Bloom

by Kenneth Oppel

  He realized he wasn’t moving anymore. Hanging upside down, twirling slowly from side to side, he felt suddenly light-headed and breathless. His heart stuttered. He dangled over the lake like a piece of meat on a hook.

  “What’s going on?” Petra called back to him.

  “I don’t know. Can you see anything?”

  “No! It’s too deep.”

  “What’s happening?” he heard Mr. Riggs shout out from the island.

  On the shore, the pit plant’s lips started to constrict.

  “It’s closing!” Seth shouted.

  It wasn’t supposed to do that. But it didn’t stop until the lips had mashed themselves together, sealing Anaya inside, alone.

  THE SMELL HIT ANAYA before the impact: the sickening sleep perfume, and the stench of whatever the pit plant had last eaten. She bounced off the pit plant’s rubbery walls and landed beside a puddle of some gooey mess she didn’t want to think about.

  She scrambled up. It was like a small cave, much bigger than the last plant she’d been in. Much deeper, too. With a tight squeeze of fear, she wondered if she’d be able to jump high enough. Already the walls were glistening, trickling with eager little rivulets of acid. Even though she knew it wouldn’t hurt her, there was still a primal fear about being inside the gut of a creature designed to digest her.

  Where were the others?

  Get to work.

  Hurriedly she shrugged off her backpack, and started unzipping. It was suddenly darker, and she glanced up, hoping it was just a cloud. In dismay, she saw the lips of the plant slowly twitching closed. Why was it closing so soon? Didn’t it know there was more food coming?

  Hands shaking, she dumped out the soil. It looked just like ordinary dirt. For a terrifying second, she couldn’t believe there was anything special about it, and what on earth was she doing here?

  In the fading light, she watched, waiting for the plant to react. She’d hoped the moment the soil touched, the plant would hiss and burn—just like its acid did to human skin.

  Nothing was happening.

  She kicked the dirt around the bottom of the plant, and emptied her pockets. It didn’t look like very much, spread out like this. She needed Petra’s soil, too. What was taking both of them so long?

  “Petra!” she called out through the opening. “Seth?”

  Underfoot she felt a tremor. On the dirt-scattered bottom of the pit plant, a blister appeared, then burst. Black tarlike fluid oozed out.

  Was this a good sign?

  Anxiously she looked up to see the plant’s mushy lips twitching ever closer together. If she wanted to jump out, she was running out of time.

  Another boil swelled up, then a third. A swampy stink overpowered the sickly perfume. Everything about that smell signaled rot and death to Anaya. The soil must be working.

  She looked back up. Still no sign of the others. She didn’t want to be sealed inside alone, without Seth’s razor-sharp arms. Dad had told her to cut loose if things went sideways. She’d promised. She only hoped the soil she’d brought was enough to do the job.

  She flexed at the knees, ready to leap. From the slick walls of the plant, and the underside of the constricting top, long black spikes poked out, angled down, like an animal unsheathing all its claws.

  * * *

  “WHY DID IT close?” Petra yelled to Seth as they both dangled over the lake.

  She couldn’t understand it. The thing was huge; it must want more food!

  Being stuck up here was not part of the plan. She winced as a vine slid across her body. It wasn’t just revulsion at its touch. Suddenly she realized how easy it would be for these things to tighten like boa constrictors, and squeeze the life out of her. She remembered Jolie hanging from the trees.

  This was a terrible idea.

  “We need to get her out!” Seth grunted, trying to swing himself upright.

  A vine nosed around Petra’s soil-filled hoodie, and pushed its way into the opening—then recoiled as if scalded. The vine rustled against several others, making a sound like a snake hissing. Other vines brushed together, and the eerie whisper drifted across the canopy, in the direction of the shore. And the pit plant.

  Like they were communicating.

  “They know!” she cried out to Seth in alarm.

  “What?”

  “They know about the soil! They know what we’re doing!”

