He waited until they were just around the bend, then turned on the flame-thrower, shutting his ears to the female screams that resulted. A burning figure stumbled around the curve as before and seemed to reach its arms out to him before collapsing. Again fire dribbled down the stairs, making the fungus sizzle and producing a stench.
He moved on. He passed three more bodies at different intervals, all of them smoldering. The one that had got the furthest up the stairs was twitching feebly. He ignored it and kept going.
The climb went on for ages. He felt certain he was almost at the top but every time he rounded the curve there was just another expanse of stairway ahead.
It was during one of his increasingly frequent halts to catch his breath that he heard a woman’s voice call out clearly from the darkness ahead, “Turn back. You can’t get past us, even with your devil’s man weapon. There are too many of us. We are blocking the way completely.”
With a shock he realized he recognized the voice.
“Hilary!” he gasped. “Is that you?” The last time he’d seen Hilary Burne-Smith was at a pub in Highgate, the night he’d told her that he thought their brief affair should come to an end. It was during one of those periods when he was making a periodic attempt to repair his relationship with Jane, shortly before he gave up and left for Ireland.
Hilary Burne-Smith had been the newest of Jane’s assistants, fresh from Cambridge and a stranger to London. Feeling sorry for her, they’d invited her to dinner on several occasions. He’d given her a ride home each time, and then one night she’d invited him up to her place for coffee, and . . .
He knew he hadn’t taken advantage of a lonely, homesick young woman who could have been rather attractive if she’d lost a bit of weight; he was aware that she’d done the seducing, not him. But he certainly hadn’t resisted one iota. And sex with her turned out to be surprisingly good. Hilary in bed was a different Hilary from the somewhat shy and very correct young lady he’d come to know across the dinner table. He would have been quite happy to continue the affair except for the nagging guilt, and there was more guilt when he told her it was over, because her reaction had been unexpectedly emotional. There had been lots of tears and he’d sat there, all eyes on him, feeling like a heel.
That had been over two years ago. He hadn’t seen her since. And now here she was confronting him in the dark in this hell-hole.
“You?” she said with surprise. “It can’t be!”
“I’m afraid it is. Barry Wilson in the flesh. How are you, Hilary?”
There was a long pause before she answered. “Why are you here? Why have you murdered my sisters?”
Wilson flinched at the word “murdered.” “I have to see Jane . . . speak to her. It’s very important. She’s the only hope of saving the rest of mankind from the fungus.”
In the darkness Hilary laughed. To Wilson it seemed, under the circumstances, a shocking sound.
Then she said, “Mankind is finished. A new order has arisen to cleanse the world of his unholy deeds. The great softness will spread across the globe and blur the edges of Man’s harsh works before consuming them totally. And Man himself will also be consumed. Only those who welcome the softness—who become part of it—will be saved.” She spoke the words as if reciting a litany.
Wearily he said, “The only softness around here is in your brain. Christ, Hilary, only a short time ago you were a scientist! You can’t have changed so completely, so quickly. There must still be a glimmer of rationality in you somewhere. So listen to me, Hilary. Pay attention to what I’m saying! You’re sick! But you can still help protect others who aren’t sick!”
There was another long pause and when she spoke again her voice sounded different. “You’re right, Barry . . . I am . . . am sick. What am I going to do? Can you help me? I can’t seem . . . to think . . . straight anymore . . .” Her voice broke and he realized she was crying. Then he heard her coming down the stairs toward him. She stepped hesitantly into the red glow coming from the after-burner. She was still recognizably a woman. Her fungus consisted of a thin mosslike mold that looked like some kind of skin-tight costume covering every inch of her. Her full, heavy breasts swayed as she came slowly down the stairs. Her eyes—those very familiar eyes—were stricken with despair.
“Hilary . . .” he whispered, a terrible sadness welling up through him. She held out her arms to him.
“Help me,” she pleaded.
Then she lunged.
Before he knew what was happening he was losing his balance and she had almost wrested the flame-thrower nozzle out of his grip. Then he was on his back, the tanks digging painfully into his flesh, and she was on top of him, snarling as she pulled the nozzle out of his reach with one hand and squeezed his wind-pipe with the other.
Suddenly, to his amazement, a metal tongue suddenly grew out of her chest, right between her breasts. She stiffened and screamed. It was then that he saw Kimberley behind her, one of their metal spears in her hands.
“Hurry,” she said as she shoved Hilary to one side, “I can hear her friends coming.”
She helped him up. He fumbled with the nozzle. The footsteps sounded very close.
They came round the curve like a solid wall. There must have been a dozen of them at least. At the same moment, he ignited the flame-thrower.
The next minute or so was literally something out of hell.
At the end of it he stood there, choking on fumes, while around him bodies writhed and moaned. He somehow found Kimberley through all the smoke and together they hurried on upward, anxious to get away from that hideous scene.
They encountered no more of the “sisters” and finally reached the top of the stairway. They emerged into the lowest level of the observatory. The fungus was everywhere, covering even the windows. A quick search revealed that the area was empty.
So were the next few levels. But when they entered the section that had once housed the rotating restaurant, they found themselves blinking in a blaze of bright light.
