by Holly Hook
No. It's old. Rotting. This must have been here before anyone I know got sent down here—right?
The man curses again. I'm pretty sure it's an F-bomb. It's coming from the tunnel on the left, the one Weslie's pointing her gun down.
“He's this way,” Weslie says. “But we need a way to mark how to get back to the elevator before we go. In case we have to make a run for it.”
“Oh, I'm sure we will,” I say, regretting my words. I take my shoe and slide the severed hand under the hood of the mushroom. It leaves a putrid stain as it scrapes against rock. I'm going to lose the jerky I ate a few hours ago. I'll never unsee this.
But I don't. “We should leave something.” I think of the stuff in my pack. The stuff that I might not need right away. The canteens. The rations we picked up. I focus on the light of Weslie's lantern. It still burns. I'll do anything not to think about what I just slid under the dying mushroom. Anything. The fire will burn it away.
“Mark the tunnel with that mushroom,” Weslie says. “Tip it over, and slide it so the top's facing the way we need to go.” She doesn't dare let go of the gun or face me.
“You might want to point that where Pit's looking.” I take my foot and topple the mushroom to that its cap points towards the elevator.
She does. The scraping sound comes again. Is it closer? Weslie sucks in a breath.
Yes. It's getting louder. It's a bunch of little scrapes now, like footsteps. Whatever thing is in the tunnels has detected us.
“Elaine, get back,” Weslie says. She raises the pistol. Clicks off the safety. She knows a little about guns after all.
“What is it?”
“Get back!” She shoves me out of the way. Pit whimpers. I'm squashed between him and Weslie.
And then I see it.
It's another one of those squids—but this time it's walking. It stands three feet tall with its tentacles straightened out all the way. The green pulses on the undersides and I feel a bit sick. And its eyes. They're huge and greenish and they take up its entire face. It's got giant black pupils which look like some entrance to a void. To the end of everything.
I'm never going to forget this.
Weslie curses.
Shoots.
Sparks fly and there's an explosion of sound. I reach up to cover my ears. The squid lurches back, tentacles flying. Green slime spurts everywhere. It's a tangle of tentacles and it writhes on the floor without a sound. It's trying to get back up. I know what I have to do.
I raise the axe and push past her. I raise it over my head, screaming. I'm acting like a total psycho murderer, but it's this squid or us.
I swing down.
Blue and green splits and slime spouts up everywhere. Some of it strikes me in the chest. It's the same stuff all the things down here are made of. The same stuff now pumping through Jaden. The tentacles keep wiggling and one slaps against my pant leg, but at least I can't make out those horrible eyes anymore.
“Elaine, it's dead. Stop.”
“Since when did you get in charge?” I ask. “Don't worry—I'm not mad. It's just...you're getting braver.”
Weslie lowers the gun. “What choice do I have? And by the way, five bullets left. We shouldn't use them unless we really have to. I don't think there will be any more Flamestone members down here to steal firearms from.”
“There won't be.” There's no way Garrett and the other rich guys will come down here and face the horrors of the depths themselves. That's for people like us to do.
The air smells of smoke as well as rot. “Have you even seen one of these before?” I ask.
Weslie steps over the squid and smashes a tentacle with her foot. It squishes. I'm so used to that sound from crushing Dwellers that it doesn't sicken me anymore. “No,” she says. “Not in the mine I used to be in. I was in one of the mid level shafts. These guys must live below where I was before.”
“Please say this doesn't go any deeper,” I say, lowering the axe.
“It might, for all I know. We shouldn't stay in this area. That thing wasn't repulsed by the lantern. That might be a problem later.”
It's going to be. We've seen two of them already and if they have any sense of revenge, the whole family's going to come after us. “The left tunnel, right?”
There's silence now. Surely the guy down that way heard the gunshot. My screams. I wonder if we're scaring him. We need to proceed with caution.
The torch still blazes. I hear no more scraping. Maybe these tunnel squids are territorial and there's only one on each level. Weslie picks up the lantern. Pit paces in a circle. We have to go.
