When I got to the surface, I was careful not to stick my head out of the hole. I didn’t see a body, but it was an invisible mummy, so go figure. I saw tracks, walking to the mess hall.

Was it hungry?

Somebody needed to do something. General Wheeler was our man. He was tired of bombing Iraqis into oblivion—and he wanted a real enemy, like the Nazis or the Soviets, but he was born too late.

I ran to his quarters and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

“Sir, we have a mummy on the lose.”

“A mummy, you say? This isn’t Egypt.”

“I know that sir, but just the same—my patient discovered it while cleaning out the officer’s latrine.”

“And you don’t think this is some delusion, brought-on by pulling a shit detail?”

“No, sir. I’ve seen the mummy with my own eyes.”

“I thought you said it was invisible?”

“That’s true, sir. I mean, I’ve seen evidence of the mummy—it’s wrappings and footprints. The dressings make a man invisible. Show him Max.”

The private was lurking in the shadows. When he stepped forward, he showed General Wheeler his missing hands.

“Good God, son. Why did they let you into the military? What can you do without hands?”

“But that’s just it, General. I have hands. See?” Max washed in the sink and showed us.

“Do you know the military implications of this? An invisible army,” General Wheeler said with a dreamy-far-off look on his face. “If this technology gets into the wrong hands, we won’t be able to see them. Now, where is this mummy?”

“That’s just it, sir. We don’t know where it went.”

“You don’t know where it went? You incompetent nincompoops!”

“Well, it was headed to the mess hall.”

“Quick. Bring a bucket of water and my personal flamethrower. I don’t care what they say—fire is more effective than a side-arm or a shotgun.”

I grabbed the backpack and we went to get some spaghetti and meatballs.

The footprints led right up to the door.

To be continued…