The Tundra Trials

by Monica Tesler

  Lucy crosses to the door and pulls the handle. The door doesn’t budge. “Uh, guys? It’s locked.”

  Cole rushes over and tries the handle. “She’s right. Locked.”

  Lucy puts her hands on her hips. “Like I really needed you to confirm that.”

  Cole ignores her and searches the surrounding walls, presumably for something that can open the door. Eventually he shrugs. “This locks from the other side. We’re trapped.”

  “Can’t you hack it?” Marco asks.

  “It’s a dead bolt, Marco. I’m a computer genius, not a miracle worker.”

  “Don’t know the difference, Brainiac.”

  “So we pound on the door,” Lucy says.

  “I’ve got another idea,” Marco says. “The laundry chute!”

  “We’ve already said no!” Lucy grumbles.

  “So you’d rather pound on the door, obliterating any chance that we can play it cool with our exit, than take our chances with the laundry chute? That’s like volunteering for a fresh round of trouble. How did I end up in a pod with you cowards?”

  “I am not a coward!” Cole says.

  “Neither am I, Tofu Face,” Lucy says. “And fine, we’ll take the chute, but if anything goes wrong, it’s entirely on you.”

  Cole and Lucy reluctantly back away from the door. We discard our cold-weather gear in the laundry bins and hoist ourselves onto the chute. Mira is to my left and Lucy my right, with the other boys on the bookends.

  “Hold hands?” Lucy says, squeezing my palm. We all link up.

  They look to me for a signal.

  “One, two, three, go!”

  We scoot our butts and then we’re sliding.

  “Geronimo!” Marco shouts.

  We shoot down the ramp like it’s an old-fashioned playground slide. The ride is over in a second. We land with a thud on a pile of dirty parkas.

  “Fun!” Lucy says. “Can we do it again?”

  “That was a one-time ride, sister,” Marco says.

  “This laundry is disgusting,” Cole says, sliding down the pile of soiled coats.

  “And stinky!” I plug my nose. There’s no doubt these parkas have been well worn. They reek of sweat and the dank stench of Gulagan mud.

  We climb off the laundry pile and look around. We’ve landed in a large cavern. It’s like the other places we’ve visited in Gulagaven, but a lot more primitive. The walls aren’t smooth and glossy. Instead, it looks like someone took a shovel and dug a huge hole, and we’re standing in it.

  Next to the laundry pile, there’s a long trough filled with purple fluid for soaking clothes. Wet garments are squeezed with an enormous press and then soaked again in a trough of water on the other side. Then there’s a trip through another press into a giant earthen stove that must be for drying.

  “They cook the coats,” Marco says. “Funky.”

  “This place gives me the creeps,” Lucy says. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Three doors line the far wall of the laundry hole. We check each one. The first is locked, so that’s a no go. The second two both open to empty tunnels.

  “Which one?” Cole asks.

  “Eenie-meenie-minie-moe,” Lucy says.

  “This one,” Marco says.

  “Based on?” I ask.

  “Gut instinct. And the fact that there’s a bag of trash sitting just outside the door. It must mean they use this tunnel.” Marco doesn’t wait for our agreement. He takes off down his chosen hallway, expecting us to follow. And we do.

  “Oh my god! Did you hear Ridders?” Lucy says, as we trudge after Marco. “They’re sending us to war!”

  “Drama! Drama! Drama!” Marco says. “That’s not exactly what he said.”

  “Well, it’s obviously what he meant!” she says.

  “Shhh!” I say. “Sound really carries in this tunnel, and we don’t know who might be down here.”

  “This could be the clue we need to find out what Earth Force is up to,” Cole says. “Sheek asked about the summit.”

  “I know!” I whisper-shout. “And we can talk about it later.”

  Cole starts to protest, but I wave my hand across my neck, making it clear he should shut up.

  After walking down the hall for about five minutes—Marco and me all hunched over for head clearance—I begin to notice something. It starts gradual, and then builds and builds until I can’t escape it. I thought the laundry hole was stinky, but this hall absolutely reeks!

  “What on earth is that smell?” Lucy asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “But I’m about to lose my lunch.”

