A World Below

by Wesley King

  Carlos’s grandmother had smiled, and her eyes drifted again as if seeing her dead father.

  “For his heroism they named him King, the first of your line. But I tell you this, Carlos, the demons are still up there. We must be vigilant. If they come for us, we will all die.”

  And now the day had come. All the fears and whispers and grim stories were true.

  His hand slowly moved to the sword hilt jutting out over his right shoulder, his eyes still locked on the demon. Would the surface boy kill him before he could draw his sword? Was that strange white light some sort of magic weapon? Perhaps he should run and return with soldiers.

  No. I cannot just leave him here in this place. I cannot flee before the Mother.

  His hand closed on the hilt, the smooth, cool bone comforting against his fingers. His heart was pounding, his stomach tight with fear. But there was no choice, and he prepared to launch himself around the pool in a desperate attack. He had to protect the Mother in this sacred place, and the boy sorcerer had to die before he could destroy the Midnight Realm.

  “Hello?” the boy called. “Who’s there?”

  Carlos stiffened at the voice, confused, and his hand fell away from the hilt. The boy spoke their language. His accent was a bit different—harsher, perhaps—but the words were clear. Carlos’s father and grandmother had never mentioned anything about that—they both just said they were cruel savages. Perhaps this boy was not from the surface after all.

  “Who are you?” Carlos called back, squinting against the light.

  For the first time, he noticed how beautiful the still water appeared in the glare. The surface glittered like diamonds, and the light pierced into the depths. He looked at it in wonder.

  “My name is Eric Johnson,” the boy replied. “I’m lost down here. Who are you?”

  Carlos paused. But he could see no reason to lie about his name.

  “My name is Carlos Santi. How did you find this place?”

  “We fell in the earthquake . . . my class and me. I don’t know where they are.”

  “You are alone?” Carlos asked, his eyes darting around the forest edge.

  “Yes.”

  Carlos relaxed just a little and let his hand fall to his side. He had been afraid the others were close behind. Even so, the boy could be lying. If he was a demon, then he might try to lure Carlos into a trap. Perhaps the light would freeze him somehow. Carlos kept a hand by his knife.

  “Can I come around?” Eric asked.

  “Yes,” Carlos said warily. “But leave your weapons.”

  “I don’t have any weapons.”

  Carlos frowned. “What is that light then?”

  “It’s a cell phone. Here.” The light suddenly flicked out again, returning the forest to its comforting blue glow. The boy hesitated. “Can you leave your weapons, though? The knife and sword—maybe leave those over there? We’ll meet at the side of the pond.”

  Carlos ran a hand over his knife. The boy seemed innocent enough.

  “Fine,” Carlos said. “Move slowly.”

  Carlos laid down his sword and knife on the bank, his skin prickling as he stepped away. Was this all a trick? He remembered something his father had once told him.

  The invaders came with promises, he said. But they only ever brought death.

  Carlos gingerly rounded the pool, hoping the Mother was watching over him. Eric moved just as slowly. Without the stinging glare in his eyes, Carlos could get a much better look at him.

  Eric was slender and tall, with dark skin and curly black hair—not at all like the white, bearded men Juarez the First had described. Eric moved tentatively, and he looked afraid.

  As they finally came face to face, Carlos could see his clothes clearly as well, and he could not hide his fascination. Eric wore dark blue pants and a black, long-sleeve shirt, both made of curious fabrics he had never seen. On his feet were crisp white shoes tied with thin rope.

  At the same time as Carlos was puzzling over the boy’s clothes, he saw Eric scanning his attire, and he seemed just as surprised by it. The two met eyes, and Carlos held his gaze until Eric turned away, wondering if this boy was truly a savage. It did not seem like it.

  “You speak the same language,” Carlos said.

  Eric frowned. “Yeah . . . English. Where are you from, Carlos?”

  “English . . . that’s what you call it?”

