The Underland Chronicles: Books 1-5 Paperback Box Set

by Suzanne Collins

  "Probably not too good right now," said Gregor. "But she'll be fine once we get you back."

  His dad nodded. "And you?"

  Gregor didn't talk about any of the bad stuff, just the easy stuff. He told his dad about track and school and playing his saxophone at Carnegie Hall. He never mentioned spiders or rats or what he'd been through since his dad had disappeared.

  They spent the afternoon playing with Boots, trying to make each other eat and often, without any particular reason, reaching out to touch each other.

  Dulcet showed up eventually and insisted Boots and his dad needed rest, so Gregor wandered off into the palace feeling happier than he had in two years, seven months, and he no longer cared how many days. He was done with the rule now. For good. Even if times got bad, he would never again deny himself the possibility that the future might be happy even if the present was painful. He would allow himself dreams.

  As he was making his way back to his bed, he passed the room he'd been taken to as a prisoner the night he'd tried to escape Regalia. Vikus was sitting at the table alone, surrounded by piles of scrolls and maps. His face lit up when he saw Gregor, and he waved him into the chamber.

  "Come, come, we have not yet spoken since your arrival," he said eagerly. "How does your father?"

  "Better. Much better," said Gregor, sitting across from Vikus.

  "And the princess?" said Vikus with a smile.

  "She's good. No more fever," said Gregor.

  For a minute they just sat there, not sure where to begin.

  "So, Warrior ... you leaped," said Vikus.

  "Yeah, I guess I did," said Gregor, grinning. "Lucky Ares was there."

  "Lucky for Ares, too," said Vikus. "Lucky for us all. Know you the rats are in retreat?"

  "Mareth told me," said Gregor.

  "I believe the war will soon be at an end," said

  Vikus. "The rats have begun to battle one another for their throne."

  "What about Ripred?" said Gregor.

  "I have heard from him. He is assembling a party of rats sympathetic to his cause in the Dead Land. It will not be an easy task to take leadership of the rats. He must first convince them that peace is desirable, and that will be a long struggle. Still, he is not an easy rat to ignore," said Vikus.

  "I'll say," said Gregor. "Even other rats are afraid to fight him."

  "With good reason. No one can defend themselves against him," said Vikus. "Ah, that reminds me. I have something for you. Several times on the journey you made mention of your lack of a sword. The council asks me to present you with this."

  Vikus reached beneath the table and brought out a long object wrapped in very thick silk. Gregor unrolled it and found a stunningly beautiful sword, studded with jewels.

  "It belonged to Bartholomew of Sandwich himself. It is the wish of my people that you accept it," said Vikus.

  "I can't take this," said Gregor. "I mean, it's too much, and besides, my mom won't even let me have a pocketknife." This was true. On Gregor's tenth birthday his uncle had sent him a pocketknife with about fifteen attachments, and his mom had put it away until he was twenty-one.

  "I see," said Vikus. He was watching Gregor carefully. "Perhaps if your father kept it for you, she would allow it."

  "Maybe. But there's another thing ... ," said Gregor. But he didn't know how to say the other thing, and it was the main reason he didn't want to touch the object in front of him. It had to do with Tick and Treflex and Gox; it had to do with all the creatures he'd seen lying motionless on his trip back. It even had to do with Henry and the rats. Maybe he just wasn't smart enough, maybe he just didn't understand. But it seemed to Gregor that there must have been some way to fix things so that everybody hadn't ended up dead.

  "I pretended to be the warrior so I could get my dad. But I don't want to be a warrior," said Gregor. "I want to be like you."

  "I have fought in many battles, Gregor," said Vikus cautiously.

  "I know, but you don't go looking for them. You try to work things out every other way you can think of first. Even with the spiders. And Ripred," said Gregor. "Even when people think you're wrong, you keep trying.".

  "Well, then, Gregor, I know the gift I would wish to give you, but you can only find it yourself," said Vikus.

  "What is it?" said Gregor.

  "Hope," said Vikus. "There are times it will be very hard to find. Times when it will be much easier to choose hate instead. But if you want to find peace, you must first be able to hope it is possible."

