Wuftoom

by Mary G. Thompson

  Evan stood for a few seconds, knowing what he had to do but unable to do it. He stared down at Tret’s back. The knot was gone now. It had been torn apart so well, it looked like pus covered in tiny squares of plastic wrap. He reached down a nub to roll Tret off his precious package. Tret coughed.

  “Tret!” Evan dropped to his knees, or where his worm legs folded. “Tret, can you hear me?” Slowly, he tried to grab Tret from underneath, where it wouldn’t hurt so much, and rolled him off the bomb, onto his back. His front side was untouched.

  “Drop it,” Tret whispered. His voice barely carried from his mouth, but Evan understood.

  He picked up the bomb. It was a sphere made of some kind of creature skin, and heavy.

  “What do I do?” he asked. It looked as harmless as one of their dead targets.

  “Pull . . .” Tret gasped.

  Evan turned the thing around. Then he saw what Tret must mean. There was a knot in the skin.

  “This?” he asked, holding the knot up to Tret’s face.

  Tret gave a little nod. His eyes glowed as fiery as Evan had ever seen them.

  Evan nodded back. He pushed past two bodies and stood over the dig. He wrapped his nub around the knot and pulled. The knot came out of the sphere, along with an uneven patch of skin. He dropped it into the hole. He listened, expecting a loud explosion, but he heard only a tiny pop. He couldn’t tell what was going on down at the bottom. But Tret smiled. It was the first time Tret had smiled at him since Evan had come back with Olen. His fangs almost seemed to glow.

  “Got . . . them,” he said.

  But Evan wondered how many of them were still down there. Had they got any at all? “Tret.” He got back down on the floor and grabbed Tret’s arm. “I’m going back to get some help for you. Will you be all right?”

  “Are you”—he coughed a little—“the only one . . .”

  “No, there are two others. Ylander and Horg. But they’re badly hurt.” He pointed to where the young one and the middle-aged worm were sitting. Neither one appeared aware of what was going on.

  “Suzie . . .” Tret pressed his lips together and his eyes flickered.

  Evan looked around him. He had touched every body, yet he had not recognized his friend. “I didn’t see her. She might have been . . .” He pressed his lips together too. Tret could finish that sentence for himself. She might have been so eaten that she couldn’t be recognized.

  “Brode,” Tret whispered. Even with his super hearing, Evan had to lean in close. “They will be back to eat us. There’s no telling what you’ll find when you go back. You have to move us into the pipes now.”

  Evan realized the truth of it. The Vits would not leave good food lying here for long.

  “The smaller the better,” Tret whispered. “We will lose less flesh compressed.” And the Vitflys could never compress tight enough to get them. Evan nodded.

  It was slow and awkward work, but Evan managed to smoosh Horg through the little entrance pipe and into the crawler and then to force him up the first small pipe he came to. He then came back for Ylander, who was now a little more coherent.

  “How did they know?” he whispered.

  Evan choked back a breath. “I don’t know!” He could not hide his distress.

  “They’re stronger than we ever realized,” said Ylander.

  Evan pushed him into the crawler and set about dragging him toward the pipe where he had left Horg. “I thought I would put you all together,” he said. “Do you think that’s best?”

  Ylander coughed and nodded. “Better together.”

  “I’ll be back for you as soon as I can. As soon as it’s safe.”

  Ylander nodded again, but his eyes were growing dim. Evan shoved him into the pipe and made sure all of him was pressed into its depths before returning for Tret.

  How did they know? Maybe they had just figured it out. They just hadn’t trusted him and had looked for another place. Or maybe they had bribed some nosy creature to tell them the truth. But Evan didn’t believe these explanations. He knew they’d gotten the information from his mind somehow.

  Tret was sitting up a little, but he didn’t look good. His eyes were faint and his pus dripped onto the floor. Evan lifted him up and pulled him slowly toward the pipe. Tret tried to assist, but he had very little strength.

  “What if they got it from my mind?” Evan asked. He hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t keep the thought in.

  “You didn’t mean to give it to them,” Tret said.

  “I shouldn’t stay with you,” said Evan. “You can’t tell me anything without them knowing.”

