A World Below Page 6

  “That’s weird,” she said. She stopped in front of a particularly thick green patch.

  Silvia lightly brushed her hand through some of the moss—it was dense and spongy and damp, and she saw something with a lot of legs scurry away from her fingers. She quickly pulled her hand back, surprised, and then tried to follow the creature with her light. It looked like a centipede, mostly black with a few yellow lines running across its carapace. It was also at least six inches long—bigger than any insect she had ever seen. The creature settled beside another patch, seemingly munching on the moss.

  “Great,” Ashley muttered, staying well back of it. “Giant bugs.”

  Silvia leaned close. The centipede had no eyes, and its legs were long and spindly.

  “It is good, actually. It means there is life, even this far down. Life means food.”

  “You want to eat that?” Ashley asked, sounding disgusted.

  Silvia laughed. “Well, we’ll start with our snacks. And no . . . I don’t want to eat a centipede. But he’s eating something. This moss must have some nutrients. We’ll see.”

  She kept moving again, and Ashley hurried after her. They soon emerged into a chamber about the size of their classroom, pockmarked with some rust-colored columns and stalactites.

  There were three tunnel openings carved into the wall ahead of them. Silvia stopped.

  Jordan stepped up beside Silvia, examining his map. He turned it around a few times, trying to get his bearings, and then seemed to get frustrated. “Well, we don’t really know which way the river flowed originally. I still think it was parallel to the opening for the Mystery Room, which means south. If so, we could be somewhere around here,” he mused, tracing his finger along the map thoughtfully. “Tough to say. We could even be under the Bone Yard, I guess.”

  “That’s comforting,” Mary said.

  “So where do we go now, genius?” Tom asked.

  Jordan scowled. “Hey, this wasn’t my idea. These sections aren’t on the map.”

  “Well, you’ve done a whole lot of complaining,” Tom said. “I figured you might know something.”

  “Yeah,” Jordan said sharply. “When you’re lost . . . stay where you are!”

  “If you’re a wuss,” Tom snarled.

  Silvia stepped between them, raising her arms. They couldn’t afford to lose their cool down here. “Not helping, Tom. Jordan, we all decided to leave and look for Eric.”

  “I didn’t,” Jordan said, handing Silvia the map. “Here. You have any ideas?”

  Silvia stared at it for a moment. If Jordan was right, which was a big if, they needed to go north to get back to Eric, and east to head back toward the elevators. Should they put it to a vote?

  What does it even matter? she thought. We need to know the directions.

  “Any ideas on figuring out directions?”

  They had already checked for compass apps on their three working cell phones, but nobody had one—they all relied on GPS. Silvia knew that moss always grows on the north side of trees, but the moss down here didn’t seem to follow any sort of pattern.

  “Can’t we build a compass?” Naj asked. “I’m sure there’s a way.”

  “I don’t remember how,” Leonard said. “You need a cork and a magnet, I think. But I heard once that people always find their way north if they try. Not always, but, like, as a majority.”

  Jordan frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I don’t know. I just did. When I say go, everyone point where they think is north.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Silvia asked skeptically.

  Leonard ignored her. “No. One, two, three, go!”

  Everyone immediately pointed. Silvia couldn’t help but laugh.

  Everyone had pointed in different directions.

  Leonard seemed nonplussed. He did a quick count, averaging out the pointing hands into general directions. “Four of us this way—a clear favorite. This is north.” He pointed at the rock wall on the right of the chamber, and slumped when he saw there were no openings. “Figures.”

  “That was the worst experiment I have ever seen,” Mary said.

  “Hey, it’s better than nothing,” Leonard replied indignantly, flushing pink.

  “Let’s try this one,” Silvia said, pointing to a wide, squat tunnel with smoother floors than the other two. “If we can turn right at some point, we’ll take a look; okay, Leonard?”

  He nodded, mollified.

  “Let’s take a quick water break,” she said. “We’ll leave in ten minutes.”

