Evan sat straight up in the cave, staring at the sleeping worms. The Vits were not supposed to be able to get into Wuftoom minds. But he was not a Wuftoom. He knew it as surely as he knew that the water flowing over his body stank. He was a human inside a Wuftoom body. The Vitflys knew that and used it. Only a human would care about his mother.
He calculated how much time had passed and how much he had left. It had been less than two weeks. That meant he should have one week more. But he didn’t even know how to climb. How would he ever learn how to get home, much less find out how the Vitflys could get into the Wuftoom cave?
The Wuftoom began to stir. They rolled on their blocks, lifted, and slowly formed themselves.
His new family. Their lives depended on him not being weak. What if the Vits could read his mind? He had never read Jordan’s mind, and the place where Foul’s voice had been was gone. But it knew things.
Maybe he should tell Tret. He could let the Wuftoom decide for themselves how they would handle it. But what if they decided to keep him here? To them, Evan’s mother didn’t matter. Surely, that was what they’d do. Evan sat motionless as the others rose around him, turning it all over in his mind. He had to stay silent. He had to see what he could find out.
Tret, Suzie, Ylander, and Jordan approached. He could not make out their words, but their voices were deep and happy. Since returning from the old house, this group had always been with him. They never let him go anywhere or do anything alone.
“Why are you still sitting there?” asked Jordan. “Tonight we’re going to learn how to use our packs and rods!”
Evan didn’t recognize the voice that had briefly been his own. It was lower and growly now, and it said things the real Jordan never would have said. Then Evan remembered. Tret was planning to take them on a real hunt.
Evan and Jordan had been allowed to go with the Wuftoom when they hunted in the sewers, but so far they had not been allowed to go where most of the creatures were. It was considered too dangerous because the Vits hunted there too.
The Wuftoom spent nearly all their time hunting. Food was so scarce that often they ate only once a day, and it was a rare day when all the Wuftoom could be fed as well as Rayden and Olen and their cronies. Every night the hunters returned with their quarry—spiders, Mifties, Higgers, Orpas, and other things Evan learned were Gibbens, Nobs, Vays, and Crabs—and they tossed them in a pile for the cooks. The clan tried to maintain good cheer, especially in front of the nameless new ones, but there was no hiding the worry that filled the cave each day when the hunters came home with less.
Evan got the impression that new ones normally were not allowed to hunt so soon, but the Wuftoom needed all the bodies they could get.
Jordan was grinning like an excited child. The others were also smiling, as if they were about to embark on a great game. Evan knew this was his chance to learn more, to come closer to giving the Vitflys what they wanted, but this thought did not excite him. He found himself unable to move and continued to sit rigid on his blocks.
“Still hates waking up,” said Tret, clapping him. The blow pushed Evan forward, and in catching his balance, he was forced to stand. “No time for sleeping in! Tonight we get you ready to leave the sewers. To go where Wuftoom really belong!”
“If we belong there,” said Evan, “then why do we stay here?” He was annoyed at Tret’s happiness.
“Not for long, new one! Not for long!” Evan shivered at what had been Olen’s refrain. But Tret didn’t notice. He was even more exuberant than usual. Eagerly, he showed Evan and Jordan the weapons they would use. They looked like melted plastic rods from the outside. Their surfaces were lined and twisted, bumpy and mottled. But Evan had watched the Wuftoom as they made them, and he knew what they were made of: membrane, from the Wuftoom’s precious stores.
“Each one of you will get his own,” said Tret proudly.
Jordan gasped with pleasure. His whole body puffed out and in again. Evan tried to imitate him, but he felt worse than ever. The real Jordan would not be excited. Tret solemnly handed a rod to each of them, and they wrapped them with their worm arms, testing their weight. Jordan tossed his and caught it, then tossed it and caught again, his arms folding around it like he was born to handle it with Wuftoom nubs.
It was so much like how he’d tossed a basketball that Evan’s heart skipped a beat.
