes.

Hunt holds out his hand. “Well, Mortimer, are you ready to be famous?”

Mortimer grabs his hand and shakes it vigorously. “Rich and famous,” he says with a smile. They both make their way down the long, narrow tunnel until it opens out into a large room, where they stand breathless.

“It was all true,” Hunt says, turning to Mortimer. “Every single bloody word!” He yells as he rushes forward, grabbing handfuls of gold coins and tossing them into the air. Mortimer’s torchlight suddenly veers left, then right, and crashes to the ground, leaving Hunt in darkness.

“Mortimer! The light, man, what happened to the goddamn light?” he yells. No reply comes; only a gurgling sound can be heard. He freezes in place, then is knocked to the ground. For several long, agonising moments, he lies there, waiting. Nothing moves, no sounds, not even the gurgling.

“Mortimer?” he whispers as he crawls around in the dark. Finally, after what seems like hours, his hand touches what he believes is the torch. But to his surprise, it’s covered in something thick and sticky. His heart races faster as he fumbles with it nervously, finally managing to switch it on. The light, now a golden red, sends him staggering backwards.

Lying on the floor a few feet away are the twisted, dismembered, bloody remains of Mortimer. Standing above him is what Hunt can only assume is the reanimated corpse of the great Pharaoh Khufu. His well-preserved, dried, decayed lips form a snarl, and his dark, empty eye sockets look towards him. Then it attacks.