Spore Series | Book 2 | Choke

by Soward, Kenny

  Something cracked loud behind her, and Kim reeled and stumbled onto the trail. Righting herself in the bulky suit, she aimed her flashlight beam into the woods on the other side. She moved it left and right, following the sounds of crunching undergrowth, though she was unable to see anything through the thick green and crimson tangle.

  “Kim?” AMI asked, her computer voice sounding anxious.

  “It sounds like someone is here,” she said, voice panicking. “I think I’m being followed. I—”

  Her flashlight beam fell on a pair of yellow eyes that gleamed back at her. Her heart leapt up through her chest and the fight-or-flight signals shot through her brain in a synchronized chorus. She dropped her pack to the ground and knelt beside it, unzipping it and reaching inside.

  Gripping her gun, Kim raised up and pointed it, ready to fire.

  She paused and blinked.

  “It’s just a deer,” Kim scoffed as she lowered her weapon. “A simple, beautiful doe.”

  The creature walked from one patch of vegetation to another, its hooves crunching on twigs and dry leaves as it nosed around looking for vegetation untouched by the fungus.

  “You scared me, little lady,” she said as she watched the animal.

  The doe turned its head toward her and stared at her as it chewed. Kim narrowed her eyes at the creature, seeing something wrong but unable to pinpoint it at first. Her mouth dropped open when she realized the obvious; there wasn’t a single patch of fungus on the creature. The doe’s fur was brown and unblemished, looking soft and a little woolly in Kim’s flashlight beam. Her eyes were clear, and there were no tendrils or patches of crimson around her nose or mouth.

  She shook her head and tried to approach the creature. Yet, when she stepped off the trail to get closer, the deer’s head shot up, and it leapt into the darkness.

  “No, don’t run!” Kim’s tone was plaintive as she followed the doe with her flashlight beam until it disappeared out of sight. She stomped her boots. “Ugh, that’s aggravating. That deer didn’t have a single shred of fungus on it. How can the woman have it but not the deer? I’m continuing on.”

  “Understood. Please be careful.”

  Kim continued down the trail, feeling a little more confident and even a bit curious. She came to a split in the trail. The left-hand path was well-worn and continued on around the ridge. The right-hand path led down into the valley. It was less worn, grown over with foliage and drooping wildflowers. A sign reading Private Property was staked into the ground.

  She took the right-hand path as it bent downward into the thickest parts of the forest. The path ended in a shallow depression with several protruding structures rising from the grass. The largest structure was a wide, flat slab of vibrant green moss that was seven feet high in the middle but tapered down to the forest floor on each side. Kim faced a wall of smoky glass with an opaque door nested in the center.

  With a shake of her head, she whispered, “I’m down in the depression and found an entrance, I think.”

  “Yes, I have a fix on your location.”

  “It’s like a technically advanced hobbit home from the Lord of the Rings.” She approached some other moss-covered structures. “There appear to be vents and air processing units here, all covered in a green moss. There’s not a single shred of Asphyxia growing anywhere. This has to be what I’m looking for. I’m going to knock.

  Kim walked up to the large structure and ran her fingers along the smooth seams of the door. “The entire front is smooth glass, and there’s a door, but no handle. I can’t even fit my fingers into the seams.”

  Lifting her flashlight hand, Kim rapped the bottom against the glass three times. When no one answered, she looked up at what appeared to be a small camera lens nestled in the crack between the wall and roof. Kim backed away from the door and waved at the camera, but no one came.

  After a moment, she put her hands on her hips and looked around, “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

  “Would you like me to send a communication?”

  “Yes, please,” Kim nodded. “Let them know we’re—”

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and fear gripped her. She turned slowly, guiding her flashlight around the depression.

  “Stop, or I’ll shoot,” a man’s voice called out. “I’ve got a rifle pointed at your back, and I’ll blow you all over the friggin place.”

  She froze. Then she raised her hands and held her flashlight and gun high.

  “Now, toss your gun behind you,” he growled.

