Beneath the Earth

By H. S. Stone

Laura and her classmates have been looking forward to their senior camping trip for weeks. Three days on an island paradise, away from school and their parents. What more could they ask for?

The camping trip starts out well enough. The island is scenic and just the kind of escape to nature that Laura had hoped for. However, cracks soon begin to appear in her plans. Her boyfriend ditches her to hang out with his friends. She has to share a room with one of the teachers. But those are the least of her worries.

A student disappears, and no one can find him. Soon, Laura and the other students realize that the camping trip is anything but a dream vacation. There’s something else on the island. Something large and frightening. Something that lurks unseen beneath the earth. Something that welcomes the presence of the students because they will satisfy its appetite.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H. S. Stone
• Release date: Apr 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781005699970

H. S. Stone

Even before he could read, H.S. Stone wanted to write a book. Fascinated by the stories that seemed to leap from his kindergarten teacher's books, he went home and wrote his own book, with illustrations and bound by staples. Of course, since he didn't know how to read or write yet, the book was full of gibberish. Undaunted, H.S. eventually mastered the ABC's and continued to write throughout his grade school years, adolescence, and into adulthood. His publications include novels aimed at Young Adult and Middle Grade readers as well as several short stories. He currently lives with his family in the San Francisco Bay Area.

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Beneath the Earth

by

H.S. Stone

Published by H.S. Stone

Copyright © 2018 H.S. Stone

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Chapter 1

Above the din of the bus’s engine and the chatter of the students around me, I heard snatches of earthquake this and earthquake that from the first row. All that the teachers talked about was the earthquake. I could hear them from the middle of the bus, where Katie and I shared a bench. For the past two hours, whenever I turned my attention to the front, I’d catch a snippet of earthquake talk.

Sure, a magnitude 6.4 earthquake was a big deal, but the epicenter was a hundred and fifty miles away from our school, practically in the middle of nowhere. No one in our town suffered any damages or injuries, including the four teachers in the bus’s first row. That didn’t stop them from chatting like the earthquake changed their lives though.

It was so uneventful that I slept through it, and so did the rest of my family. When I woke up, I had no idea there had been an earthquake. We found out later when my mother read her news feed over breakfast. The only sign of shaking was a fallen picture frame on the living room mantle, and I still couldn’t confirm that the quake toppled it.

While the teachers, who were part of our chaperone contingent, traded earthquake stories, the students couldn't care less. We were all too excited for our senior camping trip. The 227 seniors of Pine Hill High School were aboard five buses en route to Aislado Island, an enclave of natural beauty in the middle of Benchley State Park, according to the brochures they passed out. There, we'd spend three splendid days and two glorious nights with our friends and without our parents. Sixteen teachers acted as chaperones, but aside from a couple of them, I was confident they'd let us do whatever we wanted to, within reason.

The only earthquake concern was the possible damage that it did to our campsite. Aislado Island was close enough to the epicenter to cause worry. However, the vice principal made an announcement in the morning that the island suffered no discernible damage, and our camping trip was still a go. I heard wild applause throughout the school at the news.

Now, so close to our destination, I looked out the window as trees flashed by. We were truly in the middle of nowhere. The road was only one lane wide in either direction, and I hadn’t seen any signs of civilization for at least half an hour.

Katie leaned against my shoulder. Where are we? Are we almost there?

I shrugged. I can’t tell. The scenery has looked the same for the last twenty minutes. Then my thoughts turned to the bus at the rear of our caravan. I wonder what the boys are doing.

By boys, I meant our boyfriends. I had been dating Steve for a month and a half, and Katie had been going out with Alex for over seven months. Katie and her boyfriend were a lot closer than Steve and I were, and not just because they had been dating longer. They just clicked, fitting together like adjacent pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Sometimes, I thought Steve asked me out just because he was Alex’s best friend, and dating me meant he got to spend more time with Alex.

Who cares, Laura. They’re jerks for ditching us. Both Steve and Alex were on the fifth and last bus, while we rode in the second bus.

I guess so. I was looking forward to riding up to the park with Steve. It happened so fast, I don’t know how we got separated.

We’ll see them again soon enough.

That was true, and I really shouldn’t have been surprised that we ended up on separate buses. Both Steve and Alex were on the football team, and all of the jocks were tight. They did everything together, including sitting on the same bus, even if it meant leaving their girlfriends behind.

Katie continued, Furthermore, you’re about to spend two nights with Steve on an island hundreds of miles away from your parents. Do you think you two are going to, you know, take it to the next level?

I stifled a giggle at the way she phrased it. I haven’t thought about it.

Liar.

We’ve only been dating for a little over a month. I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Besides, it’s not like Steve and I are sharing a cabin on this trip. The boys will be sleeping at one end of the campsite, and we’ll be sleeping at the other.

Katie straightened in her seat. I could tell she was about to go into lecture mode. "Laura, do I have to explain to you how this works? The teachers aren’t going to be able to keep track of over two hundred students twenty-four hours a day. There are going to be plenty of opportunities for you to sneak off and do … whatever.

