A World Below

by Wesley King

  “Yeah,” Silvia said. “This spot kind of makes up for the rest. The Cave of Diamonds.”

  Ashley smiled. “I like that. Mr. Baker would have loved to see—”

  She was cut off by a scream.

  Silvia spun around. Shannon was standing by one of the tunnel openings cut into the walls. She was shaking violently, pointing.

  “What happened?” Silvia asked.

  Shannon turned to her, her eyes wide. “Brian . . . he’s gone.”

  Seven Hours After

  * * *

  ERIC SLOWLY RAN HIS FINGERS over the symbol, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Another M. This one had been carved into one of the white mushroom stalks with a knife.

  There was no way this one was natural. Someone had put it here.

  Had explorers actually been here before? Had someone else been trapped by the earthquake? Could it have been Jim White or the Kid? But what did the M stand for?

  He took a picture of it and drew it on his map in the middle of the unfinished forest.

  When he was done, he began moving again, trying to stand as straight as possible. But it wasn’t easy. The undergrowth was thick and grasping, and vines, frail as dandelion wisps and covered in pollen, made it hard to see. He had to keep rubbing it out of his eyes with his sleeves.

  It was much warmer in the forest, and a little humid as well. He had tried to figure out how this was all possible, and his best guess was that water from the surface was filtering down into the cavern from a river or stream, packed with bacteria and nutrients, while at the same time some volcanic activity under the forest was heating it all up to create the damp, close air in here.

  He snapped more and more pictures as he went, until he saw the battery life: thirty-five percent.

  He quickly tucked his phone away again. Once he was out of these glowing woods, he would need the light. But he still wasn’t quite as nervous about it as before. The mushrooms provided more than enough light for him to pick his way through the forest, and he could always take some of those with him. He also knew he could make fire now, so a torch was possible too.

  As he walked, he saw a speckled gray and black lizard scamper up a tree. There were plenty of those here, most a few inches long. He had also seen green, wiry snakes dangling from the canopy, which had been a little startling at first, but they quickly retracted back into the leaves when they saw him. There were even occasional rodents scurrying through the brush, moving lightning fast.

  The forest was teeming with life.

  Eric passed a bush covered with small black and red berries. He considered packing some away, but he was leery of any berries he couldn’t identify. There were also many fruiting trees that had something that looked like figs hanging from their limbs, and he did put two of those in his bag. Still, he would have to be pretty desperate to try them.

  And then he came across something far, far better. As he was walking, his right foot kicked something hard and round that bounced off into the trees. Frowning, he glanced down. Then he quickly took his cell phone out again and flicked on the light for a better view.

  “Bingo,” he whispered.

  The area was littered with wild potatoes. He might have walked right by them, but many had already been dug up by some grazing animal, and a few uneaten potatoes were exposed. Eric scooped them up, stuffing them into his bag, and then pulled out some of the other plants as well. The large potatoes were a mix of gold and deep purple, and he stuffed ten of them into his backpack, wondering if he could create a stone pot to boil them or bake them over some embers.

  Eric decided it was a good spot for a break, and he sat down right in the clump of potatoes, taking his shoes off and massaging his feet. He took out his water bottle and had a deep drink, no longer as concerned with water conservation either. He was starting to feel more and more like Sam Gribley on his mountain. If Eric just had a falcon to do his hunting for him, he’d be set. The thought lingered for a moment. Not the falcon . . . but the mountain. That mountain was Sam’s personal kingdom . . . just him and the wild. He answered to nobody. He didn’t have a schedule. He was completely free.

  And here was Eric, deep in the Earth. Not on a mountain, but in a living, breathing hole.

  He was independent here. He didn’t need anyone. It was exactly what he had always wanted.

  He thought back to the day his father left. It was a Saturday morning in October. It was cool for New Mexico, and he had woken cold, wrapping himself in a blanket. His mom was at work, so his dad was watching him, like he always did on Saturdays. But it was still early, and Eric already heard some movement by the door, which was strange. His dad usually liked to sleep in late on the weekends, unless he was going hunting. But he hadn’t said anything.

