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*****
"What the fucking hell…?" Daniel muttered, staring at the sarcophagus.
The top was still sealed like in the movie — thick stone lid, heavy and ancient — but there was a gaping hole near the upper edge, jagged and rough, as if something had clawed its way out.
Daniel leaned in and peered through the hole, hoping — praying — that it was just an old structural crack. Maybe some tomb robber centuries ago chipped it open. Maybe Imhotep was still inside, wrapped up and harmless.
But there was nothing.
It was fucking empty.
No linen. No corpse. Just darkness and the faint smell of decay that shouldn't still exist after three thousand years.
His throat went dry.
For a few long seconds, he didn't say anything. Just stared. Then he let out a harsh breath, his pulse hammering.
"...Fucking shit." He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting across the chamber. "Where the hell is Imhotep?"
This wasn't supposed to happen. None of it.
Until now, everything had followed the movie perfectly — the dig, the book, the key, every damn step. It was almost comforting, like walking a path he already knew. But this?
This was off-script.
Completely.
Imhotep shouldn't be out. No one had read from the Book of the Dead. So how the fuck was the sarcophagus empty?
He glanced again at the hole, his jaw tightening. "No, no, no... this doesn't make any sense," he muttered, almost to himself. "He's supposed to be here. Dead."
But with the plot going haywire — Imhotep somehow alive without anyone reading from the Book of the Dead — Daniel knew exactly what that meant.
Things were about to go downhill. Fast.
If the sarcophagus was empty, then the Americans… yeah, they were probably already screwed.
They must've found that damn box with the Book of the Dead, cracked it open, and now they're cursed — turning into Imhotep's walking vitality juice.
"Yeah… they're gonna get sucked dry," Daniel muttered under his breath.
He ran a hand down his face, forcing himself to think. The timeline was shredded.
And that meant one more thing.
Evelyn.
She was the only woman in the entire expedition, and Daniel didn't need to be a genius to know what Imhotep wanted — she was the perfect sacrifice to bring back his lover.
"Fuck."
He wasn't sticking around to see what happened next. Not with a half-resurrected mummy roaming around.
He turned on his heel. "Jonathan — we're leaving. Now."
Jonathan blinked. "Leaving? What's going on?"
"No time," Daniel snapped, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Something's wrong. We get out before nightfall."
He didn't wait for argument. Daniel broke into a run, boots kicking up sand as he raced back toward where Evelyn and the others should be.
They needed to regroup, get to safety, and figure out how to stop Imhotep — and who the hell had jump-started his resurrection.
***
After ten minutes, Evelyn and the others were still gathered near the Horus statue.
"Everyone, we should leave — we're in danger," Daniel said as he came rushing in, dust trailing his boots. Jonathan stumbled in behind him, bent over and wheezing.
"Huff… huff… just—give me a second to breathe." Jonathan managed, resting his hands on his knees.
O'Connell glanced up from his rifle, raising an eyebrow. "Danger isn't exactly new around here, is it?"
Daniel's tone was sharp, serious — too serious. "Yeah, well, this time it's different," he said, breathing hard. "This time, it's real danger."
Evelyn frowned slightly, lowering the book. "Real danger? What are you talking about?"
Daniel hesitated for half a second. His expression said enough — something was very wrong.
Before he could answer, the air itself seemed to shift.
And then—
A scream.
A blood-curdling, inhuman sound that tore through the ruins.
"—AaaAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
It echoed off every wall, bouncing between the stone corridors until it sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once. The torches flickered, the air thick with dust and tension.
Everyone froze.
The Book of Amun-Ra nearly slipped from Evelyn's trembling hands. She looked toward the darkness, her voice barely a whisper. "What… was that?"
Daniel's jaw clenched. He turned slowly toward the corridor, eyes narrowing. His voice came out low, grim.
"That," he said quietly, "is what I was talking about."
For a moment, no one moved. Only the faint echo of the scream lingered — fading, but still enough to make every hair on their neck stand on end.