Zits from Python Pit #6 (10 page)

“I've got an amazing idea,” said Gordon. “How about, instead of spending so much time searching these rooms, we sleep in one of them? Not all of them have tarantula beds. This one doesn't.”

“That
is
an amazing idea,” said Nabila, yawning. “Being hypnotized and forced to think that you're a tasty treat is really hard work. My arms are still sore from flapping around. And my face is super sore from these zits. They're throbbing.”

We stood in the center of another cell-like room deep in the dungeon of The House of Eternal Rest. A lightbulb hung from the stone ceiling, flickering. Director Z and the monsters were spread out through the rest of the dungeon pawing through every room for clues that would help us get out of this mess.

“The hair all over that bed makes me think it's Rangda's,” said Shane. “You know what Rangda is known for, right?”

“Rang-who?” asked Gordon, yawning.

“Rangda the Balinese witch,” said Shane. “The bug-eyed tusky one that was headed for Chris when Clarice and Betty were battling. She likes to eat small children.”

“Who are you callin' small?” asked Gordon.

“I'm just saying, you gotta ask yourself, ‘Is Rangda feelin' hungry after a night on the town?'”

“You probably don't want your scent in any of these monsters' beds,” said Nabila. “They're already ready to eat us. We don't want to keep reminding them.” She stared at the mattress longingly. “Still, that looks so comfortable.”

“Once we've helped Chris,” Shane said, “I'm going to hunker down with some of Betty's frog-water tea and snuggle into a tarantula bed.”

“Such a weirdo,” said Gordon.

“Why thank you,” said Shane.

“I could fall asleep standing up,” I said. “My head aches and I'd love to rest, but the quicker we solve this mystery, the quicker I'm free of this place.”

“That sounds like your problem,” said Nabila, yawning. “Your mystery. So tired.”

I peeked under a regular mattress that wasn't made from an ever-shifting vat of tarantulas and didn't see anything but a few crumbs and centipedes. They eyed me angrily as I put it down again.

“Fine,” I grumbled to Nabila. “I know you're only being a turd because your face hurts so much. Take a break here.”

Nabila flopped down face-first onto Rangda's bed, and a huge cloud of hair lifted up and into the room.

SNOOOOOOOOOOOORE.

“Wow, she really was tired,” I said. “This room is clear. Nothing to find here. But let's take a breather before we head to the next one.”

“What are we looking for? What is the mystery we're trying to solve?” Ben asked. “Or mysteries? There's a lot going on, and this is the first time we've stopped crashing through the jungle in three weeks.”

“This is one heck of an unexplained mystery,” said Gordon, probing his face while he looked into a cracked mirror. “Why is our perfect skin breaking out in volcanic zits?”

I sat on the edge of the bed, exhausted. “The zits are just one issue,” I said.

“It must feel nice that you don't even have to deal with that issue,” huffed Ben.

“Yet,” I said back. “But I've got plenty of other things to worry about. And I'm trying to figure out how the zits are connected to everything else. I know Director Z keeps telling me to notice things, but I've been so tired, and half the time I forget why I'm here. I mean, I didn't even know my own name until a few days ago.”

“Oh, wait a minute,” said Shane. He picked up a box that had been hiding under the bed, flipped it upside down, and shook it hard. “I thought this room was clear.” A few moths fluttered out of the box. Shane grabbed one and pulled it up to his mouth. “But is it?”

We all waited for a reply. The moth said nothing.

Shane let the moth go and then turned to me. “Let's think this through. You were called here, as if this place were in danger. But then, when you got here, you were told that you were not needed and that Tikoloshe was here.”

“I'm following so far,” said Ben. “Except for the Tikoloshe part. Is he the Director?”

“I don't think he can be,” I said. “Or I'd be able to leave this place.”

“Unless he's such a bad Director, your pendant wants you to take over,” said Gordon.

“Like he was their Director and then he went bad or something like that?” Ben asked.

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe Tikoloshe ate the Director, and is now in charge of the monsters, but the pendant called me here because the facility still needs a Director, even though nobody here wants one.”

“Okay,” said Shane. “So I think the first thing we're looking for is some scoop on Tikoloshe. That might help us figure out if he's the Director, and if not, we can keep digging from there. Plus, I think he may have something to do with our zit plague.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I said. “But how do we start?”

“Well, none of the other monsters trust or even care about us,” said Shane, “but I bet you Betty might have some tasty gossip she'd be willing to share now that Clarice has slapped the crazy out of her.”

Shane rushed out of the room and down the hall.

Ben and Gordon quickly followed.

“Wait!” I said. “I know someone has to stay with Nabila, but why does it have to be me?”

Roy ambled past the room. I jumped out and grabbed him.

“EEEEEK!” he screeched. “Are you trying to frighten me to death?”

“Are you trying to wake up Nabila?” I asked. “She's in there sleeping, and I need you to guard her while I go investigate something.”

“What sort of bed is it?” Roy asked, shuddering.

“It's not a tarantula bed,” I said. I shoved Roy into the room. “It's a regular old bed. Now get in there and keep an eye on her.”

By the time I found my way to Betty's room, Shane was already busy grilling her.

“You really can't remember anything about how Tikoloshe got here?” Shane asked.

“I'm telling you the truth,” Betty said, “I can barely remember anything about him. I just have a warm fuzzy feeling about Mr. Tikoloshe. I mean,
had
a warm fuzzy feeling about him.”