  Kim gulped and threw her gun behind her where it landed noiselessly on the soft moss. She heard a shuffling of feet, someone grunting as they stooped down and picked it up.

  “Okay, turn around. Slow.”

  She did as she was told, keeping her flashlight beam angled straight ahead. Her eyes first caught the shadow of a man standing ten yards away, though she couldn’t see him clearly until her flashlight fell directly on him.

  He was a short man with a portly belly beneath his button-up denim shirt. Thick, uncombed hair stood up on his head and fell down the back of his neck to his shoulders. She thought it might have been darker brown at some point, though a peppering of gray had set in.

  The man held a flashlight in one hand and a long, branch-style staff in the other, its gnarled end pointed at her.

  Kim’s jaw dropped. “You don’t even have a gun.”

  “Oh, no. I hate guns.” The man patted one of his denim pockets where Kim could see the bulge of her pistol. He turned the staff around and placed the butt against the ground. “This is my walking staff. I use it when I go on hikes.”

  Stammering, Kim could only shake her head as she stared at the short, portly man. “Then why did you—”

  “Lights, please,” the man said, and the small grove was suddenly awash in a warm glow trickling down from the treetops. “I had to make sure you weren’t one of those goons that’s been lurking around,” he continued, pocketing his flashlight. “I thought you looked a little more like a scientist.”

  “My name is Kim Shields,” she stammered. “I’m a CDC field agent from the Washington office. Doctor Tom Flannery sent me to find Paul Henderson.”

  The man beamed a smile at her, and his bright blue eyes lit up behind a pair of wire-framed glasses. “Ah, Tom. That explains why you’re here. I’m Paul. You’ve found me.” He made a brief wave with his flashlight as he snapped it off.

  Kim flipped off her own flashlight and put it in her pack. “I’m so happy to have found you, Paul. But you must know about Asphyxia. I mean, the fungus.”

  “I’m quite up to date on current events, yes.”

  “But you’re not wearing any protective gear.” She was incredulous. “You’re not infected.”

  “You have a lot of questions,” the man nodded. “We can talk about them inside. I assume you’re not the dangerous type?”

  “No, I’m not. But I—"

  Paul came ahead, putting the butt of his staff into the loamy ground as he walked past her. He placed his hand against the glass on the door, and a green outline appeared around it. The door popped open and slid aside.

  “Come on in. I’ll make tea.”

  Chapter 11

  Kim Shields, Yellow Springs, Ohio

  Inside the hobbit-like structure, the floor was clean, hard-packed earth. Doctor Paul Henderson led her deeper into the hillside, the path illuminated by a strip of incandescent light running down the center of the ceiling. The passage had a cave-like feel, and Kim looked at the control strip along the bottom of her visor to see that the temperature outside her suit was cooling into the high 50s, Fahrenheit.

  After sixty yards, they left the dirt behind and stepped onto concrete painted a heavy gray color she associated with residential basements. The passage walls narrowed, funneling Kim into an entryway just big enough for her to fit in with her suit on.

  Paul stepped to the wall on her left and dropped her weapon into a bin. Then he pushed the drawer in and
gestured at the entryway with his staff. “Go ahead. I’ll see you on the other side.”

  Kim walked ahead and followed an automated voice as it guided her through a standard decontamination procedure. The voice didn’t ask her to strip down after she’d hung up her heavy suit, and she was thankful for that.

  She exited the decontamination chamber and stood in a lightly carpeted, cozy room with a small table, two chairs, and a kitchenette. Kim hugged her arms across her chest and turned in a circle. She still wore the jeans, T-shirt, and socks she’d “borrowed” from one of the CDC employees, and she caught a whiff of soot from the lab fire Richtman had set in the CDC facility.

  A few moments later, Paul exited the decontamination chamber. His hair was wet and tousled, and he wore a fresh pair of jeans and a blue, button up work shirt.

  Kim started to ask him a question, but the man shuffled past her to the kitchenette.