  Eric looked even more confused. “Yes. What do you call it?”

  “The King’s tongue,” Carlos said. “I . . . I thought it was only used here.”

  Eric stared at him for a long time, focusing on his rat-hide boots. Finally, he looked up.

  “Where are you from?” he repeated softly.

  Carlos approved of the boy’s voice, at least. He was appropriately quiet and respectful.

  “I live nearby,” he said, unwilling to reveal anything specific about his people.

  Eric ran a trembling hand through his hair. “You . . . you live down here in the caves? For how long? How? How did you get here?”

  “I have always lived here.”

  Eric looked like he was in shock. “But how . . . how is that possible—”

  “How many of you are there?” Carlos asked.

  “Fourteen students. One teacher . . . Mr. Baker. But I don’t know where they are. I don’t even know if the other students are okay. . . .”

  “They have been spotted,” Carlos said. “They are alive.”

  Eric slumped in relief. “Where are they?”

  Carlos weighed his options. If the boy was truly lost down here, he could help Carlos find the others and get them all out of the Realm again. Perhaps the surface humans only became savage when they were older. . . . Eric seemed fine. It was risky, but they needed to move quickly.

  “I don’t know,” Carlos said. “But we need to find them before the Worms do.”

  “The . . . the what?” Eric asked.

  “The Worms. They are exiles from my people. I cannot let them get your weapons.”

  “We don’t have—”

  “Whatever you call them. These lights. Your clothes and shoes. They will take them.”

  Eric nervously looked out at the woods. “These . . . Worms. Are they dangerous?”

  Carlos nodded and went to retrieve his weapons. “The Worms are like animals, savage and wild. If they find your friends, they will kill them all. So we had better find them first.”

  Ten Hours After

  * * *

  SILVIA STARED UP AT THE glinting eyes, unable to move or scream or do anything but watch the creature’s deadly, methodical approach. As the spider emerged fully into the light, gnashing two curved black fangs, she felt her knees fail her, and her entire body went limp into the web.

  The spider was the size of a small car, and its head and legs were covered with a thick mat of hair some six inches long. Its body was slate gray, except for a huge black triangle on its bulbous abdomen. But the worst of all were the fangs—each at least a foot long.

  For a second, it seemed as if no one could move. Silvia just stared up at the monster, still hanging there like a stunned dragonfly. Then her mind suddenly flared back to life, pumping her with the pounding fears and anxieties and desperation that it sometimes did for no reason at all.

  But this time it was welcome.

  Silvia thrashed against the web, freeing her right hand just enough to shine the flashlight right into the spider’s face. It recoiled, turning its head.

  “Help me!” she shouted.

  The class finally snapped out of their daze. Tom, Shannon, and Jordan rushed forward, each grabbing one of her limbs and tugging. The web was incredibly strong. Silvia looked up and saw the massive spider slowly turning back toward her, its eyes adjusting to the light.

  Tom followed her gaze. “Uh oh,” he said weakly.

  “Faster!” Silvia shrieked.

  Naj rushed forward, followed by Mary and Marta. Above, the spider took another slow step toward them, gnashing its tw
in fangs. Silvia waved the flashlight at it in warning.

  Tom and Shannon grabbed her snagged arm, and Jordan took a leg. Mary and Marta grabbed her other leg, while Naj wrapped his arms around her waist and tried to brace his feet.

  “Any time now,” Silvia said, as the fangs came within a few feet of her head.

  Poison glistened on the tips—clear and acidic. A large droplet started to form.

  “On three,” Jordan said, taking a fistful of her jeans. “One, two . . .”

  “Now!” Silvia shouted, as the spider lunged.

  They pulled as hard as they could. The web stretched and then broke, and all seven of them tumbled backward just as the glistening fangs bit into empty air. The spider released a hiss, eyeing the group as they lay sprawled on top of one another—vulnerable.

