Chapter Thirty-Two Squid-Zilla Games
Ipull the door closed behind me and then blink a few times as my eyes get used to the strange red light that fills the room. The last thing we need is for this thing to escape.
I vaguely remember my mother complaining about having to find special lightbulbs to accommodate this creature, but I didn’t pay a lot of attention at the time. But apparently the thing doesn’t like regular light, because not only is every bulb in the place red, but the tiny windows near the ceiling are also covered in a strange, red film that gives the whole room an eerie, crimson glow that has the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up.
Izzy doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by it, though, as she strides confidently toward the center of the large, barren room.
“Don’t you want to know where it is before you expose yourself like that?” I ask, looking around as I follow her deeper into the enclosure. My time with the chricklers has taught me that slow and steady keeps all your limbs and most of your skin attached.
She shrugs. “I don’t mind monsters. At least they’re honest about who they are and what they want.”
“Yeah, but what they want is usually some part of your body. Flesh. Bones. Blood…” I break off as I remember who I’m talking to.
But Izzy just grins, exposing her very long, very sharp fangs. “Hey, don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.”
“Not really a manticore thing,” I answer as I spin around in a circle, trying to figure out where this damn monster is. It’s not like there’s so much in here for it to hide behind.
There are three large potted trees in the back corner of the enclosure with what looks like scratch marks going all the way to the tops of the trunks. Some of the branches are cracked in half and hanging off the trees, while others are just plain gone—cut or ripped off at the trunks. At least one of the trees must be an apple tree, because the ground around the pots is littered with cores that have been chewed down to the seeds.
The rest of the room is pretty blank—as long as you discount the walls, which are even more scratched up than the tree trunks. There’s just a large pallet for what I assume is sleeping, several troughs filled with water and more of the sparkly Z-shaped kibble we feed the monsters, a chained-up cabinet that I’m guessing contains more of its food, and a heavy-duty chain that runs down the center of the room.
I have about one second to register that the chain is probably attached to squidzilla—and start to follow it with my eyes—when a loud, rumbling growl fills the room.
“Where is it?” Izzy demands as we both whirl to the left, where the sound came from.
There’s nothing there…except for the huge, heavy chain. Only this part of it isn’t on the ground. Instead, it’s hanging from the ceiling.
And, it turns out, I was right. It’s most definitely attached to the monster. Who is way more terrifying than I imagined from Uncle Carter’s description of it when it first came to the menagerie. And also exceptionally pissed off, if the snarls coming from its very large, very sharp-toothed mouth are any indication.
“What the hell is that thing?” Izzy demands, and suddenly she’s got a knife in each hand—and the newest edition is even bigger and scarier looking than the first. Before I can process what’s happening, she leans forward and presses it into my hand.
“I don’t want that!” I yelp, trying to hand it back—partly because I have no idea how to use a knife to defend myself and mostly because whatever that thing plans to do to me is nowhere near as bad as what my mother will do to me if I get caught with a weapon on school grounds. The fact that Izzy’s managed to last this long with her knife collection is definitely a testament to who she is rather than Calder Academy’s normal policy regarding possession of any kind of weapon on the island.
But Izzy can’t take it—she’s already holding a third knife. And judging from the way she spins them both around, she definitely knows how to use them.
“Where do you keep getting those?” I demand as we continue to back up under the squid thing’s watchful black eyes. “I know we search for weapons when you get here.”
“Not sure this is the time for that discussion,” Izzy answers as she holds the knives up in front of her, like she’s just waiting for a chance to impale the beast.
“You know we’re here to feed and water it, right? Not kill it?” I lower my knife as I try to figure out what I’m supposed to do with the thing now that it’s got my fingerprints all over it. “I’m pretty sure the people who are paying my mother to board it here are going to be really upset if it comes back missing a…”
I trail off as I try to figure out what to call the translucent-skinned thing’s appendages.
“Tentacle?” Izzy fills in.
And technically, I suppose she’s right. The monster’s lower body is made up of close to a hundred tentacle-shaped limbs. Except where most tentacles have some kind of suction cup on them, it has razor blades. Dozens and dozens of razor blades. Which explains the scratches on every available surface in this place.
What the ever-loving hell?
I know the school always needs money, but there has to be a better way to get it than to volunteer to take care of creatures like this.