  “You mean barf your BERF?” Marco asks. “Don’t do that, Ace. I bet it would taste twice as gross on the way back up.”

  “That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard,” Lucy says.

  “Not as disgusting as the actual act of barfing BERF, I bet,” Marco says.

  “Quiet,” Cole says. “I heard something.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” I say.

  Thud.

  “Actually . . .”

  Thud.

  “I heard something, too!” Lucy says.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  We round a bend in the tunnel and nearly trip over the source of the sound. There’s a huge pile of trash bags in our path.

  Thud.

  Another bag falls from the sky. There’s a hole in the wall. A trash chute.

  Thud.

  The bag bursts open as it hits the ground. Rotten purple tubers poor out, along with a cloud of flies. My stomach heaves. The joke about me losing my lunch is about to become a reality.

  “Oh, that is nasty!” Lucy says.

  “No wonder it stinks,” Marco says.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  The stench is almost too much to bear. And the pile is building at an alarmingly fast rate. We need to get by soon, or we might be forced to climb over a garbage mountain.

  “What are they going to do with all this trash?” I ask.

  “Don’t know. Don’t care,” Marco says. “We’ve got to get out of this tunnel. Let’s go.”

  We slide against the wall to avoid touching the trash pile. Once clear, we break into a jog.

  Suddenly trash is falling from everywhere. Did we just not notice the trash chutes before? How come the Tunnelers are all dumping their trash now? There are even some of those huge green waste bins from the space dock lined against the tunnel wall.

  “Look out!” I shout at Mira. She barely avoids a triple-bag bomb.

  We dodge back and forth to avoid stepping on the trash bags in the tunnel or getting knocked out by a falling bag from above. It’s like the world’s nastiest video game. And we’re not playing it, we’re living it!

  “This is the grossest thing ever!” Lucy whines. “If I’m not out of here soon, I think I’ll die from disgust.”

  “Hey, Drama Queen, is that purple potato in your hair?”

  Lucy freaks, screaming and swatting at her head.

  “Just joking,” Marco says.

  “Marco Romero, I am going to murder you!” Lucy says. “I can’t believe you took us this way!”

  “I took you this way? The way I remember it, I was the only one with any ideas. If it were up to you, we’d still be back in that locked laundry closet.”

  “No, we wouldn’t!” Lucy shouts. “We would have pounded on the door, and someone would have let us out!”

  “Yeah, out just to be in a lot of trouble with Ridders!”

  “Trouble is better than trash!”

  A loud beep sounds in the tunnel, interrupting Lucy’s and Marco’s bickering. Three beeps follow, then a robotic announcement in Gulagan, followed by the English translation:

  “Attention! Clear the trash tunnel. Clear the trash tunnel immediately. The worm will be released in one minute.”

  16

  WE ALL STOP WALKING. AND talking. And fighting. We stare at one another with clueless expressions on our faces.

  “Did it say ‘worm�
�?” Lucy asks.

  I nod.

  “What exactly does that mean?” Cole asks.

  “No clue,” Marco says. “But it can’t be good.”

  “We need to get out of here,” I say. “Let’s fly.”

  “What about the scrambler?” Cole asks. “We can’t use our gloves.”

  Yikes. We’ll have to use the manual grips, the ones that nearly got me laughed out of the EarthBound Academy last tour. I fish the grips out of my pack pockets and swap out my glove grips.

  “We’re not supposed to use our packs inside Gulagaven no matter which grips we’re using!” Lucy says.

  “No one’s going to know, because no one’s down here!” Marco yells.

  “Yeah, no one is stupid enough to be in the trash tunnel!” Lucy screams back.

  “Are you calling me stupid?” Marco snaps.

  “Shut up!” I shout. “This is an emergency!”

  Just go. Mira lifts off in her blast pack and soars ahead in the tunnel.

  I’m not going to stand around listening to Marco and Lucy fight either. I push off after Mira.

  Fly straight, Jasper. That’s all I have to do. No crazy maneuvers, just straight ahead.

  As I close in on Mira, a second alarm sounds in the tunnel: “Attention! Worm released. Trash clearance in progress.”

  “Oh no!” Lucy cries behind me.

