The Strange Treasures of Gramma Zulov: The Map of Ptah - Book II

It’s been three years since the adventure with the Sibylline books. This time Willie digs deep into the old trunk of treasures his great grandmother left in her attic and finds an old and strange Egyptian map. Uncertain where the map is leading him, Willie follows its siren call to try to uncover its secrets. But this journey takes him to Cairo with its mysterious Egyptian pyramids and subterranean caverns below the Great Sphinx. There Willie and his new friend Shannon find themselves trapped in a lost world – one with an ancient civilization long thought to have vanished from Earth thousands of years ago.

*****

THE STRANGE TREASURES OF GRAMMA ZULOV

THE MAP OF PTAH

PART I MISSION TWO

CH 1 The Creature

Flash-forward …

Do you know what kind of creature it is? Djet asked, looking at the sub's screen.

The crew member probably didn’t appreciate the interruption, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he replied rather dryly,

No sir.

Have you ever encountered anything like this? Anything that big? Raya asked the first mate.

Without looking at her, Djet answered, No, I can’t say that I have, although I’ve heard tales of them.

What do you think it is?

We think it’s either a Mama Basilos or … He hesitated.

Or what?

… a Noth Croc, but I’m not sure.

What is that?

Djet finally turned around, slowly and measuredly, standing and facing her without expression. I don’t think it would be helpful if we told you, he began.

Let’s hear it anyway, Raya said, frankly.

The Noth Croc is aggressive. It’s got a long, crocodile-like snout, fins, and a powerful tail. Whether it eats us whole or hits us hard enough with its tail to crush the hull, we’re finished. Does that tell you what you need to know? said Djet.

What are going to do? asked Raya, nervously twitching.

The first mate swiveled back to his original position, fiddling with the dials and watching the circular screen in the center of his console. We'll do what the captain orders, he answered.

It was only moments later when another large, ovular specter appeared on the crewman’s screen. Raya listened as the crewman’s breathing hesitated and then stopped when he saw the image take over nearly all of the visible area on the screen.

Lieutenant, the crewmember said, beginning to panic, there’s something you should see.

After seeing the huge spot on the screen, Djet immediately reached over and grabbed the support on the back of the chair. Oh, my god, he said, his voice faltering.

What is it now? asked Raya, her eyes staring with near hysteria at what was unfolding.

Djet just closed his eyes and shook his head. I ... I ... he began, but then went silent.

It was Calgor who spoke the cold words. We're doomed, he said. We're most certainly doomed.

*****

CH 2 A Digitized Vision

Chicago 2031

I

t had been three years since his Gramma Zulov had passed away. Willie was now sixteen, growing into a young man whose inquisitiveness as a child was still very much with him. After her death, he had stumbled upon some old books in his great grandmother’s attic – strange texts she had gotten through a series of convoluted events earlier in her life. It had been her ghost, he had said, that had led him to a Pandora’s box of murder and intrigue. It had created a vortex into which they and almost everyone else -- from an aging cowboy to a president of the United States – had fallen.

But things had calmed since then. Willie, his mother Raya, and his older brother Daniel, had been rewarded for their bravery and involvement in helping save the country from falling under the control of a Machiavellian dictator. Both Willie and Daniel had received full scholarships to college while Raya had gotten a position with the Smithsonian Institute as an associate curator. They had moved to Washington, D.C. for Raya’s new job and for her to be closer to Jack Morris, a life-long friend whose relationship with her had grown during those months. As for the boys, Daniel had entered Georgetown University as a freshman while Willie had acclimated to life in the nation’s capital and was now finishing his sophomore year at a local high school.

Together, they lived in a small bungalow house in the District of Columbia, just south of the border with Maryland. It was an old neighborhood with mostly 1930s-ish colonial homes that had been enlarged by wealthier owners. Lining the avenues were tall elms and black oaks filled with cardinals, robins and an occasional red-winged blackbird. The family lived on a street called Brandywine, named after the Revolutionary War battle between generals Washington and Howe in 1777. It was a quiet area and only five miles from downtown where the White House, Capitol building and other government establishments could be found.

During the intervening years, a new president had been elected, largely due to the actions taken by Willie, Daniel, Raya, and her friend Jack Morris. Virginia Ross had been the running mate of then-senator Jose Martinez who had been assassinated just prior to the election. Governor Ross had been selected by her party to continue on and had won the general election despite election manipulations by the despicable, former vice president Jay Gould.

On this day -- a warm, mild spring afternoon in late April -- all Willie could think about was getting home from baseball practice. His high school team was one of the best in the area even though he, himself, was a bencher. He loved the game, and his teammates loved him. The fact that he would never make the major leagues bothered neither him nor his mother. She was just happy that he had found something that made him happy.

