“Dog…check,” said Nipper.
He patted the baseball bat on one side of the backpack, held in place by bungee cords. “Check.”
He had lights, a snack, a dog, and extra protection. He was ready. He would travel to the deepest, creepiest part of the tomb beneath the Temple of Horus. There he’d toss the evil ring into the bottomless pit. The emerald scorpion would be gone forever, and the curse would be lifted from his Yankees.
The magtrain came to a stop. Nipper slung the backpack over his shoulder, hopped onto the Edfu station platform, and headed up the ramp.
He smiled and looked back to make sure Dennis was following him.
“Come on, pal,” he said. “This is going to be—”
“Wruf!” barked Dennis.
“Nah,” said Nipper, shielding his eyes from the dog collar’s light. “This’ll be easy.”
Nipper climbed out of the magtrain. He passed through a hallway lined with paintings of the Egyptian god Horus. The walls were covered with tiled mosaics of ancient buildings and gods. It was pretty cool, but he didn’t stop to look at anything. He’d been there before, and right now he was in a hurry. His Yankees were probably getting near the end of the first game of their doubleheader. They were probably losing game number one hundred forty-six.
Nipper arrived at a small room with a ladder in the center rising up to a hole in the ceiling.
He reached up to grasp the ladder and began to climb. After two rungs, he stopped and looked back down. Dennis sat looking up at him.
“Wruf!” Dennis barked.
Nipper looked back down. The pug looked up at him.
“Whoops,” said Nipper, hopping to the ground. “I almost forgot.”
He reached into his backpack, took out the tote bag, and unrolled it.
“A pug tote,” said Nipper, holding the bag open against the floor. “Hop in.”
Dennis sniffed the bag. He didn’t seem interested in hopping into it. Nipper scooped him up and zipped him in, then hung the tote over his other shoulder.
He scaled the ladder quickly. When he reached the top, he used one hand and pushed up on the round hatch above him. Sunlight flooded into the shaft. He climbed the last few rungs and peeked out of the opening.
He was back in the courtyard outside the Temple of Horus, atop the big stone statue of the bird-headed god.
“Falcon’s nest,” said Nipper.
He looked around the courtyard. To his left was a huge, M-shaped building covered with ancient carvings. To his right were the glass doors leading to the museum. Nipper slid down the bird statue’s back and landed on his feet. Then he adjusted his backpack and his tote and walked into the museum.
“Greetings, young American boy,” said a woman by the door.
“Shukraan,” said Nipper.
The woman smiled at him.
“Very well spoken,” she said.
Nipper smiled back. Just knowing how to say please and thank you in someone else’s language really opened doors.
“What is in the tote bag?” she asked.
“It’s a lamp,” Nipper answered.
The woman studied the cone sticking out of the top of the bag. She watched Dennis’s nose twitch several times.
“A dog…lamp,” she said slowly. “I have a cat clock at home. Eyes move back and forth as the tail swings. Do you like cats?”
Dennis growled softly.
The woman looked concerned, and Nipper coughed several times to cover up the sound of the pug growling.
“Sorry,” said Nipper. “I’m allergic to cats.”
“Have a wonderful time in the museum, then,” said the woman, waving him along.
Nipper walked around the corner quickly.
“Yankees lose again!”
The voice of a baseball announcer rang out. Nipper looked around, startled. Where was that coming from? He walked quickly past rows of statues and glass cases filled with pottery, tools, and other artifacts. He turned the corner and entered the same exhibit hall that he and Samantha had visited the last time they’d been in Egypt. A fancy tapestry hung on display here. Nipper remembered that it illustrated the story of “The Traveler and the Monkey King.” Supposedly, a man was in trouble until a brave young girl rescued him with her red magic spear.
A man sat in a chair beside a table in one corner of the room. Nipper recognized him immediately. It was the museum guide who had translated the Monkey King story for him before. A small radio, about the size of a juice box, rested on the table. The man stared at the device, listening intently. Nipper could tell he wasn’t paying attention to anything else in the room, including him or Dennis.
“Final score: Red Sox, twenty-two. Yankees, zero!”
“Rahib,” said the man. “That makes one hundred and forty-six losses in a row.”
He switched off the radio, sighed heavily, and began massaging his forehead with one hand. He noticed Nipper and stopped.
“I know you,” he said, pointing at Nipper. “You’re that super-annoying boy who came in here a few months ago.”
Nipper nodded.
“Where’s your sister?” the guide asked.
“She wouldn’t come with me,” said Nipper. “She’s too busy to help with my mission.”
“Mission, eh?” replied the guide. “Good thing you brought that dog.”
“You mean this lamp?” said Nipper.
“I can see it’s a dog with a plastic cone,” said the guide.
“Oh, this dog,” said Nipper, setting the tote bag on the floor.
Dennis walked out of the bag and sat on the floor, looking up at the guide.
“When I’m in trouble, he always saves the day,” said Nipper.
The man seemed to study the dog for a while.