  Eric walked downstairs and saw two suitcases in the front hall, stuffed to overflowing.

  His dad came around the corner from the kitchen and stopped. He was wearing his shoes.

  “Oh . . . ,” he said. “Morning, Eric.”

  “Morning,” Eric said slowly. “Where you going?”

  His father seemed to think about that for a moment. “Away for a while.”

  “Where?”

  “Across the state. I . . . uh . . . I’ve got a place to stay there.”

  Eric frowned. “Why are you leaving now? What did Mom say?”

  His dad stuffed his hands in his pockets. “She . . . uh . . . she doesn’t know, Eric. I left a note.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll call. I left a note there . . . your mom can talk to you. It’s going to be fine. You can watch yourself for a little bit, right? She’ll be home just after four, like always.”

  He opened the door and then grabbed a suitcase in each hand. He forced a smile.

  “It’ll be fine. I’m just leaving for a bit. For work, you know? It’s not a big deal.”

  “Oh . . . ,” Eric said. “Okay. So . . . I’ll see you soon then?”

  “Yeah. A few weeks or so. Go back to bed. Sleep in. See you, bud.”

  He heaved the bags through the door and headed for his truck. Eric watched as he loaded them in the back, climbed in, and pulled out of the driveway much faster than usual. He gave Eric a wave and then quickly drove off. Eric never saw him again.

  He absently played with a potato leaf as he remembered that night. His mom crying and screaming over the phone. Even then, Eric didn’t really get it. It was weeks before he realized that his father wasn’t coming back. After that, he stopped talking to the other kids. He had never been popular, but he had still tried. He had wanted to be accepted. But the day he realized that his dad had abandoned them was the same day he realized that being alone was the safest option. His mom was the one and only exception. He looked around the forest, thinking about her.

  Maybe being alone was best for his mom too. She would think he had died in the earthquake, and she would mourn him for a while, and then she would move on. It was sad to picture her with a new family . . . but maybe it was for the best. Eric stared down at the potatoes. He could easily build a house in here—just to keep out the animals, since he wouldn’t have to worry about the weather. There was lots of food and water and even light. He could stay.

  But he couldn’t get rid of the image of his mom crying. He wasn’t sure he could make her go through that. She’d already had to cry so much in the last few years.

  Eric threw the potato leaf away. It was tempting, but at the very least she deserved to know he was alive. If he wanted to come back later, the forest wasn’t going anywhere. For now, he had to keep moving.

  Eric climbed to his feet and kept walking, pushing through the vines. The forest seemed to thin ahead, and he hurried forward, wondering if he had found the end. The trees suddenly fell away, and he stepped into some sort of clearing. A pool of clear water lay in the middle.

  I would even have drinking water close by, he mused.

  Eric shone his light across the water, and it fell o
n the far bank. There, standing as still as the trees, was a boy.

  Seven and a Half Hours After

  * * *

  “HE HAD TO GO TO the bathroom,” Shannon said, her voice shaking. “He just stepped to the side of the tunnel for a second and asked me to wait for him. I did, but I didn’t hear anything for a bit. I called for him, and when I turned back, he was gone. Just like that. He vanished!”

  The class pulled together behind Silvia, their flashlights darting around the chamber.

  “It’s okay,” Tom said, his voice wavering just a bit. “I’m sure he just got lost. Brian!”

  Shouts of Brian! echoed through the caverns, but there was no reply. Silvia started up the tunnel, shining her light into the darkness. There was nothing there. Brian really was gone.

  She felt the bubble of fear in her stomach growing bigger. It was starting to choke her.

  “I told you,” Shannon sobbed. “Why would he walk off? Something got him!”

  “What got him?” Marta asked. “There is nothing down here!”

  “Monsters,” Jordan said, looking at the tunnel and speaking at a near whisper.