Mom! I’m home, Willie yelled, coming in the side door to the house. The screen smacked shut from the stiff spring that kept vigilant guard against the bugs trying to sneak inside. Mom?

I’m upstairs, came his mother’s voice, echoing through the hallway and into the kitchen. I’ll be down in a minute.

Willie opened the refrigerator and grabbed the half-gallon of fat-free milk, looking both ways before opening it and gulping directly from the spout. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and put the container back on the clean, glass tray. Then, he went to the pantry to get some chocolate chip cookies from the white, porcelain, jug-shaped cookie jar they’d had in the family for generations. Just as he was about to pop one in his mouth, his mother opened the pantry door.

Willie, come on! I’m going to have dinner ready in a few minutes. Knock off the sweets, will you, she said, reprimanding him.

Willie put the other four cookies back in the jar and hoisted it back on the shelf from where it had come.

How was school? his mother asked, turning on the overhead fan that sucked the smoke from whatever was simmering on the stove.

Fine, he said, as he tossed his backpack onto the breakfast table. The satchel wasn’t large or heavy. It had been years since students carried actual textbooks. Everything was digitized, and either portable data drives or the ubiquitous Internet were all that were needed.

Raya waited for something more from him, but after four years of high school with her elder son Daniel and nearly four with her younger son Willie, she knew little more would be volunteered unless she reconvened the Spanish Inquisition – and even that would likely prove futile.

So how was the math test today? I know you were worried about it, she asked, adding some basil to the pot of tomato sauce on the stove.

Fine, Willie said again, this time pulling out his data phone and opening video messages he’d gotten while he was at practice.

Raya turned to him still holding the wooden spoon in her hand, Willie, can you put that thing down just for a second and talk to me? I really want to know how your day went.

Willie finished sending off a message and tossed his phone down, annoyed at the interruption. I said everything was fine. What more do you need to know? His face was red and cherubic from the exercise he’d gotten on the baseball diamond. Yet, his attention span had improved little since then.

I asked you how your math test was?

It was hard. It’s all about sines, cosines, tangents and stuff. I think I did alright, but there were a couple of problems that stumped me. I’m just not a math wizard. You know that.

"You’re not bad at math, Willie. It’s in your head. You may not like it, but you’re not bad at it. Anyway, you probably did better than you think."

I hope so, he answered. Now, can I go upstairs and take my shower?

You didn’t get one at the high school?

No, the water heater’s broken, so everything was cold. I thought I’d wait until I got home.

Okay, Raya answered. Dinner will be ready in a few.

Willie scampered up the stairs and into this room, throwing his wet, smelly baseball uniform down on the carpeting and grabbing a towel for his shower. There were only two full baths in the house, and before Daniel had gone off to school, he had shared one with him. His mother had gotten the larger bedroom upstairs which had its own bathroom.

After dinner, Willie slotted the data stick into his computer and turned it on. His mother was in the other room -- a study she had turned into her private office --working on a new collection of artifacts that were coming to the museum from Eastern Europe. Willie’s screen came up with the usual security questions, and he entered each one dutifully as he had during each of his three years at the school.

Access denied, his computer told him in an angry voice.

Crap! he said. So, he tried again.

Access denied. Please check your user name and password, said the computer.

What? What’s wrong with this thing?" he mumbled to himself. Once again, he tried, and once again he got the same response. If you are having problems logging onto this computer, please see your school administrator, came the message.

There’s nothing wrong with my logging in, he thought, growing more frustrated. It’s you who are the problem … not me!

As he began re-entering his security information a third time, the computer changed to a black, blank screen. Then, a blurry image began to emerge. What the heck is going on? he asked himself. But he continued to watch, fixated on the picture that was growing clearer by the second. From the swirls of meaningless color came an image of an older lady, and as it sharpened, Willie realized who it was.

Gramma? he said out loud, pushing back his chair and almost falling over stepping away from the table.

Don’t be afraid Willie. Yes, it’s me.

Gramma, what … what are you doing in my computer? Willie asked, thinking how absurd that sounded.

His great grandmother appeared to laugh, but there was no sound from her chortle coming out of the computer speakers. Willie, you never change, and you never will – which is a good thing.

What do you mean?

Oh, never mind about that now. It’s important that you undertake your next mission, she said, her features translucent and wispy. Yet, Willie thought he saw a sparkle in her eyes as she looked upon him, an expression of approval and pride.

Mission? You mean like the last one – the one with the books? asked Willie.

Yes, like the one with the books. You did well with that one – very well, in fact. I am so proud of you, Willie. You have made me and our family very proud of you.

Willie glanced over his shoulder to see if his mother were hovering nearby. She’d not believed him the last time he said he’d seen his great grandmother in the attic after she had died, and he knew she wouldn’t be any more accepting now.

