Episode 1 - The Underground

Pierce, Hank, Dwayne and Bear go on an adventure.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:06

Chapter 1. The Last Day of School, Almost. Pierce Jaderson had exactly three rules for summer: no schedules, no vegetables, and absolutely positively 100% no boredom. It was the first Monday of June in Bay Village, Ohio, and the sun was already cooking the backyard like a giant grilled cheese sandwich, which for the record was Pierce's favorite food in the entire universe. He stood at the kitchen counter in his basketball shorts, stacking cheese slices onto bread with the focus of a surgeon, thick-cut sourdough, two layers of cheddar, one layer of American, butter on both sides. This was science. You're not really making another one, said a voice behind him. Pierce didn't turn around. I'm always really making another one, Henry. Henry, eight years old, stocky, blonde, and loud enough to be heard from the next county over, barreled into the kitchen and immediately made a sound like a foghorn. It was not a word, it was just a sound. Henry did this sometimes. Duane texted, Henry announced, holding up his tablet. He and Bear are coming over at noon. They want to go to the creek. Pierce's ears perked up. The creek. A long winding stretch of water that ran behind the houses on their street, cutting through the woods that smelled like mud and old leaves and something wild. Pierce had grown up by that creek. He knew every rock, every bend, every tree root you could trip on in the dark. Or so he thought. Tell them to come, Pierce said, flipping his sandwich onto the pan. It sizzled gloriously. Henry typed something, then looked up. Also, I need beef sticks. Do we have beef sticks? Mom said we have beef sticks. Where are the beef sticks? Pierce pointed at the pantry without looking. Henry dove in like a man who had not eaten in forty days. Outside the summer was waiting. Chapter 2. The Crew Assembles. By noon, all four of them were standing in the backyard with their shoes already wet. Duane had arrived first because Duane was always early. He was Pierce's cousin, same age, but you would not know it to look at them. Where Pierce was tall and lanky with the easy confidence of someone who had won at Fortnite so many times it no longer surprised him, Duane was skinny, slightly nervous, and wearing glasses that kept sliding down his nose. He had a backpack on that clinked when he walked. What's in the bag? Henry asked. Supplies, Duane said. What kind of supplies? The important kind. Henry opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question, but a blur of movement shot past him and nearly knocked him into the rosebush. Bear, Henry yelled, spinning around. Bear, real name Robbie, though nobody called him that except his grandmother, skidded to a stop on the grass. He was eight years old and the smallest of the four, which did not stop him from moving at approximately the speed of a golf cart going downhill. He wore glasses and had the laser focused look of someone who was always, always keeping score. Sorry, Bear said, not sounding very sorry. I was seeing how fast I could run from the gate. How fast? Pierce asked. Pretty fast, Bear said. Rory McElroy fast. Henry stared at him. Rory McElroy is a golfer. He doesn't run. He walks fast though, very fast, Bear said seriously. I've studied his gate. Duane pushed his glasses up. Can we go to the creek? I've been planning something. The other three looked at him. Duane planning something was either very good news or the beginning of a long afternoon, sometimes both. Pierce picked up his water bottle. Let's go. Chapter 3. Something under the bridge. The creek was everything it always was, cold and muddy and green smelling and perfect. They walked along the bank for about 15 minutes, past the tire swing, past the fallen oak they called the Dragon Log, past the spot where Henry had once thrown a rock and accidentally hit a beehive, they did not talk about that day. The old stone bridge came into view around a bend. It was a small low bridge, more of an arch really, built from grey limestone a long time ago. Ivy grew over it. Underneath where the water was shallower, the stones were dark and slick. They had been under this bridge a hundred times, there was nothing special about it. Except today the light was different. Pierce stopped walking. Do you see that? On the far side of the bridge, low on the stone wall where the bank met the arch, there was a door. It was small, maybe three feet tall, made of dark wood with iron hinges. Thick green moss covered the edges. It looked like it had been there forever. It also looked like it had been hidden forever. The ivy had pulled back or maybe fallen away, and now the door was just visible, obvious, as if it wanted to be found. Bear squinted. That was not there last week. Maybe it was and we just didn't see it, Duane said, already pulling out a small flashlight from his backpack. Why do you have a flashlight? Henry asked. I told you, supplies. Henry pulled out a beef stick and bit off the end thoughtfully. So, are we going in? All four of them looked at the door. All four of them looked at each other. Pierce stepped forward. Yeah, he said. We're going in. Chapter 4. The Underground. The door swung open easier than it had any right