No way am I that crazy.
“ ‘Touch me, Roosa. You will see I’m real enough.’
Touch him? Is he as crazy as I am? Okay, so I’m going to touch him, just for my own peace of mind.
I reach out my hand, fingers extended, trying to reach him but not move from the wall. A crooked smile appears on his face. He takes a couple of steps forward, reaches out and touches me.
Lightning heat shoots out from him, races up my arm, switches direction and dives into my stomach. I snatch my hand back and grab my belly with both hands. The burning sensation knocks my knees out from under me. I slump to the floor, still leaning on the wall. The room spins, and my head swims. Tears mixed with stars blur my vision so there is no focusing. Not enough air in here; my chest tightens as if the lungs inside are ready to explode.”
A shout from behind makes me turn. Tut is running after me, but it is not his voice that ignites the terror in my heart. It is mine screaming to hold on to life.
“No. No. NO!”
The force of the explosion flings me through the air like a rag doll. By the time I pick my head up a dense cloud of dust engulfs me. Too late I cover my face.
I’m choking, can’t breathe, can’t see! I’m dying!
Arms encircle my chest pulling me backwards. My legs scrape painfully across the debris- covered granite floor. Another pair of arms lifts my legs. Floating. That’s what it’s like. Dying is like floating on air.
My body touches solid ground. Voices, whispers really, penetrate my clogged brain. I hope this is heaven.
Without warning, I start coughing and gagging. My brain screams at me. “Fight! Breathe!”
The Queen Speaks
No way! “Hey, Tut. This sphinx still has its nose. This isn’t The Sphinx.”
“What are you saying, Roosa? Come and help me clear the sand away from the stele.” “I said, this isn’t The Sphinx. It still has its nose.”
“Of course, it has a nose. That’s the way it was made.”
“No. You don’t understand,” I protest. “The Sphinx in my time has no nose. It’s been broken off for centuries.”
Tut casts me a perplexed look. A tingling sensation goes through me like when you touch your tongue to the two terminals of a battery. “Come, Roosa. We need to unbury the stele.”
I follow blindly, still looking at the undamaged face of the Sphinx. It’s definitely more striking to see it in one piece.
“People have always wondered what happened to it,” I say more to myself than to Tut. “Guess I won’t find out now.”
It is only as I help Tut scoop the sand away from the top edge of the stele that I realize the sand has drifted and blown all around the Sphinx, burying it up to its neck in places. No wonder it appears smaller.
“The desert always reclaims its own, even mighty Pharaohs.”
I jerk my head up searching for the voice. I glance at Tut, but he continues to dig.
My hands wrap themselves around my stomach. The nausea’s coming back. It is her. It is Ankhesenamun.
“It is all right, Rosa. Here in my homeland I find communication easier for short moments.”
Tut stops digging, his eyes glued on me. “Please, Rosa. Show him I still love and support him.”
Confused, I start to question her, but like an avalanche, the answer bursts into my mind.
The picture at home in my room. The two of them. Her longing sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. Unable to do anything else, I nod ever so slightly. Then, with Tut’s expression still questioning, I reach out and touch him as she does in the picture. Energy flows down my arm into my fingertips. Tut grips my hand and presses it to his heart.