Captain Smith makes a last minute dash back into the bridge, already several feet deep in ocean, and growing deeper by the second. He pushes through the water into the wheelhouse and grabs the ship's log. Holding it tight under his arm he turns toward the chart room and sloshes away. Bursting into the chart room, the brave captain quickly begins to swipe the navigational charts and notes. Clutching the documents close to his chest, he starts to make a hasty exit in hopes of putting the papers in one of the lifeboats before the end.
BUT, then a tall shadow falls across the room from the doorway. Smith turns around slowly, the water raging in from all sides around his knees. There standing 7 feet tall in the doorway, Smith sees <font color="ff6000">the MUMMY!
The creature is sinister, standing there regarding Smith. It makes no sound, only holds out its water soaked hand, black from 5000 years of rot, and drops four steel rivets into the surge of green bubbles, one by one. Smith is dumbstruck! "No, NO! This cannot be! YOU CANNOT BE REAL!!" With a bolt of forward strength, the stalwart captain attempts to rush past the creature. The old sailor plants his shoulder in the creature's torso, throwing the mummy back out into the passageway, off balance for a moment, as Smith breaks free. But when Smith turns toward the wheelhouse he freezes at what he sees. The top of the beautiful, shiny, new telemotor in the wheelhouse dissappears under a boiling tempest of green.
His escape cut off by the invading Atlantic, Smith whirls about in time to see the creature back on its feet, and striding toward him. Again Smith rallys his strength and struggles forward attempting to shove the creature back. But the water is too deep for Smith to move quickly now, and the creature easily wraps its grotesqe arms around him, squeezing him tight. Caught, helpless in the creatures clutches, Smith feels his feet begin to lift from the floor as the water overtakes them both. Releasing the papers from his hands, Smith begins to punch, rip, an tear vigorously at the mummy's wrappings of cloth. But in vain. As the unstoppable ocean covers his head,
Captain Smith lets out a final yell, "Get back to HELL!" A yell that would never be heard by ears above the water. Only bubbles, inflated with rage, reached the surface.
(Dark and sinister laugh...) WWWWWAAAAHHHHAAAHHHA AA!
The next morning, on an abandoned overturned lifeboat drifting at sea all alone, a single hand reaches up from the water and latches a hold of the keel. A shrivled, black, leather hand, riding the waves back to Egypt.
Yuri B. Karloff
(wink-wink)