  The rest of the class finally rushed forward, pointing their flashlights at the spider, and Silvia felt many arms help her to her feet. As the spider continued to hiss, the flashlights landed on another pair of eight eyes behind it. And then another. The spiders were everywhere.

  “Run!” Silvia shouted, helping Naj up and then racing down an adjoining tunnel.

  The narrow tunnel sloped downward almost immediately, but no one cared. She heard the rest of the class barreling down the passage behind her as their hysterical shouts echoed through the caverns. Silvia continued to lead the way farther and farther down, the flashlight bobbing ahead of her and falling on one obstacle after another. Dodge around a stalagmite, climb a boulder, jump over a crevice.

  She screamed warnings about each one, and she didn’t hear anyone stumble or fall.

  The tunnel took a final turn downward, almost causing her to slip, and then she ran out into another open chamber. The rest of the group emerged behind her, gasping for breath. Naj looked like he was ready to pass out, and he dropped onto the floor, grabbing his cramping sides.

  “Not cool,” he managed.

  “Did they follow us?” Greg asked in a panic.

  “No,” Joanne said, who had come in last. “They stayed with their webs.”

  Silvia did a quick head count and saw that everyone was there and accounted for. Derek and Leonard were pacing back and forth with their hands on their heads, looking almost manic.

  “Did you see that, bro?”

  “Of course I saw it! It must have weighed a metric ton!”

  “It was huge! Not a ton though.”

  “Are you blind, dude? It might have been two. Each fang was probably twenty pounds.”

  “What do you think they were made of, lead?”

  Silvia wiped her face and then pulled Ashley, who was completely white, into a hug.

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” Ashley said.

  Silvia frowned and pulled back. “Why?”

  “I didn’t help you. I froze. I didn’t know what to do.”

  Silvia hugged her again. “I don’t blame you. I froze myself.”

  “Sil . . . ,” Jordan said, “you might want to look at this.”

  Silvia turned around and followed his trembling finger. “Oh . . .”

  In front of them was another underground lake, still and black and stretching off to the far side of the chamber where another wall was just visible at the edge of their flashlights, maybe fifty yards away. The lake stretched to both side walls as well, blocking their way forward.

  But far stranger was the small patch of forest that stretched around the bank to their right.

  There were trees, though they were old and bent and covered with vines and brambles like dusty drapery. Yellow and green shrubs packed the ground between them to create a thick undergrowth. Great multicolored mushrooms stood taller than the trees, while smaller, glowing ones covered the ground, lighting the forest like blue spotlights.

  Tom stepped up beside her. “Am I seeing this correctly?” he muttered.

  “I don’t know,” Silvia replied. “What you’re seeing is supposed to be impossible.”

  “Fascinating,” Naj said, looking like he was eager to go explore the trees.

  Tom shook his head and took a deep drink of water, almost finishing his bottle.

  “You’d better watch how much you drink,” Jordan said.

  He was in charge of the food, but the water and Gatorade had been left to each individual’s discretion. And they were all drinking fast.

  “There’s water everywhere,” Tom said, giving him a dirty look.

  “Water that might be poison for all you know,” Jordan retorted.

  The two boys stared each other down again, posturing.

  “I’ll take my chances,” Tom said, and then he chugged the rest of his water.

  At that, a few others seemed convinced enough to drink their own bottles. Leonard chugged his, wiping his mouth and sighing, and Joanne and Naj did the same. Silvia decided to hold off on hers. She took a little sip and tucked the bottle away again. She would at least fill it with running water from a river or stream.

  Silvia shined her flashlight in either direction, but there was no way around the lake, and there were no more openings on this bank. She thought she could see one on the other side, however. They had to either go back up the tunnel, or swim across the lake.

  “We can’t go back,” Tom reasoned. “We’d have to go past the spiders.”

  Silvia nodded. “But do we really want to get in the lake?”

  Tom looked out at the black water. “Not really. Let’s go talk to the group.”