  Everyone gratefully took out their water bottles and idled around the chamber, which Brian named the Rust Room. Silvia took a drink and stared at the openings, trying to decide if her choice was a good one. The smartest choice might well be to split up and send people down all of them, but no one would agree to that. Even she didn’t like it, whether it was the smartest choice or not. She took another drink and sighed. And that’s when she spotted something on the wall. She leaned closer to have a look.

  “Guys . . . come here.”

  Three Hours After

  * * *

  ERIC SLOWLY STRAIGHTENED UP AND swept his cell phone light in all directions. The footsteps halted, and silence fell again.

  He scanned the tunnel, wishing that he had a real flashlight. The dim light from his cell phone stretched only ten yards or so and cast everything into an eerie white glow. Eric took a few tentative steps forward, every muscle in his body alert. His breathing sounded loud and ragged in his ears, even as he fought to stay quiet. He heard more footsteps approaching, and then something else entirely . . . short, rapid sniffing. The noise was behind him.

  Eric whirled around. His light fell on two beady black eyes.

  They were attached to the biggest rat he had ever seen. It was the size of a Beagle, covered with coarse, filthy brown fur, and it had a long prehensile tail that stretched some three feet behind it like a snake. As it sniffed the ground, its mouth suddenly cocked open and Eric caught a glimpse of long yellow teeth. That was enough to break his moment of shock.

  Eric screamed and jumped back, startling the enormous rat. It took off down the tunnel again, moving unnervingly fast. In a matter of seconds, it had vanished entirely.

  Eric stood there for a moment, breathing hard. He had been hoping to find life down here, but he hadn’t been expecting that. He would have to be very careful when going to sleep.That rat was big enough to take a chunk out of his face.

  Taking another quick look around, Eric brought out his notebook and pen. He figured it would be worthwhile to document the animals he found, too. He optimistically drew the tunnel he was in as leading back toward the explored sections.

  He closed the notepad and put it away, feeling like a true explorer. He wondered if they would ever use Super Rat as a scientific term. Probably not. Maybe Rattus superatus.

  Eric reluctantly started down the tunnel after the rat, hoping they wouldn’t meet again. He checked his phone battery as he walked and saw that he was down to seventy percent now. That was bad.

  Making sure to watch his footing, Eric moved slowly down the tunnel. The ground was uneven and pockmarked with stalagmites and crevices that would surely catch his shoe if he wasn’t careful. He continued to examine the rocks as he went, eager to find some flint. It was still mostly limestone here, as with most caves, but there was a lot of shale and even some areas that looked like they could be granite, so clearly the geology of the caves changed as he got deeper.

  But how had there been a rat?

  That was puzzling him. Animals needed nutrients to survive, but there was no sunlight or food here and no conceivable way to get to it. They had studied a bunch of cave animals that had adapted to find food in other ways. Roaches and crabs and some small mammals survived off bat guano, and bats left the caves to find food. Other animals, like cave snakes, just ate the bats and got their nutrients that way. But what would the rat eat? Were there bats nearby? Maybe he was closer to escape than he
thought, and his map was completely wrong. Eric suddenly did a double take, and then came to an abrupt stop, frowning.

  He had been searching for spots of white on the walls, and he had finally found one.

  But it wasn’t what he was expecting. It was a crude, uneven M.

  Eric knelt down beside the mark and ran his fingers over it. It was bumpy and dry, like it had been drawn on with some sort of paste. He felt his skin prickle as he snapped a picture of it.

  Had someone been down here already? The class? Mr. Baker?

  He made a note of it on his map and then stood up, looking warily at the symbol.

  It made him uneasy. He decided to get moving again. He picked up his pace, taking another sip of water as he walked. His stomach was growling, but he wasn’t ready to start eating his scant supplies yet.

