Wuftoom

by Mary G. Thompson

  “In and out is hard,” Tret said, “but it will get easier, I promise.” Tret and Suzie sat down next to Evan while he recovered his strength. Evan noticed that they, too, gasped as their packs released.

  They were not in the sewers anymore. They were in a tunnel carved out of the ground, just barely tall enough for them to stand in and not wide enough to walk in side by side. The walls were unevenly cut and dirt dripped from the ceilings, landing in small and large piles. No human had made this tunnel, and no animal, either. He couldn’t think of any dark creatures who could have made it.

  “Who made this?” he asked.

  “The Boomtulls,” said Tret. “The same race that made the Birch the Vits stole. They had large claws and they were very strong.”

  “Were? What happened to them?”

  “They left,” said Tret. “We’re too young to remember, but the old ones say they left for a far-off place, somewhere without many humans. They hated humans with a passion. They would dig up into human houses and catch them while they were sleeping. They could go into the humans’ minds, and they used their skill to give them nightmares. Adults, children, babies, the Boomtulls wanted to destroy them all. They’d drive people crazy.” Tret paused thoughtfully. “I guess all the dark creatures think about doing it,” he continued, “but we Wuftoom need humans for proems. The Boomtulls drove many to their deaths.”

  “They could get into people’s minds?” Evan asked, his heart pumping. “But not Wuftoom’s?”

  “I’m told the Boomtulls could,” said Tret, “though they refrained because of a truce between our races. But don’t worry; the Vits can’t even get into humans. The scholars say the Vitfly minds are different. They’re more like flies than either Wuftoom or human.”

  Evan desperately wanted to know more about this, but he couldn’t let Tret know that he was wrong.

  “What the Vits gave you, they can’t use,” said Tret. He looked solemnly at Evan, then put his arm on Evan’s shoulder kindly. “They can’t hurt you. If they want to hurt us, they will have to fight us in the flesh.” He gripped his rod and twisted his strong arms around it with a grimace of his shriveled lips.

  “I won’t do what they want,” Evan blurted. “I won’t help them. I promise. I want to help you destroy them!” As he said it, he knew it was true. He wanted nothing more than to destroy the Vitflys. It was a part of him like his membrane and his nubs. He wanted it more than anything. Almost.

  “We know that!” Tret smiled and squeezed his back. “It is not Wuftoom nature, what they want. They misunderstand us.”

  Evan’s heart raced. They did not know the Vits had talked to him in his mind. They did not know how much human was left and how different he was. He didn’t want to be different. He didn’t want to care about his mother. He wanted to stop caring just like Jordan had. He wanted to cry in frustration, but he willed himself to remain calm.

  “Why did the Boomtulls leave?” he asked.

  “The humans caught one and killed it,” Suzie replied. “They were going to dissect it. But the others rescued the body and they all left.”

  “Is that what we’d do if the humans caught one of us?”

  Tret shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s been a lot of talk, but so far we just hope it never happens.”

  They sat silently a few more minutes. Evan breathed in the damp, earthy air. It was a thousand times sweeter than the sewers. He had thought that the Wuftoom were suited to the sewers, with their lack of smell and their sense of touch adapted to the feel of the water. But now he knew that he was wrong. He knew they were meant to live here, in the earth. And knowing that, he fully realized how afraid they were of the Vitflys, to remain cooped up in their man-made slums.

  No one said anything, but he could tell the others were also drinking in the air. Finally, Tret stood up, and Suzie and Evan followed. Tret checked his pack and lifted his rod.

  “What are we looking for?” asked Evan as they started moving single file down the tunnel.

  “Nobs,” said Tret. Nobs were furry little creatures that looked like rodents, but they had no eyes. Their heads had empty holes on them where the eyes should be, and what the holes did for the Nobs, nobody knew. Evan had never seen one living, and now he knew why. “They travel in burrows that cross the Boomtull tunnels. If you look closely, you’ll see the openings on the walls. They appear closed up, but there’ll be an indent that doesn’t quite match with the surrounding walls. Sometimes the Nobs cross our path, but if not, we reach up into the holes and grab them.”

  “If they’re intelligent, why don’t they hide?”