  “I have a bad feeling about this!” Marco shouts.

  My pack stutters and drops. I hit the ground hard on my right hip. Scrambling to my feet, I try to fly, but my pack won’t budge.

  Marco and Lucy zoom past.

  “Hey!” Stupid straps. I can’t even lift off.

  Mira stops in midair and zooms back for me. Her brain bumps up against mine, questioning. Up ahead, Marco drops to the ground. “I suck with these straps, remember?” I say to Mira.

  She shakes her head. Battery. She shrugs out of her pack and shoves it in my face, showing that the orange charging light is blinking.

  I check the battery charge on my pack. It’s not the straps. I’m out of juice.

  A strange noise sounds in the tunnel, a peculiar combination of squishing and scratching. The noise grows louder every second. Then the walls of the tunnel start to shake.

  Mira’s eyes latch on to mine. Run.

  We take off on foot through the tunnel. Marco and Cole are up ahead, checking their packs. Lucy hits the ground several meters in front of Cole. It looks like packs aren’t an option for anyone.

  “We’ve got to get out of here!” I shout as we overtake Marco. “Go!”

  Marco catches us, and we speed ahead to Cole and Lucy. “It’s coming! Run!”

  A sound like wet sneakers on a tile floor swells behind us, louder every second.

  “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Lucy gasps as she sprints.

  I’d tell her to shut up, but I don’t want to waste my breath. I need all the lung power I have to outrun whatever is behind us.

  The squishing noise is so loud, it must be close. So close it could squash me. I chance a glance over my shoulder.

  “Oh my god!” I shout. Fifty meters behind us, and closing the gap with every second, is the most enormous, disgusting creature I’ve ever seen. It looks like the world’s biggest earthworm. It’s the color of dirty bathwater and has thick wrinkles all over its body. As far as I can tell, it doesn’t have eyes or ears or a nose, just the most gigantic mouth ever. And its mouth is open, stretched almost as wide as the tunnel itself, devouring everything in its path.

  And the squishy noise? The worm is literally squeezing its way down the tunnel. There is no room above, beneath, or on the sides. The worm takes up the entire tunnel. Everything is funneled into its mouth.

  The perfect trash removal system.

  And we’re about to be trash.

  “Run!” I yell.

  Squish!

  Legs burning.

  Squash!

  Must run faster.

  Lucy sprints at my side. Marco and Mira are in front.

  Cole falls behind. “I can’t . . . ,” he shouts. “Help!”

  I glance over my shoulder. Cole is just steps ahead of the giant worm’s mouth.

  “Stop!” I yell to the others. “We need to help Cole!”

  “I can see the end of the tunnel!” Marco shouts.

  “He needs help now!”

  “What can we do?” Lucy says.

  I spin around. Just as I do, Cole trips. That’s it. He’s trash.

  Mira soars past me with the bit of battery she has left in her pack, heading straight for the worm.

  But it’s too late. Cole disappears into the worm’s mouth.

  “No!” I shout.

  Mira flies in after him, right inside the worm.

  Lucy screams and tugs at my arm.

  The worm keeps coming.

  “Run, Jasper!” Lucy shouts.

  There’s no sign of my friends.

  “Haul it, J!” Marco yells.

  Oh my god . . . are they dead?

  A second later, Mira flies out of the worm’s mouth, dragging Cole by the shoulders. A few meters in front of us, her pack gives out and they drop to the ground. Mira lands gracefully and starts running. Cole scrambles to his feet and stumbles forward.

  The worm thrashes, and a horrible noise bellows from deep in his belly.

  “Go!” I shout.

  We race for the end of the tunnel. The worm closes the gap.

  “High gear!” Marco yells. “We can make it!”

  The tunnel narrows like a funnel. At the very end is a door. That’s the best shot we’ve got.

  The worm roars. Trash spews from his mouth, pelting us from behind as we race.

  Marco slams against the door. He grabs the handle.

  The door doesn’t budge.

  “Open it!” I shout.

  Marco fights with the door as the rest of us close in. I have to duck more and more with each step.

  When I reach the door, I shove Marco aside and yank the handle. It’s no use. It’s locked.