  Many of the students were repacking their bags and staring grimly out at the water.

  Silvia hesitated. “It looks like we’re going to have to cross the lake.”

  “We’re going to swim across?” Leonard asked, incredulous. “No . . . let’s go back.”

  “I am not going back to those spiders,” Joanne said flatly. “No way.”

  “What if we just sit and wait?” Mary suggested, huddling in the middle of the group with her sister. “Like Jordan said. I mean, we tried to walk and it didn’t work so let’s stop moving.”

  Jordan nodded. “Finally, someone else sees some reason.”

  Silvia shook her head. “For what? A magical rescue team to find us? We went over this before. They don’t even know these parts of the caverns exist. They may never find us here. And so what then? We sit here until we run out of food? What happens when we all start starving?”

  That hung over the group for a moment. Even Jordan looked downcast at the thought.

  “We have to cross the lake,” Silvia said firmly. “No one will find us here, and I am going home. If you want to stay, I can’t stop you.”

  “We don’t know what’s in that water!” Leonard said.

  “We were already in a lake,” Tom said. “We survived that.”

  “Mr. Baker didn’t,” Joanne pointed out softly.

  Silvia turned back to the woods, thinking about poor Mr. Baker. He had been so excited about this trip. What would he do if he was here? He would be optimistic, she was sure of that. And he would also tell them to be creative. To think their way out of the problem.

  Her eyes fell on the forest.

  “We need to cross,” she said. “But maybe we can at least make it a little easier.”

  “Like a raft?” Tom said, following her gaze.

  “Exactly,” she said. “Or at least something we can hold onto.”

  “I would like that,” Shannon said. “I’m not a really good swimmer.”

  “It won’t help you if a monster decides to eat you,” Leonard muttered.

  “Len,” Tom said warningly. “Come on. We don’t have a choice. Let’s go.”

  Silvia nodded and started for the woods. Jordan, Tom, and a few others caught up to her, and everyone looked at the thicket worriedly as they approached. Ashley stayed close behind Silvia, obviously not wanting to get too close to the shadowy forest. No one did.

  “Are you sure about this?” Ashley whispered.

  “No,” Silvia admitted. “But it’s the best plan I can think of.”
/>   She reached the woods and looked up at a huge, rounded white mushroom. It was as tall as her garage, and it looked ghostly and pale in the flashlights, like an ancient dinosaur bone.

  “That is a large mushroom,” Ashley muttered, shining her light on the crimson cap.

  Silvia stepped forward to try and break off some of the smaller fungi and branches, wondering if she could lash them together with the vines. She grabbed a strange, leafy brown plant and snapped the thin stalk in two, letting cool droplets of water spill out over her hands.

  “Silvia . . . ,” Ashley’s voice was trembling.

  “Yeah?” Silvia replied, glancing back at her distractedly.

  “You might want to step out of the woods.”

  Silvia frowned. “What is it?”

  Ashley pointed a shaking finger upward. Silvia turned and looked up at the canopy, where Ashley’s flashlight was illuminating small, glittering eyes. Hundreds of them.

  Suddenly a shrill cry tore through the air like a knife, and the forest came alive.

  Twelve and a Half Hours After

  * * *

  ERIC STAYED A FEW FEET behind the swift-moving Carlos, though he noticed the boy constantly checked back on him. He deliberately left his cell light off, knowing Carlos was wary of it, and instead relied on the eerie blue light of the fungi. He felt clumsy compared to Carlos, who seemed to glide through the forest as if barely touching the ground. His feet deftly avoided branches and holes.

  Eric was getting tired. He didn’t want to admit it, but his sides were burning with cramp. He was also burning with curiosity.

  “So . . . how long have your people been down here?” he asked.

  Carlos sidestepped a large mushroom, slicing a piece off as he did and drinking from it. Eric watched in amazement. The mushroom was like a desert cactus, storing the water.