But Gramma that was three years ago. I’m all grown-up now. I don’t have time for silly missions anymore. I’ve got schoolwork and baseball practice and all kinds of things I have to do.

You never used to think being an agent was silly, she answered, her face long and drawn, no longer smiling at him.

Well, that was when I was just a kid. I know better now. The days of spies and agents are over, I think. At least you don’t hear about them much.

That’s true; you don’t, said his gramma. But that doesn’t mean they’re not around anymore. Quite the contrary. They are more active than ever. It’s just that they are harder to find than they used to be.

Willie thought about this a moment. Yeah, maybe you’re right, he answered.

I know I’m right, said Gramma. I know a lot of things being on this side of the divide.

What is your divide, Gramma? What does it look like from there? asked Willie, always full of questions.

The divide that separates your world from mine is hard to describe, dear grandson. It would be hard for you to understand, so don’t try. What’s important is the next mission.

But like I said, I don’t want another mission.

Alright, then we’ll call it something else. How about a school assignment?

No, that’s worse. We’ll just say it’s a project of mine. How’s that? he asked.

Gramma Zulov smiled. I like it, she answered. Now, there is something important that I have to tell you. Just like the last time when you had all those books to take care of for me – this time you have to make sure the other treasures that I stored in my attic don’t get taken by others. You and your brother were smart enough to find them under the floorboards in the old house - in that trunk. Now, it’s your responsibility to make sure they don’t fall into the wrong hands. There are those people who would use them to harm the world rather than help it. I always worried about having those in my possession, and now I worry even more. Willie, she started, pausing between thoughts, You need to safeguard them; otherwise, what almost happened with my books could happen with my other treasures. There are evil people out there – like Cowboy. Someone like that could get a hold of those things and, well … Gramma drifted off, her spirit seeming to fade. Do you understand?

Uh, yeah, I think so.

Good. You’ll need to be strong, you know, she said, giving him a smile. Now, go to the trunk. You’ll find a rolled-up piece of old parchment. It's like thick paper, except it's made from animal skins.

What am I supposed to do with that?

You’ll know, Willie. But what you really need to remember is what your old Uncle Thoth said about it when he saw it.

My uncle who?

Your Uncle Thoth, he’s the one …

Just then, there was a static surge over the computer line and the image began jumping across the screen.

Gramma?

The image continued to come in and out of focus until it finally disappeared altogether, leaving an empty black background.

Crap! said Willie. It was the second time that had happened while talking to his Gramma and just when she was about to tell him something important.

Willie got up from the table and went to Danny’s bedroom, kneeling next to the bed and pulling something out from under it – a box with big block letters printed on it: IMPORTANT STUFF. It was the same trunk they had hauled back from their Gramma’s attic after he'd finished his last mission.

Willie pushed aside the vials of liquid and other strange things wrapped in newspaper until he got to a tattered, brown piece of what looked like paper. It was rolled up and cinched by two thick, brown, pieces of twin tied in a perfect, square knot. He turned it over several times, noticing the two thick bands that encircled it and held it shut.

Setting aside his worries, Willie untied the two knots and lifted off the girding bands to open the roll. The rough parchment was yellowed and stained -- quite unlike the thinly sliced pieces of paper he had found in the Sibylline books that were also part of Gramma’s odd collection.

Carefully, he unrolled the parchment until it was flat and whole. Looking down, he wondered what it could be. On the surface were the sketched outlines of lands and seas, but they weren’t the shapes or forms of any bodies he was familiar with. So, he turned it upside down for a better view. Still, nothing jumped out at him. There was no writing on the map -- merely lines, squares, free-flowing marks, upside-down triangles, circles and Xs. He first thought was that the X might mark the spot of a treasure of some kind, but when he spotted more of them on the page, he realized that couldn’t be right. In the corner, he noticed a strange figure – the side-view of a human with the head of a bird, wearing a blue headdress. Instead of a mouth, the bird had a long beak that was very pointed.

Willie? Will you go to the grocery store and pick-up some milk? I forgot to get it today when I was there, asked his mom, yelling from the kitchen.

Looking back at his computer, he saw the screen hadn't changed - it was still blank. So, he rolled up the map, tied it with the cord and threw it back in the trunk.

Uh, yeah, Mom. Sure, he replied. But, Willie couldn’t stop thinking about the parchment – that strange piece of yellowed paper. Instead of pushing the trunk back under his bed, he reopened it and pulled out the sheet.

What? he thought, shocked at what he now saw. What happened?

To his amazement, the page was now blank. There was nothing on it – absolutely nothing! He turned the parchment over, thinking maybe he had opened it to the wrong side, but it too was blank - without any markings. This can’t be, he thought, it was full of symbols and lines a minute ago! They can’t have just disappeared!