  She gave a cry as Seth suddenly dropped.

  The vines had let go of his ankles, and he plunged headfirst. Maybe it was instinct that made him stretch his arms like they were wings. The colorful feathers spread, but they didn’t slow his fall.

  “Seth!” she cried, and then gasped as vines tightened across her stomach, and kept tightening.

  * * *

  SETH DIDN’T JUST fall. He was flung. Air whistled over his feathered arms, and he felt it just for a second: that little bit of lift. He had hardly any time to savor this brief hint of flight before the lake struck him.

  He was under, tumbling, water smacked up his nose, roaring in his ears. Up he came, gagging. He churned his legs, blinking, trying to orient himself. There was Petra, still hanging in the vines. And there was the shore, and the monster pit plant.

  He swam for it. He needed to help Anaya. He’d never been a strong swimmer, and his feathers made him even clumsier. Something sharp stung his left cheek, then his right. Converging on him from both sides were clusters of water lilies, their black-swan heads arched high.

  He ducked his head below the surface, feeling the seeds strike his arms. Even underwater the seeds hit him, coming dangerously close to his eyes. When he came up for air, he was not nearly as close to the shore as he’d hoped.

  And blocking his way was a raft of lilies, their raised purple heads glinting with sharp seeds.

  * * *

  ANAYA KNEW IF she jumped, she’d impale herself on the spikes.

  The other pit plant hadn’t done this. Was this one special? Or maybe this was its last defense when dying? Whichever it was, she was pretty sure those spikes were getting longer. Either that or the plant walls were constricting. With a wheezing wet smack, the lips of the plant mashed together and Anaya was plunged into darkness.

  Oh no. No, no, no.

  Blind, patting the ground, Anaya found her knife and light stick. She bent the tube till she heard a crack. Faintly it began to glow, filling the inside of the plant with a ghoulish radiance. She almost wished she were back in darkness. From every angle, spikes slowly converged on her, aimed at her legs, her chest, her face.

  Dad’s knife was in her hand. Beneath her feet, the pit plant trembled and bulged more violently, and she staggered into a spike. She cried out as it jabbed her shoulder. She grabbed it and tried to snap it. It was bendy and surprisingly strong. She didn’t stop pushing until she felt the spike snap like a broken branch. That took way too long. On the next spike she used the knife, sawing a cut so she could snap it faster.

  Even so, she wouldn’t be able to cut them all down. There were too many, all of them inching closer.

  If this thing was dying, she needed it to die faster.

  She remembered the pit plant back home in her driveway. The main vine sprouting from the bottom. That would be about where she was standing, right now. Under her feet grew the massive vine that split into thousands of smaller ones spreading over the lake.

  And she also remembered how, in her driveway, all the vines on the house had started to wither, right after she severed the main one. She might not be able to kill the pit plant, but if she could sever its central vine, maybe she could kill the ones growing over the lake. She could clear the way for the others.

  She kicked at the floor with her clawed toes, right foot, left foot, piercing the plant’s thick flesh. It felt good to gouge out big wet chunks. Spikes pricked the top of her head, and she
fell to her knees, using Dad’s knife to cut deeper. She stabbed down until she felt soil against her knuckles. She’d broken through!

  Digging around with her hands, she found the hard, gnarled vine, thick as the root of a great tree. With the knife’s serrated edge, she started sawing. It was so thick.

  She knew it wouldn’t be long before the spikes impaled her.

  * * *

  THE THICK CORD of vines squeezed so tightly around Petra’s torso she worried her ribs would crack.

  She could see Seth down there, swimming crazily toward shore, and all those lilies closing in, and she needed to help him. Her left arm was pinned uselessly to her side, but her right was still free, and with her hand she tried to tear the vines loose. A few ripped off, but were quickly replaced by others. They were so strong.

  “Get off!” she growled.

  Dangling right over her mouth was a sprig of those dark berries. Before she could check herself, she gobbled them up. Thick juice exploded against her tongue—such a weird, exhilarating taste—and she felt a surge of strength.

