Jordan clapped Evan with warmth, but a change had come over him. He was no longer excited and young.
“We will take the pipes,” said Gorti. “It is too dangerous to go out through the water. The Vits may by lying in wait.” Gorti led them to the vents at the back of the cave, where Tret, Suzie, and Ylander had taken him that first night.
They went a different way this time, to where the pipes were old and collapsed, where the sewage leaked out into the dirt and spread its stink. It was a roundabout way to travel, but they reached the crawler within an hour. Evan led the way to the pipe where he had hidden them.
Tret and Ylander were still alive, barely. The compressing had kept them from losing pus, and they had slept to save their strength. But Horg came out in a formless lump, and it was clear that he was dead. Jordan took Ylander, Gorti carried Tret, and Evan dragged Horg’s body behind him with his one good arm.
Thirty-three
WHEN THEY RETURNED, Rayden was awake, and those who could had gathered around him. Evan, Jordan, and Gorti dragged Tret and Ylander to the waiting Wuftoom, and the Wuftoom began to stitch Tret and Ylander the best they could.
“We must leave this area,” said Rayden. It was not the storyteller’s voice yet, but it was stronger. He was fully shaped against the blocks now. “Once, there were Wuftoom elsewhere. I do not know where they are or what has happened to them these many years, but we cannot stay here, a few among an unknown number of Vitflys. These are the only Vits I know of. If we run, we can escape.”
“We have our waterfall,” said Gorti. “Perhaps we should wait and build our strength.”
Rayden shook his head. “The Vits can fly above the ground. They have strengths we did not know about before. They will find and destroy our water source.”
The Wuftoom around him gasped. Evan pursed his lips and sucked air in. He had not had time to worry about that, but he knew Rayden was right.
“As soon as we are well enough,” said Rayden, “we will go.”
The others solemnly nodded agreement. There were none of the customary Wuftoom growls, no cheers or voices raised in fierce debate. All knew the strength of Rayden’s logic. Tret lay in front of Evan, propped on a block. Jordan twisted the thread and stuck the needle in again. Tret did not wake.
Can you ever forgive me? Evan thought.
After three nights, there were only nine left. The two new dead ones were folded and laid gently with Horg and the few others they’d been able to salvage. The ceremony would be saved for later, when the group had escaped from this part of the sewers. The others were well enough to move, but some were still torn and shedding pus from wounds so large that the stitches couldn’t hold them. Ylander was among the worst wounded, needing another Wuftoom to help him even onto his sleeping blocks.
Tret had not smiled since he had woken, though he led the preparations for their journey with stony resolve.
Rayden and Tret drew maps and plotted paths on membrane sheets, then scratched them out and started over. They argued and scratched, then argued more, and finally reached agreement on each point in turn.
Evan watched, helping to tend the injured when he could. His arm was healing well, but he felt useless among so much pain and death. Jordan and Gorti were the least injured, so they ventured out through the vents to scrape the pipes for water creatures.
To add insult to slaughter, the Vits had managed to remove their dead. Food was so scarce that Evan had only two bites in those three nights. Combined with the hunger from before the battle, it left him itchy, nervous, and unable to think.
On the fourth night, Tret and Rayden sat with Ylander and the worst wounded, and the rest gathered around.
“We must leave tomorrow night,” said Rayden. “We have stayed here too long already. It is a wonder our hunters are still alive.” He did not need to mention how badly they were all starved. “The young one and I have plotted a course. It will take us through the narrowest passages, the wettest ground. There are places where we must cross tunnels where Vits go, but they are as short as we could make them.”
Tret sat next to Rayden, nodding as he spoke. He had never seemed so supportive of Rayden before. This new accord between them was so strange, it made their peril feel worse.
“We will each carry two packs,” Rayden continued. “One as a weapon, and one for our fallen brothers.” Rayden looked solemnly at each in turn. “We will plant them where they will be most useful. The time has come to raise our numbers faster than ever before.”
The Wuftoom looked at each other, all except for Jordan, who had not been there for the story.
“I have been the one to caution against haste,” said Rayden, “and even now I question the wisdom of making many at once, when the humans are likely to notice. But the young one has convinced me. If we do not make more quickly, we will all die. We will plant them as soon as we are far enough away.”
When it was time to go to sleep for their last day, Evan approached Tret and Rayden, who were still whispering together, making their final plans. A large piece of membrane lay between them on a table of concrete blocks.
“You should sleep, Brode,” said Rayden. “We have a long night ahead of us and many more.”
Tret looked up at him with dull eyes.
Evan took a breath in. He had to say it. He had no choice. “Before we go, I need to say goodbye to my mother,” he said. He did not look away but watched as their eyes glowed and their lips twisted into unreadable expressions.