  "You don't think I can do that?" said Gregor.

  "On the contrary, I have great hope that you can," said Vikus with a smile.

  Gregor slid the sword back across the table to him. "Tell them I said thanks, but no thanks."

  "You cannot imagine how happy I am to deliver that message," said Vikus. "And now you must rest. You have a journey tomorrow."

  "I do? Where? Not back to the Dead Land?" said Gregor, feeling a little ill.

  "No. I think it is time we send you home," said Vikus.

  They put a bed in his dad's room that night so that he and Boots could sleep close by. Now that he was going home, Gregor began to let thoughts of Lizzie and his grandma and, most of all, his mom come back into his head. Would they still be okay when he got back? He remembered his talk with Vikus, and tried to hope for the best.

  As soon as his dad and Boots had woken, they were taken to the dock where Gregor had made his escape the first night. A group of Underlanders had assembled to see them off.

  "Ares will take you to the portal above the Waterway," said Vikus. "It will be a short distance from there to your home."

  Mareth pressed a handful of paper into his hand. He realized it was money. "I took it from the museum. Vikus said you may need it to travel in the Overland."

  "Thanks," said Gregor. He wondered exactly where the Waterway gateway was in relation to his apartment. He guessed he'd find out soon enough.

  "The way is safe now, but do not tarry. As you know, things can shift quickly in the Underland," said Solovet.

  Gregor suddenly realized he would never see these people again. He was surprised by how much he would miss them. They'd been through a lot together. He hugged everybody good-bye. When he came to Luxa, he thought maybe he should just shake her hand, but he went ahead and hugged her, anyway. She actually gave him a hug back. It was a little stiff, but then, she was a queen.

  "Well, so if you're ever in the Overland, drop by," said Gregor.

  "Perhaps we shall see you here again someday," said Luxa.

  "Oh, I don't know. My mom's probably going to ground me for the rest of my life just to keep me safe," said Gregor.

  "What means this, 'ground you'?" asked Luxa.

  "Never let me leave the apartment," said Gregor.

  "That is not what it says in 'The Prophecy of Bane,'" said Luxa thoughtfully.

  "What? What's that?" asked Gregor, feeling panic rise up in him.

  "Did Vikus not tell you? It follows 'The Prophecy of Gray,'" said Luxa.

  "But I'm not in it. Am I? I mean, I'm not, right? Vikus?" said Gregor.

  "Ah, you must depart directly if you mean to catch the current," said Vikus, slipping the backpack with Boots onto his shoulders and leading him to Ares, who was already carrying his dad.

  "What aren't you telling me? What's 'The Prophecy of Bane'?" insisted Gregor as he felt himself lifted onto Ares's back.

  "Oh, that," said Vikus dismissively. "That is very vague. No one has been able to explain it for centuries. Fly you high, Gregor the Overlander." Vikus gave Ares a sign and he spread his wings.

  "What is it, though? What does it say?" shouted Gregor as they rose into the air.

  "Bye-bye, Temp! See you soon!" said Boots waving cheerfully.

  "No, Boots, no! We're not coming back!" said Gregor.

  The last thing Gregor saw as they left the palace was Vikus waving. He was not sure, but he thought he heard the old man say, "See you soon!"

  Down the
river he went again, but this time he was flying over the foaming water on Ares's strong back. They soon reached the beach where he'd encountered

  Fangor and Shed. He caught a glimpse of the blackened ground where the fire had been.

  Ten minutes later, the river fed into what was either a sea or the biggest lake Gregor had ever seen. Giant waves rolled across the water's surface and crashed onto rocky beaches.

  A pair of guards on bats appeared and escorted them over the water. Gregor didn't see any rats around, but who knew what else might be down here looking for a meal. He caught a glimpse of a twenty-foot spiked tail as some creature flipped it out of the waves and then dove. "Not even going to ask," he thought.

  The guards held their positions as Ares began to ascend into a vast stone cone. At the base, it may have been a couple of miles in diameter. A strange misty wind seemed to be blowing them upward. "Must be the currents," thought Gregor.

