Bloom

by Kenneth Oppel

  “Nobody run,” Seth said to the other kids, and hoped they’d listen.

  “If it can eat a deer, it can eat us!” Tereza said, and grabbed Fleetwood’s hand.

  “Is that another hole?” said Mr. Hilborn, squinting in annoyance, or maybe it was confusion, as he kept coming. “What’ve you guys—”

  The earth opened under him. He fell down to his armpits, scrabbling at the ground. Then his head kicked back as he was pulled completely out of sight.

  Seth looked at the others, and could tell Tereza was about to bolt. He saw it in her eyes. Anaya must have seen it, too, because she said, “Tereza, don’t!”

  It all happened in a matter of heartbeats. Tereza ran for the school. Fleetwood charged after her, calling, “Tereza, this way, it’s safer!” then veered off toward the road. Seth wasn’t sure Tereza had even heard him because she didn’t stop or change course. After four strides, Fleetwood looked back over his shoulder, shouted at Tereza again, and then the earth swallowed him whole.

  “No!” Seth heard Anaya gasp. She dropped the chain saw and chased after Tereza.

  “Tereza, stop!” she bellowed.

  Seth was about to sprint after her when Petra snatched up the chain saw and ran in a different direction.

  “Petra!” he shouted.

  She kept going. He looked at Anaya running, and Petra running. How could he keep them both safe?

  He took off after Petra. Six strides ahead of him, she plunged through the earth, down to her shoulders. Seth threw himself to the ground and reached out. Her hands clasped his.

  “Pull me!” she wailed.

  “I’m trying!” he hollered. He kicked himself into sitting and leaned back with all his weight. His muscles felt strong—but not strong enough. Petra sank deeper, pulling him with her.

  He could’ve let go, but he didn’t.

  He clenched his teeth, and let himself fall into the hole with her.

  ANAYA CAUGHT UP TO Tereza and grabbed her arm with both hands, just as the earth collapsed. Tereza plunged feet first, dragging Anaya after her, headfirst.

  In a cascade of soil, Anaya skidded down the slick purple funnel, and jolted to a stop, upside down. Her head and shoulders were wedged between the plant wall and Tereza’s ankles.

  Through the narrow gap between their bodies, she got an upside-down view of Tereza shouting for help at the circle of cloud-streaked sky. They must’ve been over six feet under. From outside she heard some muffled shouting and a few high-pitched shrieks.

  “Can you jump?” she hollered at Tereza.

  Anaya winced as her friend’s knees banged against her ribs, and her shoes knocked her skull. But their bodies were too tightly jammed together for Tereza to make a proper jump.

  “Help!” Tereza yelled again.

  No one was coming. Anaya felt something cobwebby against her cheek. From the slick plant wall, long silver hairs lifted and brushed against her. In revulsion, she tried to jerk her face away. She couldn’t even use her hands: one was pinned uselessly near the top of her skull, the other at her hip. She blew hard at the little hairs. Tiny pores perforated the plant wall, and through these pores now came a pale mist.

  “What’s that smell?” Tereza demanded.

  It was sickly sweet—the same as the smell from the bag of soil in her driveway. The top of the plant quivered and started to close, its fleshy lips compressing.

  “No!” Tereza wailed. “No, no, no!”

  “Tereza!” Anaya shouted. “Just climb over me!”

  The circle of sky shrank. It was getting darker. The cloying smell intensified. Tereza yanked her feet free and planted one in Anaya’s armpit, the other on her backside.

  “Go!” Anaya grunted.

  “I feel so weak,” Tereza said, and her voice sounded dopey.

  “Just jump!”

  What was taking her so long? Instead of pushing off, Tereza sagged listlessly against the wall.

  Anaya pulled down her knees and wrenched herself in so many directions she was amazed she didn’t tear every muscle in her body. But the funnel walls had a surprising amount of give, and she elbowed and kicked her way upright. Now she and Tereza were squished together face to face. Her friend’s eyes had a strange, unfocused look.

  With a wet smacking sound, the top of the plant shut completely and they were plunged into darkness.