My heart hammers. I keep the axe at my side. I've pulled a muscle in my neck and it throbs. I ignore it. We can't stop now. The longer we stay, the more likely it'll be that Baxter raises that elevator and leaves us trapped. The more likely it'll be that the Dwellers find us and work us to death.
“Hello?” someone calls. It's a man. He's somewhere in the dark ahead. The tunnel curves.
“Hello!” I shout.
“Who's coming?”
“We're not Flamestone Society,” I say. We round the curve. There's another glowing mushroom up there. My eyes adjust again and I spot a dark figure standing before it. Next to him, there's a mine cart. It's piled high with ore. Flamestone ore. I'm sure, even though I can't make out the color in the blue glow.
“Really?” the man asks. He's leaning on a pickaxe. He's skinny. Very skinny. I can't tell how old he is but I can't imagine anyone making it out of their early twenties or so in these conditions.
“Are there any Dwellers down there?” I ask.
“Yes. They're somewhere behind me. They're always here. They're waiting for food delivery. This cart is heavy. Can you give me a hand with it? There's a broken wheel on this thing and they still expect me to push it.”
Then I see. There are mine cart tracks on the floor. We've been stepping over them for some time. This man is struggling to move the cart.
“Yes,” I say, because I can't imagine saying no.
I get closer. I can see him more clearly now. He's wearing black overalls like the desperate woman from the mine up above. They're filthy and covered in sparkling dust. Flamestone dust. His pickaxe is sparkling on the blade, too. He's been digging and loading this cart all day. I can't imagine how long it must take.
“Where did the two of you come from?” he asks. “Were you just sent down?” His eyes get big as he spots the gun Weslie holds. He must only be around twenty or so. He got sold a few years ago and he's managed to live this long. But his face is gaunt and he's skinny. Wiry. Every muscle's defined and he's got short sleeves on. Sweat shines between his muscles. He's a strong worker. Probably a valued one. “How did you get that? I heard a shot go off, but I didn't know what to make of it. And what is this creature with you?” He eyes Pit, who wags his tail.
“We're from the surface,” I say, keeping my voice down. Weslie holds the lamp higher and the man grimaces at the light.
“And you have a lantern.”
“Yes,” Weslie says.
Behind the man, things skitter. The Dwellers are here, all right. They won't come too close to our light.
“Hey,” he says. “I haven't seen anything like that in forever. You'd better put it away before you catch the attention of the Light Eaters.”
“The what?” Weslie asks.
Behind the guy, tiny feet patter faster. The Dwellers know we're here. The only thing keeping them from charging is the lantern. I should have lit the torch. I glance behind me to see a faint glow on the wall a ways back. The other mushroom. My eyes are getting more sensitive to light the longer I stay down here. Everything's leaping out at me.
“It sounds like you met one,” the man says. “They eat fire. Light. Your lantern must have attracted one. The Dwellers partner up with them to make sure we can't fight back. If you don't put that away, you're going to attract more of them. They don't hurt us, but they'll take our only defenses away.”
Terror r
ises in my chest. “How many are down here?”
“A few dozen, maybe.” The man looks behind him. “You know what? Don't put that lantern out. If you do, the Dwellers will take all your stuff.”
“We're looking for some people,” I say. I keep my voice down. The soft thunder of Dweller feet get louder. They're agitated. Weslie stays close to me. We could get overwhelmed by squids any minute. We have to act fast. “Do you know anyone named Shawn? Antoine? Talia or Travis?” My heart hammers more. They could be dead and this strange guy is about to give me the bad news. “They were just brought down here within the last few days.” We might not get out of here, either. Those Light Eaters will consume our torches and we'll be done. There's no way Weslie and I can kill dozens of them.
The man steps closer. He puts one hand on the mine cart and pushes it a little way down the track. It squeals as it rolls a couple of feet. “Help, please.”