  “What kind of monsters?” Ashley said, sounding panicked.

  Jordan gestured at the chamber. “Who knows? Look around you!”

  “Giant bats, maybe,” Greg said, checking the pockmarked chamber ceiling.

  “We already saw a giant centipede,” Derek said. “Maybe everything down here is big!”

  “We’re all going to be eaten,” Naj murmured, stepping closer to the group.

  The group pressed their backs together like a herd of elephants protecting their young, their flashlights shining wildly outward.

  Silvia had seen enough. She was afraid too. But they needed to move.

  “Are we going to look for Brian,” she said loudly, “or just stand here?”

  Silence greeted her, and then Tom nodded. “You’re right. We have to find Brian.”

  Slowly, reluctantly, the class spread out again, and Silvia turned back to the tunnel. She wanted to curl up and cry. She wanted to run. She wanted to go home. But she couldn’t do any of those things.

  “Everyone stay close,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “And keep your eyes open.”

  The tunnel sloped downward, and Silvia tried not to think about the fact that they were again descending deeper into the Earth. Why would Brian go down here? Had some giant animal really taken him? It seemed impossible. But everything down here did. Even her own actions.

  Some days she could hardly get out of bed, she was so anxious. It was those days that the fear took over, and her breathing was short and her stomach hurt and she felt like she was going to shrivel up and die. And yet here she was leading a rescue operation. Where had that frightened, fragile girl gone? Why couldn’t she always be like this one?

  She didn’t have the answer.

  An hour seemed to crawl by to the soundtrack of a constant echoing Brian! and the scraping of shoes on the rock. Voices had eventually fallen to whispers and then gone silent, and still they made their way through the twisting, jagged passageways here—sometimes crouching and falling into single file as the tunnels grew smaller and smaller. Silvia began to feel like an ant. But she was still in the lead, and she picked one tunnel after another, never really knowing why.

  Blisters had started to form on her heels—first as a stabbing pain and then just a gnawing, dull ache that made every step a chore. The unforgiving terrain was beginning to take its toll. She could hear people muttering behind her and wondered if they should stop for a break or give up the search altogether. It seemed like the tunnels were truly endless: up, down, left, right, and ultimately going nowhere.

  As they approached two hours of searching, she heard a wrapper crackling behind her.

  “Are you going to eat that whole thing?” Jordan suddenly asked.

  Silvia glanced back to see a surprised Naj look up. “Yeah. Why?”

  Jordan frowned. “Well, if we’re going to walk across the entire country underground, we may want to start being a little smarter about our food. You know, like not eating everything.”

  “It’s my granola bar,” Naj said indignantly. “I can do what I want.”

  The whole group had come to a stop now, watching the exchange.

  Jordan shrugged. “You can . . . but what happens when we run out of food? You going to eat mine? I don’t think so. If we’re going to survive as a group, we’d better start thinking like one.”

  Silvia stepped in between them. “We’re not going to run out.”

  “Says who?” Jordan asked angrily. He pulled the map out of his pocket. “We’re not anywhere near the original caverns. How can we be? We’ve been walking for hours. We could be down here for days at this rate. Weeks. How much food do we have left? Let’s take another count. I’ve seen people snacking the whole time, not even thinking, while I sit here and ration.”

  “Fine,” Silvia said. “Have we really eaten that much? What do we have left?”

  Everyone opened their bags. They had consumed five granola bars, six juice boxes, ten water bottles, one Gatorade, two bananas, and a chocolate bar. People had been eating and drinking freely, and it had only been about ten hours by Silvia’s count. Silvia frowned. They had barely a quarter of their original supplies left.

  “Yeah,” Jordan said, seeing her expression. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Well, we have water,” Silvia pointed out. “It’s everywhere down here.”

  “Stagnant water,” Jordan said. “It might need to be boiled, and we don’t have a pot.”

  “So what are you suggesting?” Tom said.

  “Someone should be put in charge of the food,” Jordan said, folding his arms.

