Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [71]
We disembarked and formed our own queue behind Hello Kitty, winding our way nonstop through the center. The walls were lined with timelines and photographs of archaeological digs. Charlie tried to pause to read about what we were to see, but the rest of us pressed forward, eager to see the tombs for ourselves. I did notice with some malevolent pleasure that Kathy had bright red shoulders under her most unsuitable tank top. She must have been sunning herself on the top deck of the Nile Lotus yesterday afternoon for hours to have obtained that particular shade of scarlet.
On the other side of the center, we boarded tiny trams, the kind you see at very small carnivals. Puffing, they hauled us up a fairly steep narrow road to the mouth of the high valley that held the tombs of the pharaohs. Ahead, a naturally pyramid-shaped mountain rose into the deep blue sky, and all around cliffs shot up out of the white dusty ground, becoming steeper and higher the farther we went.
We hopped off and Anni handed out colorful tickets good for three tombs.
“Only three?” asked Jerry Morrison in disbelief.
“We don’t have time for more than that,” said Anni with a smile. “Remember, we go from here to lunch and then to the alabaster factory. Now, if you all will follow me, I will show you which are the most interesting tombs, and then we will meet back here to take the tram to the buses. Everyone look at your watches. Two hours. Meet here at noon. All right?”
Jerry and his daughter instantly veered off to the left, scorning to stay with a tour group. Kathy was still limping just a little.
“Good riddance,” muttered Ben. “Maybe they’ll fall in a pit.”
“Ben!” said Lydia, automatically reproving.
The rest of us obediently followed as Anni pointed out the most famous tombs. KV 17, the tomb of Seti I, who built the great temple at Abydos. KV 11, Ramses III, Egypt’s last great pharaoh. And of course, KV 62—Tutankhamen, the boy king whose tomb was the archaeological find of the century and the inspiration for dozens of movies about curses and mummies.
“I know you will all want to see this tomb, but it is really not very impressive. There is nothing left inside. It is very small and empty,” said Anni, without much hope.
I wondered if she really thought she could persuade us. We would all wait however long it took to see the most famous tomb in the world. No matter how unimpressive or disappointing, we had not come all this way to walk past the location of Howard Carter’s triumph, the place where hidden treasure beyond our imaginings had been discovered, and where a mummy’s curse had its beginnings. Almost in unison, our entire group stampeded down the dusty path to the entrance to Tut’s tomb.
Twenty minutes later, we were back on the path. “We should have listened to her,” said Kyla. “Pretty lame.”
“No it wasn’t!” I protested. “It was fabulous. Anyway, we had to see for ourselves. And it was pretty cool anyway. So small, so secret. It’s what kept it safe all these centuries.”
She did not look convinced.
“Now where to?”
I consulted a pamphlet I’d picked up in the visitor center. “Seti I. This way.”
We passed a couple of openings and joined a line of tourists who were inching forward toward a rectangular opening in the side of the white rock.
Kyla clicked her tongue impatiently. “Why this one? There are a couple over there without the tourist hordes.”
“There’s a reason for that. This is the longest tomb in the valley and has the most and best paintings. Besides, it’s Seti I.” I grinned.
“How do you know this shit? And who the hell is Seti?”
“You know, the pharaoh from The Mummy. The guy who got stabbed? The fat dude who had his concubine painted so no one could touch her?”
She gave me a pitying look. “You are so pathetic. I would honestly be ashamed if I knew what you were talking about.”
“So you do remember.”
A group of Germans lined up behind us, and behind them Alan Stratton stepped quietly into line. As usual,