to. No creak, no resistance, just a smooth, quiet swing, like it had been oiled a week ago by someone expecting company. Beyond it was a tunnel, wide enough to walk through single file, made of the same gray limestone as the bridge. Small square torches lined the walls, glowing faintly orange, though nobody could explain what was keeping them lit. The air smelled like cool stone and something else, something harder to name. Like the inside of a computer, like electricity and earth mixed together. This is incredible, Duane whispered, pulling out a small notebook. Are you taking notes? Bear asked. I'm always taking notes. They moved in single file, Pierce at the front, Duane second with the flashlight, Bear third watching every shadow, and Henry in the back making very quiet little noises that were definitely not scared noises, just, you know, curiosity sounds. The tunnel curved and widened, and then they stepped out into something none of them had words for. It was a cavern, enormous and cathedral tall, its ceiling lost in shadow. The walls were rough stone, but they pulsed with a faint green light, like pixels almost, like the glow of a screen in a dark room. Paths branched off in three directions. A carved wooden sign hung from an iron post in the middle of the room. Duane read it aloud. Beware, the blocks are alive. A long silence. The blocks, Bear repeated slowly. From somewhere down the left path, something moved. They could hear it, a slow rhythmic thudding, heavy, deliberate, getting louder. Henry grabbed Pierce's sleeve. That's a Minecraft zombie, he whispered. That is literally the exact sound a Minecraft zombie makes. Pierce looked at him. That is not possible. The zombie shuffled into the light. Green skin, torn blue shirt, arms stretched forward. It groaned. You were saying? Duane said. Run, said Pierce. Chapter 5. Hank the Tank makes his move. They ran. Which direction didn't matter much at first. Any direction away from the zombie felt like the right direction. They bolted down the right-hand path, feet slapping on stone, Duane's backpack clanking, Henry hollering something that was either a battle cry or a sound of pure terror. Possibly both. The path narrowed, then opened into a smaller room. They skidded to a stop. The zombies' footsteps echoed behind them but grew fainter. Apparently, zombies don't run. This was useful information. Bear put his hands on his knees. Okay, he panted. Okay, that was a Minecraft zombie. We established that, Duane said. In real life. Also established. Henry, still breathing hard, looked around the room. His eyes landed on something in the corner. He went very still, which was unusual for Henry, who almost never went still. Guys, he said quietly. In the corner sat three wooden chests, each the size of a mini fridge with iron latches. They looked exactly like Minecraft chests. One of them had a small green glow around its edges. I want to open it, Henry said. We don't know what's in it, Pierce said. That's why I want to open it. Pierce looked at Duane. Duane looked at his notebook. Bear looked at the doorway behind them, still watching for zombies. Okay, Pierce said, but carefully. Henry Jaderson, eight years old, nicknamed Hank the Tank, walked up to the glowing chest, reached out with both hands, and threw it open. Inside was a beef stick, one single perfect individually wrapped beef stick. Henry stared at it. Then he looked up with an expression of absolute spiritual peace. This place, he said, was made for me. Chapter 6. Duane's Big Brain Moment. While Henry was having his beef stick moment, Duane was doing something far more practical, mapping. He'd torn pages from his notebook and was sketching the rooms they'd seen, the paths they'd taken, the placement of the torches. His pencil moved fast. Pierce watched him for a moment and felt a familiar wash of gratitude. If you were going to get lost in an underground Minecraft dimension, Duane was the guy you wanted with you. There are three paths from the main room, Duane said without looking up. We took the right one, that leaves center and left. The zombie came from the left. So we avoid left, Bear said. Not necessarily. In Minecraft, the most dangerous path is usually where the most valuable things are. Bear's competitive eyes lit up. So the best stuff is probably left. Almost certainly. Let's go left, Bear said immediately. Pierce laughed. Easy, Rory, let's think first. He looked at the two remaining chests. What's in the others? They opened the second chest together. Inside four small torches, real ones the kind you hold, and a folded piece of paper. Duane unfolded it carefully. It was a hand drawn map, rough, smudged, but readable. It showed the cavern they were in, the three paths, and a large room at the end of the center path labeled with a symbol none of them recognized. The third chest held something that made Duane go very, very quiet. It was a set of small iron tools, a lever, a coil of wire, a handful of pressure plates, exactly the components you would need to build a trap. Duane reached in slowly like he was handling treasure, which for him he was. Oh, he breathed. Oh, this is perfect. Why do we need traps? Henry asked beef stick in hand. Duane picked up the lever. Outside the room, deep in the stone tunnels, something moaned, then