  Tret snorted. “‘Intelligent’ is pushing it. Have you ever tried to talk to one?” He looked at Suzie and she smiled meanly, one fang showing.

  “They only know a few words,” she said. “Barely better than a rat.”

  Suddenly, Tret stopped and punched his left arm into the wall. It sank through the dirt and out of sight. His shoulder, which really wasn’t a shoulder but was just the place where the arm met the Wuftoom’s body, twisted slightly back and forth. A minute later his arm bounced back and out, a little ratlike creature wriggling in his grip. With his other arm, Tret reached out and broke the little creature’s neck. He handed it to Suzie, who put it in a pouch inside Tret’s pack.

  “See?” said Tret. “Not too bright.”

  Evan felt a little sick, yet desperately hungry at the same time. They had not eaten since the night before.

  The three continued down the tunnel, Tret and Suzie punching into the wall every few yards. After watching them awhile, Evan easily began to see where the holes were. It was so easy, it might have been instinct. The strangest thing was that when he stopped to examine an indentation closely, it seemed to disappear. He felt sure he couldn’t have seen it at all as a human.

  Punching into the wall was easy too. His arm reached into the hole and stretched. He could somehow sense the creature’s heat, and when he came close, his arm pressed against one side of the hole and swiftly moved in front of it, folding the creature back and pulling it out of the hole.

  The holes where its eyes should have been faced Evan’s eyes, and he got the eerie impression that even without eyes the thing could see.

  “Back!” the thing said. Its voice was a quiet squeak. It wriggled in his arm, but it was no match. “Back! Back!” it squeaked.

  Seeing that Evan was doing nothing but staring, Tret came back to him and broke the creature’s neck. Evan put it gently in his pack, trying not to show his grief. It was the first time he’d heard another creature talk, outside of the Wuftoom and the Vitflys. And it had been afraid. He was sure he would never get used to it, and he didn’t want to.

  He knew he couldn’t let Suzie and Tret see what he was feeling. He felt everything Wuftoom in him pulling him toward the Nob holes, raising visions of how good they’d taste. He’d had Nobs many times in the past weeks. They weren’t the tastiest of all the creatures, but they fed the hunger that was getting stronger every day. He knew that even though he’d heard one talk, he wouldn’t be able to resist it when it was served at dinner. He almost couldn’t resist eating one now.

  This went on for quite some time, with the three Wuftoom walking, punching, killing, and moving on. The tunnel twisted this way and that and went down and down, but its appearance never changed. Despite his confusion and disgust, Evan found it tedious.

  But there was one good part. It was the feel of the earthy air in his body, so fresh and good compared to the air in the sewers above. He had never felt anything so fresh, not even as a human outside in the open air.

  After a long while the Wuftoom came to a fork. Suddenly, Evan heard a noise. Flap. Flap. Flap.

  Twenty-three

  TRET WHIPPED OUT HIS ROD and loaded in an instant. Evan’s arms shook, and he missed the pack his first time. He felt Suzie grab his rod and direct it in. Then they came flying out. Three of them, their wings buzzing, hissing, fangs first. Tret took a shot in the path of one, right o
ver Evan’s head, but the bug dived and the water dripped onto Evan.

  Evan raised his rod, but they were so fast, he didn’t know where to point it.

  Suzie shot in front of the Vit as it came back up again, and it fell backward as if it had slammed against a wall. It was dazed and started falling, but it caught itself in midair and flapped its wings. Its yellow eyes glared at Evan, whose rod was raised, but who could do nothing while it stood still.

  The other two dived at Tret, and Tret hit one full on with his rod, but the Vit grabbed on to the rod with its claws. Tret shot at the second, but the creature deftly dodged and made a dive for Suzie. She shot again, but missed it too.

  It landed on her back and dug its claws in. She screamed, twisting and turning to try to shake it off. Evan turned around and hit the Vitfly with his rod. He hit Suzie as well so that she fell forward, but the Vitfly was dislodged.

  A stream of water came around Evan, and the creature screamed as it fell backward, flipping over and over in the air until it was finally upright, several yards down the passage.

