A World Below by Wesley King

Author:Wesley King
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster/Paula Wiseman Books

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.

“Over a hundred years,” he finally replied.

Eric shook his head in amazement. “But . . . where did you come from?”

Carlos glanced back at him. “The first Midnight King came from the surface. Juarez the First. He came to escape the people there. Your people . . . I suppose.”

A tiny bit of venom had crept into his voice.

Eric frowned. “My people? It was over a hundred years ago.”

“We are our father’s blood, are we not?”

Eric snorted. “I hope we’re more than that.”

Carlos looked at Eric as if he had said something particularly odd, but he didn’t respond. He pushed ahead faster, stepping over a small running stream that was bristling with tiny reeds. Eric fell back a little, trying to keep up with one hand on his side, squeezing the aching cramp.

Finally, the shrunken old trees thinned and began to fall away. Carlos stepped onto open ground, and Eric came out after him, bending over to catch his breath. His eyes stung with sweat.

“We will take a break,” Carlos said, eyeing him.

“Cool,” Eric managed.

He plunked onto the ground and took a deep drink of his water. Carlos snapped off one of the bioluminescent fungi at its base and dropped it in front of them, forming a bizarre blue campfire. Then he broke a branch off one of the gnarled old trees, sat down crossed-legged directly across from Eric, and began to chew on it. Eric watched him in fascination.

“What is that?”

Carlos looked up, then snapped off the bottom and threw it to him. “Barbar tree.”

Eric caught the branch and began to gnaw on it. It was bitter, but it had a rich, earthy taste as well, like when his dad had once let him try a piece of truffle. As he bit deeper into the branch, the taste grew a little sweeter, and he smiled at Carlos.

“It’s good,” he said.

Carlos looked surprised. “Not many people like it.”

“I like this kind of stuff,” Eric said. “I’m used to eating things out in the wild.”

He dug into his backpack. Carlos tensed, his hand dropping down to his knife, but Eric quickly pulled out a granola bar and showed it to him.

Too bad it’s raisin, he thought.

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