Weslie and I get beside him and the three of us push the mine cart. Why is this man so worried about feeding the Dwellers? We should let them starve. But the stubborn cart rolls now. The skittering gets louder as we get closer to the Dwellers. Weslie keeps her lantern raised with one hand and pushes with the other, keeping the gun pointed at the wall.
“Let go,” the man tells us.
We do. The cart rolls a bit further, out of the circle of light. Tiny shapes with pointed heads swarm all over the stuff and now there's crunching sounds like a whole flock of birds digging into a pile of seed. The Dwellers are eating.
The man turns to us. “When the Dwellers are eating, they're hard to distract, but we have to move before they're done. If you follow me, I'll show you where all of us sleep down here. Or try to sleep. Turn that lantern off until we're past them. They'll be eating for a few minutes and we don't want to ruin this opportunity.”
Weslie does. Darkness falls except for another glowing mushroom leaning against the walls. There are pointed Dweller heads pushing around each other and covering the top of the mine cart like a swarm of bugs. Dozens of others scramble around the mine cart, trying to jump up. They don't even notice us here anymore. They're not even looking at us. We have to go.
The man turns and walks right into the seething mass of Dwellers, careful not to crush any.
We follow. We have to walk right through them.
Dust flies from the cart. It sparkles in the blue glow as they eat.
Weslie's breathing fast next to me. I take her arm.
Lead her through the seething mass.
I keep my head up, avoiding their sickening eyes. They run over my feet. Claws dig into my shoes. Weslie grunts as they do the same to her. She only has moccasins on. They must be cutting up her feet.
Pit growls and snaps one of the Dwellers up. Chewing cuts over the skittering, but the Dwellers still don't squeal in terror. They're distracted, all right.
“Hold on,” I say. I can barely hear myself over the skittering. It's like every bug in the universe has converged on this spot. “We're almost through.” I brush past the mine cart and a few Dwellers squeak and fall, then scramble back up again. They're fighting each other. That's good for us. They might not realize we're here.
At last, we break free of the mass. The man stops and nods at us. “Turn the lantern on again. Now. They're almost done.”
Weslie scrambles with her lantern. And does.
Light blazes and a couple of stray Dwellers squeak. We're past them. Now we can hold them back as soon as they're done eating. The man keeps his pickaxe and gestures us further into the tunnel. “This way. Our sleeping quarters are down here.”
My heart leaps. Maybe some of the workers are taking a break. A rest. Maybe they work in shifts and some of them are there right now. I stay close to Weslie and within the circle of light. I keep my ears ready for any scraping, any sign that one of those squids will leap out of the dark and take our light from us. My axe stays heavy in my hands and my arm's getting tired from carrying it.
Weslie also keeps her gun ready. “It's not much farther, is it?” She glances back. I have no doubt she's trying to make a mental map of the way back. We need that.
“Not much,” the man says. “We make a left right...here.”
He turns. We follow. The sound of the Dwellers eating fades behind us. They're still devouring the Flamestone. That can't last too much longer with how many were there. Pit's still chewing on his meal. He seems happy.
There's a steel door inside an alcove. The man opens it. I'd expected it to be locked. “In,” he says. “This is our one safe zone.”
We enter.
There's pale light shining from more of the glowing mushrooms propped against the wall. My eyes adjust as the man closes the door behind us. It's a large room, the size of a gymnasium and blasted out of the stone. This is a room of jagged edges. It's the same black rock with the orange and red stripes, but it seems like it was blown out with dynamite. There are rows of cots like we're some kind of military zone. All the cots are old and yellowed. The mattresses, saggy. The blankets, frayed and messy. Even the pillows are yellowish. All this stuff looks taken from Dumpsters. The Flamestone Society couldn't even buy its workers real beds.
And no one else is here. The room's empty. It's not as hot as the tunnels outside, but it's still unpleasant. The workers are all out right now. Still out. Judging from the cart the man was pushing, it's been a long day for them already.
“This is better than being out there,” the man says. “The Light Eaters don't come in here.”
“Is this where everyone sleeps?” Weslie asks. “Even the new people?”