Willie, are you going to go to the store or not? his mom asked again, exasperation flowing with every word.

Yeah, Mom. Just give me a minute!

There’s something going on here, Willie thought. It’s like those damned books. Something about this is just not . . . well . . . normal.

He returned the roll to its home in the trunk and ran downstairs to go get milk for his mom. But the rest of the evening he couldn’t help but think about it. There was an energy – a spirit – about them. Like the books which had only revealed their secrets as they came into the possession of a new master -- these were the same way! Still, he reminded himself that he shouldn’t get caught up in his Gramma’s trove of stuff, as he had the last time. No, this time would be different, he thought. He would resist the temptation to glom onto another of his Gramma’s crazy schemes. Not again!

The days passed, but instead of forgetting about the map and its blank page, Willie only thought more about it – thoughts that weren’t going away. Instead, the map’s power seemed to be growing stronger over him.

It was late in the afternoon – a Saturday afternoon – and Willie had come home from a baseball game. He was tired and although his team had won, the coach had not played him. He was happy for the team, but wished he could offer more than just being a bench-warmer. Lying on the bed, his thoughts turned to the treasure that was resting securely below him, under the bedframe. If I just take another peak, he thought. Against his better judgment, he flipped his head over the side of the bed and pulled out the rolled piece of parchment.

Unrolling it, he flattened it, laying it out in full view in front of him. Why am I doing this, he thought, then catching himself. There isn’t going to be anything on it. But this time, he noticed faint images of humans with animals, or things that looked like -animals on its surface. Willie squinted. No, I think they’re humans with animal heads or something. But each time Willie looked at them, they seemed to change. Sometimes they were animal-like, sometimes human-like, and yet other times they were even more strange-looking -- like creatures he saw on the UFO channel late at night.

Willie figured his Gramma would make sure he would understand it. She had the last time, anyway -- all in good time, as she would say. He both looked forward to that and feared it at the same time. He could feel this new mission from his Gramma was fast approaching, but he wasn’t sure he would be ready for it.

*****

CH 3 Russian Class

The days passed, and Willie continued to think about the relic in his room. Even though school was keeping him busy -- what with his honors classes, debate club, drama club, baseball, and Russian club -- he couldn’t get the growing mystery of the map off his mind. When he wasn’t pondering the map, he was focused on the one class, besides math, in which he struggled – Russian. He took a keen interest in learning the language, but was finding that language – any foreign language – was not his forte. He had started with Latin at the urging of his mother but found it difficult and not as fun as other languages at school. Instead, he signed up for Russian, under the tutelage of Yury Gurov. There were only eight in his class, but it excited him. Willie’s nickname was Vladimir, yet he told everyone they could call him Vlad for short, like the infamous fifteenth century ruler Vlad III of Wallachia, later nicknamed Vlad the Impaler who was immortalized by Bram Stoker in his 1897 novel, Count Dracula. The history and culture of this old and history-rich country connected with him like nothing else.

But his interest in Russian was also not hurt by the fact that Natalya was in his class. Her real name was Shannon Evans. She was the prettiest girl in the school by far, and she pulled on the heart strings of most red-blooded males who walked the hallways. Friendly, smart, gregarious, outgoing, and empathetic, Shannon was adored by both sides of the aisle – the girls and the boys. There was no one in the school she wouldn’t talk to and no one who wouldn’t talk to her.

With a cherub face framed with blonde curls and blue eyes that blazed like sapphires, Shannon and her full lips called out Kiss me! Kiss me! Indeed, she was what the boys dreamed about at night, and Willie was not immune. He had noticed her since the early days of middle school. Planning his route carefully through the corridors and staircases, he managed to pass by her three or four times each day. His heart raced as he walked passed her, hoping she might glance over to him, but she never did. He was one of many admirers at the school, and although she was nice to all, he was just another face in the crowd.

But it was Willie’s sophomore year, and his desk in Russian class was right next to hers, which made the class that much more interesting; it also made it harder for him to concentrate. Yet, he was determined to get a good grade in the class to show Shannon, or rather Natalya, that he was smart. At first, he had hoped to persuade her that he could help her with her Russian homework when she needed it. However, soon it became clear that she was the one who more often assisted him. In the end, he didn't mind; the result was the same.

And now get out your workbooks, instructed Gurov, flipping open his laptop. Click to page twenty-four, and …

Willie sat unmoving, glancing over at Shannon who was busy trying to find her workbook on her computer. She was having problems finding the icon, and Willie leaned over toward her. He could feel the sexual tension as he began to open his mouth. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyelashes, long and curled, and her teeth, ivory white – all pieces of perfection.

Do you need help, Natalya? Willie asked her in a whisper.

Shannon smiled at him, melting his heart. No, I think I … she fumbled around for a few more seconds and then said, Yeah, do you know which one it is?