  Ares flew in tighter and tighter circles as they ascended. He had to close his wings to squeeze through the opening at the top.

  Suddenly they were zipping through tunnels that looked familiar. They were not built of stone, but of concrete, so Gregor knew they must almost be home. The bat landed on a deserted stairway and nodded his head upward.

  "I cannot go farther," said Ares. "That is your way home. Fly you high, Gregor the Overlander."

  "Fly you high, Ares," said Gregor. His hand wrapped tightly around Ares's claw for a moment. Then he let go. The bat vanished in the darkness.

  Gregor had to help his dad up a long flight of stairs. There was a stone slab in the ceiling at the top. When Gregor pushed it aside, a wave of fresh air hit his face. He pulled himself out and his fingers found grass. "Oh, man," he said, hurrying to help his dad out. "Oh, man, look."

  "Moon," said Boots happily, pointing into the sky.

  "Yes, moon, little girl. Look, Dad, it's the moon!" His dad was too winded by the climb to answer. For a few minutes they just sat in the grass, staring up at the beauty of the night sky. Gregor looked around and realized by the skyline that they were in Central Park. He could hear the traffic just beyond a row of trees. He slid the stone slab back in place and helped his dad up.

  "Come on, let's grab a cab. Go see Mama, Boots?" he asked.

  "Ye-es!" said Boots emphatically. "Go see Mama."

  It must have been very late. Hardly anyone was out on the streets, but a few restaurants were still open. It was just as well since they made a funny sight, all dressed in their Underland clothes.

  Gregor flagged down a cab and they piled into the backseat. The driver either didn't notice or didn't care how they looked. He'd probably seen everything.

  Gregor pressed his face against the window drinking in the buildings, the cars, and the lights! All those beautiful lights! It seemed to take no time at all to reach their apartment. He paid the driver and added a huge tip.

  When they came to the front door, his dad pulled out his key chain, the one Gregor had made him, from his pocket. He fanned out the keys with trembling fingers and found the right one. For once the elevator wasn't broken, and they rode up to Gregor's hall.

  They opened the apartment door softly, not wanting to wake anyone. Gregor could see Lizzie asleep on the couch. From the bedroom he could hear his grandma murmuring in her sleep, so she was okay.

  A light was on in the kitchen. His mother sat at the kitchen table, as still as a statue. Her hands were clasped together, and she stared fixedly at a small stain on the tablecloth. Gregor remembered seeing her that way so many nights after his dad had disappeared. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to scare her or shock her or ever give her any more pain.

  So, he stepped into the light of the kitchen and said the one thing he knew she wanted to hear most in the world.

  "Hey, Mom. We're home."

  GREGOR

  AND THE PROPHECY OF BANE

  BOOK TWO OF THE BESTSELLING UNDERLAND CHRONICLES

  SUZANNE COLLINS

  SCHOLASTIC INC.

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  PART 1

  The Mission

  CHAPTER 1

  When Gregor opened his eyes he had the distinct impression that someone was watching him. He glanced around his tiny bedroom, trying to keep as still as possible. The ceiling was empty. Nothing on his dresser. Then he saw it sitting on the windowsill, motionless except for the delicate twitching of its antennas. A cockroach.

  "You're just looking for trouble," he said softly to the cockroach. "You want my mom to see you?"

  The cockroach rubbed its feelers together but made no attempt to run away. Gregor sighed. He reached for an old mayonnaise jar that held his pencils, emptied it on the bed, and in one swift move trapped the cockroach beneath it.

  He didn't even have to get up to do it. His bedroom wasn't actually a bedroom. Probably it was supposed to be some kind of storage space. Gregor's single bed was wedged into it so, at night, he came in the doorway and crawled straight up to his pillow. On the wall facing the foot of the bed, there was a little alcove with just enough room for a narrow dresser, although you could only open the drawers about eight inches. He had to do his homework sitting cross-legged on his bed with a board on his knees. And there was no door. But Gregor wasn't complaining. He had a window that looked out on the street, the ceilings were nice and high, and he had more privacy than anybody else in the apartment. No one came in his room much...if you didn't count the roaches.