  The tunnel began to descend once again and the sides became smoother and garnished with spots of moss. Eric examined the spongy, dense vegetation thoughtfully, wondering if he could eat it. He tore a bit off and put it into his bag . . . he wasn’t willing to try it just yet. The fact that it was surviving down here without sunlight was extraordinary, but it might be converting something else into energy—and he wasn’t sure it would be healthy.

  He did make one welcome discovery: chalk. It appeared on the walls beside him, and as he knelt down to take a closer look, he saw that it was flaking off. Flint. He knew it immediately. He used some other loose rocks to knock some free, and then tested it with a fork from his backpack.

  Sparks flared in the darkness, and he grinned. He didn’t have anything to light, but it was a start. Every survivalist knew that having fire was essential. He tucked the flint into his bag.

  As Eric kept moving, the moss grew thicker, until there was a carpet beneath his feet. A few times he thought he saw something move at the edge of his light, but he never got a clear sight. Maybe the rat was eating moss, he thought. There was certainly enough of it down here.

  The tunnel curved ahead, and Eric kept his light on the ground as he walked, amazed by the thick moss. He turned the corner, his eyes fixed on the ground, and then he felt the air change. It suddenly smelled thick and earthy and fresh, and somehow seemed even more quiet.

  Eric looked up. His eyes widened.

  “Impossible,” he whispered.

  Three and a Half Hours After

  * * *

  SILVIA RAN HER FINGERS OVER the symbol, feeling her skin crawl. A distinct M had been written on the wall with white paste. It made no sense, and for the first time since the earthquake, she felt the fear taking over. It began to swell, and she felt her stomach turn and her breath shorten and the tingles begin in her fingertips. Silvia looked around, but it seemed that the others gathering around were dismissive.

  “Just the way the rock formed,” Ashley said. “Cool.”

  Silvia frowned. It didn’t look natural to her. It looked like writing. She felt the texture.

  “It’s dry and almost flaky,” she said. “It doesn’t feel like rock to me.”

  Shannon knelt down beside her. “What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know,” Silvia said. “But I think it was drawn here.”

  As she spoke, her eyes scanned every shadow. Suddenly they all seemed alive, writhing and grasping at the edges of her flashlight. Was there something living in the darkness?

  Tom frowned. “By who?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, “but I doubt it was Mr. Baker or Eric.”

  Silvia’s whole body was shaking. She tried to calm herself. Focus on the fear. Allow it. Remember to breathe. Slowly now. The fear is a natural thing. You have dealt with it before.

  Relax.

  Tom gave her a patronizing smile. “It’s not a drawing, Sil. You’re just scared and—”

  “Yes, I am,” Silvia said sharply. “But it’s still a drawing. Thanks anyway.”

  It came out harsher than she’d intended, and Tom took a step back, hurt visible on his face. Silvia wanted to say sorry, but she was still feeling shaky, so she just turned back to the M. Maybe Tom was right. It was just a natural formation, and she was overreacting because that’s what she did. A sudden memory came back to her from a few years earlier.

  “Open wide, Silvia,” Dr. Proust said, sticking the dry wooden stick down her throat.

  She did as she was told, her mom and dad watching carefully.

  “Looks normal,” he said, smiling. “We’ll do some blood tests. But you’re just fine, dear.”

  Silvia looked at her mom for support. How could she be just fine? She could see her dad smiling and nodding. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. It was nothing. She was normal.

  Her mom spoke up. “But, Dr. Proust, she said she was dizzy. She almost threw up.”

  Dr. Proust returned to his notepad, sitting back in his old chair with the tattered green fabric and cotton seeping through the rips. He had been her doctor since she was a baby. She trusted him. But what he was saying didn’t make any sense. How could she be fine after being so sick? How could it just be nothing?

  “Maybe just a passing thing. Her vital signs are normal.”

  Silvia shifted on the table. “But . . . but it happened a bunch of times now.”

  “We’ll do the blood tests,” he assured her. “Don’t worry. It’s just a little phase.”

