Halloween Special Mageshanna

They were supposedly completely sealed, protective from threats ranging from viral agents to ionizing radiation, and we ourselves were locked in hermetically sealed by mechanical locks behind keycard access, which only made the truth of their debts all the more mystifying. What could have both stirred the dead and killed my colleagues? How to explain the convulsions, the desperate attempt to escape the oozing, deep ruby red blood spilling from a thousand

microscopic pricks. I am ashamed to admit that when it happened, I froze. We both did. But I was supposed to be on shift for observations and recordings. I instead traded the shift with Oscar, And now Oscar and Henry and lew and Garrett were all lying on the floor in some god forsaken crypt with a corpse from a different millennium. I may as well have joined them, for how paralyzed

I was. In the observation room, the old CRT monitors were deathly silent, still depicting the gruesome scene in that coldly sterile manner that only a machine can. Silent enough that I could hear my breath quiver at the pounding of my heart, Silent enough that I could hear my sole companion, doctor Keith, whispering her way through some prayer. I couldn't recognize, silent enough that I could swear I heard the blood trickling down the step towards the glass

sarcophagus where the body lay. I always thought they were supposed to hum. I was a touch transfixed by the flow of blood after a time. I blame it on the lack of stimulus at the time of writing, but in the moment I cannot be certain. It filled the grooves in the floor and trickled and dripped with all the urgency of fungal decay, torpidly making its way down toward the sarcophagus, which sat in the center of the

burial chamber at its lowest point. At first I could barely even watch, but as time passed, the disgust waned and my morbid curiosity waxed. The mummy itself was an undeniable oddity. From initial analysis, we were able to find preserved blood vessels and organs from the X ray, but also blood. Fresh blood. We were able to determine the man entombed here had ab positive blood, judging from the small sample we had extra from him. His hair was still oily, and even his eyelashes and beard hairs were

still in place. If it weren't for the discoloration of his skin from the mummification process, I could swear he could get up out of his crypt and tell us exactly what we were looking for. Even his pose felt too lifelike to be completely sure he was dead. Rather than the crossed arms of Egyptian mummies, he was laying on his back, hands by his side, as if he had simply drifted off to sleep, save the one that

had inexplicably twitched upward from the wrist. The plaque at his feet read in that old Cunei form, behold Lugo Magashana, king of Kiag, and devote yourself. The only disruption on his form was that hand that had suddenly twitched up. Lugo Magashana was an enigmatic figure. There were scant few references to him from other Mesopotamian states, and those who

did refer to him did so in forbidding tones. From what we knew within the research team, he was a tyrant and superstitious even for his time in the temple capital of Kireg, he led his priests in occult rituals, though the supposed purpose of these rituals was lost to time.

We do know, however, that everything he did was in service to his patron deity al Wepthis, while other Sumerian gods like Marduke or Seamish or Inana were very well documented, Al Wepthis seemed to have been struck from any sort of record. We dreaded learning what these rituals may have entailed, and considering the responses from the neighbors of Kireg, we were right to do so. The city of Kireg was completely lost to time as well, so attaining first person

perspectives of the rituals proved to be rather difficult. Other cities only ever seemed to mention Kireg suddenly disappearing in the middle of the night, spinning tallis about the hand of Alwepthi's stretching down and taking Kirag into the heavens. If it weren't for a few scant artifacts found where Kireg was said to be, it would have been written off as a fairy tale. There was one larger tablet recovered, but unfortunately it was lost during the Iraqi invasion of

the Gaza Strip in the early nineties. Our patron, doctor Jordan Emerick, had a researcher studying the tablet in secret, and unfortunately he passed during the invasion. Whatever secrets he learned were lost to time, and the city remained a strange reminder of a more superstitious time even stranger, however, were the jars kept here with him. Mesopotamian burial traditions

hardly included mummification. Grave goods would have been expected with someone of his kingly status, But the jars were an anomaly. Standing there against the wall, spaced out evenly, were large jars standing up to about my waist, and each of the jars was filled with fresh human blood, also type to be ABE positive. It was a true mystery how

the blood, at the very least hadn't coagulated. Perhaps there had been waiting the secrets of preservation that could keep this nearly five thousand year old blood so fluid and fresh that a new medical breakthrough was merely lying dormant, waiting to be discovered under the greenery just off the banks of the Euphrates. My mind briefly entertained the thought of that blood being freshly taken from some poor, unfortunate soul who wandered in before us somehow, but that was

