The Fungus

Carter led them to the first floor of the Telecom building and then along a passageway to the base of the tower. “It’s a long climb,” he warned. “The basement generator isn’t enough to power the elevators.”

“Do you know where these guards of Jane’s are located?”

“Anywhere between here and the top. And I don’t know exactly how many there are of them, either. They patrol in groups of two or three. Carry things like steel spikes as weapons. Vicious bitches, too. I’ve seen them in action, so don’t let the fact they’re all women inhibit you with that weapon.”

“It hasn’t yet,” said Wilson grimly, thinking that many of the creatures he’d torched so far had probably been female under their fungal crusts.

Carter pushed aside a curtain of hyphae to reveal the entrance to the spiral staircase leading to the top of the tower. The walls and stairs themselves were covered with damp-looking fungus. It looked like the cancerous orifice of some giant animal.

Wilson wanted to turn and run. Sweat began to pour out of him. He didn’t want to know what was awaiting him at the top of the stairs.

“What’s the matter?” asked Kimberley impatiently.

“Nothing.” He stepped forward.

6

Climbing the staircase was difficult. The layer of smooth fungus made everything slippery, and Wilson kept losing his footing. Nor did the weight of the flame-thrower help matters.

The only source of illumination was from the weapon’s after-burner, but Wilson was beginning to think that its red glow was more of a handicap than an advantage. It meant that whoever was guarding the staircase could see them coming, and he was sure it wasn’t his imagination that he could hear faint sounds up ahead. As if someone were backing away from him as he climbed.

He halted to rest his aching legs. And as he did so an idea occurred to him.

He heard Kimberley laboring up the stairs behind him. “Stay where you are,” he called softly to her. “I’m coming back down. There’s something back there I want to check out.”

“What are you talking about?” she called back irritably. “I can’t see anything to check.”

“Shush,” he warned, turning so that the nozzle of the weapon pointed down the stairs and its glow was shielded by his body. Straining his ears he was positive he heard a movement above. He also felt a slight stirring of air against his bare skin. Someone was creeping down the staircase toward him.

He moved as close to the outer wall as he could, then quickly turned and aimed the nozzle upward.

He let loose a long gush of fire that splashed off the opposite wall above and disappeared round the curve of the central pillar of the spiral. Over the roar of the flamethrower, which was deafening in the enclosed space, he was satisfied to hear a high-pitched scream.

Then he screamed himself as some of the liquid fire dribbled back down the stairs and brushed his left foot when he didn’t move out of the way fast enough.

At the same time a figure appeared around the curve of the stairs. It was burning fiercely and as it staggered blindly downward it kept slamming itself against the wall, trying to put out the flames.

“Watch out, Kimberley!” he cried as it stumbled past him, searing his skin with its heat.

The thing disappeared around the curve and then he heard Kimberley scream. There was a sound of something falling down the stairs and more screaming.

“Kim, are you okay?”

He was relieved to hear her say, shakily, “I think so. She grabbed my arm but then she tripped and fell. I’ve got a couple of burns but I don’t think they’re serious. Why the hell didn’t you warn me you were going to do that?”

“I would have warned it — her — at the same time. And whoever else is up ahead.”

He continued onward. The glow from the weapon revealed another burned body further up the stairs. This one, fortunately, was not moving.

While he was staring at the corpse there was a metallic clang and a metal rod with a sharpened end narrowly missed his head after ricochetting off the wall. He reacted quickly, sending a quick burst of flame upwards. There was a cry of pain and the sound of receding footsteps.

Wilson picked up speed. Keep them on the run, he told himself. Don’t give them a chance to plan something clever.

Nothing else happened for about five minutes, then he heard a series of loud crashes up ahead. He couldn’t understand their significance at first, then realized what was happening. A large metal object was rolling down the stairs.

He pressed himself against the central pillar and yelled to Kimberley to do the same. The noise was getting louder. It sounded huge, whatever it was, and moving fast. No chance of outrunning it.

It was right above him now — only yards away. He tensed himself.

Suddenly a large cylinder — like a big water heater — came hurtling round the curve. Wilson felt an agonizing stab of pain in his left thigh, and then the thing clattered past him.

“Kim.?“ he called when the tank had rolled past her position.

“I’m still here. It missed me.”