  “Brode,” said Tret weakly, “we do not leave our own behind.”

  I’m still not one of you, Evan thought as he thrust Tret into the pipe, but he said nothing. He dragged Tret through the water, and the young leader moaned a little as the cooling water hit his injured back.

  “I’ll tell everyone I see,” said Evan as he stopped in front of the small pipe. “You won’t have to rely on me. Someone will come back for you.”

  Tret’s eyes were steady and he looked up at Evan, his body half sunk into the water. Evan held on to his nubs.

  “I know you’ll come back if you can,” said Tret.

  “I will!” Evan cried, and it sounded too loud in the silence. But he meant it. Somehow this was his fault, and he wasn’t going to let his friends die. Tret gasped as Evan lifted him up and directed his nubs into the hole.

  “I’m going to grab on to your legs and push,” said Evan. “You’ll feel the others.”

  “Good luck, Brode,” said Tret. Evan could not tell if it was said with full goodwill, but it was not said with anger.

  “I’ll come back,” he said, and pushed Tret in. He stood there for a second, taking in the sound of the slowly running water. Then he went back for a weapon.

  The cave was still and deadly silent. Evan tried not to look at them, what was left of his new friends. But he could not close his eyes and he could not look away while also looking for a weapon. They were all losing their shape. Those with the worst wounds had spilled out onto the dirt of the cave floor, where their insides pooled in puddles of sticky goo. Evan recognized it too well. A sickness welled inside of him that did not fit in his Wuftoom body.

  He did not bother looking for a pack and rod, since he still wasn’t a good shot. He would be better off with just a Feeder. It was all the better, since the packs were well attached to his dead friends.

  A Feeder lay next to a half-formed Wuftoom. He reached down for it and pulled. As he did so, the body sighed a little. Evan started with hope but quickly realized it had just let out a little air and some more goo. The tip of the Feeder had been stuck a little under the body. He tried to make himself stay calm.

  It was then that he realized it was Suzie. She was face-down and half of her was gone, but somehow he knew. Not long ago, he couldn’t have imagined how he could tell this worm apart from any other. They all looked exactly the same, even in life. He reached down and gently lifted the body. Her face was misshapen, but it was her. It was the distance between the eyes, the point of the fangs. He turned his head away.

  Suzie had been nicer to him than anyone. And she was so young. Evan started shaking. He set Suzie gently down, gripped the Feeder, and ran to the hole in the pipe, pulling himself back in so quickly that he stumbled and fell on his face in the crawler. The cool water did nothing to soothe him.

  Still shaking, he listened. There was some noise, but it was far away. He would have to head toward it. But what was it? How many were there? All the fear that he had blocked out came rushing in, all the violence. The wings flapping, the fangs tearing, the slurping of flesh. He dropped his Feeder into the stream and lay in the water, shaking.

  The walls of the crawler seemed to close in around him. He thought he could smell something. Something sweet and awful. He knew he couldn’t smell it, yet it was there.

  The noise from down the pipes suddenly grew louder. He jumped, and his h
ead squooshed against the pipe. I promised I would get help, he thought. I’m going to do it. He pulled the weapon out of the water and, still shaking a little, he slowly began to crawl.

  Thirty-two

  HE HUNG BACK in the crawler that emptied into the main pipe. The Wuftoom were in the water and the Vits were in the air. But it wasn’t the carnage of before. These Wuftoom were outnumbered, but not half so badly. They were well armed and they were putting up a fight. The Wuftoom had spread themselves out so they had room to move and draw. Many were very good shots, and their streams were throwing the Vitflys with such force that many of them fell and didn’t rise.

  But there were still many more Vits than Wuftoom, and many Wuftoom had fallen. Evan saw a Vit land on a body and dig its fangs in, until another Wuftoom knocked it off and the Vit sank under the water. Another Vit dived, and the Wuftoom swung for it but missed. The Vit landed on the Wuftoom’s head and dug its claws in, and the Wuftoom twisted in pain. Evan could not hear the Vit’s screech and the Wuftoom’s growl over the din, but he knew what they would sound like.