Willie pointed to an icon on the screen and touched it, changing her screen to the workbook page for which she was looking. Thanks, she said, her voice soft and genial.

Vlad? What is the present progressive tense of the verb in number twelve?

Willie looked up, surprised to hear his name. Uh, excuse me?

"Skazhi eto po-russki," said the teacher, telling Willie to say it in Russian.

Willie winced. Then, he said "Chto vy skazali?

"Vlad, you need to pay more attention in class. Itak, ya povtoryus'. What is the present progressive tense for the verb in number twelve?" asked the teacher again.

"It’s govorit, said Natalya, meaning, she is speaking."

Yes, that’s right, answered Gurov, looking askance at Willie, who slunk down in his seat. Now, let’s turn to page two seventy-five … continued the teacher, moving on to the next section.

Thanks, said Willie, turning to his desk neighbor.

She smiled at him. No, thank you for finding the page for me. It’s the least I could do.

It was the first moment he’d felt a real connection to Shannon, and it made him feel good. He smiled inside. It was worth every moment of the embarrassment in class, he thought.

But after the bell rang, his new friend disappeared out the door and down the hallway to her next class. Her effortless manner made him sure that their brief encounter had meant much more to him that it had to her. He knew that, and yet it still didn’t matter. She was a goddess, he concluded, perfect in every way. There was nothing that could or would convince him otherwise.

Even with the magical moment, Willie did not have another chance to talk with Shannon for another week. Their class only met twice -- on Tuesdays and Thursdays -- and Shannon had been sick on the following Thursday. Willie had sent her a message and given her his notes from the class and the homework assignment. It wasn’t until the next week that she and he would be together again in the room. He thought about calling her at home to see how she was but he put down the phone after dialing five of the numbers. It would be nerdy, he thought, desperate, even. So, instead, he waited, thinking only about three things: Shannon, baseball, and the strange map that remained rolled-up under his bed.

*****

CH 4 Thoth

Willie’s brother, Daniel, was going on his spring break, even though Raya hadn’t had the money to send him off to the wild beach parties of Cancun in Mexico with the rest of his college mates. Having made several friends with family money, Daniel had managed to secure a birth on a plane and a hotel room fully funded by others in his small cadre of friends. Willie talked to his brother less frequently since he was now away at school in class or studying at the Georgetown University library. They had fought often growing up, but as they had gotten older they had begun to bond. Without a father, they only had each other as male role models. Of course, their mother had been actively involved in making sure they stayed connected, but once she’d accomplished that, they had maintained it without prodding.

So, you think you’ll be back a week from Friday? asked, Willie, talking to his brother and hating the thought he would be gone on spring break for that long.

Yeah, I think so at this point, sport. Everybody is goin’ someplace -- to Jamaica, Aruba, or Cancun. I’ve got a free ride so I’m goin’ little bro’. But don’t you worry. I’ll be home in little more than a week. It’s no big deal.

Well, it won’t be too bad here. Mom has been at work most of the time, and I’m at school. So, it’s not like you’re going to be missed or anything. Willie laughed.

In fact, Willie had to study for his own midterms. They were coming up quickly, and he was having trouble in his Algebra class in addition to Russian. His mother expected high grades, at least a B, if not an A, and he was on the border of a B minus or C plus in both. Even his brother hadn’t gotten below a B minus in any class in high school, and he was far from a model student.

Where is Danny? asked Raya, looking at Willie who was on the phone with his brother.

He’s not at the library, Willie cried out as he held up the phone.

Why are you telling her that? screamed Daniel from the other end of the line.

Willie only smiled, not answering his brother.

Well? Raya asked again, this time expecting an answer.

Willie waited a little longer, letting his brother twist in the wind for a moment. Then he said, He’s on his way home. He has to pack for his trip, he says. Willie handed his Mom the phone and then added, "Oh, but I’m on my way to the library, ‘cause I have to study!"

The highway yacht Raya had gotten for his older brother to drive was handed down to him. It was a wretched piece of machinery with more miles than all of the Apollo moon missions put together. A faded red Mini Cooper with a cracked windshield, the car had seen better days.

Dinner will be ready at seven, Raya called out to Willie before he backed out of the driveway. I want you home before then.

Okay, Mom, replied Willie, exhaling in disgust. Why does she have to do that? he thought. She knows that bugs the crap out of me.

The local library was unusually busy. Most kids who wanted to get away from siblings playing video games or parents watching movies at home went to the town library for peace and quiet to study – at least those who wanted to do well on their exams. As for the others, they were the ones at home watching the movies or playing the video games. It was either they or their parents -- or both -- who didn’t care.

Willie took his place in a carrel away from the others. He knew what his mother demanded and what he expected from himself. In many ways, his standards were higher than everyone else’s. If the experience from his Gramma and her strange books hadn’t opened his eyes to the rest of the world and what was expected, then nothing had.