“What else?” I asked. “Can you remember anything? There has to be someone who knew about Tikoloshe before he came here. Maybe we could find a diary or something?”

“Paper?” scoffed Betty. “We're all-electronic around here.”

She sipped her frog-water tea.

“All-electronic?” I scoffed back. “Really? Then what technology are you old farts using?”

“Hmmm, let me think,” said Betty. She scratched her hairy chin. “I know a number of residents are on Twitter. I think I remember Rangda bragging that her handle was @tikoloshefan. It kind of makes me jealous, since I love Tikoloshe. I mean
loved,
of course. In any case, you can start with Rangda's account.”

“@tikoloshefan?” Gordon asked Shane. “Rangda has an account called @tikoloshefan? So weird.”

“I think a more important question is, how are you all able to charge your cell phones?” said Shane. “I could use some juice. I'd love to catch up with my friends.”

“We're all here,” said Gordon.

“Oh, right,” said Shane.

“I wonder what Rangda was tweeting about,” I said. “It's too bad we didn't find a phone in her room.”

“Any phone with Twitter will do,” said Ben. “It doesn't have to be hers.”

“I don't actually have a smartphone,” said Betty. “My cell phone's from the very early aughts. But I think Gilberto, the Brazilian zombie, always leaves his phone at home when he's out. See if you can find it in his room. It's the one with the largest tarantula bed.”

“Of
course
it is,” said Gordon.

We ran down the hall and found Gilberto's room.

A king-size antique claw-foot tub in the center of the room overflowed with tarantulas. Some of them crawled slowly back up the porcelain sides to join their friends. Some skittered past us and out of the door.

“I can't imagine how that's comfortable,” said Gordon. “If they were all dead, maybe.”

“Mmmmm,” said Ben. “Rotten spider bed.”

“I bet the best part is snuggling into all of their fuzz and being wrapped in their warmth,” said Shane. He started to crawl into the tub.

“Stop!” yelled Ben. He pulled Shane back.

“You can nap later if you really want to,” I said. “First, let's find Gilberto's cell phone.”

Shane opened all of the bureau drawers. “Nothing.”

Gordon rummaged through a small desk. “No smartphone here,” he said.

Ben quickly peered under the tub, avoiding the spiders that dangled off the edge. “Nothing here.”

“Let me go tell the others what we know so far,” I said. “Keep looking in here. I'll be right back.”

I walked down the hallway and didn't get that far before I heard giggling in a nearby room. I turned to have a peek and saw Twenty-Three, Gil, Grigore, Clarice, and Betty in a high cave. A strange glow came down from a hole in the ceiling.

“Did you find a clue?” I asked. “Something to do with the Director?”

“The moon is so beautiful,” said Twenty-Three. “Wow, I lived on such a beautiful thing. Thank you for showing us.”

They all stared up, but their eyes were glazed over.

“Guys, are you talking with someone?” I asked.

None of them answered, so I looked up with them. A small shadowy figure was peering down through the large hole. I couldn't tell what it was because the moon was so bright.

“Who is that?” I yelled up, and with the wave of a hand, the shadowy figure disappeared.

My face tightened and felt funny. I reached up and felt a bump on my nose. Two bumps on my forehead. A few more on my cheeks.

I turned to my friends, who were still staring up at the moon.

“Guys?” I asked.

They kept staring.

“GUYS, look at me!” I said. “Can you tell me if I have zits on my face? It feels so weird.”

They all finally lowered their heads and looked at me. “Oh, I didn't see you there,” said Gil. “Hi, Chris. Isn't the moon beautiful?”

“I've been standing here for, like, two minutes,” I said to Gil.

They all stared at me.

“Okay, so tell me what you see,” I said.

They kept staring at me.

“Guys, stop it, you're freaking me out,” I said.

Grigore smiled a very toothy smile and stared into my eyes. I was frozen.

“Grigore, stop it!” I yelled. “Just tell me how bad these zits look and then look away.”

Grigore opened his mouth, and his fangs grew.

“Chris! Chris!” Ben yelled, and ran into the room. Grigore dropped his gaze, and I was able to turn around.

“What is it?” I asked.

Ben jumped at the sight of my face.

“Oh, you finally got the zits, huh?” he asked. “We found the phone. It's in the bed.”

“In the bed?” I asked. “With the tarantulas?”

“Yes, and Shane wants to jump in and grab it,” Ben said. “Hurry!”

The monsters and I rushed into the other room. Shane was on the lip of the bathtub looking down.

“I just saw it, three or four spiders deep,” said Shane. “This is going to be so awesome.”

“Are you really sure you want to do that?” I asked.

“Awww, yeah,” he said, and jumped in. The spiders stopped moving, and he lay there for a minute, enjoying the back-soothing comfort of the world's greatest, but most bizarre, mattress.

“They've locked into place,” I said. “How are you going to get it?”

“Lemme see,” he said, and began to slide his hand into the mass of spiders. They shifted around uncomfortably. “Aaah, that tickles!”

TEE HEE HEE HEE!

I looked over at Grigore. He looked back at me and furrowed his brow. “Vhat?” he asked.

Shane pushed his arm elbow-deep into the spider mattress and concentrated. “I thought it was right here.”

“Twenty-Three, do you want to help Shane?” I asked.

“No, no, I got this!” said Shane.

That's when the other spiders grabbed his left arm and pulled it in.

“Wait, wait!” yelled Shane. But the spiders pulled hard, and Shane's face smooshed up against the pile. “SNOP IT! SNO—”

And then his head was under the tarantulas.