Divine Interruption: A Novel of Ancient Egyptian Gods, Possession, and Raising the Dead

By Katy Metz

During a hospital stay, curator Arsinoë Nelson hears a conversation about Earth's destruction.

Believing this was a one time hallucination, she returns to work at Neo-Classica, an ancient world living history museum, and begins hearing a voice in her head.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katelyn Metz
• Release date: Jan 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218132293

Book preview

Chapter 3

Low lights brightened slowly, and the world came into focus.

Still groggy, Arsinoë became aware of a burning sensation on her chest and the tubes that were connected to almost every one of her limbs, including one down her throat. There was also something familiar lingering in her peripherals.

Why is Dad’s shirt here?

The shirt moved closer and the dark figure under it turned into her father’s torso and head.

Yay! Arsinoë’s awake.

I – The words caught in Arsinoë’s throat. It was sore and she could barely talk around the tube.

She pointed to her eyes, made a V-sign with her index and middle fingers, and gestured to her neck. Her dad cocked his head, and she repeated the motions.

She just had surgery, was in the hospital, and now that she was apparently still alive, her biggest concern was whether or not she had an IV in her neck. Her cardiologist had told her it was a possibility but she had never heard of it being done before. She just wanted IVs in her arms, and possibly legs if she must.

Besides, an IV in the neck sounded extra painful.

Oh, no. No IV there, her dad said.

Yay! Water, Arsinoë rasped.

Her dad grabbed a cup and pulled out a stick with a sponge on one end. He dipped the sponge into the cup again and wet it more before he pressed it her lips. She sucked weakly.

It was cooling and at that moment exactly what she wanted.

A couple of seconds passed, and her dad removed the sponge.

She looked at him, pleading with her eyes.

He set the cup down and shrugged. Then he grabbed a juice box and took a long drag.

Arsinoë’s plea turned into a glare.

Sorry. Nurse said you could only have a little bit.

Arsinoë rolled her eyes and huffed as hard as she possibly could given the circumstances. She could feel her face getting hotter and her breaths came in short, shallow puffs.

Her dad took another pull from the juice box, which made her even more angry. When he was finished, he moved closer and began singing a song that had always cheered her up when she was a baby.

Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man–

Arsinoë raised her arm and smacked her dad across the chest.

Ouch, that hurt, he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

Did I hear that she’s awake? A nurse wearing light blue scrubs appeared from behind a curtain. She looked at the machine monitoring Arsinoë’s vitals. Everything is good for now. How are you feeling? I know you have a tube in your throat, so you can just give me a thumbs-up or -down?

Arsinoë raised her hand and, keeping it flat, shook it to indicate so-so.

Alright. When the doctor comes in a couple of hours, we can probably get that tube out. Until then, why don’t you try to get some more rest.

Blue Scrubs adjusted a bag that was filled with a clear liquid and connected to one of the many IVs sticking out of Arsinoë.

Soon her eyelids grew heavy, and she struggled to keep them open.

The world went black again.

* * *

When Arsinoë woke up the second time, she felt more alert.

It was brighter, and she could see that she was surrounded by green curtains with a tiny cream-colored pattern embroidered on them. There was one actual wall with a small window to her left, and a TV suspended from the ceiling directly above it. It was tuned to a morning news talk show.

In the corner of the screen, she saw it was 9:02 a.m.

Her dad was seated in a recliner next to the window.

Morning, Arsinoë.

She looked from side to side as she registered a mysterious ticking noise. A clock perhaps?

Her mind raced frantically, her breathing quick and sharp. There was no clock in sight other than the one on the TV screen.

Her dad didn’t seem concerned. He was seated, blissfully unaware of anything wrong.

In her mind, Arsinoë pictured a bomb ready to explode at any second. But where was it?

No one else seemed to notice either. The noise outside the curtains hummed along, business as usual.

The ticking noise got faster as her heart rate increased.

Then it dawned on her.

Is that my valve?

Arsinoë bit her lower lip and pulled the bedsheets closer to her chest.

The cardiologist and surgeon had both mentioned that the valve was going to make noise, but they said it wasn’t going to be that loud.

It beat like a metallic drum.

The sound was going to take some getting used to. She hoped it would also get quieter as she recovered.

I can hear the clicking from over here, her dad said. It’s pretty loud.

Arsinoë flushed.

A new nurse, this one dressed in a set of scrubs with corgis in various poses and hats, came into the room and checked the monitor with the vitals, and bags attached to the IVs.

Good morning. Nice to see you awake, Corgi Print said. The doctor is doing rounds right now and I believe he is two rooms away, so he’ll be here soon to get that tube out.

Arsinoë nodded.

Corgi crossed her arms and watched the TV.

The news talk show anchors were discussing the worsening drought in the state and how the Minnesota River was now tinted red, possibly due to an algae bloom. Their voices came over footage of running water that resembled rust and suffocated fish popping up onto the surface.

Not good for the fish or us humans, the doctor said, walking in front of Corgi. He sat on the stool on wheels under the desk below the TV and rolled to Arsinoë’s bedside. Hello. How are you feeling today?

