by Wesley King
They were about the same height, though Jana was wiry and strong, with scars running along her arms and deeply calloused hands. She smelled faintly of dirt and damp vegetation.
“Let him go,” Silvia said.
Jana released Brian, though she kept her own knife ready at his back. She stuck her hand out, and Silvia dropped the Swiss Army knife into her palm. The two of them locked eyes as they did, measuring.
Jana tucked the knife away. “Remember what I said. Don’t let them get close.”
“Can you show us the way out?” Silvia asked hopefully.
Jana paused, exchanging another look with her people. She seemed anxious. Finally she pointed at one of the tunnels. “Go that way. It is a long walk, but stay as straight as possible. If you come across a village or see soldiers on the way, attack them immediately or you will die.”
She abruptly turned and started for another opening, her people falling in quickly behind her. The last ones kept their crude spears pointed at the class, backing away to protect the rear.
“I wouldn’t stay here long,” Jana called, her voice echoing down the tunnels.
“Why?” Silvia asked.
There was no answer. Then Brian collapsed beside her, and the class rushed in to help.
* * *
They decided to ignore Jana’s cryptic warning—they were cold, tired, and hungry. And if there really was a second group of dangerous humans down here, they needed to be ready for them.
The class had gathered together close to the shore, huddled in a small group for warmth. Many had shed outer layers to try and dry them out and Jordan was distributing a few morsels of food. Despite the run-in with Jana, they already looked more at ease now that they could stop and catch their breath. It was comforting to know what was hiding in the shadows . . . humans.
Silvia saw Derek refill his empty water bottle from the lake and chug it down again. A lot of the class was drinking freely from the lake now, but she was still waiting for another river.
“That girl was crazy,” Ashley muttered, perched beside her on a rock. “That was so smart of you about the lights. I bet you they would have tried to eat us.”
“I don’t think so,” Silvia said, “but it doesn’t hurt for them to be afraid of us.”
“I can’t believe people live in this place!” Ashley said.
“I know. Mr. Baker would love it.”
Ashley sighed. “Poor Mr. Baker. Well . . . at least we know the way out now.”
“Maybe,” Silvia said.
“You think she was lying?”
“I don’t know. Just the way she said it. Why not lead us out herself?”
“They’re afraid of those other people too. We have to watch out for them.”
Silvia looked out over the water. “Yeah. I wonder where Eric is. . . .”
“Probably on a spit,” Ashley muttered.
“Ashley!”
“Sorry,” she said. “When did you start caring about that weirdo anyway?”
“He’s not a weirdo. He’s quiet.”
“He’s nuts.”
Silvia scowled. “He tried to save my life. And a bunch of other people’s too.” She sounded a little more defensive than she intended and felt her cheeks burning. “He’s part of the class, you know?” she said.
Ashley looked at her. “Yeah . . . sure. So what now, fearless leader?”
“I don’t know. I think we should give people a little break. I am so tired.”
“Me too.”
They fell into silence for a bit, and Silvia allowed her mind to drift. She calculated how long they had been down there—it had been over fifteen hours. It felt like forever. She took out her water bottle and took a long drink. It was nearly empty.
She wondered what her parents were doing. She figured there was probably a rescue operation underway. Maybe a crowd had formed at the visitor center: journalists and families and curious onlookers. She could picture her worried mom waiting there.
Actually, she was probably in a tunnel somewhere up there with a pickaxe. Silvia smiled at that image and then thought back to early yesterday morning before she had left for the school trip.
“Sil!” her mom had shouted as she went to the door.
Silvia had sighed and looked back. “Yeah?”
She rushed over with a plastic bag. “Snacks, Silvia. You forgot them. I packed you two water bottles, a granola bar, and an apple, since you said you were getting lunch and dinner.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, feeling like a little kid again. She shoved them into her backpack.
“Are you excited?” her mom asked.
“For a bunch of caves?” Silvia said sarcastically. “Thrilled.”
Her mom smiled and gave her a little push on the arm. “Be nice. I think it will be fun. Oh, your hair is already frizzing up.” She immediately started adjusting it, trying to flatten it out.
“Mom,” Silvia said, pulling away, “no more hair fixing.”
“It’s what mothers do. You should have worn that new shirt I got you.”
“Mom, I’m not five anymore.”
“I know. I just . . .”
“Thank you,” she said sharply. “But I’m not. I’m okay. I know why you do it and . . .”
She trailed off. They had sort of an unspoken agreement not to talk about Silvia’s issues. Her mom always wanted to, but the whole topic just made Silvia angry.
“I’m sorry,” her mom said, the smile vanishing from her face.
Silvia felt guilty, but her dad was already waiting in the car. “It’s fine. See you tonight.”
And then she left in a rush, trying not to think about the fact that she had probably just upset her mom for the rest of the morning. And now Silvia might never see her again.
“How long are we staying here?” Mary asked, breaking the silence.
Silvia snapped back into the present. “I don’t know. Maybe we should try to sleep for an hour?”
“Here?” Naj asked fearfully.
“Well, someone can keep watch,” Silvia said. “I could use a nap.”
There was a murmured assent around the group. Many were yawning and blinking.
