While Dink slept, lightning flashed and thunder boomed outside his bedroom window. Dink had a nightmare. He was trapped in the tomb again. This time he was alone. One by one, the two mummies leaning against the wall opened their eyes. One by one, they stepped out of their coffins and shuffled toward him. They passed the child’s coffin. Its lid stayed shut, the child’s mask staring up at the ceiling. Because the mummy’s not in there, Dink thought. But then why— Just then Dink felt a cold hand on his shoulder. He tried to run, but his legs wouldn’t budge. The mummies’ cloth wrappings had come loose and were encircling his body, like tentacles. Dink bolted awake with a yell, tangled in his sheet. When he realized that he was in his bed and not the tomb, he lay back down. He tried to go back to sleep, but something kept him awake. It was something in his nightmare, in the tomb. What was it? He lay there trying to picture the tomb again. Before the bomb went off, all three sarcophagus lids had been open.
