Cyrus LongBones and the Curse of the Sea Zombie
Chapter 7

THE PIT

THE NEXT MORNING Cyrus woke to a rumbling in his bones. The pictures on his bedroom walls shook, and the ceiling lamp swayed. He shifted in his bed. He found the turtle skeleton lying next to him and the journal resting on his chest. He looked around, eyes wide. The bedroom door was shut. No one had seen. He exhaled a shaky breath, stowed the skeleton under his bed and hid the journal beneath his mattress. Then he jumped out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen.

“Niels, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Mom’s using the drill. She’s finishing the third well,” Niels said, trying to keep plates from jiggling off the wall.

“Angels, she’s going to kill us all,” Cyrus said.

He ran out the kitchen, still in his pajamas.

“What, Cyrus. No, wait.”

The sun was shining, and the air was cool. He followed a chugging water hose to the southern half of the farm. There, he found his stepmother sitting on top of a steam-powered drill, a deep scowl of concentration carved into her face. Cyrus felt his cut and bruised side and hesitated. Then he reminded himself of the journal.

“Mom, you have to stop. It’s too dangerous,” he shouted over the noise.

The machine was eight feet high and shaped like a steely, riveted ice cream cone. The smell of steam, boiling metal and rock dust wafted from its toil.

“Go help your brother. I’ll deal with you later,” she shouted over the drill’s racket.

The hose fed the bottom half of the contraption, and with carnivorous, corkscrewing threads, it twisted and tore itself into the earth.

“No, it’s not safe. This whole place could cave in.”

The top half of the machine shook and jangled as it sputtered and spurted jets of water and vapor into the air.

“You’re only making things worse for yourself,” she growled.

Cyrus searched his mind for some way to make Llysa listen, make her understand the danger she was in; they were in. But it was too late. Cracks started to web out from beneath the four-legged contraption, and all Cyrus could do was scramble away in fear.

“Mom!” he pointed to the newly formed rents in the earth.

“If I have to tell you one more time,” she spat over her shoulder.

Like the sound of a hundred trees snapping, the ground shunted, then started to give way.

“What in Kingdom?” she screamed.

“Jump,” Cyrus yelled.

Llysa leaped from the doomed machinery. Her dress snagged on the pedal shifter. The ground around the drill dropped three feet. Llysa screamed as she kicked and pulled at her dress. The material began to tear and come free. The foundation gave way, and the drill slipped through the crust like a sinking ship. It fell several feet before the leather hose reached its length. The drill jerked to a halt and began to sway like a large church bell. Cyrus knew he should have cried for help, but he just stared speechless at the ruin.

“Cyrus,” Llysa shouted, her head barely visible above the verge of the chasm.

Cyrus hesitated. What if this was the answer to his prayers?

“Please!” she screamed, grasping and straining towards the edge.

He gazed at the pit, unable to move…

“Do something!” she shrieked, her expression a mix of terror and fury.

Cyrus’ daze broke. He scrambled over to the edge and began to pull at the waterline. Llysa’s cries echoed within.

“Try to climb back up,” Cyrus yelled.

Wiry fingers emerged from the cave-in, gripping the swelling tube. Cyrus crawled forward on all fours. He grasped the back of Llysa’s right hand. The hose could no longer support the drill’s weight. It tore free, whipping and spraying like a severed artery. The drill dropped into darkness. The leather snake slapped Cyrus’ injured ribs, kicking him to the dirt and folding him up like a crumpled napkin.

“Noooo,” he groaned, his side on fire.

Several moments passed before…

Sploosh!

The drill hit what sounded like water far, far below.

“Help!” Llysa shrieked.

Her fingers clung to the edge like claws, tearing desperately at the earth. Cyrus found himself again hoping she would slip. Then she did, her hands vanishing from sight. Oh Angels, what have I done? Cyrus thought. He listened to her cries descend into the nothingness as his mind reeled and chest wheezed.

Sploosh!

Silence. She was gone…

“What’s going on?” Niels shouted, running down the slope.

Cyrus turned, trying to catch his breath.

“Mom fell,” he gasped, fighting for air.

He pointed a shaking finger at the newly exposed chasm. The pit stared back at them, dark and bottomless.