“I’ll keep watch,” Ashley said. “There is no way I am sleeping down here.”
“You sure?” Silvia asked.
She snorted. “Definitely. I am not sleeping for a second in this place.”
“Good,” Tom said loudly, “because I need a power nap.”
He lay back on the ground, using his backpack as a pillow. A few others copied him.
Silvia patted Ashley’s leg and lay out on the hard stone. It was uncomfortable, but she was so tired—physically and mentally—that it still felt very welcome.
“Wake me if you see anything,” Silvia said.
“No problem,” Ashley muttered, shining her light nervously on the tunnel openings.
“We’ll be all right,” Silvia said, closing her eyes.
“I hope so,” Ashley murmured. “We have a track meet next weekend.”
Silvia giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I try.”
“We’ll be there,” Silvia said. “And we’re going to have a heck of a story.”
Silvia tried to think of anything but the caves. She pictured herself running the track in front of a cheering crowd, the midday sun shining down on her skin, the air warm and fresh. The thought was soothing, and she felt herself drift into sleep. The track was still there, but then it grew darker, and she saw that the fans had all changed into huge black spiders.
They started crawling over the bleachers, and Silvia ran right into a great black web.
The image was shattered by a scream.
Silvia jolted awake, sat up, and looked around wildly. Her eyes widened.
Naj was sliding backward toward the lake, trying desperately to find a handhold on the smooth, rocky floor. Something enormous was pulling him into the lake.
Fifteen and a Half Hours After
* * *
<
br /> CARLOS WATCHED HELPLESSLY AS ERIC slammed into the ground. His backpack caught most of his upper body, which saved his head from hitting the rock. Eric groaned and rolled onto his side, his hand pressing against his lower back.
“Are you all right?” Carlos asked, kneeling beside him.
Eric managed a nod. “I think so. Just got the wind knocked out of me.” He rolled onto his stomach, still holding his back tightly and grimacing. “Did you see the size of that scorpion?”
“Yes, a juvenile,” Carlos said. “They’re still tasty if cooked over a fire.”
Eric looked at him in horror. “A juvenile? How big are the adults?
“Depends,” Carlos said, helping him to his feet. “But smaller than the Black Deaths.”
Eric winced as he straightened up again, and then shined his light on the cliff face. More bugs were crawling out of the cracks and crevices now: horned black beetles, disturbingly large centipedes, and a few more of the terrifying-looking scorpions. Eric almost gagged at the sight.
“You know, I am starting to wonder if it’s as nice as I thought down here.”
Carlos laughed. “There are not so many bugs near my village. Ready?”
“Just give me a minute,” Eric said, slowly stretching. “I feel ninety years old all of a sudden.” He readjusted his backpack and rolled his shoulders. “Wait . . . what’s a Black Death?”
Carlos’s smile slipped away. “Very, very large spiders. They have claimed many lives.”
“Yeah, I think I’m going to go ahead and leave the caves,” Eric muttered.
“There is still much beauty to see,” Carlos replied. “Come on. We need to hurry.”
The tunnel continued to dip here, and Carlos knew they were not far from the Forbidden Lake now, or the Room of Light. The other surface humans would likely find their way to one of those two large chambers . . . almost all the tunnels led through them at some point. But what about the Worms? Did they know about the surface humans? They shouldn’t, as none were allowed in the Realm, but if they had heard something or caught a glimpse of light, Jana may have led them out.
“Are you okay with heights?” Carlos asked suddenly.
Eric paused. “Like . . . higher than what we just climbed down? Why do you ask?”
Carlos led them into a wide cavern, and Eric’s light fell on its centerpiece—a massive, seemingly bottomless chasm.
“Whoa,” Eric murmured.
Even Carlos had to admit that it was a daunting sight. The chasm was some fifty feet across and could only be traversed by a very narrow shelf that ran along the far wall. More than one Worm had been tossed into the pit for punishment in the last hundred years—Carlos had even attended one such execution as a boy. He still remembered the screams fading away.
“The Great Hole,” Carlos said. “Not too creative a name, I suppose.”
“Makes sense to me,” Eric replied, his voice small and tinny in the huge chamber.
“We will cross there,” Carlos said, pointing to the crooked ledge.
“You can’t be serious,” Eric said.
“It will take hours to go around and connect to the other side . . . precious time that we do not have. And we would have to climb back up that wall with the scorpions . . . your choice.”
Eric eyed the chasm. “Let’s go for the ledge,” he said reluctantly.
“Good,” Carlos said.
He led them to the ledge and stepped out confidently. The ledge itself varied from two feet to about a foot wide at its narrowest point, but Carlos had crossed it many times before. It was simply a matter of keeping your back flush against the wall and sidestepping your way over.
“Just follow me,” he said.
“Oh boy,” Eric murmured. “You sure about this?”
“Yes.” Carlos started across, moving carefully for Eric’s sake. “It’s an easy walk.”
Eric gulped. “Right.”
Carlos made his way forward, stopping constantly to allow Eric to catch up. Eric was shuffling just a few inches at a time, his eyes locked on the endless abyss. He held his light in one trembling hand, lighting his way, and he was blinking feverishly as sweat poured down.