He flipped open his Algebra book, turning to chapter thirteen, section two and began reading over the formulae on conversions of logarithms to exponents. He hated math, but everyone told him he needed it to do well in the world. Soon his eyes drifted off, and he began to think about other things. It wasn’t long before he was scanning the bookshelves around him, reading the titles as they appeared in his line of sight: The Palermo Stone of Ancient Pharaohs, Khufu and the Fourth Dynasty, The Mummy of Queen Nofretari, and Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs. Willie got up and plucked the hieroglyphs book from its cozy place between two other volumes. He took ten seconds to scan it before placing it back on the shelf. Then his gaze caught another book – The Book of Thoth. Hesitating, Willie finally pulled the Thoth book off the shelf out of curiosity. What the heck is this? he thought. I wonder if it’s anything like those damned Sibylline books we had to deal with a few years ago. Gramma wouldn’t play the same game with me this time, would she? Another book to worry about?

Willie held the large, fragile book in his hands. He trembled. It was the same feeling he had gotten when he had first clutched that singular volume of the Sibylline books in his arms up in Gramma’s attic. There was a rush of energy, a surge of power, an electricity that pulsed through him like he hadn’t experienced since that time. It both excited and terrified him. He wasn’t sure whether to drop the volume and run or open it and succumb to its powers.

The book was crumbling around the edges, its pages bent and yellowed. It was almost as if the tome had been kept in the basement of an old home near an old-fashioned coal bin, smelling of both coal and mildew. On the cracked, brown cover were the words Book of Thoth, written in Gothic black. Yet, there was no author’s name, no picture, and no other inscription.

Willie took a deep breath and plunged into the volume, opening the cover slowly and feeling it fight back, grudgingly resisting the intrusion. The musty smell became more pronounced with each page he turned, and he could sense the book was displeased with whoever was interrupting its slumber on that wooden slat it had called home, undisturbed for years.

Perusing the text, Willie saw that it was a transcription or translation of some ancient work. Several depictions showed Egyptian artifacts, tombs of pharaohs, the pyramids at Giza and other related images. In the introduction, the author explained that the book had originally been written in Egyptian, in hieroglyphics, probably during the reign of King Narmer or Menes during the First Dynasty around 3150 BCE. It preceded other books of Thoth, the Egyptian god of writing and wisdom. The table of contents showed chapters on when the books were found, their background, the legends of Thoth, the Egyptian civilization and customs, and other factoids concerning the life and times of the people in the area. What was of particular interest to Willie were the chapters on the Egyptian gods. The pictures were like those he’d begun to see on the mysterious map he’d found in Gramma’s trunk. These were strange images of people with bird heads, lion heads, snake heads and all sorts of animal body parts.

Willie ran his finger over the picture of a two-dimensional man, standing with his hands outstretched toward a woman in flowing, gold robes. The man had the head of a bird, but with a blue headdress; he was described as a uraeus. The bird’s beak was long and black, protruding like an Ibis or curlew.

That’s it! thought Willie excitedly as he spotted the figure, it’s just like on the map! Below the frame was the label Thoth. It was all coming together for him – or at least parts of what Gramma had said. So, that’s what she meant by my Uncle Thoth.

On another page was a green figure with a rounded crown labeled the Atef Crown, worn by the god Osiris. This was the ruler of the Underworld. It was another image Willie had seen near that of the god Thoth on his map. At the time, he hadn’t been sure what it was.

Now, unable to focus on his studies, Willie kept reading until it was late and the library lights blinked on and off, signaling its close. He looked at his watch and realized it was too late study anymore, so he packed up his things, throwing his books into his satchel and hurrying downstairs to the car. When he got home, he realized he’d forgotten to check-out the Egyptian book he’d been reading as it fell from his knapsack. I’ll do it when I get back to school, he thought.

He stayed up past midnight, comparing the images in the book to those on the map that appeared and disappeared like jellyfish in the ocean rising to the surface and sinking back into the depths. But sleep overcame him. The next thing Willie realized, his alarm was sounding, calling on his eyelids to rise and face another day. He’d fallen asleep and drooped his head onto his desk to take a quick nap, but had quickly succumbed to deep slumber. He lifted his head and slammed his hand onto the digital clock, silencing it for another ten minutes, and then another.

Willie! His mom’s piercing voice carved the air from downstairs to the second floor and through his bedroom door. What are you doing? You’re supposed to be down at the curb. Your bus will be here any minute! I can’t take you to school this morning. I’ve got a meeting at the museum!

Crap! he shouted, throwing off the covers and rushing to his closet to put on some clothes. He stuffed his homework inside this bag and ran out the front door, just as the yellow school bus, marked No. 18, District 489, came roaring up to the stop. There were two other students there waiting, which stalled the driver long enough so Willie could catch the door before it closed.

