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Jeremy was in love with Queen Ninatutu the Third. Ever since he saw her on his first day at work those twelve-and-a-half glorious years ago, he knew he was in love. Unfortunately, she didn’t love him back. How could she? She was dead.
There hadn’t been a single day that he didn’t stare at her sarcophagus. It was the first thing he did every morning, then later he would sit in front of her at lunch and eat his cheese sandwiches on white bread with extra mayo, quietly watching her behind the glass and between the tourists. The annoying crowds blocked his view, but it meant his colleagues at the museum didn’t ask too many questions. They probably assumed he liked the company of a busy room and a chance to get out of his tiny office, but secretly he wanted them all to get lost and leave him with the love of his life.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on what made his heart feel the way it did. He’d always had a thing for powerful women, ever since he’d shaken hands with Margaret Thatcher at a rally, but Queen Ninatutu the Third was different.
He particularly liked the idea of her in her prime. He often fantasised about all that power she’d wielded, the places she’d conquered, the countless people she’d killed or had killed. He especially enjoyed imagining the palm leaves that would have wafted her glistening skin in the dull light of the throne room.
The thought made him all hot. If there was a better feeling he didn’t know it.
He’d spend the rest of the day working on his research, but his mind rarely wandered far from her, to the point that his paper was about three years overdue. Naturally, the thesis recounted Queen Ninatutu’s life, death and afterlife in meticulous detail. Most of it came from the half-destroyed tablets that, once translated, prophesied her return to the mortal world to rule once more. If only it were true.
Home time was both his favourite and least favourite part of the day. He liked it because the packs of modern-day nobodies left and he had her all to himself. He hated it because he would have to go home. Home meant sitting alone watching TV with no one to talk to, counting the minutes until he could be back by her side. One time security caught him staying a little later than normal and he got in all sorts of trouble. If he lost his job, he’d never get to be alone with her ever again. He couldn’t have that.
Of course, he’d never actually seen her face. She had been wrapped up tight to keep her safe all these years. These days you could sneeze and see a hundred pictures of a girl you loved. She wasn’t like modern girls. Her portrait was all he needed, crafted onto the front of the coffin. Something about the tenderness the artist had given her eyes and smile told more than a thousand photos.
One time Jeremy heard a boy laughing at her. The little brat called her stupid and said the sarcophagus looked fake and that even he could have painted it better. Luckily, Jeremy was there to teach the boy a lesson. He really laid into him. The boy scoffed and walked off like he didn’t care, but Jeremy knew he did.
That was the day he knew he had to take action. No more waiting. They didn’t deserve her; he deserved her. He was her knight in shining armour, ready to whisk her away to safety. A true gentleman. If he was lucky, she’d let him kiss her hand.
After months of digging through the archive, he discovered details of her preservation from some papyrus scrolls. They said she’d undergone extreme and experimental mummification techniques. One-of-a-kind. More than just the brain-out-the nose stuff you learn as a kid. Translating the reams and reams of incantations had been a nightmare.
After much persuading, they agreed to let him perform an examination. Sure, he’d exaggerated a few details, but what choice did he have?
Jeremy could barely sleep after that. His mind raced with hope and fear, imagining what she might look like, what they would find. When he closed his eyes she called to him, stronger than ever before, like a pulse of love that transcended space and time. If it went too well, they might take her away. Maybe ship her back home to Cairo. That wouldn’t do at all; he wouldn’t cope with that kind of climate. He’d been to Greece once and it played havoc with his eczema.
He spent the next weekend converting his garden shed for her arrival. He bought a bag of sand and a ventilation unit from the garden centre, then some Egyptian themed things on sale in Poundland. With her by his side, he wouldn’t ever feel alone again.
On the morning of their first meeting – first real meeting – Jeremy made sure to splash on plenty of aftershave and wear his best underpants and shirt. Even if she wouldn’t see them under his sterilized lab coat.
His hands shook as he peeled back the layers. His colleagues spoke in concerned tones but he didn’t hear them; each scrap of cotton he lifted, untouched for thousands of years, put him closer to her.
He almost fainted when he saw her face. It was more beautiful than he could possibly describe. Of course, she was rotted and leathery, but to him, that was true beauty. Honest, enduring beauty that passed through the eons like a poem.
She opened an eye.
His colleagues didn’t see; it was only a flutter, but unmistakable. Jeremy smiled. That was just for him, a wink to tell him she knew he was there. Of course, he hid it from them. They carried on taking their sample and scans, too excited by her strange ruby necklace that was hot to the touch. It took all Jeremy’s self-control not to jump up and down and scream with joy.
The next day they finished exposing her. He blushed a little, seeing her naked like that. The poor thing. Her perfect body, lithe and tender, there for the world to see.
Soon they could be alone together. He could finally tell her how he felt, and she could tell him she felt the same.
That was when she moved her finger.
It was as she lay on her cold slab under the blue light. It wiggled in his direction, just for him. He found himself wiggling his little finger back. That was her signal. It was time.
That evening he hid in his office under the desk with the lights turned off. He had a Twix in his pocket for dinner, but his stomach churned too much to eat it. He sat there tapping his leg, going over and over what he would say.
Once he was sure everyone had gone home, he scrambled up and crept through the corridors to the examination room. He held his breath with every step, stooped over in the darkness.
Thankfully his keycard still worked. He winced as it beeped and unlocked the door.
There she was, stood still in the middle of the room.
She was naked, just how they’d left her, except for a ruby necklace that hung low on her chest. It throbbed, casting a red glow across her flesh.
He tried to speak, but the words didn’t come. He’d practised this moment a thousand times, but now his mind was useless mush.
His beloved took a step forward, mouth open. She rasped and the air grew cold and dry. She placed her hand on his forehead.
Pain shrieked through his skull. She bore down hard, her fingers splitting his eyes and skin. He fell to the floor, blood pooling all around, dripping and gushing. She stepped over him and walked away.
Jeremy smiled and closed his weeping eyes. All that remained inside him was a single thought. She was finally free.
He had served her well.
And it was the happiest day of his life.