Carnival Quest, page 16
Looking off to the side, Nate studied the aerial view of the carnival, the attractions shrinking below him as the train gained altitude. Turning the other way, he found Summer grinning. “This doesn’t scare you?” he asked.
“I like to go fast,” she replied.
Advancing slowly, still clacking, the front of the train crested the hill and hung over the long drop into the tube. The height felt surreal. For a heart-stopping moment, descending the nearly vertical track looked like a terrible decision.
Nate gripped the lap bar as the train picked up speed, hurtling downward. The anticipation over, Nate laughed at the exhilarating rush. At the bottom of the slope, the train plunged into darkness, but instead of swooping up the next wooden hill, the descent sped up. Wind blasted Nate’s face as the train rocketed down a long tunnel, plummeting to unguessable depths within the earth. When the track began to corkscrew, Nate screamed in genuine surprise and terror.
As the angle of descent leveled out, the dark space around the train widened into a cavern lit by torches. The train maintained a high speed, whistling around corners and rumbling over a trestle bridge that spanned a fathomless chasm. Shadowy bats flitted into the upper reaches of the torchlight. The cool air swishing by smelled of damp stone.
The train shot forward, ever deeper. They skimmed along a subterranean river, then banked through wide, fanlike turns, the g-forces propelling Summer against Nate. At last, with little warning, the roller coaster train pulled into an underground station and came to a stop.
The simple station appeared abandoned. Globes of blue light provided faint but steady luminance, leaving shadowy pockets among the empty benches and quiet turnstiles. All around them loomed the uneven ceiling and walls of a rocky cavern, half-seen in the dimness.
Summer tripped the catch for the lap bar and pushed it up. “Go,” she urged.
Nate climbed out, wondering what they had gotten themselves into. Trevor and Pigeon exited the train as well. The other passengers stared at them in astonishment, as if unable to imagine why anyone would exit the train in such an unlikely place. A moment later, the train pulled out of the station, rapidly accelerating until it disappeared into the darkness.
“What just happened?” Pigeon asked, the echoey rumble of the train fading into the distance.
“We took an alternate track,” Nate said.
“Did we just trap ourselves in a cave hundreds of feet belowground?” Pigeon asked, his tone an odd kind of calm that seemed only a nudge away from hysteria.
“We found a secret place,” Trevor said.
Summer walked over to a bulletin board on the wall. “Banjo lessons,” she narrated. “A lost dog. A concert in three days. A shop that sells crystals. And look—topside train at midnight.”
Pigeon whacked a hand against his face. “Is that the only train that takes us out of here? My mom is going to kill me.”
“Let’s hope that isn’t the only train out of here,” Trevor said.
A door to the little station marked Employees Only opened, and an older man came out. He was dressed like a vintage train conductor and had a bushy gray mustache. He stopped as if startled by the kids, then checked his pocket watch. “You from topside?” he asked.
“The carnival,” Nate said.
“Right,” the man said. “Up above?”
“Yes,” Summer confirmed.
He raised his bushy eyebrows. “You’re early. We’ve had very few visitors from above so far.”
“Can we only get back to the surface at midnight?” Pigeon asked.
“Afraid so,” the conductor said. “Only sure ride, at least. You never know when someone else from above might find their way down here. If a train comes, and there are empty seats, or a rider gets off, you can return early.”
“What should we do until then?” Trevor asked.
“Explore the undercarnival, I suppose,” the conductor said. “Give me a minute, and I’ll switch on the guide lights.”
The conductor retreated into the station, and a few seconds later, strands of bluish lights turned on, illuminating a path that led away from the station. The conductor did not return.
“Follow the lights?” Trevor asked.
“Or we could wait here for a train,” Pigeon suggested. “Or maybe try to follow the tracks out.”
“The track was so steep getting us here,” Nate said. “It would be really risky to climb out that way.”
“Maybe the track out is less steep than the track in,” Pigeon said.
