The Underground

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “It was you on the phone?” Vicki said.

  Shelly nodded. “I figured it had to be good to get you out of class. So I was your mother for a minute. Pretty good plan for a girl like me, wouldn’t you say?”

  Shelly didn’t seem right. She had acted spacey and distant the last time Vicki saw her. “Have you been drinking?” Vicki said.

  “Who, me?”

  “What is it, Shel’?”

  Shelly looked at the ground. “I had to see you one more time. I wanted to say good-bye.”

  “You’re leaving?” Vicki said.

  “You could say that.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I picked up that paper today,” Shelly said. “The one we weren’t supposed to read. After lunch I hitched a ride home and looked through it.”

  Vicki couldn’t believe Shelly had actually read the Underground. “What’d you think?”

  Shelly touched her head. “I need to sit down.”

  “Let’s go to your house,” Vicki said.

  “No,” Shelly said. “My mom’s in there.”

  Shelly collapsed and hit the ground hard, but instead of even wincing, she laughed. Vicki had seen this before. She didn’t want to believe it.

  “What did you take, Shelly?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Shelly, tell me!”

  “I don’t know. Something of my mom’s. Don’t tell her. She’ll really be mad.”

  “How much did you take?”

  “The whole thing,” Shelly said. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  Shelly’s eyes looked strange. Vicki grabbed her shoulders and Shelly’s head lolled to one side.

  “You were a good friend, Vick’.”

  “You hang on, Shelly, you hear me? Hang on!”

  John and Mark knew what to do and had Judd’s computer up and running in less than an hour. They were even able to retrieve the original file with the first newspaper, something not even Donnie Moore had been able to do.

  “Cool logo,” Mark said. “The file was damaged, but it can be fixed. I’d say the second edition is ready to print.”

  “How many can we distribute with your plan?” Judd said.

  “Enrollment before the Rapture was about 2,300,” John said. “I’d say we lost a quarter of that. Maybe 500 kids. I’d print 1,800 copies.”

  “You’re kidding,” Lionel said. “You can get the Underground to every kid without the school knowing?”

  “If my plan works,” John said.

  Shelly’s mother was lying on an old couch with the television blaring and hardly stirred when Vicki rushed in to call 9-1-1.

  Paramedics began pumping Shelly’s stomach in the ambulance. Vicki didn’t know if she had gotten her friend to the hospital in time until a doctor came to her in the waiting room. “She’s gonna be OK,” he said. “She OD’d on sleeping pills. Shelly’s lucky she had you as a friend.”

  Vicki glanced at a clock. 8:30. She ran to a phone.

  “I’m really sorry, Judd,” she said. “I’m at the hospital.”

  “What’s wrong? Are you OK?”

  “It’s a long story. Could you pick me up?”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  ___

  Judd was upset, but he also cared. By the time he and Vicki returned to the house, he was frustrated.

  “We need a signal,” he said. “Some code that lets the others know one of us is in trouble.”

  “I couldn’t get in touch with anybody,” Vicki said.

  “You don’t need a code,” John said. “You need this.”

  He pulled from his front pocket what looked like a pager. It had a screen about as thick as a pizza crust and was a little bigger than a watch.

  “My dad was beta testing these,” John said. “It works like a pager, but it’s radio-frequency controlled. You enter a message on the screen and send it to whoever you want who has a receiver. Instantly. No phone calls, no modem.”

  “How much?” Judd said.

  “We have at least ten more at home,” John said.

  ___

  Printing 1,800 copies of the Underground took all six kids. By midnight the papers were stacked and in the trunk of Judd’s car.

  John said, “We have a window of about an hour. We’ll need to be there and ready by 4 A.M.”

  “I’m ready,” Lionel said.

  “No,” Judd said. “You and Ryan aren’t coming.”

  “No fair!” Ryan said.

  “Judd,” Mark said. “With 1,800 papers, we need their help.”

  Judd agreed, but only if everyone went to bed immediately. He set his alarm for 3:30 A.M.

  ___

  The alarm woke Judd, but just barely. His body felt like lead. The others were slow to rise as well, except Lionel and Ryan. They seemed so excited Judd wondered if they had slept at all.

  “Can you drop me off at the hospital afterward?” Vicki said.

  “Sure,” Judd said. “What are you gonna do about school?”

  “I’ll get there somehow. This is a lot more important than being late for class.”

  The six squeezed into Judd’s car and drove across town. John gave instructions, and Mark briefed each on their assigned duties.

  “Pull over here,” John said. Judd parked in an alley and turned off his lights.

  “The loading dock is over there,” John said. “They put the finished papers for the school out a little after four o’clock.”

  At 4:10 A.M. a shaft of light came from the building as a man lugged three huge stacks and a smaller one onto the dock. He lit a cigarette and stood by the door.

  “They get a break about now,” Mark said. “He could be out here awhile.”

  “How do you know all this?” Lionel said.

  “John and I worked on the school paper last year. We had pick-up duty. We got to know some of the guys on the dock.”

  Finally the man threw his cigarette on the ground and went inside. Judd pulled up to the dock. He opened the trunk and the Young Tribulation Force put their plan into action. If successful, the truth about the disappearances would be available to every student in their school.