  We’re out of options.

  I turn around.

  The worm speeds toward us.

  Now that there’s nothing left to do but wait to be devoured, everything sharpens into focus. A thick, pink tongue fills the worm’s mouth and waves side to side like a fat snake. Drool oozes from the corners of its cavernous mouth. Pieces of tuber and paper and maybe smeared poop cling to its skin.

  Mira squeezes my hand. Lucy burrows her head against my shoulder.

  This is it. At least I get to die with my friends.

  A warm wind brushes my skin, and a vile stench pours over me. Wait a second . . . that’s not wind. It’s the worm’s breath. That is so disgusting I laugh out loud. I am literally living my worst nightmare.

  I brace myself. In seconds I’ll be in that thing’s body, dying a slow death of digestive juices and rotten Tunneler trash.

  Hold on . . . is the worm slowing down? And why does he seem smaller?

  Actually, it’s not the worm that’s smaller. The tunnel got smaller. That’s right! The tunnel narrowed before we reached the door. Could it be . . .?

  The worm is two meters in front of us, but he is not getting any closer.

  Marco lets out a high-pitched laugh. “He’s stuck!”

  Lucy lifts her head from my shoulder. “For real? He can’t reach us?”

  “He can’t squeeze through!” I yell.

  We bounce up and down chanting, “Stuck! Stuck! Stuck!”

  I sink to my knees. I can’t believe it. I thought that was the end.

  “Don’t forget that we’re stuck, too,” Lucy says.

  I can hardly think about that now. All I can manage to do is press my back against the wall and stare into the mouth of the nastiest creature I’ve ever encountered.

  Marco being Marco, he crawls forward and pokes the worm’s tongue. “You’ve got to feel this! It’s like a basketball but warm and bumpy.”

  “Get away from there!” Lucy shou
ts.

  Marco scrambles back just as the worm whips his tongue through the air.

  “You really are stupid,” she says.

  An alarm sounds, followed by three beeps. “Attention! Trash cycle complete. Worm recalled. Lockdown will conclude in three minutes.”

  Marco looks at me. I shrug. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I let a glimmer of hope wiggle its way in.

  Sure enough, the worm recoils back up the tunnel. Three minutes later, the distinct sound of a lock disengaging sounds at our backs. Marco tries the handle. The next thing we know, we’re out of the trash tunnel and steps away from the Grand Tunneler Marketplace.

  “Why is everyone looking at us funny?” Lucy asks as we walk down the trinket aisle at the market.

  “Probably because we’re not Tunnelers,” I say.

  “Yeah, but it’s not just that,” she says. “It’s like they’re recoiling from us. Like we carry a disease or something.”

  I kind of see what Lucy’s saying. At first, I was so relieved not to be the trash worm’s dinner that I really couldn’t think about much else, but now it looks like our pod is walking in its own little bubble, like others get within a certain radius of us and then bounce off.

  Brrrk. Arrrgh. Kadareek, comes a Tunneler voice from behind, followed by a fit of coughing.

  “Excuse me,” a voice box translates as two Tunnelers wearing Earth Force uniforms approach and then step back. “Who is your pod leader?” Then the box says, “No translation. No translation. No translation.” I’m guessing that must be the coughing.

  “Jon Waters is our pod leader,” Lucy says. “But he’s not on Gulaga yet.”

  “Who is your junior ambassador, then?” the second Tunneler asks. He puts a hand over his long snout as he talks.

  “Neeka,” she says.

  “Neeka, as in Commander Krag’s daughter?” the first Tunneler asks.

  When we confirm, he shakes his head, like he’s not surprised. What’s that supposed to mean?

  “Stay there,” the first Tunneler commands.

  They step even farther away from us, and everyone else in the market keeps their distance, too. The Tunnelers talk to each other and then the second one speaks into a com pin.

  After more than a minute passes, the first one takes a tentative step back in our circle. “You’ll need to follow us. And not too closely.”

  It’s not clear we’re in trouble, but following them wasn’t presented as an option. As we set off after the Tunneler officers, I check my watch. It seemed like we spent an eternity in the trash tunnel, but we still have more than half an hour before dinner.