  “Do you drink tea?” Paul asked as he grabbed a pot and began filling it with water. “I’ll make you some tea. I grow a few strains of green and black tea plants here, and I think I have something you’ll love.”

  “I’m more of a coffee girl,” Kim replied, “but okay.”

  “Coffee makes me nervous,” Paul said, then he half turned to her with a humble grin. “And it keeps me on the toilet most of the day. My body just can’t tolerate it.” He went back to his brewing, putting the pot of water on the stove and setting it to boil. “So, Kim Shields of the CDC. What brings you to my humble abode? Let me guess. It has something to do with the world ending.”

  “Doctor Tom Flannery sent me,” she said. “He said you might help with finding a cure for the Asphyxia fungus.”

  “Is that what you’re calling it?” Paul asked in a quizzical tone. Then he shrugged. “I suppose if the glove fits.”

  “Tom is the one who named it,” Kim explained. She gulped, remembering the moment in the restaurant when the waiter coughed out part of his lung. Then she got a brief flash of Shelly getting smashed by the car. “I was in Washington when it hit. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “I saw some news reports,” Paul’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through.”

  The water came to a boil, and Paul moved the pot to a cold burner and dropped a tea ball in before covering it. “We’ll just let that steep for a bit.”

  He turned to Kim with a half-smile, eyes watering with emotion, and leaned back against the counter. “I didn’t expect anyone to come here.”

  “It was Tom’s idea. I knew of you, but…” Kim trailed off, not wanting to say what most of the scientific community thought of Paul Henderson.

  “You thought I was just some goofy old hermit who sold medicinal antifungal creams online.” Paul’s smile widened without contempt.

  “Not my words.”

  “That’s okay,” Paul’s tone was soft and accepting. “That’s an accurate description. I’ve been weird my entire life. No reason to shy away now.”

  “It seems that was only half the story,” Kim said, looking around. "I didn’t expect you to have a full decontamination setup here.”

  “We came through the back door,” Paul explained. “I hadn’t used this part of the facility since I built it fifteen years ago, but I guess I expected something like this to happen or I wouldn’t have added it to the floor plan.”

  “Good thinking.” Kim nodded. “What I don’t understand is how you can walk around outside with no protection. You should be sick, but you’re not showing any signs.”

  “Well, I am sick,” Paul confided. “I started showing symptoms two days after the spore cloud blew through.

  Kim resisted the urge to back away from the man. “But you’re not showing any symptoms.”

  Paul shrugged. “I’ve stayed one step ahead of the fungus. Your Asphyxia.”

  “Can you tell me how?” Kim raised her eyebrow. “And should I be worried?”

  “You’ll be fine.” Paul waved a hand and turned toward the tea. He poured two cups, saying, “I’ve beat it down pretty well, and I can’t spread it. However, I need to take daily blood tests and boosters. It’s quite laborious.”

  “That makes sense,” Kim said. She crossed over to the kitchenette next to Paul and picked up her cup of tea and the plastic bowl of sugar, bringing them to the table.

  “Brave lady,” Paul said with admiration.

  “If Tom trusted you enough to send me here,” Kim replied, “I can trust you, too.”

  Paul joined her at the table as she slid into her seat. Picking up the plastic spoon, she scooped out some sugar and added it to her cup then took a sip.

  “This is good,” Kim said, noting the light, herb-infused flavor.

  “Thanks.” Paul took the spoon and added sweetener to his own cup before his tone grew more serious. “I told them this was going to happen. I warned them. But they wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Is that why you don’t work for the government anymore?” She knew Paul had once worked for the CDC where he’d met Tom, though the exact details were a little vague.

  “So, a little about me,” Paul said. “I worked for Durant-Monroe Chemicals for five years. When I saw how those lunatics ran things, I got a job with the government, hoping to change the world for the better. Well, you see how much the government helped. They’re insane in their own, authoritative way.” Paul realized something, and he quickly backtracked. “Most of them, anyway. No offense to you.”