  He shrank back a little. There was no fighting directly in front of the pipe, but if he dropped down, he would surely draw attention to himself.

  It occurred to him that he could leave. He could go back home and see his mother. He could live with her, or at least near her, just like he’d once told Olen he planned to do. He’d find a way. Dig a hole for himself beneath his house. Eat human food if he had to. But if he did that, what would happen to Tret and the others? Tret would not leave him behind, he was sure of it. Even after the secrets Evan had kept, Tret would still save him.

  He could not stand to think about it any longer, and with a deep breath he dropped legs first into the pipe. Without stopping to see if he was noticed, he ran to the nearest Wuftoom, who was fighting with his back against the wall. It was Rayden.

  “Tret, Ylander, and Horg are in a small pipe up the crawler. They’re badly injured! Tell everyone you see!”

  “What happened?” Rayden growled.

  “The Vits came up the hole,” Evan answered. “Everyone else is dead. I put them in the pipe and came for help.” The screeching of the Vits grew louder. “But we did drop the bomb afterward.”

  Rayden glared past Evan at the fighting beyond.

  “Watch out!” Evan cried.

  A Vit flew toward Rayden’s head.

  Evan swung at it, but it dodged. It flapped its wings and hissed, its eyes glowing bright yellow. Foul.

  “You did this!” Evan cried. “You killed Master Olen! You killed Suzie!” He swung at Foul again, but again the Vitfly dodged.

  Rayden smashed another Vit, and then another. But Evan had eyes only for Foul. He swung again.

  “You are not a Wuftoom,” Foul hissed. “You want them dead as much as we do.”

  “I don’t!” Evan cried. “I am a Wuftoom!” He swung.

  Foul danced away, just out of reach. “Your mother missssses you, Evan.” It gave a screeching chuckle. “Sssshe still cries.” Facing Evan, it didn’t see Rayden circle behind it.

  Rayden’s Feeder connected with Foul’s hairy backside.

  The Vit fell into the water with a splash.

  Rayden reached into the water and pulled Foul out, his nub wrapped tight around Foul’s body, holding its wings.

  Foul opened its mouth wide and hissed, water dripping from its fangs.

  “Brode is a Wuftoom,” Rayden hissed back. “And you”—he screeched Foul’s name—“are done.” Rayden shoved Foul back underwater.

  The Vit struggled and the water splashed.

  Three Vits flew at Rayden’s back.

  Evan whacked one, but the other two got through. They landed and dug their claws in.

  Rayden stood up, pulling the struggling Foul with him. He swirled around, growling, trying to dislodge the Vits.

  Foul screeched, struggling against Rayden’s nub.

  Evan smashed one of the Vits on Rayden’s back, then the other one. They both hung there, their dead claws still shredding Rayden’s membrane.

  Rayden shook wildly, trying to dislodge the dead Vits from his back. He dropped Foul.

  Foul flapped its broken wings, just managing to lift itself above the water.

  Evan lunged, wrapping his arm around the injured bug.

  It dug its fangs into Evan’s arm.

  Evan screamed. It was even worse than in the Yellow Passage. But he hung on. He pushed Foul beneath the water.

  Rayden collapsed into the water with a splash.

  Foul struggled, but Evan didn’t let go until its fangs loosened their grip. When the Vit had stopped struggling completely, he let it sink to the bottom, finally dead.

  “Rayden!” Evan cried.

  The old warrior was lifting himself out of the water. The dead Vits floated away, but more Vits were heading for them.

  Evan raised his Feeder, holding his injured arm against his body. It stung like nothing he’d ever felt. It was hard to see anything, to feel anything except the pain.

  Water hit him from two sides, tossing the Vits backward. There was shouting, Wuftoom voices. At first he didn’t understand, but then the sound came into focus.

  “Back!” they were shouting. “Go back!”

  Evan threw his good arm around Rayden. Water flew everywhere around him, then stopped suddenly. As it cleared, he saw that a few Wuftoom were showering groups of Vits, trying to get them off those who were still standing. Evan turned toward the cave, supporting Rayden, whose legs weren’t quite working right. He didn’t know if he was hurting the old one worse, but he didn’t have time to stop and think.