Okay, she croaked. Her attention was drawn to the small opening left in the curtains.

She saw a young redheaded man stop just outside the crack. He was pushing a cart and wearing scrubs. When he made eye contact with Arsinoë, he quickly turned to look at his cart and pushed it away.

Arsinoë swore his eyes turned from blue to black in that second. She shivered.

Probably the painkillers. Good thing I won’t need them much longer.

The doctor was watching the beeping monitor next to the bed. Your vitals look great, and the nurse said you got some rest. What do you say we get that tube out of your throat and see how your lung function is without the help?

Arsinoë nodded. The doctor stood from the stool and Corgi Print grabbed an oxygen mask.

This is going to feel a little funny, the doctor said as he attached a vacuum-like apparatus to the tube.

Arsinoë’s father was at her side in a heartbeat. Squeeze my hand.

Here we go.

Arsinoë gagged slightly and coughed. She gripped her dad’s hand tighter and tighter as the tube came sliding out. Corgi Print placed the oxygen mask over her mouth, and she took three deep breaths.

The doctor looked at the monitor and then back at the nurse. We’re good.

The nurse removed the oxygen mask and Arsinoë breathed freely. Her dad sat back down.

Before I leave, I want to hear you talk. Can you say hi for me please? the doctor asked.

Hi, Arsinoë said.

Her throat felt raw, and she didn’t recognize the hoarse voice that came out, but at least it wasn’t painful or especially taxing to speak.

Perfect, the doctor said. I think we’re in the clear. Let me know if anything changes with her vitals.

Corgi Print nodded and the doctor turned to Arsinoë. You have a great day, and I’ll see you next time.

Bye, Arsinoë managed to say.

The nurse caught the curtain, still open from the doctor’s exit, to peek behind it. She was talking to someone in hushed tones, but Arsinoë couldn’t see beyond the green barrier. Her dad was also watching Corgi, trying to see behind the curtain himself.

Corgi Print dropped the curtain and looked at Arsinoë.

Are you up for some visitors?

Sure, Arsinoë said.

One at a time, please, Corgi Print said as Arsinoë’s mom switched places with her.

Good morning, Mom said, setting her purse on the desk in front of the bed. How are you feeling?

Doing alright. Thirsty. Arsinoë eyed the cup with the sponge her dad had used to give her a drink last night. It was sitting on the tray right next to the bed, just beyond her grasp. She felt completely dry, almost desert-like.

Here. Her mom picked up the cup and put the sponge to her lips.

Arsinoë sucked greedily and could feel the cool liquid trickle down her throat into her stomach. It was heavenly.

Not too much. Corgi Print’s disembodied voice came from her workstation between Arsinoë’s curtained space and the next one.

Her mom removed the sponge and set the cup on the desk.

Arsinoë scoffed. Stupid nurse.

Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Her mom shrugged.

I know.

Her mom stroked her head. You’re sure you’re feeling okay? You look tired.

Yes, Mom.

I’m going to step out then and let Thomas or Annie come in. Her mom tucked her hair behind her ear.

I’ll come out with you so there’s more room in here, her dad said, standing from the recliner.

We’ll come back later.

Just as they lifted the curtain to leave, Annie’s children ran in under the arms of their grandparents.

Natasha had long, wavy chestnut hair with big blue eyes and clear pale skin. Arsinoë had always thought she looked like a cartoon Norwegian princess and told her so on occasion. She was seven years old, and it had tickled her to no end when her aunt said that.

Michael was four years old with sandy blonde hair and green almond-shaped eyes. He had chubby cheeks that his aunt knew would fade as he aged, but for now he reminded her of a squirrel. His attention span was about the same as a rodent’s too, but if you managed to capture his interest, he’d sit starry-eyed for hours.

Hi, Natasha said, taking in the surroundings and stopping at the television. Can I watch TV?

Auntie Are-see-nie! Michael clasped onto the bedside, his head barely peeking up over the edge. Can I see your owie?

Uh… Arsinoë stared down her hospital gown at the thick gauzy dressing.

Is this for the TV? Natasha asked, taking the remote connected to the bed.

She aimed it at the TV and pressed a button. The station didn’t change, but Arsinoë was laid flat. The girl tried again, this time pressing the button harder and jerking the remote toward the TV.

Nothing was different on the screen, but Arsinoë was now bolt upright.

Natasha looked at her. Sorry.

Arsinoë blinked back tears of pain from her wrenched sternum.

What about this one? Trying again, Natasha pressed a new button. Again, the TV station remained the same but mercifully Arsinoë didn’t move this time. Her niece set the remote back on the bedside table, swinging the table farther away from Arsinoë. Doesn’t work.

I wanna see the owie, Michael insisted, pulling himself up on the bed with his hands.

Annie swung in from behind the curtain. She grabbed Michael and held him on her hip. Arsinoë was grasping for the remote to adjust the bed, but it was just out of reach.

Sorry, Annie said. She faced Michael. "I told you, we can’t see Aunt Arsinoë’s owie until she’s