Underworlds #1: The Battle Begins
Read Underworlds #1: The Battle Begins Online
Authors: Tony Abbott
L
OOKING BACK
, I
TOTALLY SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED
the school floor to crack open and flames to spew out all over the place.
There were signs the whole morning that things weren’t normal anymore. But it’s just not something you imagine happening.
The floor opening up like that.
Smoke suddenly everywhere.
And Dana Runson suddenly nowhere.
I tried to help her, I really did. But she was gone in a flash. Just
gone
. I couldn’t believe it.
Not then.
Not until the red wolf and the crazy lunch ladies and the huge guy with horns and the army of metal dudes —
Hold on. I’m telling this backward.
Let me start again.
Before the world flipped upside down and I lost whatever cool I had, this morning started pretty much like any morning.
With my dad’s voice.
“Owen Brown, get down here!”
I leaped out of bed, splashed water on my face, and threw on my clothes. Then I raced to the kitchen and flopped down at the table next to my little sister, Mags.
“Sorry,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep. I was worrying about the concert.”
I play guitar in the school orchestra. We were doing a big benefit concert at the local college that morning.
“You’ll be great,” my mom said. “Eat.”
As she slid a bowl of oatmeal in front of me, my dad reached into his wallet. “Take a couple dollars for your collections,” he said.
Besides the benefit concert, there are at least four collections going on every day at school. Flood relief. Earthquake relief. Hunger relief. Senior citizen housing. They’re all part of our H.E.R.O. program. H.E.R.O. stands for
Help Everyone By Reaching Out
.
Which I know spells H.E.B.R.O. But that’s not really a word, so we skip the
B
.
“Me, too,” said Mags, pushing a handful of pennies across the table. “I’ve colored Mr. Lincoln’s hair with a blue marker. So everyone will know they’re from me.”
I slid the coins into my pocket. “Nine cents is perfect, Mags. We’ll meet our goal for sure.”
“Yay!” she said. “Plus, you know what else? Dana comes home with you today!”
Dana Runson is my oldest friend. Her mother (my mom’s college roommate) and father are teachers at the local college. They called last night to ask if Dana could stay here while they went to Iceland to do some research. I know, right? Iceland?
Brrrr!
Since Dana lives across town, her parents are dropping her off at school this morning, and she’ll come home with me and live with us until they get back.
Beep-beep!
“There’s the bus,” my mom said. “Hustle!”
“See you later! With Dana!” I said. I grabbed my guitar case and tore out of the house to the corner. The bus driver was just beginning to close the door when I leaped on board.
Cool move, right?
Wrong.
The moment I plunked down next to a tall kid listening to his iPod, I realized I had gotten on the high school bus!
Was that the first thing to go weird today?
Luckily, the high school was just across the street from Pinewood Bluffs Elementary. If I ran, I could make it to homeroom before the bell. So I pulled out the dollar bills my dad had given me and carefully folded each of them into airplane shapes.
“You making origami?” asked the boy next to me.
“Just saving time,” I said. “There’s a collection in school. I have to donate on the run.”
He glanced at my face. “Hey, you’re that Hebro kid. That’s cool. Here.” He fished a dollar out of his pocket.
“Seriously?” I asked. “Thanks!”
He shrugged. “NBD.”
Which stands for No Big Deal. But it should really be VBD, for Very Big Deal. Since the big power plant in our town closed down, lots of people lost their jobs. People in Pinewood Bluffs don’t have a lot to give.
Errrch!
When the bus finally stopped, I jumped off with the big kids. I ran around the high school parking lot, down one sidewalk and up another, straight toward the elementary school doors. I was totally on time!
“Owen Brown — help!”
And I stopped.
Mr. Kenkins, the custodian, was untangling the flagpole ropes. Again.
“Can you give me a hand here?” he asked. “It’ll only take one minute.”
Brinnnng!
The first bell rang.
In three minutes I would be officially late. But when someone says, “Help,” how can you refuse? Besides, Mr. Kenkins only asked for one minute. I had three.
As I held up one end of the rope, and Mr. Kenkins worked to unknot the other, I looked out behind the school. The dark pinewoods that gave our town half its name were what remained of one of the oldest forests in the state. Beyond them were ten miles of rocky bluffs that gave us the other half of our name.
Mr. Kenkins unlooped and unthreaded the ropes this way and that until —
brrrinnnnng!
— the late bell rang. Homeroom was starting.
“And … done,” said Mr. Kenkins with a big smile. “Thanks, Owen.”
“Anytime!” I said.
Slamming through the front doors, I found the halls already empty. Argh! I leaped into the main office to grab a late slip off the secretary’s desk and toss Maggie’s pennies in the collection can.
And I leaped right into the secretary.
“Ahhhh!” she cried.
I spun to keep from knocking her over … and spilled Mags’s pennies all over the floor.
“Sorry!” I said, fumbling on the floor to collect them. But I could only find eight blue-haired Lincolns.
Was the missing penny another sign?
“One must have rolled under Principal Carole’s door.” I stood and reached for the doorknob.
“Don’t you dare disturb her!” said the secretary, standing in my way. “Take a late slip.”
I dropped Maggie’s donation in the collection can, snagged a late slip, and raced toward first period. On the run, I fished out the money my dad and the kid on the bus had given me. I shot the dollar airplanes into Mr. Hemlock’s classroom.
“Thanks, O,” he called.
I kept running, down the stairs toward homeroom. The guitar case slammed my back with every step. I could picture my grandma wincing, telling me to be more careful with my guitar. She taught me how to play before she died — folk songs, rock songs, everything. My friend Jon Doyle keeps saying that he and I should form a band. But with me on guitar and Jon on triangle —
Strum, bing! Strum, bing!
— I’m not sure you could call it a band.
I tore around the next-to-last corner. Almost there. One final turn, then —
BLAM!
— right into … Dana!
The crash threw her into the wall, and I fell flat on my face.
I leaped up and pulled her to her feet. “Dana! I’m such a klutz. Are you okay?”
She looked into my eyes. Her long blonde hair was tangled. Her cheeks were beyond pale. “Owen, I know the real reason my parents went to Iceland. The monsters. They’re coming here. But you can’t tell a soul, not yet —”
I stepped back. “Monsters? Dana, what are you —”
“Find the book! In my house. It’ll tell you everything. You’ll know it. It’s not like the others.”
“Dana —” I thought I heard someone at the far corner. Before I could see who it was, thick black smoke billowed up from the floor under Dana’s feet. The air roared like a jet engine. And I heard words — hissing — as if from a million miles away.
The … battle … begins ….
Dana’s face went white. “
HELP!
”
She threw something at me. Flames shot up in a ring around her feet, the floor split open, and she fell straight down. I saw eyes, dozens of them. And shiny black stuff. And thrashing shapes. And fire.
“Dana?” I shouted.
“Dana!”
But an instant later, the floor sealed up, the fire vanished, and Dana was gone.
