Chapter Nine

The tunnel stretched on and on, like the universe’s worst treadmill, each step sounding like an accusation in the silence. Jack led the way, his flashlight flickering as if it, too, was losing patience with how long this was taking. Bambi followed closely behind him, managing to look graceful even though we were all coated in a fine layer of dust that made me feel like a walking sandpaper factory. I was at the back, trying not to trip over my own feet while clutching my notebook and map like they were some kind of magic key that would unlock all our problems.

Snickers, sitting on Jack’s shoulder, seemed to be the only one enjoying himself. His little monkey hands were constantly in motion, fiddling with Jack’s hair, jacket, and occasionally trying to steal the flashlight. I swear, he was the only one having fun.

“Anyone else feel like we’ve been walking through this tunnel for about six months?” I muttered.

Jack glanced back, flashing me that infuriatingly charming grin. “If you’re lucky, Sweet Cheeks, maybe we’ll reach the treasure by next Christmas.”

Bambi sighed dramatically. “I’m more concerned about my hair than the treasure at this point. There’s only so much humidity a girl can handle before things start to look untamed. Did I mention that sometimes I also perform as a lion tamer?”

“Too bad you couldn’t tame me,” Jack chuckled.

Bambi harrumphed.

We finally stumbled into a large chamber, and the musty, stale air hit us like we’d just entered the world’s oldest attic. At the far end of the chamber, a massive stone door loomed over us, covered in carvings that pretty much screamed, “Hey, important stuff behind here!”

I stared at it, my mind racing. This had to be it—the crypt. The place where the legendary treasure of the Path of the Gods was hidden. My heart pounded with anticipation, but there was one small problem. Well, two actually: the Vase of Hathor and the Jewel of Isis were still in the possession of the thieves, and the Jewel, a ruby amulet, was said to be the key that opened the chamber.

“We’re stuck,” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “We’ll never be able to open that door without the amulet.”

Jack inspected the stone, running his hand over the carvings. “Yep. We’re definitely locked out.”

Bambi plopped down on a nearby rock, her arms crossed. “Great. We wait for the goons with the goods. Should we offer them tea and scones when they show up, or just skip straight to the part where they try to kill us?”

“I vote for scones,” I muttered, slumping against the wall. “Maybe also some cute little cucumber, cream cheese, and tomato sandwiches. You know, something classy.”

Before we could plan the imaginary tea party menu, footsteps echoed through the tunnel behind us. The criminals had arrived.

We quickly took cover in the shadows, hiding behind ancient pillars and debris. Jack motioned for us to stay quiet, his military instincts kicking in. The thieves stepped into the chamber, their footsteps heavy, and their low voices bouncing off the stone walls.

There were three of them, all dressed in black, with scarves covering their faces and sunglasses perched on their heads—because apparently, dressing like over-the-top supervillains was still in style. They were speaking to each other in what sounded like a completely foreign language, but it wasn’t one I recognized. However, their voices were low and deep enough that it was clear all three were men.

“I can’t make out what they’re saying,” Jack whispered, his brow furrowed. “Or even discern what language they’re using. And I’m fluent in ten languages and conversational in five more.”

Bambi raised an eyebrow. “Brag much?”

“Can we focus?” I whispered, my irritation mounting.

We listened more closely, trying to decipher their strange, guttural speech. Jack tilted his head, confusion deepening on his face. “Maybe it’s some obscure African dialect. Or an Asian one?”

Bambi shrugged. “Or maybe they just gargled rocks.”

I listened again, and suddenly, it hit me. A burst of laughter escaped before I could stop it. I slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. Both Jack and Bambi turned to look at me, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“What’s so funny?” Jack whispered.

I could barely keep it together. “They’re not speaking some rare language,” I whispered back, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “They’re speaking Pig Latin.”

Bambi blinked. “You’re kidding.”

I shook my head, trying to stifle my giggles. “Nope. Listen closely. They’re literally speaking Pig Latin.”