“Yes.”
Pit sits and rests. I walk around. Through the cots. The garbage smell is less in here but there's the reek of mildew. There's another room in the back, one with a hole in the floor that must be for going to the bathroom. I spot nothing else. Wherever they keep the food on this level, it's not here.
I turn in a circle. There's no one here. We're the only ones. Pit sniffs around, stopping at each cot in turn. There must be two dozen of them. Two dozen workers. All of them look slept in. There's a body for each one. When someone dies, they must send another worker down to keep the progress going.
“Where is everyone?” I ask. “How many more hours before the workers get back?”
“Several. I just started working eight hours ago.”
“Eight hours?” Weslie asks.
The man walks over and pulls a water pitcher out from under a bed that must be his. Now I can see. All of the beds have pitchers and tins under them. Rations. So there are supplies here after all. “Everyone's working,” he says. “They won't be back for a while yet. But they're out there, making all these tunnels longer and longer each day. There is so much Flamestone down here that they're never going to let us up again. It's why this place is so hot.” There's no hope in the guy's voice. “The Dwellers are looking for something in these tunnels. It's why they brought us down to them.”
“What's your name?” Weslie asks.
“It doesn't matter. Not down here.” He smiles at us. It's angry. Strained, and it's making me nervous. “Not down here. Once you get caught and you realize this is the rest of your life, nothing matters.”
Something sounds odd about his other words. “The Dwellers brought you down to these tunnels?” I ask. “Didn't you dig these?”
The man faces me. “Something else dug these tunnels,” he says. “We're just expanding them, digging out the ore every day. The other levels were all dug by humans. But Shaft 17...no.”
“Then what made all this?” Weslie asks. No wonder this doesn't look like the other mines.
“You don't want to know,” he says. He heads for the steel door. “The Dwellers and Light Eaters can't get in here, but they'll wait outside your door if you dare to take a break for more than a couple of minutes. If I stay here any longer, they'll have me work a full twenty-four hour shift. If we don't work, the Dwellers don't bring us down our food and water.”
“That's horrible.�
�� I survey the room. I wonder which cot is Shawn's. Talia's. “Are the new people still coming here to sleep every night? Are they still alive?"
Weslie leans forward in anticipation. “Yes. That's what we want to know."
The man whirls around, hand on the door. “We all come back here and sleep if we survive the day. They must.” The man wipes his lips with his arm, taking up the water. “I think the new people work in the far part of the mine because they're the last ones in. I've got to go. Good luck.”
“Is it worse in the far part?” I ask.
“Of course it is. And if I don't get back to work, I get put there.” The man opens the door a tiny crack. There's skittering on the other side. The Dwellers are impatient. “They've been taking more and more people there and some aren't coming back.”
“Wait!” Every muscle in my body tightens in terror. “How do we get there?”
The man slams the door shut and the noise stops. There's sweat on his brow.
“You don't want to go there. It's enough of a death sentence working close to the safe room. In the far tunnels there are openings into the lower caves. There must be, or the worm wouldn't have gotten in and dug all these tunnels in the first place. I'm sorry you wound up down here.”
“The worm?” I explode.
“As in, a worm dug out these passages?” Weslie adds. “But these tunnels are like...seven feet high!”
The man yells now. “Yes. A worm. It's as big as you think. Try not to run into it. If we're lucky, it just devours the Light Eaters. But if we're not lucky--”
“Is that what we heard groaning?” I ask.
The man stops, hand on the door.
“Is it?” I press.
He swallows. “Yes. It groans. It's a low, horrible sound.” He pauses by the door. “We only hear that if it gets into these tunnels. It comes in every few days. I don't know where it goes when it's done eating.”
This place isn't a mine after all.
It's a series of worm tunnels.
A hole opens up inside of me and my heart threatens to hammer out of my chest. Shawn's out there. Travis is out there. Talia and Antoine are out there, working to death. If the work hasn't gotten to them yet, the worm might. I imagine an earthworm inching towards us, taking up the entire tunnel.