Jordan didn’t seem to miss basketball. He didn’t seem to miss his mother, whom he had cried over so recently. He didn’t seem to miss the sun, or school, or friends. He hunted the water creatures with the same strength and agility he had used for everything human, yet everything human was forgotten. Was he still in there at all?
Evan tried to put it out of his mind and copy Jordan’s technique. He knew that even as a Wuftoom, he had no hope of matching Jordan’s skill, but he had to learn the best he could.
Tret started explaining how they worked. “The packs stay on your back at all times outside the waterways. No exceptions, understand?”
The new ones nodded. Because the membrane was too precious, the packs were made of other creatures, their skins sewn together with the strong hair that grew from Gibbens’ feet. They were lined with Nob intestines for watertightness and filled with water before each hunting trip.
“The thicker end syncs to the opening,” said Tret, and he swiftly attached his rod to his pack with one arm, so fast that Evan couldn’t see exactly what he did. “You have to be able to reload without looking, without even thinking about it.” He pulled the rod swiftly from the pack again and held it out toward Jordan, in fighting form.
Evan watched nervously, feeling like a useless human. When he wasn’t able to do it, would they know?
“The trick is not to think too much about it,” Tret continued. “The hole will be there. It’s protected on the inside by membrane. The water won’t come out, but your rod will go in, smooth as a Miftie down a tired throat. Let’s get this down before we actually load up.”
For the next hour the new ones practiced, tossing their rods back and drawing them forward and from this arm to that arm, with Tret circling, giving direction. Since changing, Evan hadn’t yet experienced real fatigue, but the repetition of the movement made his arms ache from somewhere deep. Not quite like muscle soreness, the pain seemed to seep from his arms into his body like warm liquid, almost too hot.
Though Jordan learned it faster, Evan was surprised to find that before his arms finally gave out, he was connecting the rod with the membrane nearly every time. He was doing so well, he earned a big clap on the back from Tret.
“Good job, new one! Those Vits are no match for you!”
Evan smiled at him. He was exhilarated in his fatigue. He was learning something he could use to defend himself. And he was learning that maybe the Wuftoom could all defend themselves. Maybe the Vitflys wouldn’t win no matter what he did.
He sat down in the water to rest, but Jordan was already tossing his rod back into his pack, getting ready for what came next. Evan’s arms were shaking, but he got back up again. He was not going to give up before he learned to shoot.
“The Vits can’t pass through running water,” Tret explained, “but that doesn’t mean it hurts them. It just acts as a barrier. Normally they don’t get hurt by it because they know it’s there and they avoid running up against it, like you wouldn’t run smack into a wall. But in battle, you can get them!” He grinned and his fangs showed.
His arm was twisted tight around his rod, and for the first time Evan realized how strong Tret was. If Tret had been human, he would have been big with muscles. As a Wuftoom, his membranes were tight and his arms rubbery and flexible.
“If you can get a good stream in front of them while they’re flying hard, it’ll be just like watching them smack into that wall.” Tret was clearly excited, but he made his expression serious. “It’s a good feeling, but you’re not ready for that yet. You have to learn how to defend yourselves. How to keep them off you while you retreat.” His shrive
led lips twisted as he said it, as if the word retreat was hard to say. “First you have to load.”
With their packs now full of water, Evan and Jordan practiced. It was surprisingly hard. There was a special way you had to twist the membrane to get the water to flow into the rod. You had to get it just right, or the water would just slosh, with barely any of it getting in. That was when Evan got the rod to hit the pack at all. He was so tired that half the time he would miss, and when he did manage to hit the pack right, he would get the membrane twist all wrong.
Even Jordan had some difficulty with it, but after a while he was getting the hang of it, and Tret stopped the practice to teach them both to shoot.
Fortunately, shooting was much easier than loading. It just took a certain amount of pressure on the membrane, which could easily be done with any Wuftoom’s strength. Still, Evan marveled to watch Tret do it. His whole arm twisted around his rod, and he drew it back without strain, hitting the pack right on, twisting his arms so smoothly that it was hard to notice they had moved, thrusting the rod back and letting a stream of water go.
