The Fungus

He switched on the radio and drew his companions’ attention to the phenomenon. They’d been too busy to notice what was happening, but now one of the white-suited figures walked over to the nearest corpse and kneeled next to it.

He heard Kimberley’s voice say, “Fascinating. The fungus seems to have mutated. Now that the host is dead, it’s changed from being a parasite into a saprophyte.”

He winced as he saw her reach out and touch the growth.

“For God’s sake, be careful!” he called.

“Relax. It can’t hurt me. You should see this, Barry. The rate of tissue absorption is remarkable. There’s hardly anything left of this man apart from his bones.”

Slocock’s voice suddenly boomed out of the radio. “Kim, stop messing around and get back to work. You’ll have more than enough time to look at fungi when we reach London.”

Wilson was relieved when Kimberley’s white-suited form left the man-shaped mound and returned to the front of the truck.

The day wore on. Slocock and Kimberley took another break, then went back to work. Conditions in the suits were almost intolerable, they told Wilson. Apart from the heat, the visibility was frustratingly poor as the face-plates kept misting up. Equally frustrating was trying to do anything delicate with the thick gloves. And there was also the constant fear they would puncture or rip the suits.

By four in the afternoon Wilson was struggling to keep awake in the stuffy, overheated cab. He’d made two trips that afternoon to the rear compartment to bleed more oxygen into the air, but it didn’t seem to improve things.

He was just starting to nod off again when he spotted movement in the trees ahead of the truck. Jolted into full awareness he reached up for the controls of the big machine gun.

Through the sight he got a glimpse of something monstrous coming straight toward the truck. It was moving on four legs and was very large. Its head was massive and bulbous and it seemed to be covered in thick, green strands that hung from it like clumps of seaweed.

Wilson pressed the firing button. He was off-target to begin with but quickly compensated and proceeded to spray the monster with high-velocity bullets.

The thing shuddered and its front legs collapsed beneath it. It skidded forward for about three yards then lay there kicking. Wilson continued to pour bullets into it.

“Okay, Wilson, it’s dead!” came Slocock’s shout over the radio. “Stop wasting ammunition!”

Wilson took his finger off the button and took a deep breath. He was, he realized, shaking. “What the hell is that thing?”

Slocock and Kimberley walked over to the creature. After a long pause Slocock laughed and said, “Congratulations, Wilson. You’ve just killed a cow.”

“A cow?” Wilson couldn’t believe the ghastly apparition was nothing more than a cow.

“Poor bitch must have been driven crazy by the stuff growing on her. Next time, Eagle-eye, don’t waste so many bullets.”

Wilson’s brief feeling of satisfaction evaporated. For a moment he’d thought he’d saved both their lives. Now, he felt foolish. Slocock was laughing at him and so, he suspected, was Kimberley.

They didn’t finish working on the engine until after 7 p.m. When they came back inside and stripped off their suits they both looked exhausted.

“God, I stink,” said Kimberley, sniffing at her sweat-stained t-shirt. “I’d give anything for a shower. Or even a wash.”

Wilson couldn’t prevent himself from staring at the clear outline of her breasts through the damp material. The nipples were plainly visible. He felt a rush of desire for her and wished, yet again, that Slocock wasn’t around.

“Can’t spare the water,” grunted Slocock, “you’ll just have to keep stinking.”

“How’s the engine?” asked Wilson.

Slocock shrugged. “A 50/50 chance it’ll get us to London. But I’m not doing any driving tonight. I’m too tired. I’ll park the bus under those trees to give us some cover, and then I think we should turn in. We’ll make an early start in the morning.”

After Slocock had driven the truck into the shelter of the trees, they had an unexciting meal of more cold stew, fruit salad, and bars of chocolate. Then Kimberley gave them their shots and they prepared for bed.

“Kim and I will take the bunks,” said Slocock as he stretched out on one of them. “We did all the work. All you did was play Buffalo Bill.”

Surprised, Wilson was about to protest but there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make him appear ridiculous. He looked helplessly at Kimberley but she seemed completely unconcerned by Slocock’s declaration. She lay back on the other bunk and closed her eyes.

Forcing himself to sound casual, Wilson said, “Okay, I’ll sleep in the cab.”

“You don’t sleep, Eagle-eye, you keep watch,” Wilson told him. “You can sleep back here when we get moving in the morning.”