Tret took such a deep breath that his body visibly expanded. Rayden showed nothing of what he felt.
“I don’t think I’m going to forget,” said Evan. “But I don’t want to stay there. I want to go with you. But I promised I would say goodbye.” What would they say? Would they even now keep him from going?
Rayden and Tret looked at each other, and some silent agreement passed between them.
“We were expecting you to say something like this,” said Rayden. He ran a nub across the membrane, smoothing it. Evan could see it was a map.
“We cannot spare any of us to go with you, not with so many wounded. It is a dangerous proposition to go alone.”
“I know that,” Evan said, “but I don’t have any choice. I have to go.”
“Then that is your choice,” said Rayden. “We will meet you here.” Rayden extended his nub into a point.
Evan leaned over the table. The place Rayden pointed to was not on the maps he had seen before.
“We are here,” said Rayden. He extended his other nub into a finger and pointed at a second spot.
Evan examined the second spot. That part he had seen before. The familiar territories spread out to the left on the map, back to the hunting passages. To the right, there were passages and caves that he had never known about.
“We have planned a night of rest here,” said Rayden, tapping the first spot he had pointed to. “You must catch up with us before the day is out. We must leave the next night. We cannot wait longer for any Wuftoom.”
Evan leaned in further, trying to study the membrane. How would he ever find his way?
“You can take this one,” said Rayden. “We have two others.”
Evan breathed out. He wasn’t sure if he had breathed again since he had approached them. “Thank you, Master Rayden! Thank you, Tret!” Evan said. “I’ll be there. I won’t be late.” He was about to turn away when Tret spoke for the first time.
“If you still love your mother, how can we be sure that the Vits won’t use her again? How can we trust you?” His tone was quiet. Not accusing, just a question. Both Wuftoom watched him for an answer.
“I’ve already told her to leave,” he said. “I’ll make sure she leaves this town for good, and goes far enough so the Vits will never find her.”
Tret and Rayden looked at each other, then turned back to Evan. “Is there anyone else they could use?” Tret asked.
A month ago the answer to this question would have shamed him. Now it lifted his heart. “No
,” he said. “I didn’t have any other family or friends.”
“Very well,” said Rayden. Tret nodded and his lips untwisted a little. He began to roll the membrane map. He rolled it into a tube, then folded the tube until the map was just a tiny square. He held it out to Evan, and Evan took it.
“Go with care, Brode,” said Tret.
Evan almost corrected him, told him that his name wasn’t Brode, that he wanted to be called Evan, but he stopped himself. Tret had put up with a lot from him. He shouldn’t push him any further. Besides, there was a part of him that wasn’t sure. Was he really a Wuftoom now? Should he want to be called Brode? Did he?
Evan went back to his sleeping blocks, where Jordan had set up next to him. No, Evan thought, not Jordan, Rutgi. But Evan couldn’t let Jordan go.
“What did Tret give you?” Jordan asked.
“It’s a map,” said Evan. “So I can find my way to meet you after I go see my mother.”
Jordan gasped and pulled his lips in. “Brode, you can’t go out there alone. It’s crazy!”
“I have to,” said Evan. He couldn’t explain this to Jordan.
But Jordan didn’t try to argue anymore. Instead, he put his nub around Evan and gave him a hard clap, squeezing into Evan’s back. “Be safe, Brode. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t come back. I wouldn’t even be here without you.”
Evan sucked in his breath. “You know?”
“Of course,” said Jordan. “I’ve meant to say thank you. I never would have gone near that field on my own.”
“You . . . you’re not sorry you’re a Wuftoom?” Evan asked.
“Sorry?” asked Jordan. “Are you kidding? I was meant to be a Wuftoom. This is where I belong.”
Evan looked down at the water. He knew the old Jordan wouldn’t say this, but he also knew that Jordan was being sincere. Rutgi wasn’t sorry he was a Wuftoom at all. And he really was Evan’s friend.
“We mean it,” said Ylander, sloshing up to them with help from Gorti. “Come back.”
“Yes, Brode,” said Gorti. “Master Olen would want that.” Gorti unrolled an arm, revealing half of a recently dead Higger.
Evan stared at it. The sight of the creature brought all his hunger up.
“Go on, take it,” said Gorti. “You haven’t eaten anything in days.”
Evan didn’t want to take it, but he was too hungry. He ripped it from Gorti’s arm and shoved it into his mouth, swallowing it after one bite. “Thank you,” said Evan. He meant it more than he’d ever meant any thank-you in his life.
“Just come back,” said Gorti.
Evan had never seen a Wuftoom hug before, but he didn’t care. He threw his arms around Jordan, Ylander, and Gorti, squeezing all of them together. “I will,” he said.