That awful snake monster got out earlier. What the hell would we do if this thing actually slipped its chain and got onto the school grounds?
“I’m going to—” I break off as it skitters, still upside down, across the ceiling straight toward us.
It makes a clicking sound as it moves—the razor blades skipping along the ceiling—and as it gets closer, revulsion turns my stomach. Because it truly is the grossest-looking thing I’ve ever seen.
To begin with, its top half looks a lot like one of those hairless cats—oversize, pointy ears, wide black eyes, and wrinkly skin. It’s even got two small limbs with what look like paws attached to the ends. None of which is bad at all—until you get to the elongated snout and the two-foot-long teeth protruding from its mouth in all directions. Not to mention the fact that the wrinkly skin is not just hairless but also translucent just below it.
And then there are the tentacles. So, so, so many translucent tentacles with greenish yellow blood running just below the surface and—now that it’s closer—I can see what I thought were razor blades are actually some kind of knife-edged shells.
All in all, a living nightmare if I’ve ever seen one.
And it’s looking straight at me.
“We need to feed it and get the hell out of here,” I tell Izzy as I scoot gingerly toward the food cabinet and try really hard not to notice that it is scooting right along with me, the scraping of its shells over the ceiling like nails down a chalkboard.
“So get busy!” Izzy snarls. “I’ll hold it off.”
I start to ask her if she’s sure, but she’s already moved to cover me, knives at the ready. And while I’d tend to doubt nearly anyone else who thought they could handle this thing, there’s something in Izzy’s eyes that tells me she’s more than ready for the challenge. I’m seriously not sure if that thing is bravery or sociopathy, but right now, I don’t really care. I just want to do the job we came here to do and then get both of us out of this shithole alive.
I’ve learned through the years that there are very few people I can trust on this island, but now seems as good a time as any to expand that faith in others. So instead of demanding to be the one to fend off the beast, a task I’m pretty sure I’m unprepared for, I take Izzy at her word and race toward the food cabinet.
The second I turn my back on it, I expect to feel the monster’s sharp teeth sinking into my jugular as its razor-tipped talons tear me limb from limb. But, amazingly, I make it to the cabinet completely untouched—though the growls and clicking sounds behind me make me think the same can’t be said for Izzy.
A particularly loud squeal of pain has my heart threatening to explode in my chest, but when I glance over my shoulder, it’s to find Izzy still standing, her own fangs bared in a snarl. It’s all the reassurance I need, at least for now, and I yank open the cabinet doors and pull down two giant bags of food.
With the chricklers, I usually divide up the food into their many troughs, making sure that it’s spread out for them all throughout the enclosure. They are notoriously picky about where they eat and who they eat in front of, including each other. But I know very little about this squid thing and care even less. As long as it actually has food out in the open, I don’t care if it eats it or not.
Especially since it just wrapped a dozen of its sharp-ass tentacles around Izzy’s right arm and is currently trying to wrestle her knife away from her.
“Hey!” I yell to get its attention, then immediately wish I hadn’t as it starts click-clacking its way across the ceiling toward me. And while that was what I was hoping it would do, I didn’t expect it to drag Izzy along in its wake. Which is exactly what it is currently doing—apparently having a hundred tentacles means it can come after me while holding on to Izzy and still have enough to spare to take on most of the senior class.
Izzy struggles against the monster using what looks like every ounce of her vampire strength to try to hold her ground. But the thing is strong, really strong, and the more she struggles, the deeper its tentacles cut into Izzy’s arm.
She’s easily just as pissed as the squid thing now, and as it continues to pull her along, she comes out swinging. The creature made her drop the knife in her right hand, but she’s still got the one in her left, and she swings it, in a powerful uppercut, straight toward the tentacle holding on to her.
The knife connects, slicing deep into the tentacle but not actually cutting it off. The monster responds with a bellow of rage so loud it makes my ears ring. And then it starts wrapping its tentacles around her, one after another.
They slide around her legs, her hips, her waist, her diaphragm, her chest, her neck, her arms. Nearly every part of her is covered in disgusting tentacles. Nearly every part of her is being cut into by razor-sharp shells.
Izzy doesn’t scream or cry, doesn’t make so much as a sound. But I know that it’s cutting her, know that she’s hurting. I can hear the harshness of her breathing, can see the blood falling onto the ground near her feet.
And that’s before it starts to squeeze.