  Suddenly, the one clinging to Tret’s rod jumped free. It screeched a deafening, high-pitched hiss and flew straight at Evan’s face. Both of the other Vits had recovered, and they, too, flew straight at Evan. He shot wildly in front of him, but he wasn’t even close to cutting off their path. Tret and Suzie shot water on both sides of him, but the creatures twisted and turned and screeched, dodging the streams. One of the Vits landed on Evan’s head, one on his shoulder, and one on his back. Their clawed feet tore through his membrane and he screamed, dropped his rod, and collapsed onto the ground.

  It was like no pain he’d experienced before. It was not like cut skin; it was like cut sinews and bone. Though their claws barely pierced through, it felt like his skin was being ripped from his body.

  Evan screamed and screamed. From far off he felt rods beating his back, but the beating seemed to make the claws dig in deeper, the hissing screeches louder. And then came the worst thing he’d felt or thought he ever would feel. Three sets of fangs dug all at once into his back. He screamed and rolled, but the three Vits were much stronger than he was.

  All of a sudden, one was gone. Then the second, then the third. The pain was still there, but Evan rolled. He tried to push himself to standing, but his arms slid helplessly along the ground and he lay there, twisting. One of the bugs was silent on the ground, another was flying back down the passage it had come from, and Tret was wrestling a third.

  It screeched and clawed at Tret’s arms, but he held its wings firmly. Suddenly, he threw it toward its passage and Suzie shot a stream of water right into its path. It hit the wall and fell, silent next to its comrade. Tret and Suzie fell on the two, breaking their bodies apart to be sure they were dead.

  They shoved the dead Vits into their packs and pulled Evan up. He couldn’t stand by himself, and they had to drag him down the passage. No one spoke. Tret’s face was grim, and his grip was hard around Evan’s arm, nearly squeezing it to nothing.

  Evan had never known a Wuftoom to move so fast, but they made it back to the drop-off point in minutes. Tret pulled Evan’s pack and rod from him, and Evan grabbed feebly for Suzie’s legs as she jumped in. The pipes scraped angrily against his exposed flesh as he went up, and he would have screamed, but the pressure of compression on his body forced his silence.

  As he fell into the sewage, Suzie and Tret collapsed around him. They supported his back so he didn’t fall all the way in, and he felt himself being lifted and half pushed, half pulled through the waterfall and into the cave. Several Wuftoom met them, and soon they were covering his back with some kind of goo.

  Whatever they were doing, they had to touch his membrane and pull it together, and it hurt nearly as much as it had when the bugs had clawed him, but he pursed his lips and stopped himself from crying out.

  He woke up some time later to find that he’d been moved to his sleeping blocks and that Tret and the other young ones were anxiously watching him. As he awoke, he heard tense voices.

  “Where did you take him?” asked an angry voice.

  “We took him to the Yellow Passage to hunt for Nobs. It should have been perfectly safe. We haven’t seen a Vitfly there in years.” It was Tret’s defiant voice.

  “You must have attracted their attention!” said the first voice. Then there was another voice that seemed to come at the same time.

  We’ve never tasted anything so sweet, Foul hissed. It brought Evan totally awake. He saw that the Wuftoom arguing with Tret was Olen. Both looked at him and turned his way.

  “How are you?” asked Tret. His mouth was turned down and his white eyes glowed sad and sorry. Evan hadn’t known how expressive Wuftoom eyes could be. Olen’s eyes were blazing with anger. Evan would have shrunk back from them if he could have fallen any further. As it was, he was a crumpled mess, soggy against his blocks.

  So sweet we think only of more.

  “Look at him!” Olen cried. “He can’t even talk! I told you it was too soon to bring him out. We aren’t starving badly enough to take these kinds of risks.” Olen gave Tret one last glare before sloshing angrily across the cave, clearly heading for Rayden and their gang.

  Tret shook his head sadly. “He did tell me not to take you, but not out of worry for this. It was because you do not yet have your name. ‘We must be sure that every bit of human has been changed.’” Tret mimicked Olen’s raspy growl.

  Evan found himself unable to speak, but he shook his head slowly.

  But it’s not changed, is it, proem? We can taste it in your flesh.