Thirty-four
EVAN ROSE EARLY, hoping to reach his mother’s house at sundown. At least the most dangerous part of his journey would happen when the Vits should be asleep. He took only a Feeder. Others would take his packs, so they could be used in case he didn’t make it.
He made his way quickly through the pipes and did not come across another creature. It should not have surprised him. Other creatures typically avoided Wuftoom. Yet there was something strange about the silence. Perhaps there had always been more creatures than Evan had seen, making noises he’d never noticed.
The thought made a chill pass through his flesh. The Wuftoom had always hunted these creatures, yet they had never fled before. As he pushed through the water, its sloshing reverberated as if it were iron on steel.
The bedroom was silent. Evan ignored the lifting of pressure, let his body do what it would. He knew now that he would not break apart, no matter how terrible he felt. He went straight to the boarded window and reached behind the painting. He pulled out a scrap of paper with a note written on it in his mother’s hand.
“Dear Evan, I’ll come back every night at nine. I love you. Mom.”
Evan sat on the bed. He could go back into the pipes to wait for the hour before nine. He would not have to endure this pain. Instead, he went back to the window. The two-dimensional meadow and the fake blue sky stared back at him. Slowly, he took down the painting and set it aside. Now he was looking at bare boards. He slid his nubs behind them, flattening his arms so that the liquid of his body flowed. He spread them outward until some part of his arms covered most of the window, and he pulled.
The boards came off with a pop and pushed him backward, so that he fell on his back onto the floor. He hit his head on the end of the bed as he fell, but his Wuftoom body was not hurt. He thrust the boards aside and scrambled to standing again.
There was the backyard, just as he remembered it. With his new eyes, it looked in darkness close to how it had looked before in light. There were the dandelions; there was the oak tree. Even the rope ladder was still there. There was the street, the train tracks, the whole town spread out before him.
The sun had gone down now, but there was still too much light for Evan. His body wanted to shrink back, to jump into the bathtub and ride the pipe down into the safety of the darkness. His eyes burned like they were filled with sand. But he wanted to look. He might never see this view again, or any view above the ground.
A raccoon poked its nose out from behind the oak tree. Soon, another raccoon’s nose poked out. With his enhanced hearing, he heard their chittering. Light creatures. Creatures as different from him as sea bass were from insects, or more so. The raccoons took off running. The night wind whistled through the houses and whirred as it was set free into the street. Evan wished he could go out there, just one more time.
The bedroom door creaked open. His mother gasped and ran over to him. She threw her arms around him and squeezed. Out of instinct, he tried to pull away. He must be ugly. He must stink. But his mother only pulled him closer and began to sob.
Evan melted into her, his nubs melting into each other and spreading across his mother’s back.
“You shouldn’t have come back here!” he cried. “I could have found you. They might come back!”
“What if you didn’t?” she sobbed. “What if I never saw you again?” She squeezed him tighter, and his malleable body squashed and twisted under her grasp.
“You have to leave now. You can’t ever come back here. You have to leave this town. You have to go far away from here, so they’ll never find you again. Neither one of us will be safe until you get far away.”
“Come with me!” she sobbed.
“I can’t,” said Evan. “Look at me. I’m one of them now. I have to stay with them.”
His mother pulled herself away, grasped his shoulders, and held him at arm’s length. By the moonlight, she could see him. “How many others are there?” she asked.
Evan’s body shook. His mother felt it, and it looked like she would cry again.
“There were a hundred. But now there are only nine. We’re leaving so the Vits won’t get the rest of us.”
Now she did begin to cry again and pulled him closer.
“Mom, please stop. Let me tell you.” And he told her everything. From stepping in the pink goo in the field to when Olen had come, to when he had changed, and everything that happened after. “I’m still not sure how I feel about it, but I have friends, a clan. They’ll take care of me even though I’m different. I know they will. I have to stay with them.”
His mother continued to cry, but her sobbing was less.
“Is it hurting you to sit here now?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, “but it’s my last time to even see the outside. I can handle it a little longer.” The bedside clock showed 3:00 a.m. Just a few more hours until sunrise.
They sat there together while the hours passed, sometimes talking, sometimes looking out the window together. Finally, the sky began to glow.
“I have to go now,” he said.
His mother nodded.
“Mom, you have to promise to be happy. You can move on with your life. You can get married. You can have m
ore kids.”
She smiled a little. “I don’t need any more kids.”
“But you can have them if you want. You can do anything you want now.”
She nodded again. They both knew it wasn’t that simple, but there was no need to say it.
“You promise to be happy too,” she whispered.
They held on to each other again for a long time. Then she followed him into the bathroom and watched as he lined himself up over the drain, melded himself together, and slid away.
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