“Could be,” Nate replied. “Or it could rise steeply and cross chasms and be totally impossible to follow. Remember the corkscrew on the way down?”
The conductor emerged from the station, walking past the kids.
“Excuse me,” Pigeon said. “Are there any stairs we can use?”
The conductor shook his head. “You can’t physically walk out of here. The tracks are nearly vertical along several stretches. There is no reliable path. If a train happened along while you were walking the tracks, you would be killed.”
“My mom will destroy me anyway,” Pigeon said. “Shouldn’t there be emergency stairs?”
“In the undercarnival, we try to keep the experience reasonably safe,” the conductor said. “But the truth is, once you progress beyond the ordinary carnival, everything becomes more hazardous. Higher risk. Higher rewards, too. Now, run along. I have manifests to prepare.”
The conductor returned to the station.
Pigeon swallowed hard. “Well, after I get home at one in the morning, we probably won’t get to hang out together for a while. We might as well enjoy the day while we can.”
“I feel bad we left Zac hanging at the Fun House,” Trevor said.
“Not much we can do about it from down here,” Summer said. “None of us have a cell phone.”
“If we had a way to call Zac, he could bring another train down,” Pigeon said.
“Face it,” Nate said. “We’re going to get home late, and all of us are likely to get in trouble. But for now, we’re in a giant cave with a lighted path to the undercarnival. We need info. Let’s go see what we find!”
Chapter Nineteen
Under
The path wound away from the station, the cave narrowing as it went. Arms outstretched, Nate could almost reach from one wall of the passageway to the other. Eventually, the rocky tunnel opened up into a vast cavern with huge stalactites pointing down from the lofty ceiling.
The four kids stopped to absorb the sight ahead of them.
A long avenue was lit mostly with paper lanterns and flanked by fanciful buildings and shops. Vendors pushed carts, jugglers tossed flaming torches, customers bargained, musicians competed for attention, suspicious figures lurked, and packs of revelers cackled. Beyond the bright avenue, merrymakers rode towering slides, floated in hot air balloons, and swished back and forth on giant swings. Nate noticed paragliders soaring up toward the stalactites above a gaping crater.
“This can’t be happening,” Trevor said. “We have to be dreaming.”
“I’m not dreaming,” Summer said, pinching her arm and flicking the side of her nose. “I know how I got here. Everything feels real. It’s just . . . unbelievable.”
“How did they build all this?” Pigeon asked.
“This stuff had to come from dreams,” Nate said.
“Like the bowling ball,” Trevor murmured.
“And the horse bones,” Nate said. “And probably more things than we realize.”
Summer started walking down the avenue. The other kids hurried to catch up. Many of the revelers roaming the street wore porcelain masks. Some of them were dressed in clothes that matched an older time period. A few wore clown outfits, and a couple others hid within oversized paper-mache heads. A number of the street performers wore outlandish costumes—furry vests, velvet capes, or harlequin motley. Not many looked like they belonged to the modern world.
A short, slight man with shifty eyes approached Pigeon. “Kid, you’re new to the undershow, am I right?” He spoke rapidly. “Your friends too. Let me warn you, your topside currency is more valuable than the ticket swappers will let on, and they’ll rob you blind if you’re not careful. The coin traders are worse. I can set you up with everything you need.”
“What do we need?” Pigeon asked.
“Undertickets,” the man said as if the answer were obvious. “Deep Coins. A cave map. Have you learned about slugs?”
“Like snails?” Trevor asked.
“Like snails he says,” the short man chuckled. “Nice, kid. No, counterfeit coins. They work just like Carnie Coins, but you can get ten slugs for one Carnie Coin. You can’t pay a person with them, but they work in all the topside coin slots. Ten times the value! Ten times the fun!”
“You have these slugs?” Summer asked.
“Buckets of them!” the short man exclaimed. “Wheelbarrows of them. As many as you can trade for.”