Ya’ better be on time teemorra’, said Jake, the retired factory worker who drove the bus during the morning hours, ’else I leave ya’ behind. I won’ park me bus for ya’ that’s fer sure. Jake was a rough one. He’d put up with so much crap over the years that he refused to do so with a bunch of immature high schoolers.

Thanks, Mr. Michaels, said Willie. I appreciate your waiting for me.

Jake only growled and slammed the door, stomping on the gas and causing all of the heads attached to the boys and girls on the bus to flip backwards.

During periods one, two and three, Willie secretly slipped the Egyptian book out of his pile and began reading while his teachers droned on with the lesson of the day. It wasn’t until he got to his Algebra test that he was forced to put it all away. The exam wasn’t his best effort; he had planned to study the night before, but the book on Egyptian gods had diverted his attention and focus. For the rest of the school day he could only think about the old map. However, at the same time, he resisted the temptation to delve back into the book he’d borrowed from the library.

After school came baseball practice and then the aerobic workout his coach demanded from all of them. Running the football bleachers was not his idea of fun under any circumstances, least of which when it was nearly ninety degrees outside.

When he got home, Willie tore open his satchel and pulled out the library book once more. Page after page he read, absorbing every word. It wasn’t until he got to the eighth chapter that he saw a section labeled Spells. These were written in a language he didn’t understand and believed it was probably intended that way by the author -- powerful spells, the author had warned earlier in the book. These were the spells that could 'shake the earth and rattle the bones of the dead in the Underworld,' it had read. Cool, Willie thought. He turned to the next page and found another spell that, although written in the same strange language, seemed to have some discernible words scrawled below the surface of the threads of the page. Odd, Willie murmured to himself. He pulled the book up close to his nose and squinted, as if that would make the words become clearer for him. Taking a magnifying glass, he moved the thick, glass lens over the faded images and read them aloud.

"By the ancient tomb of Hsekiu and the will of Ra and Osiris,

I hereby command the stirrings of souls within the Map of Ptah.

Come to life! Show me the way! Lead me to the wisdom of all.

Lead me to the power jealously held by the secrets of the gods!"

When Willie had finished mouthing the words, he waited, expecting something grand and consequential to happen to him or around him, but there was not a murmur to be heard. He waited a few more minutes before patience overcame him and he began mouthing the words once more. But he hadn’t finished the first sentence when he heard a rumbling under his bed. His head snapped around, and he stared at the rolled scroll that was spinning out-of-control on the carpeting below.

Willie hesitated, his heart beating rapidly and palms sweating profusely. The sound and smell of the map burning the carpet beneath his bead was surreal, as if someone possessed by an evil spirit had flipped a magic want at it, commanding it to misbehave.

Willie moved ever slowly toward the map beneath his bed, frightened to extract it, touch it, even look at it.

Crap! he thought, shaking. What the hell should I do? He paced back and forth, his arms crossed and his front teeth biting his lip.

The sound and stench made from the gyrating scroll became unbearable. Willie took two deep breaths before he wiped his shirt sleeve across his brow to absorb the sweat. Grabbing his pillow, he pulled off the pillowcase and wrapped it around his hands. Then, he pulled the rotating map from under his bed and jumped back, expecting it to explode at any minute.

But when there was no sign the cords flying off or the paper buckling or burning-up, Willie calmed himself, loosened the knots, and put his hands on parchment. Then, he stopped. He could feel his pulse racing and his vision blurring. There was a power within the map, and he could feel it surging.

Finally, he unrolled the thing and jumped back. In the center was the likeness of a compass, glowing like a round tangerine, giving off heat and light. Gingerly, he placed his palm near it, but it was too hot to touch.

As the orange swirls of the map continued around the center compass, Willie flattened it on his bed’s comforter. He watched as the god-like pictures moved, as did those of mysterious Egyptian animals that had been poised in different frozen positions when he’d first viewed them. This time, a green-skinned god was moving his staff in a combative, warlike manner. The apep, a serpent-like creature, snarled and hissed, coiling its body in a striking position at its viewer. And the sphinx, which turned its head from side to side, raised its front paw and then lowered it again without fanfare or ceremony. Finally, as if following the tracings of someone who'd mastered an Etch-o-Sketch, Willie saw a line sprout from one corner of the map and shoot across the parchment, creating what looked like various land masses and waterways.

Oh, my god, said Willie, mesmerized by the animation. What’s it doing?

Then he remembered the episodes with the Sibylline books, with the magical ink that seemed to appear, change or disappear. No Gramma! he said coldly under his breath. No. You’re not going to suck me into another one of your wild, crazy schemes. Not this time!