Warily they stepped into the circular room, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the unexpected brightness.
The second thing that surprised him was the total absence of fungus in the place. It was draped over the exteriors of the windows but there was none inside at all. The floor, ceiling, and various pieces of laboratory equipment scattered around were all pristine clean.
Then a voice said, from so close behind him he jumped, “Why on earth did you shave off all your hair, Barry? Being bald doesn’t suit you at all.”
It was Jane.
7
He turned, dreading what he was going to see.
But what he did see was totally unexpected.
Jane stood there exactly as he remembered her. She seemed completely untouched by the fungus. She was wearing a white lab coat, but her legs and feet were bare and there was not a single blemish on them. Her face and hands were unmarked too; in fact she appeared to be positively glowing with good health.
She advanced toward them with a welcoming smile and Wilson experienced a wave of unreality. It was as if he and Kimberley had dropped in to pay a social call, except that they were both naked, covered in soot and blood, and he was carrying a flame-thrower.
Jane stopped some feet away and ran a critical eye over both of them. She frowned slightly, then smiled again. “Who’s your friend, Barry?” she asked, gesturing at Kimberley. “She looks quite attractive under all that muck.”
Before he could answer Kimberley said, “My name is Kimberley Fairchild. We’ve met before, at the London University Conference two years ago.”
“Really?” There was no sign of recognition in her eyes as she again examined Kimberley’s body. Wilson realized she was looking for a sign of the fungus. She was obviously puzzled that there was none on either of them.
“Jane, where are Simon and Jessica?” he asked urgently. “Are they all right?”
“What? Oh, yes, they’re fine,” she said dismissively.
/> “Where are they? I want to see them.”
She ignored him. She was now sweeping her gaze up and down his body again. “How very strange that neither of you show any sign of the fungus. The odds against both of you having natural immunity must be very high. I don’t understand it.”
“We were taking drugs to protect ourselves. They seemed to have worked, so far,” he said. “Look, about the children—”
“Drugs? What drugs?” Jane’s eyes glittered brightly. It was the first firm indication of her state of mind. His hopes that the children might be safe after all began to plummet. He told her quickly about the Megacrine and the other drugs.
She smiled with what appeared to be relief. “Short term protection, possibly, but nothing more. You’ve both been lucky.”
“So have you. Unless you’re concealing it.”
“No. I am untouched too.” She opened the lab coat. She wore nothing underneath it. The rest of her body glowed with the same unnatural good health as her face. “I have been spared by the Earth Mother in order to finish my work. When it is complete I will gladly submit to her embrace.”
Wilson glanced at Kimberley, trying to give her a silent warning to let him do all the talking. Then, to Jane, he said, “Earth Mother?”
Jane gestured at the fungus clinging to the outside of the windows. “There is her blessed manifestation. All around you. We are in her womb.”
“Jane,” he said gently, “that stuff is poison. It’s killing people right across the country. It has to be stopped.”
She gave him a pitying look. “For a time, I didn’t understand, either. When it began I thought I’d done something terrible. But then the Earth Mother showed me the truth: that I was the instrument chosen by her to transform the world into her image. To bring about the end of man’s evil domination of the planet and allow the Earth Mother to regain what is rightfully hers.”
“Jane, the fungus is causing suffering wherever it spreads.”
“There is always pain at the time of birth. But once man has been cleansed from the world the Earth Mother will protect and sustain her children. We will become one with nature instead of fighting against her. There will be no more hunger or pain. We will be enfolded and nourished by her forever.”
“I see,” he said softly. It was hopeless. Unable to cope with the enormity of what she had unleashed, her mind had become completely unhinged. She had convinced herself that she had somehow achieved her original objective—that her fungus would end world hunger.
“And what is this work you mentioned that you had to finish?” he asked.
“I must find a way of overcoming the inhibiting factor that is preventing the fungi from sporing, and I must also alter the fungi so that the few unfortunate people who resist infection will be able to succumb to the Earth Mother’s embrace.”
He nodded, maintaining his outward calm while his blood turned to ice water. “And have you had any success yet?”
“I am close to solving the sporing problem, I feel sure of it.” She indicated a row of incubators that followed the curve of the outer wall. “And when I have succeeded I will take the new spores to the roof and release them into the air. They will also include the new genetic factor to enable the fungi to embrace the few who are naturally immune. That problem I have already solved, though I need to conduct further tests to be certain. But with the help of you two, the whole process will be speeded up.”
“Why do you think we would help you?”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “That’s the reason you’re here. Why else would the Earth Mother have permitted you to reach here? If you weren’t under her protection my disciples would have killed you. She let you pass through their ranks unmolested.”
Wilson glanced down at the nozzle of the flame-thrower and then at the bloody spike Kimberley was holding. Jane had pointedly ignored both weapons. She refused to consider the possibility that they may have fought their way to her. Nothing could be allowed to shake her self-delusion of divinity. He decided the only course of action was to humor her, to let her keep believing that she was still in control of the situation, and that her followers were still alive.
He said, “And how could we help you?”