“And they work in all coin slots?” Nate pressed.
“All topside slots,” the man said, one hand over his heart, the other raised as if taking an oath. “Every last one. Guaranteed. I’ll give you ten times your money back if I’m wrong, or my name isn’t Gentleman Marco.”
“What’s the exchange rate for undertickets?” Nate asked. “I have some money.”
Marco shook his head. “You can’t buy undertickets with paper money or plastic cards. Only gold. If you have gold, we can work some deals. But normally you get undertickets with topside tickets, and Deep Coins with Carnie Coins.”
“What’s the exchange rate for those?” Pigeon asked.
“Sharp question, Mister Finance,” Marco said. “Sharp as a porcupine. The ticket swappers will take two topside tickets for one underticket. If you’re lucky. Ticket snatchers, more like it. Ticket robbers. I’ll give you three undertickets for every topside ticket. You could walk this cavern for days and never find such a deal. Walk it for eons.”
A tall, gaunt man in a plain black suit with a flat, wide-brimmed hat approached them. He was an older gentleman and walked with a stoop. “Lapo, what are you telling these children?”
“I thought his name was Marco?” Pigeon exclaimed.
“Indeed?” the gaunt man said with a wheezing laugh. He bared his yellow teeth in a disturbing parody of a smile. “He can’t even give an honest name these days?”
“Marco is my middle name—” the short man started.
The gaunt man ignored him. “What deal did he offer?”
Marco motioned the kids away from the gaunt man. “Pay him no mind,” he maintained. “Spend time with Walter and you’ll end up in coffins.”
“Marco was offering three undertickets for every carnival ticket from above,” Nate said.
Walter’s face became grave. “Three undertickets? For one topside ticket? Did Lapo mention that most down here prefer to deal in topside tickets? Did he clarify that in an establishment like mine you would get closer to fifty undertickets for every ticket purchased up above?”
Marco gave a weak chuckle. “We all haze the newbies. Fleece them a little. Walter does the same. He runs a gambling hall.”
“Games of chance delight me,” Walter said. “Maybe you win, maybe you lose. Either way, life becomes more interesting.”
A woman with a pink mohawk approached them. She had broad shoulders and wore heavy makeup. “Did I hear talk of topside tickets? Those are valuable down here. Hard to get. If you kids have more than ten, you should think about protection. There are lots of shady characters on the prowl.”
“We have a lot more than ten,” Trevor said.
“What kind of protection?” Summer asked.
“Bodyguards,” the woman said. “I can set you up with two or three. As many as you want to pay for, really. Brings peace of mind to know you’re protected.”
“You don’t need security,” Lapo said to the kids.
“Nobody is going to mug you,” Walter agreed. “We have a reputation to uphold. You’re at a carnival. We need patrons.”
“We’ll also keep these vultures away,” the woman said, indicating Walter and Lapo. “Listen, you want to deal with the providers of established games and attractions. Start talking to scavengers and they’ll multiply.”
“Good evening,” said a stout man with a heavy mustache, tipping his hat. “Who needs undertickets? I can offer eighty for every topside ticket you wish to trade.”
“No, thanks,” Nate said. “We need space.” He sped up his walk and moved purposefully away from the group that was forming around them, ignoring all protests. He had seen his dad use this tactic when strangers tried to hand him flyers. Pigeon, Summer, and Trevor matched Nate’s pace. Lapo, Walter, and the others dispersed.
“Sounds like our tickets are valuable here,” Trevor said.
“I’m not sure what to believe yet,” Nate said. “Those people are liars. They may have all been working together.”
“Some version of good cop, bad cop,” Summer said, nodding.
“More like pushy cop,” Pigeon said. “And annoying cop. And then obnoxious cop. Then another pushy cop.”
They reached a structure that looked like a saloon from the old west. Carved across the top of the dark wood was the sign Brawling Alley. When they paused out front, a beefy guy in a tight, horizontally striped shirt with his hair buzzed short sauntered up to them. “Are you tough enough to challenge the champ?”