We listened again, and sure enough, the men were speaking in a language that had once been the bane of every elementary school lunch table.

Bambi’s jaw dropped, and Jack just stared at me like the world had lost all logic. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jack said, trying not to laugh. “This is what we’re dealing with. Gibberish speaking international art smugglers.”

Before we could fully process the absurdity, one of the thieves turned, their flashlight sweeping across the chamber. “Who’s erehay?” the leader barked in the most intimidating Pig Latin I’d ever heard.

And with that, chaos erupted.

Jack was the first to move, charging at the nearest man with the kind of precision that made me think this wasn’t his first time dealing with people fluent in fake languages. He tackled the thief to the ground, their struggle a blur of grunts and flying limbs.

Bambi, naturally, was already flipping through the air like some kind of acrobatic ninja, dodging punches and kicks while managing to look annoyingly fabulous. She landed a swift kick to one thief’s chest, sending him stumbling backward into the wall.

Snickers, apparently seeing an opportunity for heroics, leaped from Jack’s shoulder and latched onto the third thief’s face, his little monkey hands tugging at the man’s scarf while screeching in triumph. The man, clearly unprepared for a monkey attack, flailed around wildly, trying to pry Snickers off his head.

Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to dig through the thieves’ packs, my fingers moving quickly as I searched for the stolen artifacts. Finally, I found them—the Vase of Hathor and the Jewel of Isis. I held up the ruby amulet, grinning like I’d just won the lottery. “Got it!” I yelled over the commotion.

Jack, having successfully subdued the first thief, gave me a thumbs up before turning back to help Bambi, who was currently dodging a wild punch from the second thief. “Nice timing,” he called, dodging a kick aimed at his head.

We regrouped at the stone door, the thieves groaning in defeat behind us. “Alright,” I said, staring at the carvings. “Let’s figure out how to open this thing.”

The amulet was the key, but how to use it to open the chamber was anyone’s guess since there was no obvious keyhole. We worked together, each of us contributing something to the puzzle. Jack’s military training came in handy as he pointed out potential pressure points in the seals where trap mechanisms could be hiding. Bambi, with her circus-honed agility and sharp eyes, spotted tiny grooves in the carvings that guided where the amulet should go. I deciphered the hieroglyphics, using my knowledge of Egyptian mythology to figure out the final piece of the puzzle. It made perfect sense. The stone fit perfectly in the middle of the crown of Ra, the Sun God and Hathor’s consort.

Finally, with a satisfying click, the door began to rumble open. The ancient stone ground against itself as it slid back, revealing the treasure chamber beyond.

It was a sight that took my breath away. Gold, jewels, relics, statues—it was like stepping into a dream. The treasure of the Path of the Gods was real, and it was more magnificent than I could ever have imagined.

But before we could step inside, the earth began to tremble all around us. Jack grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “The tunnel’s collapsing! We’ve got to get out of here!”

The walls began to crack, chunks of stone falling from the ceiling as the chamber started to cave in. One of the thieves, who had been knocked unconscious, groggily sat up, rubbing his head. His eyes widened as he realized the ground was shaking.

“You win!” he shouted, stumbling to his feet. “Just—let’s get out of here!”

We didn’t waste any time. The seven of us—thieves included—bolted for the tunnel, racing against the crumbling stone around us. Bambi lifted Snickers into her arms who screeched in terror while debris rained down. Jack’s hand found mine as we ran, pulling me along as the tunnel collapsed behind us. I could hear Bambi’s voice ahead, shouting encouragement (or sarcasm—it was hard to tell with all the noise).

We barely made it out in time. The tunnel sealed itself behind us with a deafening crash, leaving the treasure buried forever.

We collapsed outside, panting and covered in dust, but alive. The treasure was lost to the ages, but we had what mattered: the Vase of Hathor, the Jewel of Isis, and—most importantly—our lives.