  He heard screeching behind him, saw Wuftoom bodies in the water, felt the spray of water, and heard the continued yelling: “Go back! Go back!” He did not stop until he reached the waterfall and pulled Rayden through it into the cave.

  More Wuftoom followed him, but not many. He held Rayden’s head up. It was too much like his last moments with Olen. He could not stand it.

  “Master Rayden! Master Rayden, can you hear me?”

  Rayden growled a little and his eyes began to glow. He looked up at Evan. “I have been clawed before and come out stronger,” he said. But his voice was not booming and strong as it had been before. It was not the storyteller’s voice.

  “I’ll get the ointment,” Evan said, and he set Rayden against a set of blocks. He rushed to where he knew the medicine was kept. It was near the weapons. Everything the Wuftoom owned and needed to survive was all lined up among discarded blocks along a single wall.

  Two others were already raiding the stores. They pushed a creature-skin jar toward him and rushed off without a word. Evan’s eyes followed, and he saw a group of wounded propped against the front wall. He recognized Jordan as one of those helping them and his heart leaped, but he could not continue looking.

  He dug in the cabinet for a needle and thread, like the kind that had been used on him. He didn’t know what creature they were made from, but the needle was sharper and smaller than a Vit fang. At last he found it, and rolling the supplies in his good arm, he sloshed back to Rayden, sending the water flying.

  Rayden was no longer awake. He had rolled a little onto his side but still maintained most of his shape.

  “Master Rayden!” Evan cried. He dropped the supplies on the blocks and shook the old one with his good arm. “Rayden! Wake up!” There was no answer. “Please, Rayden!” Throughout everything, Evan had never wished so much that he could cry. He couldn’t let another Wuftoom die. He just couldn’t. He picked up the ointment and started rubbing it into Rayden’s head. There were so many wounds on his head, arms, and back that by the time Evan was finished, Rayden’s whole body shined with ointment.

  The old one moved a little. It was so slight, Evan almost didn’t believe it.

  “Rayden!”

  Rayden made a tiny little noise and moved again, ever so slightly.

  “Master Rayden! It’s me, Brode. I’m trying to fix you up. I’m going to s
ew you. Just hold still. You’re going to be fine.”

  Rayden made no noise, but now he was visibly breathing. Evan didn’t know how he was going to do it, since his right arm was useless. He poured what ointment was left onto it and rubbed it in with his left arm. There wasn’t enough left to give it as good a coating as Rayden’s back, but he already felt a little better.

  Fortunately, the needle he had grabbed was already attached to thread. He decided he would just start with the very worst part of Rayden’s back and do what he could. Then he suddenly realized what he could do. He was a Wuftoom. He could squoosh himself so small that he could travel through an ordinary bathroom pipe. Certainly he had more that was useful than just his arm.

  Hope suddenly flooding through him, he sat down on the ground and raised his right leg to his left arm. As a Wuftoom, this didn’t hurt a bit. Although he wasn’t used to using it this way, he found that he could grab a piece of Rayden’s membrane with his leg and pull it forward to meet the needle.

  Some time later Master Gorti joined him. He was a little torn up himself and covered in pus from other worms, but he was alive. Evan thought he’d never been so happy to see anyone.

  “This is good, young one,” he said, and he began to help. An hour later Rayden’s back didn’t look pretty, but all the major holes were closed. Rayden had said nothing the whole time, but he was still breathing. His whole body pulsed slowly in and out.

  “We will let him rest, young one,” said Gorti.

  Evan nodded, then suddenly remembered. “Master Gorti! Tret and Ylander and Horg are back near the dig. I left them in a small pipe.”

  Gorti motioned to Jordan, who slid over to them. He had a cut on his head that shone with ointment, but he looked otherwise well.

  At first there had been others standing, but now the rest were sitting against the wall, gasping with the pain of various wounds.

  Evan counted eight in total, nine if he counted himself. Twelve if all of the others lived. Out of a hundred. The gravity of it fell on him like the weight of the ceiling caving in. He could see it in Gorti’s eyes as well.