“Do you think the dog saves you because you are friends?” he asked. “Or does he think you are going to drop snacks around him?”
“Probably both,” said Nipper. “But right now I’m here to save my Yankees from grave danger.”
“Your Yankees?” asked the guide.
“Yeah,” said Nipper. “I was the owner of the team, until the girl in the house next to me stole them.”
“Girl?” asked the guide. “Describe this girl. Is she young? Is she old?”
“Well…she’s mean,” said Nipper. “And she always wears the same yellow polka-dot blouse.”
“A mean girl in a yellow polka-dot blouse. Young…or maybe old,” the guide repeated slowly, considering each word.
“Yeah,” said Nipper. “And she’s tricky, too. Every time I try to get back my team, I wind up losing more things and…Wait. Is that a Yankees pin?”
The guide glanced down at his shirt. A shiny letter N with a Y in the middle—the logo of the New York Yankees—sparkled on his pocket.
“It certainly is, young American boy,” he told Nipper proudly. “I wear it every day, even when it’s not baseball season. I am a big fan of the Bronx Bombers.”
“You are?” asked Nipper.
“The biggest,” said the guide. “Many of my friends have given up on them because of the losing streak, but not me. I am a true Yankees fan, and I listen to every game on my Internet radio.”
He pointed at his chest with his thumb.
“I wear this pin to show everyone I still believe in the team,” he said. “The Yankees are the best.”
“I believe, too,” said Nipper. “I really do.”
They both looked at each other for a long silent moment.
“The Yankees are the best! The best! The best!” they chanted together.
“So turn the radio back on,” said Nipper. “Game one hundred forty-seven is starting soon.”
The museum guide flipped the switch.
“It’s a triple! The Boston Red Sox come out s
winging!”
“Rahib!” the man shouted, and he switched the radio off again.
Nipper looked confused.
“That means ‘terrible’ in Arabic,” the guide explained. “I am so very worried that this game will be their last. You know about rule thirteen hundred thirteen, section thirteen, don’t you?”
“I sure do,” said Nipper. “That’s why I’m here. I’m going to end their losing streak once and for all.”
“You?” asked the guide. “How will you accomplish this?”
Nipper pulled the ring from his pocket.
“An arachnid,” the man observed. “Do you think this ring is the reason for the Yankees’ losing streak?”
“Yes. It came from a secret place under this museum,” Nipper explained. “And it spread a terrible curse on my Yankees.”
The guide’s eyes widened.
“I’m going back down there,” said Nipper.
“I’ve always thought there were more secrets to this museum,” the man said. “I’ve been planning to take a closer look at things.”
“I’m going to drop the ring,” said Nipper. “Into a bottomless pit.”
“Bottomless?” asked the man.
“Yeah,” Nipper answered. “The pit doesn’t go anywhere. The ring will fall forever.”
“Everything is connected to something….Or so I’ve heard,” said the guard.
“Come along with me,” said Nipper. “We can save the team together.”
“I wish I could,” said the guide. “But I am on duty.”
Nipper smiled. He always thought it was funny when police or firefighters or security guards said they were—
“Yes, young man,” said the museum guide. “I said on duty. I know you’re just trying to inject a little humor, but I take my job seriously.”
He flipped the switch on the radio again.
“Base hit! The Red Sox lead, two to zero!”
“Rahib!” shouted Nipper. “I’ve got to go right now.”
He turned and started to leave.
“Waitaminute,” said the guide.
He held out the small radio.
“Take this with you,” he told Nipper. “You can follow the team while you save them.”
“Thanks so much,” said Nipper.
“Just don’t keep the radio on the whole time,” said the guide. “The battery isn’t very good. You’ll run out of power. Understand?”
Nipper nodded. He reached back and unzipped the top of his backpack. He slid the radio inside the pack.
Then he fished around and pulled out the old baseball glove that Uncle Paul had given him.
“I want you to have this,” he said to the guard. “A special present for a fellow true Yankees fan.”
“Are you sure you won’t need to catch anything on your mission down below?” asked the guide.
Nipper shrugged. “Nah,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll need it. The only thing I’m really worried about is not making it there in time to save my team.”
“Good luck,” said the guide, taking the glove from him.
He slipped it onto his right hand and waved.
“I will be rooting for you as much as I root for the Yankees,” he added.
“Shukraan,” said Nipper.
He left the gallery and headed to the section of the museum with two rows of columns. There he found the ceremonial riverboat he’d discovered on his last trip. He walked around the rectangular pedestal, pressing on each side as he went. On the third try, the panel clicked and swung inward.
“Let’s go,” he said to Dennis.
Then he crouched and crawled inside the opening.
Nipper inched forward through the dimly lit hall. The only light came from the gaps around the panel behind him, so the farther he crawled, the darker it became. Soon he was in total darkness.
He stopped crawling and reached over his shoulder. He unzipped his backpack and fumbled around inside until he felt the headlamp he had borrowed from his dad’s office, and he pulled it out. He twisted a knob on the side of the square bulb, and it lit up.
