Flash Fiction: Jurassic Park meets Indiana Jones

I decided to take part in Chuck Wendig's flash fiction writing exercise this week, just for fun. The assignment was to randomly pick a topic from column one and a topic from column two, and mash them together to make a story. Be sure to visit his blog, where everyone else who participated linked to their creations, and read some of the other entries.

I used a D20, and got Jurassic park meets Indiana Jones. So here it is:

MUMMIES ALIVE!

Peter checked his watch. Four more minutes until sunset, but it was still boiling. His shirt was soaked. He was sure he had lost at least a quarter of his body weight. And the tour guide was still talking.

When would they get to the good stuff? He had been excited about their family trip to Egypt, but that was before he had realized that the “exciting trip to see the pyramids” meant literally looking at the pyramids while boring tour guides droned on and on for hours about names and dates that nobody cared about.

Who wanted to look at pyramids? He wanted to go inside one!

He edged away towards the back of the crowd. His parents were so caught up in the lecture and the view of the Sphinx that they didn’t even notice. Within a few seconds, he was bolting across the sand towards the sphinx. His mom could take all the pictures she wanted; he was going to get a REAL souvenir.

Peter ignored the shouts coming from behind him. Twenty more yards... Ten... Yes! He collapsed against the rough stone, panting from the sprint. Maybe his dad was right - he needed to lay off the donuts. He reached up to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and saw a smear of blood across his forearm. He hadn’t even noticed, but he must have grazed himself on the rough surface of the sphinx’s base.

He stepped back and looked up. This thing was huge. It was like a skyscraper, but on its side - it was much wider than it was tall, and it was really tall. He jogged along the base, looking for an entrance. An angry voice was getting closer, and he needed to find a way in quick if he was going to find what he was looking for before they caught up to him and dragged him back to the hotel room.

Finally, he saw it - about fifteen feet up. He threw a glance back over his shoulder - a guard was almost on top of him! - and jammed his foot into a sizeable crack, reaching up with his hands to find finger-sized holds on the weather-pitted surface. Climbing as quickly as he could, he was just out of reach when the guard arrived at the base where he had been standing.

“Come back!” the guard cried. “You don’t know what you’re doing! It’s not safe!”

Peter kept climbing.

“You don’t know what’s in there! Please, come back!”

Peter scoffed. He knew what was in there: dead people and treasure. And he was going to get a piece of it. The kids at school wouldn’t believe their eyes. And he’d be guaranteed a good grade in history.

“PLEASE!” The guard screamed. Peter didn’t know why he seemed so scared. Maybe the guards had a plan to keep all the treasure for themselves. All he knew was, if those guys wanted Peter to come back so bad, they could come up and get him.

Finally, his right hand found empty space, and he reached up over the ledge and hauled himself up. His arms and legs were shaking with the effort, but he had made it. Maybe he could afford to keep eating his daily donuts after all.

He stood up and lumbered into the gloom, and a piercing scream shook the air.

“What the...”

Maybe his ears were playing tricks on him.

He stumbled forward another twenty feet. It was practically pitch black by now - he could just make out some old characters carved into the stone wall. What were those called? Heiro-something or others? He didn’t care. They were cool, but they weren’t treasure. He kept walking, fumbling in his pocket for a flashlight.

He felt something brush against his left shoulder, and he froze. “Hello?”

Moaning came from all around him. He snapped his flashlight on, and a linen-wrapped figure appeared not two inches in front of him, its dirty bandages hanging limply from its limbs.

Peter screamed. The Mummy lurched. Peter turned to run, but his feet caught on a dangling loop of cloth, and as he fell he hit his head on the cold stone wall.

His flashlight skittered away, rolling back towards the tunnel entrance, where it dropped into the security guard’s outstretched hands.

THE END

I hope you enjoyed it. It was fun to write.

Thanks for stopping by!