“I admit I was puzzled when you first entered. Because neither of you bear any sign of the Mother’s embrace. But now, of course, I understand why. One of you is obviously immune—a simple test will tell me which one. I need another immune specimen for the final series of tests. My other specimen is of no further use to me. His tissues have been exhausted.”
“What other specimen? Where is he?” demanded Wilson, looking around the room.
She ignored the question. “No doubt you will prove to be the immune one,” she continued, pointing at Kimberley. “Barry’s role will be to act as my assistant. After all, he was a mycologist.” She shook her head in wonder. “How truly wise is the Earth Mother, sending me a trained laboratory technician at the crucial moment. And how fitting her choice in you, Barry. Though a man, you will be instrumental in her ultimate victory. Your final actions will atone a little for all the terrible sins of your sex against her. Just as your son also helped atone for his maleness.”
“Simon,” he cried, taking a step toward her. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is he?”
She moved backward. “He’s here, Barry. Come and see him. He’s a glorious sight.” She turned and walked over to a large glass cabinet into which a series of tubes were plugged. Wilson hurried after her, followed by Kimberley.
The other side of the cabinet was transparent. It was filled with something soft. Jane tapped the glass. The softness moved. In the midst of it a pair of eyes suddenly opened. They were bright blue.
“Our son,” said Jane proudly.
Wilson stared into his son’s eyes. They stared back imploringly. There was, Wilson saw with horror, still intelligence in them.
In a strangled voice Wilson said, “And Jessica? What have you done with her, you murdering bitch?”
“Jessica is fine,” answered Jane, sounding puzzled by his reaction. “She is happy within the embrace of the Mother. She guards this sacred place with the rest of my followers. I’m surprised you didn’t see her on the way up here.”
Wilson dropped the nozzle of the fire extinguisher. It fell to the floor with a clatter as he spun round to face Jane. “Jessica was among those creatures?” he screamed.
She gazed at him calmly, her expression self-satisfied and smug. “All will be clear to you when the Mother finally takes you into her embrace,” she told him, and gave a beatific smile.
He slammed his right fist into her mouth as hard as he could, following through with all his weight. He expected to knock her unconscious. He didn’t expect her head to fly from her shoulders with a dry snap.
Kimberley screamed.
Headless, Jane’s body tottered in front of him. No blood spurted from the end of the neck. Instead green fluid began to trickle out. He could see that her whole body was riddled on the inside with fungus.
The body, still upright, lurched past him, its arms flailing. Kimberley screamed again as it seemed to move straight for her. She struck out at it with her spiked rod. The make-shift spear went through Jane’s chest without meeting any resistance and protruded from her back. Kimberley ran screaming away from it.
The thing lurched about for several more steps then fell, twitching, to the floor.
Wilson turned his back on it and stared once again at the shape which had been his son. “Simon,” he said, helplessly. The blue eyes blinked.
He freed himself from the harness of the flame-thrower and let the hideous weapon drop with a crash. Then he bent down and began pulling the tubes out of the cabinet. Liquid spilled from them across the floor. He heard Kimberley approaching. She was crying.
“You killed her,” she sobbed. “You killed her and now we’ll never know the secret of her enzyme.”
He said nothing. He pulled the rest of the tubes out o
f the cabinet, then stood again. As he hoped, the pair of blue eyes soon began to glaze over.
“Are you listening to me?” demanded Kimberley, grabbing him by the arm. “We’ve got no hope now of getting what we came for. You’ve ruined every . . .” She paused, then gasped, “Oh God, look!”
He turned and saw what had alarmed her.
It was Jane’s head. It had rolled to the base of one of the nearby incubators and now, as it lay there, it was slowly cracking open.
Almost incuriously Wilson walked over to it. He gazed down at Jane’s eyes, which were wide-open and startled-looking. A large fissure ran down her forehead to the bridge of her nose and as he watched the crack widened. Then suddenly the skull snapped entirely into two halves, revealing a white, spherical fungus. It continued to expand . . .
Kimberley cried, “Look, her body too!”
He turned and saw that Jane’s headless corpse was undergoing a transformation as well. It was being shaken by a series of convulsions, as if it were trying to sit up. Then, from the stump of the neck, hyphae began to flow out and spread across the floor.
Wilson stood transfixed at the sight of his wife’s corpse collapsing in upon itself. As the hyphae spread threateningly towards them Kimberley ran to the flame-thrower. She picked it up and tried to make it work. She finally figured out how to turn it on and yelped as flames roared out. Awkwardly she sprayed fire over the fungus radiating out of Jane’s body, and then incinerated the head.
“How do I turn it off?” she cried in alarm as fire continued to gush from the nozzle. He was forced to go and assist her. But by the time he’d managed to switch it off it was too late. The laboratory was burning.
The fire caught hold very quickly, forcing them back toward the entrance. It was then that he noticed the small glass case sitting on a table that had been decorated to resemble an altar. Telling Kimberley to get out, he made a frantic dash through the flames to the case.
Sitting in the case was a pile of paper. On the top sheet he recognized the dense scrawl of Jane’s handwriting. He had found her notes.
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