  “Your lighter,” Anaya said. “Grab your lighter!”

  “Can’t reach it.” Tereza’s words were slurred.

  Anaya’s hands dived into the tight pockets of Tereza’s jeans until she found the lighter. She pulled it out and dragged her thumb over the wheel. A flame blossomed in the darkness.

  Tereza’s head lolled and knocked against Anaya’s shoulder.

  “Tereza, wake up!”

  “Yeah, I’m awake,” Tereza said, blinking.

  In the flickering light, the walls trembled, then glistened. From all the tiny pores, moisture beaded and formed little rivulets.

  Cutting through the sickly perfume was the acrid smell of burning hide and rubber. Anaya looked down and saw a puddle forming at their feet. Smoke curled from the bottoms of their shoes.

  “Oh my God,” breathed Anaya. Acid. “Tereza, don’t touch the walls!”

  Which was impossible, since there wasn’t room to move without brushing the walls. Already she heard hissing from the back of her own shirt. She tried to pull clear without pushing Tereza into the opposite wall.

  She held the lighter as high as she could against the closed top of the sac. The hottest part of the flame was at the very tip—someone had told her that long ago. There was a wet crackling, and a smell like a candle burning the inside of a jack-o’-lantern, only not as nice.

  The plant trembled, making both her and Tereza bounce against the walls. Fabric hissed as it touched, and she heard her friend cry out.

  “My hand!” Tereza said, holding it in front of her face.

  Anaya saw the blistered fingertips. She wondered how long their shoes would last. The foul smoke welling up from below thickened.

  Come on, come on! She glared at the scorch marks fanning out across the top of the plant. Hot liquid dripped down onto Anaya’s outstretched hand. She sucked in her breath, waiting for the pain. But it didn’t come.

  With a great spasm, the top of the plant opened. Anaya squinted in the sudden light, and looked anxiously at Tereza, who was staring numbly at her blistering hand.

  “Tereza, I’m going to get out, then help you! Okay?”

  Tereza said nothing. Anaya pocketed the lighter, bent deep at the knees, and jumped. She didn’t know where this new strength came from, but she went much higher than expected, head and shoulders clearing the rim. Her arms shot out, and she dug into the grass. Her legs still hung down inside the plant and she heard the acid hiss on her jeans, felt a wetness on her legs. But no pain at all.

  The plant made a gulping contraction, trying to swallow her back down. She held tight and dragged her entire body out. Instantly she scrambled around and stretched out both hands for Tereza.

  “Grab hold!” Her friend still looked confused, and Anaya didn’t know whether it was the pain or the weird perfume.

  “Tereza! Now!”

  Her friend reached up and Anaya grabbed her hands and pulled. Her arms had never been strong, and Tereza was a deadweight, too dopey to help.

  “My feet are burning,” Tereza said with eerie calm.

  Anaya knelt so she could lean back and use her own weight. She pulled with everything she had, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  * * *

  “GET OFF ME!” Petra shouted, batting Seth away from her head.

  How was she supposed to climb out of this thing with Seth sprawled all over her like a bony overcoat? She’d lost her grip on the chain saw, and it was now somewhere down at her
feet, but she couldn’t even see it because of Seth squishing against her, and all the dirt everywhere.

  “I’m trying to get you out!” Seth shouted back.

  “Then why’d you jump in?”

  It smelled like cheap air freshener down here. Suddenly it was darker.

  “It’s closing!” he yelled. “Climb over me. Like a ladder!”

  He made it sound easy, but it wasn’t, the way she was mashed between the wall and his body.

  “Hurry!” he told her.

  “Okay!” She grabbed hold of anything she could—his hood, his hair—and dug in with her feet. Perched on Seth’s back and shoulders, she made a grab for the closing rim, but the fleshy lips clamped shut fast, and they were plunged into darkness.

  In panic, she thumped her fist against the top. It was like hitting a gym mat: it dented slightly, but was very firm. With her fingernails, she tried to dig into the seam where the lips met. How could a plant be so freaking strong?