  She tried to believe it as they walked out of the office. And when they stuck a needle in her arm for the blood tests. And a week later when they called to say everything was normal.

  It was just a little phase, they told her. Two years later, it was still happening.

  Tom was standing beside her now, clearly still offended. “Let’s just stay calm,” he said a bit coolly. “We have enough problems down here without speculating about signs. Okay?”

  Silvia nodded, though it was more to apologize to him than anything. “Yeah. Fine.”

  “So which tunnel?” Jordan asked.

  Silvia turned back to the tunnels and paced in front of the openings, still nervous about the symbol. Tom was right though. It wouldn’t be a good idea to panic now . . . especially for her.

  “Well, natural or not, let’s hope it’s a sign to go this way,” she said.

  “You sure?” Derek asked.

  Silvia snorted. “No. But unless someone has a better idea, we’ll follow the clue.”

  She started down the passageway, taking a last look at the mysterious M.

  Four Hours After

  * * *

  OFFICER DANIEL BROWN LOOKED AROUND the bus, thinking of his own daughter. There was something eerie about an empty school bus, he decided. It was supposed to be full of laughter. This one felt like a morgue.

  He had called home right after the earthquake to check in, and thankfully, everything was fine there. They had a felt a little tremor in town and nothing more, though his daughter had been sent home from school. She was just happy for the extra day off. It seemed the students of Mr. Baker’s class were not so fortunate.

  The guides and other employees in the caverns had followed protocol and managed to lead the other visitors out through the natural entrance. But the guides suspected the students were deep inside the caverns when it happened—the last sighting of them had been in the Queen’s Chamber, and that area was hit particularly hard.

  He glanced out the nearest window to look at the sandstone visitor center perched in the middle of the desert. A full collapse, the guides had said. Shattered walls and falling stalactites. Even the bats had fled in a great plume, like ash from a volcano. The officer shook his head and walked back to the front of the bus. He was already tired.

  He scooped up a sheet of paper from the dash and saw that it was an attendance list.

  That’s something, at least, he thought. It would make the process easier.

  He took a pen out and sat down, scribbling a little note at the bottom. It seemed callous, but it was the prudent thing to do. They had to start contacting families and get them down here. They had to prepare them f
or the worst.

  “Hey, Dan,” his partner, Mel, called out, poking her head in the bus. “We got something.”

  He hurried out of the bus to see a squad car pull up. The back door flew open and a frantic woman emerged, caked in so much dust that he could barely distinguish her features.

  “They found her at the natural entrance,” Mel said. “She was with the class.”

  Officer Brown glanced at his partner in surprise and then hurried over.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?” he asked, taking her arm.

  Tears had turned the dust on her cheeks to clay. She nodded. “Fine. My son . . .”

  “Were you with the class?” he asked immediately. “Are you Ms. Johnson?”

  “Yes . . . my son, Eric . . .”

  Officer Brown quickly turned the attendance sheet away from her so she couldn’t read his scribbled note. “When did you last see them, Ms. Johnson?”

  “They were in the Mystery Room,” she said, wiping her eyes. There was some blood caked on the side of her head. “I heard the quake and tried to get back. It was all collapsing.”

  She looked at him, her eyes wide.

  “I heard them screaming.”

  Officer Brown grimaced. “As soon as it is stable, we’ll send people in.”

  “When will that be?” she asked, stepping back warily.

  “They’re watching the seismometer readings now. There could be aftershocks. It’s not safe to go in.”

  “My son is down there!” she snarled. She turned to head for the visitor center.

  “The elevators are shut down,” Officer Brown said. “And they won’t let you back in the other entrance either. We will take care of it, ma’am. Mel, get some paramedics over here—”

  The woman turned back to him, and her eyes instantly fell on the attendance sheet.

  “The teacher, Mr. Baker, he would be with them,” she said. “What does that say?”

  Officer Brown tried to put the sheet away. “We’ll find them, ma’am. Don’t worry.”