quickly pushed away in favor of reason. The entrance had been sealed when we found it, the doors wrapped tight in some kind of animal sinew. Whoever last left this tomb had intended it to stay closed, and for nearly five thousand years, the world had agreed. While I was left to my thought, doctor Key spoke to me. What do we do now, Robert? She said, The sudden call nearly split me out of my skin. What happened in there? We can't go in, I started. We need to make

a call and get reinforced, resupplied. Her eyes widened incredulously. We can't just wait and hear Her voice was vehement, but her body was barely able to hold upright between the weakness and her knees. I knew she was coming down off the shock just as much as I was. I couldn't blame her as opposed to what Ruth do We just go in there and die too? At least we'd be doing something other than just waiting to be saved. Doctor Emerick is not going to waste all this funding.

I'm just going to send him a message and tell him what happened. It won't take any time at all. Doctor Emerick is in America. What can he possibly do to help us? I couldn't answer her. We were alone down here, no help, no hope. We sat in silent rumination. I looked out to the bodies slowly draining on them. We had to get to them somehow. There was still a spare hazmat suit, But what good would that do?

I kept thinking and thinking and thinking, watching the blood still inexorably flow down to the center of the chamber. I watched it and started considering the ramifications. In most situations, the blood surely would have stopped by now, it would have found a natural settling point and started pooling. But there was something else at work. Clearly, each of the three men had a stream of blood pulling away from them and towards the glass sarcophagus. I was transfixed, distracted

for the moment. In consideration of the physics involved. It seemed to me that the blood ought to have simply pooled around the bodies, or merely filled some grooves and likewise settle. And yet here it flowed downward and downward on the old corpse. I looked back over the mummy, and what I saw chilled my very soul. The hand had moved again, where it had simply lifted and remained pronate before. The hand was now supine, two fingers raised,

palmed towards the ceiling. I turned back to doctor Key, and my face must have said it all, for she simply joined me and observed the hand. We went back over the monitors and watched the video back, fast forwarding from the time of the killings. What I saw there in that recording I simply could not explain. At a glacial pace, the hand that had twitched had, over the course of an hour, slowly rotated into that position. As inexplicable as the initial movement was. My mind boggled further

at this development. Perhaps the inexplicable preservation of the body was to blame. Yes, that had to be it, of suspended water via osmosis. Surely the body itself hadn't moved. I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Doctor Key, however, was even more determined to leave now. She started suiting up in another hazmat suit, muttering the same prayer from before as she worked. I couldn't blame her. There was a rational explanation, surely, but fear was getting

the better of us. I couldn't let her leave. Of course, there was some unknown menace out there still, perhaps some kind of trap we simply hadn't seen until now. I grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close. Ruth, you can't leave, I said. We have no idea what's going on out there. You're going to get yourself killed. She tore my hand off her. Better I die trying for freedom than curled up in here waiting, she continued, donning her suit. You can stay down here all you like, but I'm getting

the hell out of here. You aren't thinking right, I shouted, blocking the exit. You've got your whole life ahead of you. We're waiting for help to come to us. First. Doctor Emeric will save us. Don't throw your life away. Ruth was clearly more determined than I was. However, She pulled me away from the door, but I held her tight, her back against my chest. We struggled and fought with each other for a moment before she overpowered me. She slammed my head against the wall. My whole world spun

around me, and my eyes filled with stars. I collapsed to the floor, dazed and bewildered. When I was finally able to gather myself, she was already outside and on the radio. Robert, I promise I'm going to come back for you, she said, her breath ragged from the fight, but right now. I have to get out of here. I tried to get back out there with her, has map be damned, but she blocked the door from the outside. I slammed my fist on the door and screamed her name.

I begged and pleaded with her not to go, but I could hear her footsteps growing softer. I turned back around to the window to watch her progress. She moved slow and deliberately, still wary of whatever danger rested here in the crypt. Step by step, inch by inch, she made her way toward the channel leading upwards and outwards to the surface. I listened to her breath grow ever louder and fearful as she continued. She was by the other bodies at this point, no worse for the experience.

