The Mummy Returns Quotes
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As if searching for escaped prisoners, floodlights swept across a desert dig at Hamanaptra, aiding a starry night whose full moon had already painted the ruins of the City of the Dead with a patina of ivory.
.. Evelyn's view of the room, in a flicker of torchlight, changed, fantastically, as if she had been catapulted thousands of years into the past, the small alcove suddenly, gloriously new, the hieroglyphs vivid, golden glittering furnishings adorning what was clearly an elaborate antechamber. A beautiful woman—a shapely young Egyptian princess in headdress and golden jeweled jewelry and clinging gown—moved through a doorway into the antechamber. The woman's head was lowered; Evelyn could not see her face, but did glimpse the larger, even more opulent chamber beyond, where two massive, fearsome warriors with swords and shields stood at either side of a small, ornate, gold-encrusted chest. Closing the door behind her, the princess locked it by twisting a sundial mechanism—twice to the right, once to the left. Strangely, Rick was in this vision of the chamber room as well, a jarring modern-day presence, but apparently oblivious to this manifestation of opulence ... a fact which he confirmed by walking straight through the princess, as if she were a ghost!
"Rise up!" someone was saying in ancient Egyptian.
The Curator—reading from The Book of the Dead!
Like a minister reading from the Bible to his congregation, the Curator held open in his hands the massive black volume whose obsidian covers were disturbingly similar to the stone imprisoning Imhotep. "Rise up!" the dark little man said, his voice resounding through the room. "Rise up!"
Bowing to her, but keeping his fiery-eyed gaze on the turbaned intruders, the dark-garbed warrior said, "Perhaps explanations are best saved for later."
Rick O'Connell and Ardeth Bay—the former with a shotgun in hand, the latter lugging his cherished Thompson submachine gun—were creeping through the museum's second-floor gallery. A crack of thunder made them both start, and they exchanged small nervous smiles.
Another voice—a deep, sand-papery voice— boomed through the chamber: "I think not!" Alex looked past his mother, who also glanced toward the source of the words, and saw a solemn, dark-robed, dark-garbed, angular-faced, trimly bearded desert warrior—his cheekbones touched with strange puzzle-like tattoos. He had come from somewhere, from anywhere, as if he'd materialized.