  She fumbled with the knotted opening of the hoodie and reached inside for the soil. A vine looped around her forearm and yanked her hand out before she got any.

  “No, you don’t,” she grunted.

  Swift tendrils slid between her fingers, tightening, but she pulled free. The hoodie shook, and a bit of soil spilled out onto the vines. Petra felt them flinch, and loosen.

  “Yeah! That sucks, doesn’t it?”

  She plunged her hand deep into the soil, then smeared it onto the vines that ensnared her. Swiftly they started to uncoil. She flung another handful onto the vines around her legs. They, too, sprang away.

  Suddenly she was free—

  And falling. Clutching the hoodie to her chest, she closed her eyes tight. As she plunged, panic surged through her, but then she was underwater, and her fear was washed away by joy. She was back in her element. Eyes wide, her vision sharpened.

  In the distance, she saw Seth’s churning legs. She knotted the hoodie tight around her waist and propelled herself through the water. Passing a floating sock, she glanced down to see gear from the tipped canoe scattered across the lakebed. An open backpack, a baseball cap. A pair of sunglasses.

  She dived down, snatched them up. As she neared Seth, she saw him duck his head below the surface, trying to protect his eyes with his hands. Seeds cut skinny lines through the water.

  Petra put the sunglasses on. To the left and right, she snapped and ripped as many lily stems as she could. So many of them. A whole jungle! Seeds stabbed and raked at her own skin. One ricocheted off her sunglasses.

  She surfaced right in front of Seth, who reared back in shock.

  “Geez!” he shouted.

  “Cover your eyes!” she said, and pushed his head back under.

  They were almost completely surrounded by lilies now. Seeds pelted her face and pinged off her sunglasses. Treading water, she reached into the sodden hoodie and closed her hand around the mud inside. She flung it over the lilies, one fistful after another.

  The plants recoiled, their swan heads drooping. Even as they fell back, though, new ones took their place. Petra threw a last muddy handful into the thick raft blocking their way to shore.

  Seth came up to gasp some air, and Petra said, “Stay down and follow me. Shield your eyes.”

  Underwater, Petra ripped frantically at the plants’ stems, trying to clear a path through them. Seeds zipped through the water. She would’ve been blinded so many times if not for the sunglasses.

  The lake bottom was rising to meet them. They’d be able to stand soon. Seth patted her ankle, and she swirled back to him. He pointed up. He needed air—she’d forgotten about air. She felt like she could hold her breath forever. Despite all her ripping, the water’s surface was still darkened by water lilies. They’d have to make a run for shore.

  She stood, head and shoulders above the water. Immediately a lily turned to open fire. It was pure instinct: Petra’s hand shot out and grabbed the plant’s vicious head. She twisted it away from her, even as it spat out seeds.

  Those seeds pelted a nearby lily, ripping holes in its leaves, and severing its skinny neck. The flowered head plopped lifelessly into the water.

  Petra thought, This could work.

  Her own skin bristled with seeds now, but she didn’t care. She grabbed another lily head from behind. She felt it trying to turn on her, but she held tight, and spun around, spraying its seeds at the other plants. Severed heads hit the water.

  Beside her, Seth surfaced, gasping, and stared at her in amazement as she machine-gunned more lilies.

  She paused to push the soaked hoodie into his hands.

  Seth understood. He covered his head with it, protecting his eyes. The last of the muddy soil dripped down over him.

  Petra gave him a push in the right direction. “Go! Get Anaya out!”

  * * *

  SETH STAGGERED TOWARD shore, pelted by seeds.

  Even before his feet touched land, the vines came for him. He’d smeared the muddy hoodie over as much of his body as he could, before tying it around his waist. His head was pretty dirt-streaked, his arms, too, but he wasn’t sure about the rest of him. He could feel his skin starting to itch, but that was the least of his worries.