“What champ?” Trevor asked.
“Tonight? Wilson ‘the Hammer’ Sylvester. It’s free to try, but you have to sign a waiver. Can’t hold the ownership responsible for injuries. You only have to survive three rounds.”
“Is he an adult?” Summer asked.
“You bet,” the beefy guy replied. “Much bigger than me. You’re small enough, they might let you try two-on-one.”
“I’m not really a fighter,” Pigeon said.
“Can we watch?” Nate asked.
“Costs to watch,” the beefy guy replied.
Nate glanced at his friends. “Can we pay with topside tickets?”
The beefy guy’s eyes widened. “Sure, you can! One ticket each would get you premium seats.”
“Thanks,” Nate said. “Maybe later.” He led the others far enough away for them to talk.
“It could be fun to watch,” Summer said.
“Might not be the best atmosphere,” Pigeon replied.
“A boxing match would be exciting,” Nate said. “But don’t you want to scope this place out before we spend all our time indoors watching entertainment?”
“Depends on the entertainment,” Trevor said.
“We should gather all the info we can,” Pigeon said.
A piece of paper blew against Nate’s leg, partly wrapping around his shin. He picked it up. Pink with black lettering, it proclaimed:
Come Visit the Intercontinental Menagerie!
Featuring the Finest Assortment of Exotic Animals
This Side of Timbuktu!
Giant Panda! Red Panda! Komodo Dragon!
Albino Alligator! Okapi! California Condor!
Three-headed Snake! Panamanian Golden Frog!
Pacific Walrus! Borneo Pygmy Elephant!
Heaviest Anaconda in North America!
Don’t Miss This Once-in-a-Lifetime Experience!
Which Can You Hold? Which Can You Feed?
Come Inside to Find Out!!!
“I’ve always wanted to see an okapi,” Pigeon said, reading over Nate’s shoulder.
“What’s that?” Trevor asked.
“It looks like a cross between a zebra and a giraffe,” Pigeon said.
“They came from opposite sides of the savannah,” Trevor said in a deep, movie announcer voice. “Two different worlds. One forbidden love.”
Nate folded up the flyer and pocketed it. “We need to keep moving.”
They found a tall, narrow, crooked building called the Puzzle Tower. A treasure map was promised to anyone who could reach the ninth floor. Farther down the street, an archery game let players take aim at distant piñatas. Next door, a fenced garden offered a food hunt, where paying customers had fifteen minutes to gather ingredients for their meal. Nate saw diners picking berries, uprooting carrots, and gathering eggs.
Solicitors continued to offer trades as the kids progressed up the avenue, but when they paid no attention, the pitches were cut short. Outside a windowless, cinder block building labeled Freak Show, three barkers approached, two men and a woman.
“Come experience the bizarre,” the first man said.
“You’ll never see the world quite the same way after tonight,” the woman promised.
“I don’t like the idea of exploiting people or calling them ‘freaks,’” Summer said.
“Neither do we,” the second man said, one hand over his heart.
“The performers work on a completely voluntary basis,” the woman said.
“They share in the proceeds,” the first man said.
“You have to see Goat Boy,” the second man asserted. “He’ll eat anything you give him.”
“Come behold Gerumpio,” the woman said. “More than half his body has turned to wood. There is a piece of fruit growing from his elbow.”
“The Alien, the Whistling Clam, the Leopardess, the Woolyman,” the first man rattled off. “Talk to the Presence in the Box. Hear the predictions of the Soothsayer. Match wits with the artificial intelligence of the Robotic Titan.”
“No collection of misfits and mutants begins to rival this one,” the second man said.
“You have to see them to understand,” the woman said. “The wonders of the world have united under a single roof.”
“We’ll think about it,” Nate said, continuing down the street.
“This is the best attraction down here by far,” the first guy assured them.
