The Lazarus File: A Case of Borrowed Time

Detective Riley wasn’t superstitious, but when the call came in at 3:14 am, a shiver ran down her spine. It was the same ungodly hour her father, a decorated cop himself, had bought it in a sting operation gone wrong.

“Homicide at the Lazarus Museum,” the voice on the other end crackled. “Victim: Dr. Evelyn Thorne, curator.”
Evelyn Thorne. The name hit Riley like a forgotten memory. She vaguely remembered a childhood fascination with the eccentric archaeologist, a woman known for unearthing lost civilizations and defying expectations. Now, she was found dead in the very museum she’d built.

The Lazarus Museum, an imposing neo-gothic structure, loomed over the city like a mausoleum. Rain lashed against the gargoyles, casting grotesque shadows on the cobblestones. Inside, the air hung heavy with the scent of dust and forgotten things. Thorne lay sprawled beside a sarcophagus, a golden scarab amulet clutched in her hand. There were no signs of forced entry, no struggle. Just a single, crimson puncture on her neck.
“Looks like an exotic poison,” the medical examiner murmured, his gaze flickering between the body and the gleaming artifact. “Quick acting, painless.”

Riley felt a knot tighten in her gut. This case reeked of something more than a random robbery. Thorne was known to be fiercely protective of her collection, especially the Egyptian artifacts. The scarab, a symbol of rebirth, felt like a calling card, a deliberate taunt.

Days blurred into nights as Riley delved into Thorne’s world. The woman was a walking paradox – brilliant, but reclusive, obsessed with the afterlife but terrified of her own mortality. Her obsession with ancient Egyptian rituals and near-death experiences was well documented. Had she been playing with forces beyond her control?
A breakthrough came from an unlikely source – a museum security guard, a young woman named Elara with an encyclopedic knowledge of Egyptian mythology. “The ritual of Set,” she explained, her voice hushed. “It allows the transfer of one’s life force into another, using a sacred scarab.”

A cold realization dawned on Riley. The scarab wasn’t a trophy; it was the key. Thorne had orchestrated her own death, hoping to cheat fate. But who, or what, was supposed to receive her stolen life?

The answer came in the form of an old, faded photograph found in Thorne’s private office. A younger version of Thorne, standing beside a man whose face was eerily familiar. It was Lucas Thorne, Evelyn’s twin brother, presumed dead in a plane crash decades ago.
The investigation took a sinister turn. Lucas Thorne, it turned out, was very much alive, living a reclusive life on the outskirts of the city. His body, mangled beyond recognition, had been misidentified. Apparently, the crash had left him clinging to life but irreparably disfigured.

Faced with a future of isolation and pain, Lucas had become consumed by his sister’s work, particularly her research on the afterlife. He’d convinced her to attempt the ritual, believing it would grant him a new lease on life.

The confrontation came in the museum’s deepest vault, a chamber dedicated to the Egyptian underworld. Lucas, gaunt and cloaked, stood beside the sarcophagus, the stolen life force coursing through his veins. The golden scarab thrummed with an unnatural energy.
The ensuing fight was brutal. Lucas, invigorated by the borrowed time, fought with a desperate strength. But Riley, fueled by a mix of grief and rage, disarmed him. Just as she apprehended him, a low groan echoed from within the sarcophagus.

The lid creaked open, revealing a mummified figure unlike any other. Its desiccated wrappings seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light. In its lifeless hand, it clutched another golden scarab, its surface etched with symbols of forgotten power.

Riley’s heart hammered against her ribs. It wasn’t just Lucas who wanted to cheat death. Something far more ancient, far more malevolent, had been awakened. And it had a plan of its own. The Lazarus file, she realized, wasn’t closed. It had just taken a horrifying turn.