Yet, even as he spoke the words, in his heart he could feel the pull of the mystery – the Siren song of the daughters of Achelous. His brain resisted, but his heart softened. He pushed the map away, trying not to succumb to its magnetic power. However, his eyes kept being drawn back, unwilling to let its owner bury the relic back in the trunk from which it came. Finally, Willie turned back to the Egyptian book that had given him the key to opening the map’s mystery.

The Map of Ptah was used to direct young men on journeys into manhood. The destination was never revealed directly but only through brief glimpses of the next portion of the path to be trodden.

These paths would be shown briefly on the map; then, they would be drowned in the depths of the parchment. In many versions of the legend, a small book accompanied the map; however, this was not a consistent element. Those stories that included a book, suggested that the book included chants that the young man would recite to energize the map when times were difficult or he was lost. One legend read that only one incantation was necessary to bring the map to life for its owner. In this way, the map showed the youth the true course – a meaningful course, one that provided purpose and fulfillment. Each journey was unique to the person, and no two were ever alike.

Willie shuddered. Was this the Map of Ptah? If so, was this his journey? Was it speaking directly to him? And, more frightening than that, if he yielded to its seduction and he took the journey, would he ever return?

*****

CH 5 A Double Espresso

The next day was Tuesday and that meant Russian class. As always, Willie looked forward to it just to see Shannon again. She would take his mind off the map and the distraction it was causing in the rest of his life.

Russian class started as usual with Yuri Gurov telling them to open their workbooks to the latest page of study. He then told them to review the verbs and their tenses they would have to know for their next quiz, which he announced would be on Thursday. As the instructor prattled on, Willie’s mind drifted. He thought about the ancient Egyptians and the pyramids. He day dreamed about being in the tomb of Tutankhamen -- King Tut -- reading the hieroglyphs and making some grand discovery. He thought about what it would be like, sitting in the court of one of the pharaohs listening to the day-to-day trials and tribulations of what went on during those ancient days thousands of years earlier – a time so long ago that it might just as well been on a different planet.

Vladimir? asked Gurov, "Chto by predmetom byt' v etom predlozhenii ?

Willie’s mind remained in a fog, and it struggled to return to the classroom.

Vladimir? shouted the teacher impatiently.

Willie cleared his eyes and pushed himself to sweep away the cobwebs that had been intricately woven inside his brain while he had drifted off into another world and time.

Uh, I’m sorry, sir. What did you ask? queried Willie in English, rather than Russian.

Gurov made his displeasure clear; his face folded in on itself as layers of skin draped over his eyes and his cheeks pulled in towards his mouth.

Chto by predmetom byt' v etom predlozhenii ? asked Gurov, pushing Willie to name the subject of a sentence in the workbook.

Shannon put her hand on his and whispered, Dvorets, she whispered, which means, the palace.

Uh, Dvorets? said Willie.

Gurov scowled at him and gave Shannon a disapproving glance but went on to the next sentence anyway. This time, Willie remained attentive, at least until the buzzer rang, freeing all of the inmates from their scholastic responsibilities of the day.

Thanks, said Willie, turning to Shannon. I think this is the second time you’ve saved my butt.

She smiled at him, again melting a little more of his heart.

I think it’s more than that, Willie, she said in a light, fun-loving way, not meant to be harsh or critical.

Yeah, you’re probably right about that. Well, all I can say is I appreciate it, Willie answered.

No prob, she answered.

Shannon picked up her books and began to leave the classroom when out of impulse, Willie took her arm. Natalya, I mean Shannon?

Yes, Willie? she answered, turning around.

Can I buy you a coffee or a cola after school today? Are you doing anything? It’s the least I can do to say thanks.

Willie froze. What have I done? He wondered to himself. Am I insane? Bracing for the No answer, he waited, wanting to close his eyes and go hide behind some gigantic rock.

Sure, that would be fun. I’m not busy. Do you want to go now?

Did I hear that right? Willie thought. Did she really say yes?

Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll meet you in the parking lot by my Mini in about ten?

I’ll see you there, Shannon said, smiling at him.

Willie sat in his ten-year-old Mini Cooper that was a hand-me-down from his brother Daniel. He was glad to have it. It was a blast to drive and didn’t come with one of those auto-pilot devices that were coming onto the market in full fury. But as he looked at his watch, he saw that it had been fifteen minutes, and still there was no sign of Shannon. Too good to be true, he thought. Perhaps she’s not the nice girl she likes people to think she is. After twenty minutes, he gave up and started the car, pushing down on the old-fashioned clutch and grabbing the stick shift in the middle of the console. The car was famous for being really small with a huge, round speedometer stuck in the middle of the dashboard between the driver and passenger. Willie looked behind him to make sure no cars were coming down the parking lane and backed up.