The Fungus

Just after 4 a.m. Eric’s staff were woken by a muffled but powerful explosion which seemed to come from their employer's bedroom. All five of them gathered in the passageway outside his room. They banged on the door and called out his name but there was no response. Finally the bravest among them opened the door. Immediately a horrifically strong yeasty stench poured out of the room, making them gag.

Choking, two of them reluctantly entered the room and switched on the light. The others crowded around the doorway.

To begin with none of them could comprehend what they were looking at. Then one of the girls screamed and ran down the passageway.

Eric Gifford’s head, one of his arms, and both of his legs still lay on the bed but the rest of him was spread fairly thickly over the ceiling, walls and floors.

And in the depression in the bed created by his 250-pound bulk over the years lay a bubbling and seething white mass.

Wednesday, 2.15 a.m.

Naseem and his brother Dinesh had managed to clear the last customer out of the restaurant by 2.00 a.m. and were now helping Maheed, their uncle, clean up in the kitchen.

Naseem was exhausted. He disliked working these long hours but it was the only way he’d be able to save enough money to return to Delhi for good. His other uncle, Makund, who owned the restaurant, as well as two others, was not an easy man to work for but he paid well if you worked hard.

His brother Dinesh was humming a new Indian pop song as he finished scouring the stove. Naseem regarded him wearily, envying him his energy and his continual high spirits.

Dinesh was a mystery to him in many ways. For one thing he seemed quite content to stay on in England and had hopes of opening up a restaurant of his own. To Naseem the idea of spending the rest of his working life in this depressing, gray country and waiting on its increasingly surly and ill-mannered inhabitants was profoundly depressing.

He remembered the two men he’d served earlier that night, the fat one and the thin one, and scowled. “Pigs,” he muttered. “Why do we get so many pigs in this place?”

Dinesh laughed. “Because it is place that makes pig food.” He gestured at the food scrap container which was full up again. Naseem sighed and went and picked it up. “The pigs that eat this are probably better behaved than the ones who sit in the restaurant.”

He carried the bin out the back door and into the alley. He was just about to empty the smaller bin into the bigger one when he paused and blinked several times. But the apparition refused to go away.

The big cylindrical bin was covered with huge growths that looked like giant toadstools. They were about 18 inches high and a foot wide. They were sprouting out of the top of the bin and down its side like frozen beer foam.

Naseem stared at them in amazement. They hadn’t been there when he’d last emptied the kitchen scraps. when? Less than three hours ago?

He called to the others. The tone of his voice brought them out at a run. They reacted to the sight in the same way he did.

After a long pause Dinesh said, “What is that stuff? Where did it all come from?”

Naseem shook his head. “I don’t know. It wasn’t here before. It’s grown very suddenly.”

They both looked to the older man for enlightment, hoping that their uncle had encountered something like this in the past. But he seemed as astonished as they were. “They’re like mushrooms. Like giant mushrooms,” he said slowly.

“More like toadstools,” said Naseem doubtfully. “Toadstools can grow this big, can’t they?”

Dinesh disappeared into the kitchen and returned wielding a broom. “We must destroy them.”

“No, wait,” said Naseem, stepping in front of him. “Perhaps we should call the Health men. Those things are not normal.”

“The Health men would close us down,” said their uncle. “And my brother would have our skins. We cannot tell anyone about this.” He nodded to Dinesh. “Go on, get rid of them.”

Dinesh pushed past Naseem and began to energetically attack the growths with the broom. As the broom struck them the larger fungi burst with a dry popping sound, releasing a faintly luminous cloud of green powder. Very soon the whole alley was filled with the dust and all three men were covered with it.

Dinesh continued with his flailing until all the growths were gone and only powder remained. This he swept up and dumped into the big container. By 3.00 a.m. no visible trace of the fungi remained, either on the ground or in the air. A breeze had sprung up and the cloud of tiny fungi fragments had been carried away.

By 3.30 a.m. the billions of particles were spreading over the West End of London. and beyond.

5

Tuesday, 5.20 p.m.

How it began.

It was the happiest day of Jane Wilson’s life. As she stood there in the laboratory cradling the organism in her arms she couldn’t remember ever feeling this elated before, even at the birth of her son Simon.