ahkmenrah had been toward the back of the crowd during the president’s speech and proceeding chaos, unable to see exactly what was happening over all the people, but knowing something had gone very wrong. rather than be trampled by everyone fleeing all at once, he moved with the crowd toward the exit of the ballroom. suddenly, out of nowhere as he walked down one of the more narrow hallways looking for anyone he knew, an unseen figure came from behind him, shoving him with inhuman strength to fall through a nearby open door into a pitch black room. the door slammed shut behind him, causing him to scramble to his feet despite being dazed by the turn of events. it became clear at that point that it was a deliberate act to play on his fears as he tried desperately (and unsuccessfully) at the door handle.
taking a deep breath, he tried to center himself and quiet the sense of anxiety that was growing in his chest so he could find a way out of this situation. but it was just as he gathered the courage to venture away from the door to find a light switch or even another exit to the room that he felt the walls beginning to close in on him. he had no idea if it was real or not, and he continually tried to convince himself that is wasn’t, but it was no use. the walls felt no wider than his shoulders and ahkmenrah felt trapped in a coffin-- or, more accurately, a sarcophagus.
no longer being able to hold back the panic from overtaking his being, a familiar suffocating feeling began to set in. several millennia worth of this same exact sensation came rushing back to him: night after night being unable to move, unable to breathe, and unable to think. and just as he thought he had caught a break with the excavation of his tomb, they still kept him trapped on display at the museum. for all they knew, he had been dead for 4,000 years, so what could be the harm in putting a padlock on the door of his sarcophagus to keep it closed? and so, every time the sun set he was sentenced to another 12 hours alone, banging his fists on the door and yelling in hopes that someone would hear-- just like he was now. whatever had taken over the white house clearly had direct access to his worst fears because he couldn’t imagine a more terrible feeling than being returned to this increasingly tight, confined space.