After a while Olen stopped at the entrance to a smaller pipe. Evan had to step backward to keep from getting dripped on by his pus.
“This is the one,” said Olen.
“Aren't you coming with me?” Evan asked.
“First you must tell me what you plan for us to do.”
“I brought one of the Feeders,” said Evan.
“And what do you expect to do with that?”
“I don't know.” His planning hadn't come that far. “I thought I might lie to them. Tell them there's a way in. Anything to make them go away.”
Olen shook his head gravely. “The lie will last until they reach your mind. You will only buy yourself a little time.”
“But it might be enough,” said Evan. “We might destroy them!”
Olen nodded. “Tell them we are digging a hole into their home.”
Evan gaped at him.
Olen's mouth twisted into a tiny smile. “Only tell them the wrong location. If you are careful, the half truth of it will keep them from pulling the whole truth out of your mind.”
Now Evan nodded. He could do that. They would not hear anything from him that he did not want to tell.
Olen saw the determination on Evan's face. “I will take the weapons, the rod and the Feeder. I will stay out of sight. If you need me, I will be there.”
“Are you sure you can fight?” Olen's open wound showed no sign of closing, and he still shook a little as they talked.
“I am old,” he said. “I have been hurt more and endured longer.”
Evan hesitated. He was not ready. Olen saw Evan's fear, but he did not wait. He pushed his arms and head into the tiny pipe. They squooshed and Olen's legs twisted. He was having trouble pulling himself in. Evan pushed his legs softly, and they slid in farther. Evan had no choice now but to follow. Slowly, the two Wuftoom slid upward. Evan had to use his strength to keep the old one going, but too quickly they rose above the ground.
It was easy to tell where the surface was. Though they were still in the pipes, something about the air had changed. The pipes felt thinner and more fragile. It was harder to trust that they would hold him in. Olen pushed into a fork on their left side. Evan's body wanted to expand against the pipes, but they held him. He burst out into the smoothness of the bathtub and gripped on to it, pulling with both his arms and legs.
Olen expanded more slowly than he should have. His body fell against Evan's, and Evan had to push the old one up. Olen's body heaved in pain, but he climbed out of the bathtub.
Evan could not imagine dealing with the Vit wound while being so far above the ground. What had he done? But he did not have time to think about it. Olen held out his nub. Evan pulled off his pack and pulled the Feeder out of it. He fixed the pack to Olen's back and handed him both weapons. Olen put the rod to the pack and Evan heard the water being sucked in.
Evan also heard something else. The rapid flapping of many wings. Evan froze and his eyes met Olen's. Olen nodded. Evan moved slowly forward. He felt that he was not in control of his body, as if a puppeteer had taken over to push him through these suicidal steps. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar. Olen slid behind it and nodded again. Evan reached his nub into the space and pulled the door open.
The room was full of Vitflys.
They saw him at once. At least twenty hairy Vitfly faces, fangs hanging sharp, turned toward him. The sound of flapping filled his flesh. His mother sat on the bed. Her back was against the wall and her knees were pulled into her chest. She stared straight ahead of her, unseeing. Evan clenched his nubs, but there were no weapons in them.
“Okay, I'm here,” he said. He wanted to yell it, but it was almost a whisper that came out.
“Proem,” Foul hissed. It flapped forward from the pack. The rest flapped their wings in place, boring holes in him with their glowing eyes. All the Vitflys would have looked the same to Evan before he had changed, but he could tell the difference between them now. He recognized Foul's hairy face, its sharp, mean fangs.
“It's Evan,” said Evan.
At this his mother suddenly looked up and around her. Her eyes were strangely vacant and she still didn't see him. It was so dark, it would have been hard for a human to see.
“Mom!” he cried.
Then she saw him, or at least knew he was there.
Evan ran to her, pushing through the Vitflys, who lazily parted to let him pass.
Tears streamed down his mother's face.
“Don't cry. I'm fine. I still look terrible, but I'm fine.” He wasn't at all fine, but he willed himself to ignore the rising panic. “What have they done to you? Did they hurt you?”
She looked up and around again vacantly, as if she couldn't quite see them. She shook her head.