I thought perhaps the danger had passed, that she had a window of opportunity. That was until I caught some motion out of the corner of my eye. The Mummy's head slowly turned towards me. I watched it turn in real time, slowly and methodically. His face was indifferent, his eyes now open. We stared at each other for what felt like minutes but couldn't have been more than seconds, and then the light exploded. Every bulb, every monitor, every

perceivable source of light all burst in an instant. Sparks flew for a few seconds, giving the last moments of light in what was assuredly the end of my life. I heard Ruth scream through the glass. The radio feed was completely silent. I dared not utter a sound, nor make a single movement. Doctor Key as well, stopped from the sounds of things, complete and total silence. For the first time. I could remember, not even the sigh of ventilation. I could hear my heart pounding, my hands rubbing, I

swear even my sweat beating on my forehead. My mind raced with possibilities. The phenomenon surely came back, and now Ruth was bleeding out on the floor. I had nothing, not even the beginnings of a plan. I knew I had to get out, But how I could tackle the door and hopefully dislodge whatever Doctor Key had put in place to lock the door? Would that even be possible? Was I simply stuck here for the rest of my days,

however limited they may be. I could feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes, my throat closing, my chest hollowing. Eventually However, the silence was broken. Robert said, Ruth, I'm still here, Doctor, I responded, The relief nearly pulled a laugh out of me. Thank God. Do you have any idea what happened? It had to have been whatever killed the others. I saw them, and then came a scraping.

The sound started, and I was unsure of what I was hearing until the crash of broken glass destroyed the new piece in the tomb. It had to have been the sarcophagus. There was nothing else in there that could have made such a sound. We both fell completely silent as a new sound emerged, a footstep singular. After a few moments, another came. I could hear the panic in

doctor Key's breath over the radio. She was trying her best to be silent, but the terror in her heart and the anxiety in her head kept her breaths trembling and frail.

of the jars? I could hardly believe.

had to act fast. I crept out of the corner and over to the now open door. Slowly, silently, I slinked out and made my way for the exit. I had to feel my way out. There was still no light and only the sound of the Mummy's footsteps. I couldn't tell where Ruth was. I hoped against hope that this would be enough of an opportunity for the both of us. At last, I found the stairs, but how to alert Ruth. I felt around the ground for something, some loose stone I could throw. When my hand ran

against something soft and rubbery, I froze. I was dead. I could hear the soft crackle of movement right next to me, one hand on my back, another on my head, then both beneath my arms, lifting me. At the very least my death would buy Ruth some time. Silently sobbed as the end came. As I heard a hiss emerge next to me.

of even more jars. I couldn't afford to think about that. I had to find that goddamn scanner and get us out of here. And at last I had found it. I scanned my key card, finally free, the door unlocked with a beep and a hiss. The door slowly opened. My heart sank.

find any remaining sign of Ruth's presence. The doors continued opening, slowly, letting more moonlight into the scene, and there I saw the Mummy holding Ruth, his eyes locked with mine. An ancient, mystifying terror beset me, like I was looking directly into the mouth of some slavery, ravenous beast. I saw his mouth torn into her neck. Her blood was oozing out

from her wounds, Her head twisted impossibly backwards. The visor of her hazmat suit had been removed, and I could see her lip quivering and her eyes slowly rolling backwards into her head. Her body twitched and quaked, like the leg of a dying spider, jerking and spasming, while her blood spilled on the ground. I scarcely remember what happened next. My mind was not my own. All I can remember was howling and screaming into the night, tears streaming down

my face. At some point I must have made my way to town and got picked up by the police. Some of the more superstitious of the officers claimed I had been possessed by a gin, but most of them merely accepted that I was having some sort of mental breakdown. I attempted to explain what happened to me, but the words simply wouldn't come out. Even if they did, I don't know that they would be so readily accepted in time.

I simply gave them a line about being attacked in the desert by bandits, that all my friends had died and we were due to return to the United States. They took some of my contact information and sent me on my way to the embassy in Baghdad, where I was taken home. I attempted to get back in touch with doctor Emmerick. I had figured he'd want to know what happened on the expedition and in the tomb, but

I was never able to reach him. His phone number was disconnected and his email address merely bounced everything back. I even went so far as to contact his university, mar Elias University of Arizona. I was met with a most chilling revelation. They had no idea who he was. I attempted to find my communicates with him, only to find they had all been removed while I was in Iraq.

My mind folded inward on the revelation. The only conclusion that I could come to was that he somehow knew this would happen that Lugo Magashana would somehow rise from his crypt to taste blood once again. The only question I had left then was why go through all the effort just to feed him? What was the purpose behind this senseless slaughter? I fear I do not know, and I fear that this may only be the beginning of things to come.

I'll see you next time, and remember, whether in the shadows or in the daylight, all twisted paths lead you into the night. Into the Night Anthology is a creative typo entertainment production.