The young ones had set up targets in the corner of the cave. They were dead creature skins, hanging from the ceiling by Gibben hair. Tret shot the streams in front of them at an angle, so fast that the skins blew in the wind and were thrust back. He grinned as he did it, and Evan imagined the real things, hissing and screaming as they were tossed backward, falling like bricks into the water.
Evan was determined to learn it. Before the end of the night, he was loading almost as well as Jordan, and the next night he made his first good shots. He knew he was learning fast, but it was not fast enough. He needed to learn more before it was too late. He had to find his way home.
His mother’s face stayed in his mind, and over it, the flap, flap, flapping of the Vits. He didn’t hear Foul’s voice again, but he didn’t need it to remind him.
Jordan was obviously as eager as Evan to go, although for him it seemed to be fun and exciting.
“Tomorrow!” Jordan whispered to Evan when they had a break.
“I think so too,” said Evan.
Tret had been showing his fangs, eagerly sliding around all night, unable to keep still. And sure enough, the next evening Tret and the other young ones woke Evan and Jordan early, smiling with their fangs out.
Twenty-two
THE NEW ONES NERVOUSLY FIDDLED with their packs, checking and rechecking to make sure they were secure on their backs and practicing their load technique. Evan was so nervous, he missed the first few times he tried, but when Tret laughed and told him to relax, Evan steadied himself and was able to hit the spot again.
“Not to disappoint you,” said Tret, “but it’s unlikely that we’ll run across any Vits tonight. We’re not going out too far today. But it’s always possible, so don’t let your guard down.”
Jordan gripped his rod and gave a fang-filled grin.
Evan could not share his excitement. He actually knew one. What would the Vits think if they knew he had a weapon? Would they be convinced that he had turned against them? But he had no choice. He wanted to scream to them in his mind, I have to! I have to learn so I can do what you want! But there was no one in his mind but him.
Jordan followed Ylander and another young Wuftoom named Blottix out of the cave. They were set up in groups of three. Evan was to go with Tret and Suzie.
“Good luck!” Jordan said to Evan as he passed on with his team.
“You, too,” said Evan, smiling without meaning to. He couldn’t help but think of school, and how Jordan had never spoken two words to him when they were boys, and despite himself, he felt a surge of pride to have been noticed. It blocked out his confusion for a moment. It came back only a minute later.
“First you have to learn to climb,” said Tret. “The old Nob’s allowing it because we need hunters.” He grinned.
At first Evan nearly leaped with excitement. This was what he had been waiting for. Yet if this meant that he could travel, then he would have to travel. He would have to do something, make a choice that he did not want to make. A great part of him would have preferred to remain helpless. His whole body pumped as Tret spoke.
“I’ll still go first, and Suzie will still go after you, so you can’t get lost or fall backward, but this time we won’t link up unless you need it.”
Evan nodded, holding all his feelings in.
“The trick is to grip the pipe walls with your membrane. It takes practice because your first tendency is to slide. You do want to slide; you just want to be able to direct yourself. You have to use your strength to draw yourself up. Let’s practice against this wall.”
Tret leaned himself against the wall of the large pipe and compressed into traveling form. His legs glued to his body. His arms stuck up over his head, melting until his head was giant and deformed. He held his rod above him, with both arms wrapped around it. Then his back began to fold the pack into itself, so that the pack finally sank into him completely, and Tret was standing nearly flat against the wall.
Evan stared in amazement, his back itching in sympathy.
“It might seem like it’s just a kind of skin, but I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, membrane doesn’t just protect you. It’s our biggest organ, and the strongest, too.”
Evan hadn’t noticed. It had never done much except hang on him.
Tret seemed to read what he was thinking. “You haven’t had a reason to really use it yet. It doesn’t come from your arms or your legs. It comes from your center, from what really makes you a Wuftoom. That’s the part of you that can control it.”