“What have you done to her?” Evan whispered. He had trouble making himself talk. He would have been crying too if it were possible with Wuftoom eyes. Foul had followed him and now hovered next to his head.
“We have done nothing yet,
Evan,
” the creature hissed. “She is lucky you got here when you did. My kin were anxious for their first taste of human flesh.” Evan glanced quickly at his mother, but she seemed not to have heard or understood.
“Well, send them away. I have what you want,” Evan said.
Foul turned and screeched at the other Vitflys. It sounded awful, nothing like words. But somehow the creatures understood. One by one, they flew up to the light fixture. The flapping of their wings and the suction noises as they left made Evan feel even more sick. Five of them remained, still flapping. Now all turned to watch Evan and Foul.
“Well?” Foul hissed.
Without thinking, Evan almost glanced toward Olen, but he caught himself. His mother's hand clutched his and squeezed, though her eyes still stared vacantly ahead.
“Mom?” he said to her, ignoring the Vitfly. “Mom? Stay with me. They're all going to go away soon. You'll never have to see them again.”
Her eyes flitted toward him. Her hair was disheveled and she was wearing her ratty old flannel nightgown, the same one she had worn almost every night. At once he felt a wave of guilt. She was so poor only because of him. Only because he'd weighed her down. Not just these past two years but his whole life. Again, she only nodded and looked away.
“You've done something to her,” he said. “You've already hurt her. Why should I tell you anything now?”
Foul flapped, and so did the other five behind it. Foul's eyes glowed and its fangs hung sharply. It gave a long, slow hiss. Evan knew just what it meant. He knew that they could do worse to her. At least she was still alive. Maybe she could be helped.
“They're digging a hole,” he said. “I'll show you.” He walked to his shelves, which were exactly as he had left them. There was a book of drawing paper. He opened it, wrapped his nub around a pencil, and began to awkwardly draw the Wuftoom cave. He had no doubt the Vitflys knew where that was. Then he drew the nearby passages. Where the real hole was, he drew only the pipe.
As he drew, he felt something intrude on him. He looked up into Foul's glowing eyes. There was no indication of how it was doing it, but it was indeed Foul. As their eyes met, the feeling became stronger. He continued to draw. Several passages down and farther from the main cave, he drew an X.
“This is where they're digging,” he said. To avoid thinking, he kept talking. “They plan to dig down to your level and then catch you by surprise. A spider told them that you take this passage every night.” It was partly true. The passage Evan had marked was part of the Gibbens' information.
“How many will be there?” Foul hissed.
“Many,” said Evan. “I don't know exactly, but enough so they think they can get you all.”
A strange sound came from the Vits. An uneven kind of hiss. Laughter?
“So now you know. Leave me and my mom alone.” He turned to face her, waiting to hear them leave.
“You have done us a great service, Evan,” Foul said. “As a test case, I must say you came out extremely well.”
Evan squeezed his mother's hand harder, willing himself to ignore it, to just wait until they were all gone.
“It appears the mental transformation was completely blocked.”
Evan turned to look at it. “You mean, you purposely kept me from changing?” As he held his mother's hand, he didn't know whether to be angry or grateful. They had done it to destroy the Wuftoom, but what would he be if he had forgotten her?
Foul chuckled its mottled hiss. The other five remaining Vits moved closer. The air from their wings fluttered across his face. “But you have a Wuftoom's tasty flesh.”
Evan's blood froze. He gripped his mother's hand and arm. She was crying now, still lost in her own place.
“You said I would be free. I've done what you asked.”
A heavy spray of water hit Evan's face. The Vits screeched. Evan's mother sat up. She grasped on to his nubs.
“Evan?”
“It's okay, it's okay,” he said. Another spray of water came, hitting the bed in front of them. “It's just water. It's okay.”
There was more screeching, then the crunch of a Feeder meeting a Vit body. The Vits surrounded Olen. He had given up loading the water and was now beating the Vits with the weapons in both arms. Three Vits lay on the ground.
Evan looked around for something to grab, but he saw nothing. He jumped off the bed and picked up a dead Vit. With all his strength, he threw it at one of the three attacking Olen. It missed, but the live Vit was forced to dodge.
