Hunger

was far less muddy than he should have been.
    “I fell down through the ground. Then I practically drowned and passed out and stopped. The water kept flowing past me and mostly cleaned me off.”
    He was pleased to have even figured that out.
    Gingerly he took steps down the tunnel, holding his hands out ahead of him. He was scared. More scared than he had been in his life. More scared even than the day the FAYZ had happened, or the day of the big battle, when he had hidden in a closet with a flashlight and some comic books.
    He was down here now, alone. No Iron Man. No Sandman. No Dark Knight.
    And it was cold.
    Duck noticed the sound of his own sobbing, and was dismayed to realize he was crying. He tried to stop. It wasn’t easy. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry for his mother and father and grandmother and aunts and uncles and even his obnoxious big brother and the whole, whole, whole world that was gone and had abandoned him to this grave.
    “Help! Help!” he cried, and again there was no answer.
    Before him were two equally dark choices: The dark tunnel extending to his left. The dark tunnel extending to his right. He felt a slight, almost imperceptible whisper of breeze on his face. It seemed to come from his left.
    Toward air. Not away.
    Carefully, Duck made his way down the tunnel, hands outstretched like a blind person, down the tunnel.
    It was so dark, he could not see his hand in front of his face. No light. None.
    He soon found that it was easier if he kept one hand on the wall. It was rock, pitted and rough, but with bumps and protrusions that felt worn down. The ground below him was uneven but not wildly so.
    “Cave has to lead somewhere,” Duck told himself. He found the sound of his own voice reassuring. It was real. It was familiar.
    “I wish it was a tunnel. People don’t build a tunnel for no reason.” Then, after a while, “At least a tunnel has to go somewhere.”
    He tried to make sense of the direction. Was he going north, south, east, west? Well, hopefully not too far west, because that would lead him to the ocean.
    He walked and occasionally started crying and walked some more. It was impossible to guess how long he’d been down there. He had no idea what time of day it might be. But he soon realized that the place where he’d fallen in was seeming more and more homey by comparison. There wasn’t much light back there, but at least there had been some. And here there was none.
    “I don’t want to die down here,” he said. He was instantly sorry that he had voiced that thought. Saying it made it real.
    At that moment he banged his head on something that shouldn’t have been there, banged it hard.
    Duck cursed angrily and put his hand to his forehead, feeling for blood, and realized his feet were sinking into the ground. “No!” he yelped.
    The sinking stopped. He’d gone up to his knees. But then he had stopped. He had stopped sinking. Carefully, cautiously, he pulled his legs up out of the hard-packed dirt.
    “What is happening to me?” he demanded. “Why…” But then he knew the answer. He knew it and couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to him earlier.
    “Oh, my God: I’m a freak.”
    “I’m a moof!”
    “I’m a moof with a really sucky power.”
    What exactly the mutant ability was, he wasn’t sure. It seemed to be the power to sink right down through the earth. Which was crazy. And, besides, he hadn’t intended to do anysuch thing. He sure hadn’t said, “Sink!”
    He started walking again, careful of his head, trying to work through what had happened. Both times he had sunk he’d been angry, that was the first thing. He’d heard the stories of how Sam had discovered his abilities only when he was really scared or really mad.
    But Duck had been scared now for quite a while. He’d been scared since the FAYZ. It was only when he got angry that the thing happened.
    The thing. Whatever it was.
    “If I got mad enough maybe I’d sink clear through the earth. Come out in China. See my great-great grandparents.”
    He crept along a bit farther, toward a dim glow.
    “Light?” he said. “Is that really light?”
    It wasn’t bright, that was for sure. It wasn’t a lightbulb. It wasn’t a flashlight. It wasn’t even a star. It was more like a less dark darkness. Hazy. At a distance that was impossible to guess.
    Duck was sure it was a hallucination. He wanted it to be real, but he feared it wasn’t. He feared it was imagination.
    But he kept moving