Evan knew that his insides had changed around. He knew his organs had changed, so that most things seemed to flow through his whole body, like his breathing and his heartbeat. But there still was something in his core, something that stayed in one place. He thought that must be what Tret meant.
“You feel it?” Tret asked.
Evan nodded.
“Okay, once you’ve got yourself ready, like you see me now, you concentrate with that part of you. You send your energy, your Wuftoom core, out to the membrane that you need to use. That’s the top of your arms to start, and then the rest of your body as you slide through. You make it ripple from one part to the next, so you’ll grip when you need to and slide when you need to.”
This sounded too hard to Evan, but he tried to hold back his doubts. He had to learn this. He stood next to Tret and leaned himself against the wall. He lifted his arms with his rod over his head and tried to relax into it, letting his limbs collide and mix. The pack tickled as it started to fold into his back, then burned. He jerked forward.
“Just let it go,” said Suzie. “Let it fall in. Let your body absorb the water. Don’t worry, it’s made specially for this. Just let it sink.”
Evan held tight as his back folded slowly around it. He felt himself bloat with it.
“Good! Now try to move your membranes,” Suzie went on. “Don’t think about it too hard. Let it go and concentrate on your center.”
Evan tried to do as she said. For the thousandth time he felt that everything would be easier if he could just close his eyes. But they stared forward at the other wall, a rounded concrete monster covered in green slime. He twisted his arms, and Suzie frowned.
“Your arms shouldn’t move,” she said, “only your membrane. Your body follows the membrane.”
Evan took a deep breath with his whole body and stared past Suzie at the wall. He tried to focus on his core like Tret said. He knew it was there. It really was the part of him that was Wuftoom, the part he’d been fighting for weeks now. He’d done everything he could to pretend it didn’t exist, and when he did notice it, it was an illness. It made him love to eat dark creatures and fear the sunlight like he used to fear the dark.
It’s just to get through the pipes, he thought. I can fight it again after that. After I learn how to get back.
He took another breath and let his consciousness fall into it. The view of the wall was
still there, but it became unimportant background. He felt springy, but not soft. He felt a coolness on the outside, and on the inside, a growing heat. He imagined the pipe he was about to go up. He’d been up them many times attached to another Wuftoom’s legs. He felt the coolness of the pipe against the coolness of his body and imagined pressing himself against it and, slowly, sliding upward.
He lifted and lifted. Then suddenly he was really seeing the wall again, and Suzie was standing in front of him, a big grin on her face.
“Did I do it?” he asked, breathing deeply. It took a lot of energy, even just standing there pretending.
“You did it!” said Tret proudly. “It took me a lot longer to get that!”
Evan smiled uneasily. He felt on fire, his eyes now sharper, searching the water for creatures, watching the pipes and the cracks in case any came out. He desperately wanted to hunt, but he didn’t want to at all.
“No time to waste, then,” said Tret, and he pushed his head up into the pipe and started sliding.
Evan hesitated.
“Don’t worry,” said Suzie. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Evan pushed his rod into the pipe, then his arms and then his head. Now that he was pressed so tight, he was less distracted by his open eyes. He settled back into his core, and he felt himself moving up, slowly, but up. He could feel Tret ahead of him even though they weren’t connected, so when Tret made a turn, Evan followed easily. He was so slow that Suzie bumped him a couple times, but he never fell back into her.
After a few minutes they began heading steadily down, which was easier than going up. Still, he got slower and slower as they went, and by the time they dropped out of the last pipe, he was gasping for breath. For the first time he felt his membranes ache. He had not known they could ache. It felt like an arm being pulled out from the shoulder a thousand times, all over his body.
“What a Wuftoom!” Tret said, grinning at Evan from above him, since Evan had dropped, exhausted, to the ground. His pack was sticking partway out, and he shook it all the way. He gasped as the air sucked it from his body.
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