“You’re doing fine,” Carlos said.
“Yeah,” he said weakly. “No problem.”
And then his light died. Eric cried out in panic, and Carlos grabbed his arm.
“It’s okay,” he said, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Just follow my lead.”
“I can’t see anything.”
Carlos couldn’t either. The glare of Eric’s light was still sitting in his eyes. But he knew the way. Clutching Eric’s arm, he continued forward, pulling a muttering Eric along with him.
“Almost there,” Carlos said.
His soft voice echoed again and again until the encouragement was lost beneath them.
“I am really trusting you here,” Eric managed, his voice quivering and hoarse.
“And do you?”
There was a long pause. “Yeah . . . I guess so.”
Carlos reached his foot out and felt open ground, and he helped Eric step off the ledge.
“See,” Carlos said. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“Never again,” Eric muttered darkly. “What a perfect time for my cell phone to die.”
“Don’t worry . . . I will lead.”
“I prefer to have light, thank you. Especially when there are giant bottomless pits!”
Carlos’s eyes began to adjust again, and he saw Eric digging through his bag. “Could have really used that flashlight . . . a granola bar . . . water bottle . . . tuna . . . stupid tuna! Why would I bring a can of tuna, honestly? Now if it was . . . wait.”
Carlos frowned. “What?”
“The tuna is in olive oil,” Eric said delightedly. “I can make a light!”
“Should I know what tuna is?” Carlos asked.
“Probably not. Am I anywhere near the cliff?”
Carlos pulled him a few feet farther. “There.”
Eric abruptly sat down, and the glare faded completely from Carlos’s eyes. He knelt down, watching as Eric clumsily took out the can and punctured the top with a piece of stone.
“Is that flint?” Carlos asked, recognizing the black color.
“Yep,” Eric replied. “I read about a guy who did this once. Now, if I know my mom . . .” He reached into his bag and laughed. “Yep, a napkin.”
“I don’t understand,” Carlos said.
Eric began folding the paper.
“So . . . did you guys always speak English?” he asked.
“The King’s tongue?” Carlos said. “My grandmother told me once that the people spoke a different language when they came down. Juarez spoke the King’s tongue as well though, and he taught them that language instead. He said it was better to forget everything above. My grandmother also said it gave him power against the surface demons . . . people.”
“Which is why you call it the King’s tongue,” Eric said, nodding. “Makes sense.”
Eric stuffed the rolled-up paper through the small hole in the can, pushing it right to the bottom. He then flipped the paper around and put the other side into the can, waiting patiently.
“The oil is soaking through the napkin,” Eric said. “Now the fun part.”
He grabbed the flint and started hitting it with a metal fork; sparks flared out, and both boys turned away from the sudden blast of light. Eric hit the flint again and again. Finally, a spark landed and flames sprouted on the napkin.
It began to burn like a candle, pushing the darkness back.
“Sweet!” Eric said.
Carlos laughed. “Very clever. Are you ready to go—”
“Almost,” Eric replied, digging something out of his bag. “Just a quick update.”
He opened his book of lined paper, revealing his map. Despite their rush, Carlos was interested in the process—no one had ever bothered to create a map of the Realm before, and he knew nothing of the “explored sections” that Eric
had pointed out earlier. It was as if the world he had always known was growing around him.
“Here,” Eric said, offering the pen. “Add to the map. You know it better than me!”
Carlos examined the pen, holding it awkwardly between index finger and thumb, and tested it on the paper. A black line appeared seamlessly beneath it, and he looked at the instrument in wonder. They had once had ink and quills, but the ink had long since been used up. His grandfather had been the last to write anything down, other than on stone with milky barbar root paste.
“Go on,” Eric encouraged. “Put these sections on there.”
Carlos shook his head. “We must start again from the beginning.”
He began to draw an entirely new map. He copied Eric’s labels, taking a strange delight in drawing out the letters. “What is this thing?”
Eric followed his pointing finger. “Oh . . . a cactus. Well sort of. Art isn’t my thing.”
“A cactus,” Carlos said slowly, nodding. “There.”
He kept working, picking up speed now as his eyes darted from his map to Eric’s. A few times he asked Eric for pointers on spelling, trying to remember his grandmother’s old lessons. Occasionally he passed the map to Eric, telling him what to write before accepting it back again.
“These are the large tunnels,” he explained. “There are uncounted smaller ones.”
“The Warrens look interesting,” Eric said, watching carefully as Carlos worked. “Like a maze. What’s past that?”
Carlos hesitated, wondering if he should tell him about Medianoche. He just wrote Our Lands.
Then he sat back and smiled. “For a general idea, it is good enough. Have a look.”
Eric read over the map. “Why are these Ms here . . . they seem kind of random?”
“Sometimes we also mark places where we find Worms trespassing . . . as a message.”
Eric whistled. “There are still a lot of things to see.”
“I told you,” Carlos said proudly. “We will head for the Room of Light—”
He stopped, holding a finger up to his mouth to silence Eric as well. The sound was faint, no more than a whisper against the stone. But Carlos’s ears were sharp. Someone was coming.