Is that what you and Alex plan to do?

Every chance we get. Her grin was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile.

I’m sure I don’t have to worry about it. Steve undoubtedly has everything planned out.

Her face turned stern. Laura, don’t let the boy take care of all the preparations. You need to take precautions, too. She patted her bag.

I didn’t need to read her mind to know what she had inside. I put my hand over hers. Don’t you dare take those out on the bus. I looked around, and thankfully, no one was paying any attention to us.

Katie slapped my hand away, but before she could do anything else, a loud voice interrupted our conversation. At the front of the bus, Mr. Strang had stood up and turned around to face us. I was somewhat surprised that he took the risk of standing on a moving bus. After all, he was the one who complained about the lack of seatbelts at the beginning of the trip.

Ladies and gentlemen! All chatter immediately died down. We are about to reach our destination. A small flurry of cheers rang out, but Mr. Strang’s disapproving glare quieted them. Once we reach our destination and the bus stops, I expect everyone to exit in an orderly manner. After you get off the bus, proceed to the dock, where the ferry will be waiting for us. The last boat will leave at four o’clock, sharp. You do not want to be left behind. Any questions?

There were no questions. When Mr. Strang spoke, there were rarely any questions. I’d never been in one of his classes, but I had heard from other students that he was a strict, no-nonsense teacher. He had zero tolerance for tardiness, talking in class, and especially cheating. Rumor had it that he suspended at least one student each year. That had held true this year when two students were suspended for handing in essays that were too similar for his liking.

Thankfully, he was going to stay on the boys’ side of the campsite during our trip, so I didn’t have to worry about stepping on his toes.

Having finished delivering his news, Mr. Strang sat back down, and conversations slowly resumed once more.

Katie said, Alex and Steve should’ve had Mr. Strang on their bus. They’re the ones who need to be told to behave.

I nodded in agreement. I wondered if one of the teachers on their bus made a similar announcement. If so, there was a good chance our boyfriends were too busy fooling around with their friends to pay attention.

The bus slowed and turned to the right. The change in direction pulled me back to the window. Everyone on my side of the bus stopped what they were doing to look outside.

The parade of trees ended, and sandy ground replaced what was formerly a blur of green. The bus rode along a beach that stretched for over a hundred yards to the water. Beyond it, I saw a sheet of blue. A lake dominated our view, its waters looking calm and pristine from where I sat. There were no boats on the water and no people on the beach. It was as if we were the first humans to stumble upon the scene.

Wow, Katie whispered into my ear.

We grew up in a suburban environment, but because we lived in California, I had seen the ocean plenty of times. However, there was something about the lake that took my breath away. Although I could see the opposite shore in the distance, the lake was huge. Our bus seemed tiny in comparison. If I could design a perfect lakeside retreat, this was pretty close to what I’d conjure. Too bad I couldn’t spend the next three days here by myself or just with Katie. I had to share this slice of paradise with more than two hundred other students.

As the bus rolled on, an island came into view, a solitary lump in the middle of the lake. Instead of disturbing the serenity of the surrounding waters, it complemented it. There were gentle hills and swaths of trees and other green foliage on the island. The higher ground wasn’t too high, maybe a hundred feet above water level, but it was hard to judge from so far away. The woods were thicker in the middle of the island and thinned toward the edges. There wasn’t much of a beach ringing the isolated piece of land, but I could make out a dock jutting from one side, the only feature that looked out of place.

We arrived at our destination, and the bus braked. Ahead of us, a wooden structure sat at the edge of the beach. I scanned the area for a ferry, but all I saw was a squat tugboat hugging the wooden posts. That wasn’t our ferry, was it? It didn’t look like it could hold more than ten people.

As soon as we stopped, everyone stood up to grab their bags from under their seats or in the overhead bins. Mr. Strang’s voice cut through the chaos. Order! Order! We froze. We will leave this bus in an orderly fashion or stay on board until you’re able to.

Everyone returned to their seats. A few students remained standing, but they cleared the aisle and went back to the row where they belonged.

That’s better, Mr. Strang said. All right, let’s try this again, starting with the first row.

The teachers sat in the first row, and I wondered if he was treating his colleagues the same way that he treated the students. Mr. Strang stayed at the front of the bus while the other teachers disembarked. After them, the first row of students filed out, carrying their bags in their hands or slung over their shoulders. One by one, the occupants of our bus got off. It reminded me of the organized way in which passengers exited an airplane.

When it was our turn, I draped the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder and followed Katie off the bus. I stared out of the window or looked at the floor. Anywhere but at Mr. Strang’s face as I walked past him. He didn’t say anything to us, and I took that to mean we hadn’t done anything against his wishes.

A circle of students formed around the bus, and I joined them. The strap of my bag bit into my shoulder, so I shrugged it off and dropped it to the ground. The school told us that we were to pack bags or backpacks that we could carry with us. No suitcases allowed. It was a good thing because a suitcase wouldn’t have fit in the cramped overhead bins.