  “I can’t make it open!” she shouted.

  “You’re kind of crushing me,” Seth grunted, smooshed against the plant wall.

  Still piggybacked on him, she plunged a hand into her pocket and dragged out her phone. The flashlight beam lurched around the inside of the plant. Its walls were slick, and Petra realized her own hands were wet. The reek of burning plastic rose from her phone. It was melting beneath her fingertips.

  Without thinking, she dropped the phone. It tumbled to the bottom of the plant, but landed so its light still blared up at them. She looked at her wet hand in panic. There were little bits of plastic melted to it, but she didn’t feel any pain.

  “I think it’s acid!” she cried.

  Seth pushed himself away from the plant wall, and she tumbled off his back.

  “It’s all over my face!” Seth said.

  Petra’s shirt hissed as it touched the plant wall, and then she felt a cool wetness against her skin. But still no pain.

  “You okay?” she said, looking at Seth’s pale face in the ghastly light from the phone. She couldn’t see any blistering.

  “Think so.”

  She looked down at a puddle forming at their feet, smoking around their shoes. Her phone was nearly submerged. Its light flickered. And there was the chain saw. She bent down awkwardly, reaching for it. It was wet, and already pockmarked by acid, but the feel of all that solid metal in her hands was very reassuring. She grabbed what was left of the starter handle. She hoped the cord was still all right.

  “What’re you doing?” Seth asked in horror.

  “What d’you think? I’m going to cut us out of this thing!”

  “There’s no room. You’ll rip us to pieces!”

  She passed him the chain saw. “Hold this a sec. I need another piggyback!”

  “You’re crazy. Do you even know how to use it?”

  “Yes!”

  It was almost impossible to move in the cramped space, but she managed to climb up onto Seth’s back. He passed her back the chain saw and gripped her tight around the legs. She pulled the starter cord at the same moment her phone’s light blinked out. In the darkness, the roar of the saw was deafening, and she swayed unsteadily, saw held high, then regained her balance.

  Petra stabbed straight up. The blade dug in. The plant was too thick for her to cut across, so she pulled the blade out and stabbed up again. She tried to cut a square, like she was carving a pumpkin, and a big chunk fell down. A crooked patch of daylight flared overhead.

  She’d cut through! She could see again! She slashed away at the top, enlarging the hole. The whole plant was shaking now like a bouncy castle.

  “Petra!” Seth was shouting. “I can’t—”

  He toppled, and she toppled with him, the blade still whirling. She managed to kill it just before landing on top of Seth.

  Smoke rose from her ragged clothing. She looked at her hands and arms, but didn’t see any blood or blisters. And still no pain. But her heart raced, as if the true horror of the situation had just struck her. She’d fallen into this thing. This giant mouth filled with acid. It wanted to melt them.

  She untangled herself from Seth, who looked at her and said, “Are you okay?”

  He sounded a long way away. Her mind was empty except for two echoing words.

  Get out.

  Later she wouldn’t be able to remember this. She was all animal instinct. She struggled up. She’d cut the plant into weeping ribbons that hung down into the pit, and she used them now to haul herself out. Her ruined shoes skidded off the slippery walls.

  She clawed her way out to the grass, then turned and reached back.

  “Saw!” she barked to Seth.

  She might need it again. He passed it to her, and she clutched it to her chest, looking around the field, feeling like she’d just arrived in a very dangerous new world.

  * * *

  HEART HAMMERING AT his ribs, Seth hauled himself out.

  “Don’t move,” he told Petra. He didn’t want her going anywhere and falling in again.

  And Anaya, where was she? He turned and caught sight of her, shouting and crying as she tried in vain to pull someone from a hole. She teetered on the edge, about to fall.

  He raced over and grabbed her shoulders, steadying her.

  She gasped, “Help me!”

  He reached down and grabbed Tereza’s other wrist. Together he and Anaya heaved her out onto the ground. Tereza’s shoes had melted around her feet, and there were weeping red blisters all over her arms and face. Her clothing smoldered.