  SIX

  The Dangerous Plan

  JUDD found John and Mark’s plan ingenious. They tucked a copy of the Underground inside each school newspaper. When a student grabbed a copy of the Olive Branch, the Underground would be there as well.

  “The bundles are wrapped loose enough,” John whispered, “so just find the middle crease in each Olive Branch and slide the Underground in.” He showed them how to push the Underground in so it wouldn’t fold or stick out.

  They began slowly and picked up speed. Lionel and Ryan stuffed as quickly as the older kids did. In a half hour they were almost through the first two stacks.

  “How do we keep these from the principal and the Olive Branch staff?” Vicki said.

  “The short bundle on the end is for the administration and news staff,” John said. “Those get delivered to the office and to the teachers’ mailboxes. That’s the stack we leave alone.”

  “But if somebody rats on us,” Vicki said, “we’re back where we started, right?”

  “True,” Mark said. “But this time I’m betting most will think the school changed their minds. I say they don’t find it until second period, and by then the whole school will have them.”

  ___

  Vicki was glad to be at the hospital instead of trying to stay awake in class. The nurse who had admitted Shelly told her, “Your friend is resting, but you can go in.”

  “What I’d like to do is sleep,” Vicki said.

  “There’s no one else in the room,” the nurse said. “Come on.”

  Shelly slept with her back to the door. The nurse gave Vicki a blanket and pillow and showed her a cushioned chair in the corner.

  When she awoke, light streamed into the room and Vicki smelled breakfast. Shelly was sitting up.

  “You been here all night?” Shelly s
aid.

  “I came early this morning.” Vicki slid her chair closer. “How do you feel?”

  “Like warmed-up death,” Shelly said. “I thought I’d wake up in heaven or—you know.”

  Vicki wanted to ask the questions that burned inside her. She didn’t want to scare Shelly away, but she was through hedging. There were no friends to distract them, no bell to stop their conversation. Now was the time.

  “Why’d you do it, Shel’?”

  “It’s easy for you,” Shelly said. “You got a whole new life.”

  “I lost my family and my house burned down with everything I own.”

  “You have people who care about you. You have all that God stuff too. All I have is—well, you saw my mom.”

  Vicki stood and took Shelly’s hand. She looked so hardened, and yet fragile. Like a shell.

  “We’ve known each other since we were kids. We used to be able to say anything. Everything.”

  Shelly looked away.

  “I don’t know what pushed you over the edge,” Vicki said, “but I don’t think you called to say good-bye. I think you hoped I would get there in time to help you. I’m here. I want to know. Nothing you say can stop me from caring. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t,” Shelly said. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “What does that say about me if you can’t even tell me?”

  Shelly stiffened. Her brown hair hung straight. Her eyes were lifeless pools. Vicki decided to be quiet and let her words sink in. She prayed silently and kept holding Shelly’s hand. Finally, Shelly turned her weary gaze toward Vicki.

  “I was baby-sitting at the Fischers. I had both kids in bed—everything was fine. I wasn’t on the phone, didn’t have anybody over. I was being good.

  “The Fischers were late. Really late. And just when they pulled in the driveway, Maddie started crying. I mean really wailing. So I went to her room, but she wouldn’t stop. I picked her up, and then Ben started crying. So I carried them both out—”

  Shelly closed her eyes and slumped forward. Telling this story seemed to make Shelly relive it. Every word seemed to hurt.

  “Ben was hanging onto my neck, and the baby was still crying, looking right at me. Remember how sweet she was, Vick’?”

  “She was a doll.”

  Shelly stared into the distance. “It’s like a dream. I remember every detail like it happened in slow motion. Mr. Fischer was parking the car under the carport, the trailer door opened, Mrs. Fischer saw I had both kids and looked like she felt sorry for me. I was glad she didn’t look like she was blaming me for them being awake that late. She started towards me and reached for them as Mr. Fischer came in.

  “And then the kids were gone. Both of them. It was like they jumped out of my arms, leaving their diapers and pajamas. I held my arms out and stared, then looked up at the Fischers and they had disappeared right out of their clothes too.”

  “It must have been awful,” Vicki said.

  “I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there for the longest time.”

  Vicki could see Shelly still couldn’t shake the feelings.

  “Why did God have to take those kids, Vicki? They didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “God wasn’t punishing anyone, Shel’. He took them to heaven. You don’t have to feel bad about that.”

  Shelly pulled her hand away. “But I do. I’m guilty.”

  “Why? What did you do?”

  “I can’t tell you. That’s why I wanted to die. I wanted to make sure nobody ever knew.”

  Judd took a school paper from the news bin and tucked it into his backpack. Half the papers were gone now. So far, so good.

  Mr. Shellenberger was late to first period psychology. He apologized and started writing on the board. A tall, fleshy man, as he moved the chalk his hair waved like limp spaghetti. Two students tittered in the corner. Mr. Shellenberger turned, his generous nose in profile.

  “Something you’d like to share with the class?” he said.

  The room fell silent.

  “Come, come. Tell us. I’m sure we’d all like to join in the fun.”