“Wruf!” barked Dennis, and the incredibly bright bulb in his dog collar switched on.
“Gaah!” Nipper exclaimed, dropping the headlamp and covering his face with his hands. “Off, off!”
“Wruf!” the dog barked again, and the light switched off.
Nipper uncovered his eyes. He picked up the headlamp and stretched the elastic band around his head, illuminating the hallway. It was about three feet high and the walls were smooth. The bright lights revealed that he’d already crawled about a third of the way to their destination.
Nipper reached into the backpack again, took out the radio, and flipped the switch.
“And that’s the end of the third inning. The Yankees trail the Red Sox by three!”
“Okay, follow me,” he said to Dennis. “Let’s go.”
He switched off the radio and started crawling down the tunnel again. There were only six innings to go.
Slowly he made his way through the tunnel, dust sparkling in the beam of the headlamp. Then, a flash! A shaft of bright light beamed into the tunnel, and Nipper froze. He relaxed when he remembered that mirrors lined the chamber ahead. He climbed to his feet. Then, cautiously, he stepped through the opening into an eerie round room.
Beams of light bounced in every direction. Every surface glowed.
Except for the floor.
In the center of the room was a horrible black circular void.
But that was okay, he reminded himself. It was the reason why he had traveled so far to reach this place.
“It’s almost goodbye time,” Nipper said, patting his front pocket as if the emerald scorpion could hear him.
The room was just as it had been the last time he’d been there. The floor surrounding the pit was lined with cracked clay tiles and a layer of dried crud. Nipper scanned the walls, which were covered in carvings of fish, birds, sea creatures, and skulls. He thought the Egyptian art in the temple and museum above was interesting and cool. Down here, everything was strange and creepy.
Between the carvings, silver mirrors hung from brackets on the walls, reflecting rays of light around the chamber. Nipper guessed that this is what it would feel like to be inside a disco ball. It made him uncomfortable. He really didn’t like being inside balls anymore.
He flipped the switch on the radio.
“Triple play! The Yankees are out at first, second, and third base!”
Nipper’s heart raced. Was that the end of the game?
“As we go to the top of the fifth, the score is Boston, three, New York…zero.”
He let out a sigh of relief and switched off the radio. “I made it with five innings to spare.”
Nipper inched forward to the edge of the pit. He pictured himself covered with goo, slipping and sliding toward this pit the last time he was there. If Samantha hadn’t pinned his shirt to the floor with her umbrella, he would have tumbled over the edge. He would have disappeared forever.
Dennis growled softly, watching him approach the pit.
“It’s okay,” said Nipper. “I’m not going into that hole.”
Dennis kept growling.
Nipper reached into his backpack and felt the box of granola bars. He took out two and tossed them onto the floor in front of Dennis.
“You stay here,” said Nipper. “Have a snack…and keep quiet.”
Nipper turned back to face the pit. Carefully he leaned over and peered into the darkness. He could see maybe twenty feet down. Was it as bottomless as he thought? He reached into his pocket and took out the shiny, silver-colored penny Uncle Paul had given him. He held it out over the pit, let go, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
T
here was no sound. But did that mean the pit was truly bottomless, or was it just so deep that anything you dropped was way out of hearing range before it touched the bottom? Nipper figured it didn’t really matter. He was pretty sure that once something went in there, it was gone for good. That was his plan.
It was time.
Nipper reached into his pocket again and felt the sharp point of the emerald scorpion’s pincers. He pulled the evil ring from his pocket and examined it.
The cursed thing had come from this place. Now he was going to make sure it stayed down here for good.
Dennis had begun growling again, but Nipper ignored him.
“Here goes everything,” he said.
Nipper closed his eyes and stretched his arm out over the big dark pit.
“So long, evil ancient Egyptian curse,” he said. “One…two…two and a half…”
And something snatched the ring from his hand.
Boy has a shiny bug ring.
I take it.
“Breep!”
Nipper opened his eyes just in time to see a hairy hand sweep past his face.
It was the monkey!
It was the monkey from the RAIN. The monkey who had also starred in Buffy’s musical play, and who had attacked Nipper with a peanut gun at the elephant-shaped building in New Jersey and chased him into the kogelbaan.
And it had just stolen the ring!
“Breep!”
Nipper stood, stunned, and watched the animal scamper around to the opposite side of the pit. There it stopped and began dancing as it waved the ring in the air.
“Bring…that…back!” shouted Nipper.
He sprinted around the pit, but when he reached the other side of the room, the monkey was where Nipper had started. On the other side again.
“Bring…yourself…back!” shouted Nipper.
He dashed around the pit again—he was determined to get that monkey—but the monkey bounded away from the pit and toward a second doorway. Nipper ran as fast as he could, but the backpack slowed him down. And the monkey was fast!
“No! No! No!” Nipper wailed as the monkey zipped around the corner into another room.
Samantha Spinner and the Perplexing Pants Page 11
