Reincarnated

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Day 1.

I scream and bolt from the room.

My heart races as I fly down the corridor, beating so erratically that it feels like it's going to rip through my chest. I refuse to let myself look back over my shoulder as I skid to a stop in front of the elevator and repeatedly press the down arrow, terrified out of my mind that I'll see the mummy chasing after me. A loud ding tears through the unearthly silence. I trip over my own feet in my haste to get into the elevator, breathing a sigh of relief as the doors close. I lean against the handrail, giddiness hitting me as the adrenaline coursing through my veins reaches my brain. Hysterical giggles bubble up through my lips.

I just woke up a mummy.

I am hiding in an elevator from the mummy my father has been obsessed with for his entire life.

A real-life, breathing the same air as me, chasing me down a hallway, mummy.

A realisation hits me at the same time that the elevator chimes.

My father is going to murder me. I woke up his mummy.

The doors open. The mummy stares straight at me.

"Kasiya!" The mummy shuffles forward. "Ne fuis pas!"

I jump so high that I just about knock myself out on the lights suspended from the elevator roof. Holding a hand to my racing heart, I gawk at the figure in front of me, my eyes wide. My hand slowly rises up to point, my voice shaking with terror. "Live mummy. Live mummy. Live mummy!"

"Arrête s'il-te-plaît!" He holds up his hands, pleading with his eyes. "Écoute moi. Je ne suis pas un cadavre."

"Stop speaking French!" I yell, leaping forward and pushing every single elevator button I possibly can in hysterical succession. After an eternity, the elevator finally obeys, the doors closing before the mummy has a chance to pull his arms free. A horrible crunching sound fills the elevator, and before I know it, there are two severed arms lying in a bloody pool at my feet. I scream again, pressing myself hard up against the wall as I stare at them in abject horror. "Arms. There are bloody arms at my feet. I just chopped the arms off a live mummy. What is happening?!"

Nobody answers me. Instead, the doors chime for what feels like the fiftieth time, sliding open to reveal the empty landing of the first floor. I don't hesitate, tripping over my own feet as I flee from the museum as fast as I can, determined to put as much distance between myself and the museum before all the exhibits start coming to life.

I almost make it, too. I'm halfway down the staircase when I see a flicker of a shadow out of the corner of my eye. Before I can blink, the mummy appears again, standing halfway between me and the door. I yelp, my feet rooting me to the spot as my entire body abruptly stiffens.

"How are you doing that?" I gasp, bunching my fingers into fists as I gesture wildly. The mummy regards me in a golden-brown gaze, his hands hanging limply by his sides. My eyes bug out of their sockets. "How do you have hands?! The elevator sliced them off like a guillotine! They were a bloody pool on the floor! How do you have hands? How are you doing that? How are you alive?!"

The mummy sighs, a look of exasperation twisting up his features. "Kasiya s'il vous plaît, je—"

"Why do you keep saying that? What is 'Kasiya'?" I exclaim, on the verge of hysterics. "And why do you keep speaking French? That doesn't make sense! Historically, or just... historically!" I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. "This is crazy. I am asking — no, yelling — at a mummy about the fact that he is speaking French. I don't understand why I'm getting caught up on the fact that there is a mummy standing in front of me speaking French, when I should really be freaking out about the fact that there is a mummy in front of me speaking French—"