The Star Dwellers by David Estes

push forward with my hands, reaching out, trying to touch
     something, an arm or a leg, anything to tell me I’ve caught up to
     Roc, but I feel nothing. Nothing. And then…
    Crunch!
    Sharp pain lances through my fingers as my
     knuckles glance off hard rock. I pull them back sharply, tucking
     them to my chest for a moment. I’ve reached the reservoir floor
     without finding anyone. Finally, I open my eyes and feel the cold
     water swarm around my eyeballs.
    As expected, blackness surrounds.
    I swivel my head to the right, seeing nothing
     but oil. Twisting back to the left, I see it. A light. A beacon. A
     surprise. Off in the distance, something bright is bobbing through
     the pool, moving away from me.
    I’m not sure how long I’ve been underwater,
     but my breath is becoming short. My instincts are urging me to kick
     to the surface and breathe, but I know I can’t. I try to push all
     thoughts of air out of my head as I kick hard, chasing the
     light.
    As I swim, more lights appear on either side
     of the first one, except these are stationary, like the sentry
     lights that guard the tunnels of the many inter-Realm trains. I am
     gaining on the light.
    When I reach the stationary lights, I find
     they are embedded in the wall, illuminating the entrance to a
     tunnel. An underwater tunnel! Ben isn’t crazy, after all. He knew
     exactly what he was doing.
    The moving light is in the tunnel and I can
     barely make out shadowy figures flitting about it. I’m not sure how
     long has passed since I entered the water, but my lungs are aching
     for air. From its entrance, the tunnel appears endless, a never
     ending chute to nowhere, or somewhere—it’s definitely one or the
     other.
    I grit my teeth and kick harder, shoveling
     the water to either side with my hands. Thankfully, the tunnel is
     wide enough to use my whole body to move me forward, and I feel a
     surge of water around my ribs as I move faster through the abyss.
     Chasing. Chasing. Chasing a damn light that seems to move
     ceaselessly away from me.
    My movements grow frantic as my body, my
     blood, my brain demand air. I push harder and harder, straining
     against my own limitations. The light moves upwards and disappears,
     and I fear it’s gone out, plunging us all into darkness and
     death.
    I push on.
    My vision gets blurry and I feel
     lightheaded.
    I push on.
    One kick. Two kicks. Three kicks. I have
     nothing left.
    But I find something more. I push on.
    I feel strong hands grab my tunic and pull me
     up. I gasp, splutter, take deep breaths that are half-air,
     half-water. Choking, I cough, trying to expel the intruding
     liquid.
    “Slowly, Tristan. Breathe slowly,” Ben says,
     rolling me over onto my back.
    I obey, deepening my breaths—in between each
     gulp I’m still coughing—and trying to relax my heaving chest.
     Gradually, I open my eyes to see Roc, Elsey, and Ben hovering over
     me. They all appear to be perfectly fine—while I’m a mess.
    “Who hates the water now?” Roc says,
     smirking.
    I’m too tired for a comeback. Plus Roc does
     appear to have handled the long swim better than me. I take three
     heavy breaths and start to feel better.
    “Where are we?” I ask.
    “See for yourself,” Ben says with a wave of
     his arm. I roll over and look past him, at where he’s gesturing.
     Everything’s blurry at first, so I blink a few times to clear my
     eyes. Something comes into focus. It’s a…a…
    “Train?” I say, not really believing my own
     description.
    “Traaaiiinnn,” Roc repeats slowly, sounding
     out the word for me like I’m stupid. “T-R-A-I-N. Spell it with me,
     Tristan.”
    I ignore him and push up to my feet. Indeed,
     it’s a train, gleaming silvery and metallic, even under the dim
     glow of the lights inset into the brownish-gray rock walls. We are
     in a small bunker, accessible only via the train that stands before
     us, or the watery tunnel from where we arrived.
    “Does it run?” I ask