  “She needs help!” Anaya hollered, waving her arms toward the school, where a big crowd had now gathered outside the doors.

  A couple of teachers were commando-crawling across the field toward them.

  Seth heard sirens in the distance. The same orange-vested worker was still frozen in place, saying, “What do I do?” to his fellow workers, who watched from the field’s edge, not daring to come closer.

  Seth’s eyes skittered to the place where Mr. Hilborn had gone down, and saw the top of the plant clenched shut like a disapproving mouth. Not far away were the exposed tops of two other pit plants, shuddering. From inside both came muffled shouts.

  “Fleetwood and Jen!” Anaya said.

  She started to move but Seth caught her arm. “No! It’s not safe!”

  “We’ve got to help them!”

  She didn’t understand. She thought he was just being selfish, but all he was thinking about was her and Petra, as if they were family.

  “Petra!” Anaya shouted. “We need the saw!”

  But Petra was limping away from them, toward the school, like she was in a trance. The chain saw was clenched tight against her chest.

  “Petra, stop!” Seth shouted. She’d go down again.

  He scrabbled up and ran after her. When he put his hand on Petra’s shoulder, she whirled to face him, hand clenched around the starter cord, like she was ready to let rip.

  “We need it!” he said urgently.

  After a second, she pushed it into his hands, then sat down on the grass and started sobbing. Seth wanted to comfort her, but there wasn’t time. At least, she was staying put. That was good.

  Carefully he retraced his steps, then crawled over to Anaya, who was already at the first plant, holding a lighter to its wrinkly top.

  “You know how to use it?” she said, nodding at the chain saw.

  He shook his head. He must be the only person on the island who didn’t.

  “Here, keep burning it with this,” she told him.

  He passed her the chain saw, and she crawled to the other hole. He flicked the lighter, but worried the flame wasn’t searing the plant enough. With both hands he tried to pry apart the seam at the top. It was so strong. Behind him, Anaya’s chain saw kicked to life.

  “Help!
” came a muffled voice from inside his own plant.

  “I’m getting you out!” Seth shouted.

  “It’s burning me!”

  Without thinking, Seth sank his teeth into the plant’s flesh. He worried it like a dog, tearing, until a chunk came off in his mouth and he went down for another bite. It tasted sweet, like the rind of a watermelon.

  Behind him he heard voices, and glanced back to see that Mr. Gault, the geography teacher, had reached Tereza. He was using his windbreaker as a stretcher for her.

  Seth bit the plant again, and felt it wince. He ripped out another chunk, and made a small hole. Clenching the lighter, he plunged his hand into the hole, flicked the flame to high, and started to burn the inside of the plant.

  “I’m so sleepy,” came Fleetwood’s faint voice.

  “Stay awake!” he shouted.

  He moved the flame back and forth against the plant flesh, until with a great spasm, the lips parted. Fleetwood swayed against the wall, not noticing that his clothing was smoldering. His pupils were huge.

  “Grab my hand!” Seth told him.

  Fleetwood put a floppy, blistered hand in his. A teacher was suddenly beside him, grabbing at Fleetwood’s other hand. It was Ms. McIntyre, the history teacher. The moment she grabbed Fleetwood’s hand, she winced, but didn’t let go.

  “Watch out!” the teacher told Seth after they’d hauled Fleetwood to safety. “He’s covered in acid!”

  “I need help!” Anaya was shouting.

  Seth rushed over. Anaya had sliced open the other plant with the chain saw, and deep inside, Jen Haines was curled unconscious. Liquid lapped against her body, and a terrible hissing and smoke rose up from her clothing and hair and skin.

  Seth jumped in. Acid splashed around his feet as he heaved Jen up. Many hands reached down for her. They grabbed at her head, her sleeves, under her armpits, and hauled her out onto the grass.

  When Seth clambered out, people were talking to him and asking him questions, but he could only look around him, stunned. Firetrucks in the driveway, ambulances, and an RCMP cruiser. Red lights swirling. Firefighters made their way across the field, testing the soil ahead of them with poles. A hole yawned open, and a firefighter almost fell in.