  “None taken,” Kim said with a faint grin. “So, you know Burke Birkenhoff personally?”

  “I know that sadistic bastard,” Paul scoffed, and Kim noted a tone of anger in the wizard-like voice. “But I worked for his mother. That was before Burke inherited the company. Burke and I never got along, as you can imagine. He wanted to push products to market way faster than anyone on the board was comfortable with. And when he inherited the company, it got even worse. Without his mother there to temper his penchant for greed, he ran roughshod over the investors. But they never complained too much because he was lining their pockets. It took me almost fifteen years of that BS to realize I didn’t want to work for someone else.”

  “We think Burke’s product, Harvest Guard, caused the mutations in the fungus.” Kim held the teacup to her nose and breathed deep. “Well, I’m the only one who thinks it, because I’m the only CDC agent alive working on a cure.”

  “What happened to Atlanta?”

  “They went offline a few days after the outbreak.”

  “Nancy Wilkens?” Paul raised his eyes in question.

  Kim only shook her head, causing Paul to make a funny sound as he drew back in his chair. She looked up and saw tears streaming down the mycologist’s face.

  The man broke down in his seat, sobbing with his chin lowered to his chest and his hands folded neatly over his slight pot belly. Kim didn’t know whether to walk away and give the man some privacy or give him a hug.

  After a few moments of awkwardness, Paul made a loud sniffing sound and raised his bloodshot eyes to her. “Nancy and I go back a little way, that’s all. What happened to Washington? What happened to Tom?”

  Not wanting to pursue the sensitive topic of him and Nancy, Kim launched into the story about how the outbreak started. How she and her assistant, Shelly, had been meeting for lunch when the spore tendrils struck. She explained how, in hindsight, she suspected it must have been the Durant-Monroe chemical guys spraying Harvest Guard on infected produce that caused the outbreak.

  Kim led Paul through the next few hours, explaining how she’d fought to reach the CDC facility, getting to the front doors after a run-in with a soldier in the street. She walked him through the technical details about Asphyxia and how they’d tried to combat it using a mix of various chemical solutions to attack the fungus from several angles.

  “I’ve got all the data right here.” Kim held up a USB stick, set it on the table, and pushed it across to Paul. “You’re my last hope.”

  Paul covered the USB stick with his h
and and tapped the table with his fingers. “And then?”

  “While we worked on a solution,” she continued, “General Miller suggested we bring in Burke Birkenhoff to turn over any data related to the Harvest Guard deployment; the chemical makeup, the trial data, and supply chain details on how they’d distributed it. Plus, General Miller wanted to keep an eye on him.”

  “And Burke came on his own?”

  “No.” Kim shook her head. “The general had to threaten to blow up Burke’s getaway vehicle.”

  Paul laughed. “I hope this story ends with that resolution. Was Burke any help at all?”

  She launched into the last part of her story. About how Burke had shown up with his goons, providing the CDC folks with all their Harvest Guard data. She explained Burke’s underlying plans to sabotage their efforts if the CDC came close to finding a cure. With rushed words, Kim detailed the arrival of Lieutenant Colonel Bryant and his soldiers.

  The last part was the hardest. She recalled how Burke had hacked the CDC communications network and overheard General Miller’s command to isolate the CEO and keep him locked up. She rushed through the final firefight where she’d shot Pauline and ran to central control to be with Tom Flannery as he drew his last breath. Kim ended with the death of their only patient, Samantha Rogers, and Burke’s setting fire to the CDC building before escaping.

  “Burke is such a little…” Paul squeezed his fist on the table, shaking with anger. His gray eyes lifted. “So, he got away scot free?”

  “Mostly.” She nodded. “But Tom gave us a chance. His last wish was for me to find you, and despite General Miller trying to stop me, here I am.”

  Paul stared straight ahead, though he seemed to be working through something in his mind.

  “There’s one more thing,” Kim said.

  “What’s that?”

  “We had a little girl who appeared to be immune to Asphyxia. One of our field agents found her in New York.”