something else moaned, then several things moaned all at once. That, Duane said, is why we need traps. Chapter 7. The Trapmaster. Duane worked fast. He explained as he went, which Pierce appreciated. Duane explaining things was like having a very calm, very nerdy narrator walking alongside you, and right now Calm was in short supply. Pressure plates trigger the lever when stepped on. The lever controls the wire. The wire, if we run it across the path, can trip whatever's walking toward us. It won't hurt anything, it'll just slow them down. Can't they just walk around it? Bear asked. Zombies don't walk around things, they walk toward things. It's basically their whole personality. Henry, who had taken up a position near the door as a lookout, held up a hand. They're getting closer. How close? Close enough that I can see their arms. They've got the arms out. The arms are very out. Duane snapped the last wire into place. Don, back up. They pressed themselves against the far wall. The groaning grew louder. Then the first zombie shuffled through the doorway, and immediately stepped on the pressure plate. The lever snapped. The wire caught its ankles. The zombie toppled forward with a sound like a falling bag of sand, crashed to the ground, and began the slow, confused process of trying to get back up. The second zombie behind it tripped over the first one. The third zombie tripped over the second. It was objectively the funniest thing Henry had ever seen in his life. He laughed so hard he snorted. He snorted so hard he choked on his beef stick. He choked hard enough that Bear had to slap him on the back. I'm okay, Henry wheezed, tears streaming down his face. I'm great. Did you see that? Focus, Pierce said, but he was grinning. While they're down center path now. Chapter 8. The Creeper Problem. The center path was longer and darker than the right one. The torches here were spaced farther apart, and the shadows between them felt thicker. Duane handed out the torches from the chest, and they each held one, the small flames casting dancing orange shapes on the stone. Bear was up front with Pierce now, because Bear had decided the front was the most competitive position, and he was not about to let that stand. He walked quickly, scanning the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Pressure plates on the floor, Duane said from behind. Don't step on them. How do we know which stones are pressure plates? Henry asked. The ones that look slightly raised. Henry looked down at the floor. All the stones looked slightly raised. He walked with exaggerated high steps, like a cartoon character tiptoeing through a minefield, which earned exactly zero respect from anyone but was actually fairly effective. They made it to a wide, low chamber. The ceiling here was close enough to touch. Wooden crates were stacked along one wall. Carved symbols, the same one from the map, were chiseled into the stone above a heavy iron door on the far side. That's it, Duane said. That's where we're going. Then the silence changed. Pierce had spent enough time outside to know what silence meant. Silence wasn't empty, it was just waiting for the next sound, and the next sound, in this case, was a very specific, very quiet, very deeply troubling hiss. Nobody move, Pierce said quietly. In the corner, barely visible against the shadow was a creeper. It stood completely still, staring at them with its blank flat face and its four stubby legs, and the faint glow at its chest that meant it was already starting to charge. That's a creeper, Bear said very softly. I know. If it explodes, I know. In a room this size. Duane, Pierce said very calmly, please tell me you have something in that bag for this. Chapter 9. Run, Slide, and Don't Look Back. Duane had something in the bag. It was a small glass bottle, dark and stoppered, with a faint purple shimmer inside. He'd found it tucked beneath the iron tools in the third chest and had not mentioned it because he wasn't sure what it was. He was now reasonably sure it was a splash potion. In Minecraft, splash potions of weakness reduced the attack power of whatever they hit. Would that work on a creeper? Unknown. Was it the only option right now? Absolutely. When I throw it, we run, Duane said quietly. Door? Now Pierce gripped Bear's arm. Bear gripped Henry's sleeve. Henry gripped his beef stick. Duane threw the bottle. It shattered at the creeper's feet in a burst of purple mist. The creeper made a sound, not a hiss this time, but something more confused, more groggy, and the glow in its chest flickered and dimmed. Go! Pierce shouted. They went, sprinting, ducking under the low ceiling, feet hammering the stone floor. Bear was fastest by half a step which he would not let anyone forget. Henry ran with his arms straight out behind him like a torpedo. Pierce yanked open the iron door and they piled through it, one, two, three, four, Pierce last, pulling it shut behind him. The dull thud of an explosion rolled through the door, muffled but real. The walls shook slightly, dust drifted from the ceiling, then silence. They stood on the other side, all four of them breathing hard. Then Bear raised his hand for a high five that nobody left him hanging on. I'm adding that to my personal records, Bear announced. Fastest run from a creeper. Four