  He flared his feathers and slashed at the vines trying to snag him. The vines were more insistent than ever now, like they were protecting something to the death. A thick vine lashed him across the chest so hard it knocked him down.

  Panting, he staggered up, and when the vine whipped back for him, he was ready. He sliced it in two. The severed end flopped around on the ground, trying to trip him up. He couldn’t even see the pit plant anymore, there were so many vines in front of it. He had to get Anaya out—she’d been in there too long.

  Every step took forever.

  Vines coiled down, encircling him. Swirling and slashing, he lost all sense of direction.

  “Petra!” he shouted with rising panic. “I can’t see!”

  From his left came a barrage of familiar chirps, and a whole bunch of severed vines fell to the ground. There was Petra in her sunglasses, gripping a water lily she’d dragged up from the water, firing seeds to slice down another swath of vines.

  “That way!” she said, nodding him in the right direction.

  “Petra, look out!” he cried.

  All her soil was washed off now, and the vines snatched her off her feet. Seth rushed to her but she was just out of reach. He saw Petra aim the lily’s spitting head and clip through the vines. She fell back down, nearly knocking Seth over.

  “Stay beside me,” he told her.

  Together, they advanced through the vines, him slashing, her firing until her lily ran out of seeds.

  “Empty,” Petra said, tossing the spent plant to the ground.

  Up ahead, the vines thinned. Finally he could see the pit plant. “Almost there!” he shouted. He wasn’t sure how much longer his strength would last. He was slicing forward through vines, and trying to protect Petra, too. He tore off his hoodie and passed it to her. That would keep some of the vines off her.

  With a final push, he was right on top of the pit plant. He fell to his knees, slashing at the fleshy lips. They parted into a thin, hideous smirk. Acid welled up and burned his jeans. From within wafted the horrific stench of dead things.

  “Help me open it up!” he said to Petra.

  He sank his fingers into the gash and, with Petra, pulled the lips apart several more inches. More vines slithered down on them, but they seemed weirdly sluggish, and he quickly severed them.

  “Anaya!” he shouted.

  At the bottom of the pit plant, he saw her crumpled motionless inside a cage of interlocking spikes.

  “Oh my God,” Petra gasped. “Is she—”

&n
bsp; Then Anaya turned her head and squinted up at them.

  Seth let out a shout of surprise and relief.

  “I cut through it!” Anaya yelled, shaking the knife in her filthy hand. “Are the vines dying?”

  “I don’t know!” he yelled back. “We need to get you out! I’ll cut off the top!”

  “No, wait! It’ll fall on me! There’s spikes in it!”

  “Let’s open it up more!” Petra said.

  Pulling hard at the rim, Seth realized the entire pit plant was trembling. The walls spasmed away from Anaya, and the spikes retracted. Slowly Anaya straightened up.

  “Can you make it now?” he called down.

  “Think so!”

  He watched as Anaya flexed her knees, and jumped. It was an amazing thing, the way her legs powered her, straight up like a rocket. Her torso cleared the top of the plant—and then she started to fall back. Seth lunged forward with Petra and grabbed hold of her. Together they hauled Anaya out over the rim. She was blood-streaked, her clothing shredded, and they all held on to each other longer than they needed to. Seth didn’t want to let go.

  But he had to, when a vine landed heavily on his back. He flexed his arm to slash it, but it just slid off like something dead. Nearby, other vines dangled listlessly. From overhead in the canopy came an eerie creaking.

  The pit plant shook convulsively, and Seth scrambled back with Anaya and Petra as the ground started to tremble. Like a piece of rotten fruit, the top of the plant collapsed in on itself. An unearthly wet gargle welled up from its insides, and then silence.

  “It’s dying,” Anaya breathed.

  “Look!” Petra said, pointing up at the canopy.

  It was suddenly very still: Seth couldn’t see any more vines snaking around each other. Wilted bits of vegetation wafted down, pattering on the ground, the lake, the island.