I looked toward the other buses, where kids were spilling out as well. Steve and Alex were three buses away, and I couldn’t see if they had gotten off yet.

Mr. Strang stepped off after the last student. We waited for his next orders. He looked toward the dock and said, This way. Like a flock of sheep, we followed him. I was going to have to wait a little longer before I saw my boyfriend again.

The students from the first bus were already at the dock. Some had started boarding the boat, which was larger than it looked but still smaller than the ferries I was used to. It would take at least three trips to carry all of us across to the island.

Should we wait for the boys? Katie asked.

I don’t think Mr. Strang will let us.

As if to confirm her assumption, the demanding teacher said, Everyone, get in line. Some of you will make it onto this ferry, but the rest will have to wait for the next one.

We shuffled toward the end of the dock. The ferry already looked full, but students continued to step on board. Katie and I followed the crowd, and before we knew it, we crossed the threshold from land to boat.

Shortly after us, the ferry did reach its capacity. A crewmember raised the ramp and shut the gate, officially separating us from the shore. He checked that the gate was secure and no one could accidentally fall out if they leaned against it. Then he gave a hand signal toward the front of the boat.

We were near the rear of the ferry, where over twenty students squeezed onto a deck the size of a kitchen. This was where the ramp dumped us, and most of us remained in place, the victims of a lack of inertia.

I felt claustrophobic. Let’s move up front, I told Katie. I need more air.

We threaded our way through the crowd. Once we reached the middle third of the boat, where the main cabin stood, the swarm of bodies thinned. Some people were inside the cabin, which was too crowded for my taste. I navigated around the structure toward the front of the ferry. There were only a handful of students here. Two benches sat bolted to the deck next to the cabin, but they were already occupied. Instead, Katie and I took our places by the railing, deposited our bags onto the floor, and prepared to enjoy the short ride to the island.

The ferry’s engine roared to life, and we started moving. Those of us facing the shore waved to our classmates who were still waiting on the dock. I tried to spot Steve and Alex but couldn’t see them in the sea of faces.

The wind picked up, blowing my hair every which way. Katie, blessed with longer, fuller hair than mine, shrieked as she tried to keep her face from being whipped by her blonde mane. She pulled her hair behind her and tied it in a bun. Mine wasn’t long enough for that, so I let it flap.

I can’t believe it, she yelled through the wind, We’re finally here! The camping trip we’ve been waiting weeks for is finally upon us.

I know. These next three days are going to be epic.

When the ferry pointed its nose in the direction of the island, we faced forward as well. The wind now blew into our faces, sweeping our hair back. I expected to smell saltiness in the air, but I remembered that Aislado Island was in the middle of a fresh water lake. The Pacific Ocean was only ten miles away, but the water here was as separated from the ocean as Kansas was from California.

As we chugged closer to the island, I appreciated its name. From the Spanish word for isolated, Aislado Island was indeed in its own world. I saw now that it was much larger than it appeared from the bus and farther away than I thought from the beach we had left. Looking back to shore, the dock had become a dot in the distance. If I were on the island and didn’t know in which direction to look for our buses, I’d see only the vast lake around us. Someone could easily live on the island and not be aware of the world beyond the lake.

The ferry slowed, the noise of the engine transforming from a whine to a loud grumble. More students had come up to the front since we started moving, and I was glad that Katie and I had already positioned ourselves by the railings. Even the students who were sitting on the benches had stood to take a look at our new home for the next two nights.

A smaller dock than the one we left greeted us. A man in a brown uniform waved at us from shore. In the distance, up a slight slope, was a wooden building.

The ferry maneuvered its way to the dock. The side of the boat bounced against worn bumpers as it settled into place. The ferry’s crewmember threw a rope to the man on the dock, who fastened it against one of the posts at the front. He ran to the rear of the boat, where he secured another rope to the dock. Satisfied that our ferry wouldn’t drift away while we were disembarking, the man in the brown uniform helped the crewmember lower the ramp.

We all gathered our bags and streamed to the rear of the boat. Since we had been standing at the front, Katie and I were one of the last to step onto the dock. A few students looked queasy, but as far as I could tell, no one had gotten sick.

A girl next to me complained, I’ve got zero bars. How about you?

I looked at my phone. No signal here either. What did she expect? We were in the middle of nowhere. They didn’t call it Aislado Island for nothing.

The man in the brown uniform spoke up. Welcome, everyone, to Aislado Island. My name is Mr. Messick, and I’m a park ranger at Benchley State Park. While the entire park is my responsibility, when guests are staying on Aislado Island, it becomes my primary focus. During your time here, I’ll be stationed in the building behind me. He pointed to the wooden building I had seen from the ferry. I’ll be with you the next three days to make sure your stay is safe and as comfortable as can be. Any questions?

The girl with the phone problem raised her hand. Is there anywhere on the island I can get cell signal?

Mr. Messick chuckled. I wondered how many times he had hear the question before. "I’m afraid not. You’ll have to