  Naj shook his head. “Everyone should have their own.”

  “I don’t have any food left,” Ashley said. “What about me?”

  “That’s not my fault,” Naj said defensively. “You should have packed more.”

  There was some muttering around the group as everyone took stock of their own food. A few people had nothing left, while those who did quickly put it back in their bags, looking protective. Silvia could feel the tension rising. Who would share food when it came down to it? She had a granola bar and an apple left. Would she share them?

  Silvia considered Jordan’s proposal. “I guess we could pool the food.”

  “Who would hold it?” Leonard asked suspiciously.

  “I’ll take it,” Jordan said, opening his backpack and holding it out like a donations tray. “I don’t mind carrying the extra weight, and I don’t need to eat fifty grams of protein a day to make myself a better hockey player. No offense,” he added, looking at Tom.

  “None taken,” Tom said dryly. “Well . . . maybe it’s for the best.”

  There was more grumbling, but slowly everyone piled the remaining food into Jordan’s bag. When they turned to Silvia, she reluctantly put her apple and granola bar in there as well.

  “There,” Jordan said, throwing the bag over his shoulders. “Now we can ration.”

  “When can we eat next?” Joanne asked, already looking longingly at his bag.

  Jordan checked his watch. “It’s been ten hours. At fourteen we’ll have a bite.”

  “Agreed,” Silvia said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  She took the lead again and pushed on, but she was worried. If they didn’t get out of here soon, there was going to be trouble. They had read Lord of the Flies in class at the beginning of the year. Things could get ugly very quickly.

  Of course, they had more pressing problems than food. Was there really something living down here in the caverns big enough to take Brian? Or potentially even more scary . . . someone?

  She thought about the M she had seen written on the wall with that chalky paste. Everyone else seemed to think it was a natural occurrence. She was really doubting that now.

  Silvia was still thinking about that when she took a left turn, following the tunnel, and
walked right into something sticky. She tried to lift her flashlight but couldn’t. She was stuck.

  “What the heck?” she muttered.

  The group turned the corner, and their flashlights suddenly fell on her. Silvia realized with horror that she was caught in a massive web of thick, black strands, like stretched tar. Then she looked up and froze. Eight beady eyes were staring back at her.

  Eight Hours After

  * * *

  CARLOS STOOD AS RIGID AS stone, his eyes locked on the brilliant white light and the strange boy holding it, nothing more than a silhouette behind the glow. His great-grandfather had been right: These people were demons and sorcerers. The glare stung his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. He was staring at a living nightmare.

  His grandmother had told him a story once, passed down from her mother before her. His grandmother was a wizened, shrunken woman, her hair a stark white and her hands like worn leather. Though it was only Kings who ruled in the Midnight Realm, she was deeply respected.

  “Where did they come from?” Carlos had asked her, sitting cross-legged before the hearth.

  His grandmother had stared up at the pressing darkness in the hall, her dark eyes clouded.

  “They first came across the sea in great ships of wood. Ah, my father told me much about the sea. He went there once as a boy, before the descent into the dark. Endless water, mighty waves, and the cries of birds and sailors and great monsters in the deep. The Mother does not dare go there.”

  Carlos had shivered at the thought. If the Mother was afraid, it must be a terrible place.

  “They spread across the lands, killing all who stood in their way. Our people were attacked on two sides: the Spanish on one, and the English on the other. Many of our people died in the great wars. Other native peoples were slain too—none could stand against the invaders.”

  “Why?” Carlos said, sitting up on his haunches. “Why couldn’t they beat them?”

  His grandmother had looked down at him. “The invaders were too strong. Their weapons were greater, their numbers large. Weapons of terrible noise and invisible death. They are demons, Carlos. Even many years later, the fighting continued. The invaders had long ago won the war, but they still came for our land. When they came to my father’s village, his people rose up. Many were killed, including his parents. But my father managed to push the invaders back, just for a few days. In that time, he rounded up the rest of the village and led them here.”