Olen tossed Evan the Feeder, and Evan struck. This time the blow connected. The Vit fell to the ground in front of him. Another one landed on Olen's back. Its claws dug in, right where Evan had clawed him. Olen grunted and swung at the last one, Foul, who deftly dodged. Evan beat at Olen's back. The Vit jumped free and, with a hiss, disappeared into the fixture. Only Foul was left.
Olen and Evan faced it, arms raised to swing.
“Olen,” Foul hissed.
Olen screeched Foul's Vitfly name, baring his fangs.
“I hope you live, old worm,” Foul screeched. It barely sounded like words. “So you can see how we destroy you.” With a loud flapping, it flew up into the ceiling.
Olen fell to the floor. His wound was now a gaping hole. Pink and yellow juice flowed freely onto the rug.
“Mom!” cried Evan.
She was sitting straight up on the bed, alert, watching them. Tears streamed down her face.
“Mom, you have to leave! Go anywhere, I don't care. You can't stay here. They'll come back.”
She grasped both of his arms, then put her arms around him. She was shaking with her tears.
“I'll come back,” he whispered. “Leave me a note. Behind the painting, where they won't see it. I'll find you.” He pulled himself away and ran to Olen. Olen's body was heaving, but his eyes were vacant. Evan grabbed his legs and dragged him backward through the bathroom.
“I love you,” his mother said. “Never forget that.”
“I love you, too,” he said. “I will be back.” He pulled Olen into the bathtub. He had never moved an unconscious worm before and he was not sure it would work, but he held Olen's legs together with his own nubs and began sliding into the drain. Olen's body compressed as Evan pulled it with him.
He had left the weapons and the pack, but still the trip was difficult and strange. Olen's useless membranes did not grab, and the progress was breathtakingly slow. By the time they fell together into the large pipe, it seemed like an impossible amount of time had passed. As Olen expanded, he let out a groan.
“Olen!” Evan cried. “You're alive!”
Olen's eyes scanned the pipe above him. Evan held his head up just above the water.
“Once,” said Olen, his voice raspy and soft, “I looked up and saw the sky.”
“You remember that?” Evan whispered. He knew some worms remembered, but did they
remember?
“Those who do not remember believe that memory brings only sadness. Confusion and disloyalty.” Olen coughed, and a yellow liquid sputtered from his mouth.
“Don't try to talk,” said Evan. He lowered Olen more, so as much of the cool water covered him as possible.
“But
we
know, there can be nothing lost by knowing, and thinking and
being
more.” Olen's eyes glowed, then flickered, then glowed again.
“Master Olen, please,” said Evan. “I'm going to take you back. You'll be all right. I'm so sorry.”
“I am sorry, young one. I cannot help you now.” Olen raised a nub as if to grab Evan's arm. But the arm fell back into the water, and the worm's eyes flickered out.
“Olen!” The body did not move. Evan shook, holding on to him, still holding his head above the water. A Higger darted past him and swam quickly beyond his reach.
E
VAN'S MIND RACED
and his body ached. He had hated and feared Olen, even after he had changed. He had never talked to him, never asked him about his life. In his hundreds of years as a Wuftoom, Olen must have known a great deal. If he could remember life as a human so long ago, what strange and amazing stories could he have told? But Evan had never asked him. He had been so worried about himself, so focused on the bad things. Why couldn't he have just
asked?
Olen's body dragged behind him in the water. It no longer held its shape and was loose and liquid. Were it not for the membranes, it would have drifted into the water and mixed until it was all gone. What would Olen tell him to do? He had come with Evan alone out of fear for what the others would do if they knew the truth. But hiding it had gotten Olen killed. Would any of the others understand?
The night was drawing to a close. Most Wuftoom were back inside the cave. Some were already arranging their sleeping blocks.
Evan made himself go in, sliding Olen's body through the water. Tret and Rayden were together, in the center where Rayden and his group sat. Evan headed toward them. Growls rose up around him as he passed some Wuftoom, but he did not answer them. As they saw what he dragged, they began to crowd around him, so that when he reached the center, he was in a group of growling voices, bodies pressing into each other, water sloshing high around him.