  One boy shifted nervously.

  “It’s nothing funny. We just thought we weren’t supposed to have this Underground thing. Now they’ve gone and put it in the school paper.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mr. Shellenberger said. “I saw nothing in my copy of the Olive Branch.”

  “Well, I’ve got one right here in the middle of mine,” the boy said. He held up the Underground. Others opened their papers and found it as well.

  “Let me see that,” Mr. Shellenberger said.

  I have to stall him, Judd thought. Keep him from reporting this too soon.

  Mr. Shellenberger studied the Underground for a moment.

  “Why would they change their policy on this?” Judd blurted. Mr. Shellenberger looked at him and shrugged, then turned back to the paper. Judd continued, “I mean, why would the school outlaw this one day and the very next day include it in all our papers? Is there something psychological going on?”

  The class laughed.

  “You tell me, Thompson. What do you think?”

  “Maybe it’s guilt,” Judd said. “You know, for years we hear how important free speech is and freedom of the press. Maybe they thought it over and let this thing go through because they felt guilty about the double standard.”

  “Interesting,” Mr. Shellenberger said. “Anyone else?”

  “Whatever it is, Shelly, it isn’t too bad for God to forgive.”

  “You don’t know what I’ve done, Vicki.”

  Vicki walked to the window. “I know what I’ve done,” she said. “It’s as bad as anything you could ever dream. I could hardly believe God could forgive me.”

  “God can’t forgive me,” Shelly said. “I’d have to spend the rest of my life making up for what I’ve done.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Vicki said. “You can’t make up for your sins. You could never do that. Just one is enough to separate you from God.”

  “Then how are you supposed to make it right?”

  Vicki explained that Jesus came to pay the penalty for sin. Because he was perfect, he fulfilled God’s demands. His sacrifice allowed anyone who believed he died for them to come back to God.

  “It sounds too easy,” Shelly said. “You just believe something and it happens.”

  “Simple but not easy,” Vicki said. “It cost a lot. To know what Jesus went through for you—”

  “God can’t forgive what I’ve done,” Shelly said. “No way it could be that simple.”

  “You don’t understand God. No sin is too great.”

  Vicki returned to the side of the bed. Shelly still looked stony.

  “Is this about the baby?” Vicki said.

  “Not the Fischer’s baby.”

  “Then what? You can trust me, Shel’, you know that.”

  “You won’t tell anybody?”

  “Never.”

  There was a knock and Shelly’s doctor entered. He asked Vicki to step out while he examined Shelly.

  “I’ll be right back, Shelly,” she said.

  “Don’t you have to get to school?”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  Mr. Shellenberger had taken the class on a tour of the history of guilt, including the Puritan concept of good and evil. Whenever he seemed to be winding down, Judd asked another question and he was off again.

  A student near Judd asked, “Is this going to be on the test?”

  The bell rang before Mr. Shellenberger could answer. Judd saw him take a copy of the Underground toward the office. Mark was right. It would be second period before officials discovered what they had distributed themselves.

  Judd felt a buzz in his pocket. He pulled out the gizmo John and Mark had given him. The screen read, “Pray for Shelly.” He ran into John and Mark in the hall.

  “Something’s up,” John said. “We’ve just been call
ed to the office. Anybody who worked for the school paper in the last three years has to be there.”

  “Looks like the Underground is toast,” Mark said.

  “Be careful,” Judd said. “Remember, you don’t have to volunteer information.”

  As he headed to his next class, Judd silently prayed that God would keep John and Mark from being found out, and then he prayed for Shelly.

  Judd hit the reply button on the tiny machine. “Pray for John and Mark,” he tapped in. “Underground discovered.”

  “She’s been through a lot,” the doctor told Vicki as he left Shelly’s room. “I wouldn’t push her emotionally.”

  “I just want to be her friend.”

  “Maybe the best thing is to let her rest.”

  “But—”

  “Tell her you have to get to school,” the doctor said. “You can come back this afternoon when she’s had a chance to rest.”

  Vicki tried again but the doctor made sense. “If you care for your friend, you’ll come back later.”

  Vicki hated leaving Shelly now, when Shelly needed her most. She entered the room to find Shelly watching TV.

  “The doc says I ought to let you rest awhile,” Vicki said.

  “Yeah, thanks for coming.”

  “I’ll stay if you want.”

  “We can talk later,” Shelly said.

  So close, Vicki thought, thankful for the opportunity but disappointed at the delay. So close.

  SEVEN

  Breakthrough

  VICKI was surprised to find the school office crowded with students. She pushed her way to the secretary’s desk to report in and noticed John and Mark in the conference room. John nodded and Vicki took the hint. She sat unnoticed in the outer office where she could hear what was going on.

  Coach Handlesman and Principal Jenness were talking to the English teacher, Mr. Carlson, adviser to the school newspaper. Handlesman fumed, “We had people on both sides of the school. No way anyone could have gotten to the papers without being spotted.”

  “This was an inside job,” Mrs. Jenness said. “Someone here did this or knows who did.”

  “Somebody had to get to these papers before they arrived,” Handlesman said. “I want to know which of you picked the papers up from the printer this morning?”