kids, under five seconds. That's not a real record, Duane said. It is now. The green pixel glow covered every wall, ceiling to floor, like the whole place was made of light itself. In the center, on a raised stone platform sat a chest unlike the others. This one was gold, actual gold, gleaming, with carved symbols across the top and a faint warm light radiating from the lid. Stacked neatly on either side were what appeared to be supplies. More torches, coils of wire, glass bottles, tools, food, actual food, not Minecraft food, real food, including, Henry made a sound of pure joy, an entire box of beef sticks. On the wall opposite the chest in large carved letters. Well done, explorers. Henry read it three times. Then he pointed at it with his beef stick. It knows about us. It knew we were coming, Pierce said slowly. He walked up to the gold chest and looked at it. Someone built all of this. The door, the chests, the traps. Those weren't random, Duane. Someone designed them. Someone wanted to see if we could figure it out. Duane nodded, notebook already open. A test or a game, Bear said. Pierce looked at the gold chest. Should we open it? Obviously we should open it. Henry said, already moving. Pierce laughed and stepped aside. Henry lifted the lid. Inside, on a velvet cloth, were four small things a carved wooden compass, a folded letter, a small iron key, and a miniature version of the Bay Village Creek. Rendered in perfect detail in some kind of polished stone, every bend and rock in place, except it showed parts of the creek they had never explored. Places farther downstream, places past the old mill. Places that, according to the stone carving, held three more doors. Chapter 11. The Letter. Pierce unfolded the letter. It was written in small, careful handwriting in blue ink, on paper that felt older than it should have. To whoever opens this chest, you have passed through the first gate. That means you are curious, brave, and probably a little reckless, which is exactly correct. The underground is not a single place, it is a network, and it runs beneath all of Bay Village, beneath the creek and the woods and the old stones. There are three more gates, each one is harder than the last. Each one requires something different. The first gate asked for courage. The second gate will ask for patience. The third gate will ask for trust. The fourth, the fourth you will understand when you reach it. The compass will point to the next door, the key will open it. You should know you are not the first to find the first gate. Others have been here before you. Some went forward, some turned back. I hope you go forward. Good luck. A friend. Silence in the big glowing room. Then Henry. Who is a friend? We don't know, Pierce said. Are they still down here? We don't know that either. Henry chewed on that and on a beef stick for a long moment. Then he looked up. Do we want to find out? Pierce looked at Duane. Duane was already sketching the stone map. Bear was holding the compass, watching its needles spin and settle, pointing firmly downstream. Pierce looked at the compass. He looked at the key. He looked at his little brother. Yeah, he said. But not today. Today we go home, we eat dinner, we don't tell mom about the zombie. Agreed, said everyone immediately. Chapter 12. Until Next Time. They made it back through the stone tunnels without incident. The creeper was gone, the zombies had wandered off or tipped back over again, and Duane's tripwire was still in place, which he carefully collected and repacked with the reverence of someone disassembling important equipment. They came out through the little wooden door, blinking in the afternoon sun. The creek ran past them, cool and ordinary and brown, nothing extraordinary about it at all except that now Pierce would never be able to look at this bridge without knowing what was underneath it. Bear pressed the compass into Pierce's hand. You should hold it. You're the leader. Pierce shook his head. We all hold things. That's how it works. He passed the compass to Duane. You navigate. He held up the key. I'll hold this. He looked at Henry. Henry already had the stone map under his arm and a beef stick in his hand. He raised the beef stick like a sword. Hank, the tank is ready, he announced. They walked home along the creek bank as the afternoon light turned golden and long, casting their shadows out ahead of them, foreshadows stretching towards something they couldn't see yet. A neighbor's dog barked. A bird called from the oak trees. Everything smelled like summer. Pierce had played Fortnite enough to know that the best victories weren't the ones you planned. They were the ones that happened when you showed up and figured it out as you went, when you trusted the people next to you. He looked at Duane scribbling notes, at Bear already narrating his own performance to himself. At Henry, who had somehow acquired a second beef stick, three more gates, three more doors, and whatever the fourth gate was. He couldn't wait. Back at the house, their mom was calling them in for dinner. Pierce stepped through the back door last, pulling it shut behind him. And through the kitchen window, the creek glimmered in the evening light, patient and brown and full of secrets. It would wait, they would be back. End of book one.