The Hanging Hill

76

Zack and Meghan found their way back to the archway that had led them to the gigantic statue the first time.

“Look at those gloves on the wall!” said Meghan. “They all kind of point toward the Minotaur’s lair!”

“Yeah,” said Zack. “I’ve been thinking: The Minotaur is sort of like Sobek, the Egyptian god of the Nile. He had a man’s body but a crocodile’s head.”

“Don’t forget Sekhmet,” said Meghan. “Body of a woman. Head of a lioness.”

They both paused and stared at each other. Zack had never met anybody fascinated by the same sort of stuff that fascinated him. In fact, he was used to bullies beating him up during recess for even knowing goofy stuff like Sobek and Sekhmet.

They rounded another shadowy corner, went down that switchback ramp, and approached the sliding barn doors to the scenery warehouse.

The doors were locked. A heavy padlocked chain was looped through the handles.

“That’s weird,” said Zack. “It was wide open yesterday.”

“Shhh!” said Meghan.

Then Zack heard it, too: muffled sounds coming from the other side of the door. Metal hitting metal. It sounded like someone banging a refrigerator with a sledgehammer.

Meghan held her finger up to her lips, leaned in, and cupped her left ear against the steel door. Zack did the same.

They heard gruff voices.

“Hurry up, Jamal!” said one man. “All must be in readiness!”

“It will be!”

More hammering. Steel on steel.

“They must be building scenery,” whispered Meghan.

“Yeah,” Zack whispered back. “Or tearing it apart.”

He felt a frigid breeze brush across the back of his neck. Goose pimples shivered down his spine all the way to his toes.

Judging from the expression on Meghan’s face, her neck, spine, and toes had just hit the deep freeze, too.

They both turned around slowly.

Very, very slowly.

“Hello, children!”

They saw a shriveled hag holding a small hatchet.

The hatchet was dripping blood.