  What was it with the roaches lately, anyway? They'd always had some in the apartment, but now it seemed like every time he turned around he'd spot one. Not running. Not trying to hide. Just sitting there...watching him. It was weird. And it was a lot of work trying to keep them alive.

  This past summer when a giant roach had sacrificed herself to save his two-year-old sister Boots's life miles beneath the city of New York, he'd vowed never to kill another one of the bugs. But if his mom saw them, man, they were goners. It was up to Gregor to get them out of the apartment before her roach radar kicked in. When it was warm out, he'd just trapped them and put them out on the fire escape. But he was afraid the bugs would freeze now that it was December, so lately he'd been trying to stick them as far down in the kitchen trash as he could manage. He thought they'd be happy there.

  Gregor nudged the roach off the sill and up the side of the mayonnaise jar. He crept down the hallway past the bathroom, past the bedroom that Boots, his seven-year-old-sister, Lizzie, and his grandma shared, and into the living room. His mom was gone already. She must've taken the breakfast shift at the coffee shop where she waited tables on weekends. She worked full-time as a dentist's receptionist during the week, but lately they needed every penny.

  Gregor's dad lay on the pull-out couch. Even when he was asleep he wasn't still. His fingers twitched and plucked fitfully at his blanket, and he was muttering softly. His dad. His poor dad...

  After being held prisoner by huge, vicious rats far beneath New York City for over two and a half years, his dad was a wreck. During his stay in the Underland, which was what the inhabitants called it, he'd been starved, deprived of light, and physically abused in ways he would never discuss. He was tormented by nightmares and at times he had trouble separating reality from illusion even when he was awake. This was worse when he was feverish, which was often, because despite repeated trips to the doctor, he could not shake off a strange illness he'd brought back from the Underland.

  Before Gregor had fallen after Boots through a grate in the laundry room and helped rescue his dad, he'd always thought that everything would be simple once his family was reunited. It was a thousand times better having his dad back, Gregor knew that. But it was not simple.

  Gregor moved quietly into the kitchen and slid the roach into the trash. He set the jar on the counter and noticed it was bare. The fridge held half a carton of milk, a gallon bottle of apple juice with maybe one glassful in it, and a jar of mustard. Gregor
braced himself and opened the cabinet. Half a loaf of bread, some peanut butter, and a box of oatmeal. He gave the box of oatmeal a shake and exhaled in relief. There was enough food for breakfast and lunch. And since it was Saturday, Gregor wouldn't even need to eat at home. He'd be going over to help Mrs. Cormaci.

  Mrs. Cormaci. It was strange how in a few short months she had changed from being their nosy neighbor into a kind of guardian angel. Shortly after Gregor, Boots, and their dad had returned from the Underland, he'd run into her in the hallway.

  "So, where've you been, Mister?" she asked him. "Besides scaring the whole building to death." Gregor had given her the story his family had agreed upon: On the day he'd disappeared from the laundry room, he'd taken Boots out to the playground to play for a few minutes. They'd run into his dad, who was on his way to see his sick uncle in Virginia and wanted to take the kids with him. Gregor thought his dad had called his mom; his dad thought Gregor had called his mom; it wasn't until they got back that they realized what a crisis they'd caused.

  "Hmph," said Mrs. Cormaci, giving him a hard look. "I thought your father was living in California."

  "He was," said Gregor. "But now he's back with us."

  "I see," Mrs. Cormaci again. "So, that's your story?"

  Gregor nodded, knowing it was pretty lame.

  "Hmph," said Mrs. Cormaci again. "Well, I'd work on that if I were you." And she walked off without another word.

  Gregor thought she was mad at them, but a few days later she'd knocked on the door with a coffee cake. "I brought your father a coffee cake," she said. "It's a welcome-home thing. Is he here?"

  He hadn't wanted to let her in, but his dad called out in a false, cheerful voice, "Is that Mrs. Cormaci?" and she'd bustled right in with her cake. The sight of his dad — bone thin, white-haired, hunched over on the couch — pulled her up short. If she had planned to interrogate him, she let it go right there. Instead, she exchanged a few comments about the weather and left.