  “I know it’s hard to talk. I got scratched by one of those bugs too. A long time ago.” Tret turned so his back was facing Evan and pointed to a spot on his lower back. Evan had never noticed it before, but the membrane was lumpy and knotted. “It was in a low tunnel, supposedly much more dangerous than Yellow. We were low on food then, too, and getting desperate. They had me down flat, and if it hadn’t been for Ylander . . .” He shook his head.

  “You saved me,” Evan whispered. “You and Suzie . . .” Evan struggled to try to get upright, but it was too much effort and he fell back again.

  “She’s resting,” said Tret. “She got clawed a little too.” He gave a long, full-bodied sigh. “I’m sorry I got you into that. I thought it was the safest passage. The very safest.”

  “What about the others? Did they get back?” Evan asked.

  “They’re fine,” Tret said. “No trouble.”

  They didn’t promise us, Foul hissed. They didn’t have a bargain.

  “They were going for me,” said Evan, frantic. “I know it. They want me to betray you, but I won’t. They threatened to eat me if I didn’t. That’s why they came for us. I know it.” Tret’s strong nubs held him on his blocks.

  “They can’t come in here,” he said. “You’re safe while you’re in here.” Tret’s sorry eyes were intense and sincere. “We’re not going to let them get at you again. Okay?”

  Evan shuddered a little, but he stopped fighting. He’d seen the way the water affected them. Tret was right. They couldn’t get in here.

  Who’s protecting your mother, proem? We can eat creatures light and dark.

  I know, thought Evan. I’m still trying. That was the first time I’ve gotten out of the sewers. Now, thanks to you, they might never let me out again! Evan willed himself to think no other thoughts.

  You will have all you need, proem. You will have your name now.

  So that was it. They had attacked him so the worms would trust him.

  It won’t work! He cried it in his mind, but somehow he knew that Foul was gone. It hadn’t heard him. It didn’t care.

  “It doesn’t matter what Master Olen thinks,” Tret went on. “Rayden’s already agreed. You’re a real Wuftoom now, you and the other one. You’ll get your names tonight.” Tret smiled, but his eyes were still sad. “You’ve given up a lot for it, but you won’t be called ‘new one’ anymore. You’ll be one of us. One of th
e young ones.” His smile broadened proudly, and Evan froze. This was exactly what the Vits wanted.

  My name is Evan, Evan thought. I’m still human! Don’t trust me! He found the words as difficult to hold back as his heartbeat, but he kept them in.

  “What will it be?” he asked, his voice a painfully small rasp.

  Tret shook his head. “It can’t be revealed until the ceremony, when all the Wuftoom are gathered. It’s a tradition we’ve been missing for seven years.”

  Evan tried to smile, but he did not know what to feel. He needed this to escape, but he did not want the Vits to get what they wanted. How did he even know he could trust them? He hadn’t seen his mother in two weeks. He had no idea if she was even alive. They could have eaten her already and might just be lying. He sank back into his blocks. The confusion exhausted him.

  “Just rest for now,” said Tret. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.” And Evan fell back into a restless sleep.

  Twenty-four

  EVAN WOKE TO THE SOUND of Wuftoom moving. The water sloshed around him as they gathered in the cave. As his vision cleared, he saw some Wuftoom carrying the large membrane bowl. It was used for big meals, when they all ate together, when there was something to celebrate. As he watched, young ones surrounded him. Suzie and Ylander were front and center and Jordan was nearby. They were all smiling at him like he was their best friend. He stared back, dazed.

  “Can you stand up?” asked Suzie. Her voice was quiet and concerned but filled with a brimming excitement.

  “I don’t know,” Evan said. “I’ll try. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, grinning. “A couple of little Vit nicks never hurt anyone!” The other young ones laughed in approval. But Evan had seen the Vit dig its claws into her back. He knew she must be in pain.

  Evan slowly sucked himself together until he was sitting steady on his blocks. Then, with Suzie’s arms twisted around his and with her doing most of the work, he managed to get up to standing. Cheers went up from those around him. Without thinking, he had to smile. His back was a giant wound, burning in places, aching in others. But he could tell he was on his way to healing. He knew that the membranes that had been sliced open were connecting again.