The Mutant Mushroom Takeover

by Summer Rachel Short

  Nate swings his camera toward the crop duster. “And here, ladies and gentlemen, is the ship the extraterrestrials crash-landed in. It may look like your average farm plane, but don’t be fooled. This is next-gen alien tech hiding in plain sight.”

  Nate might be able to laugh it all off, but nothing about this feels funny. I want to collect my samples and get out of here. “Can you get a close-up of the wing?”

  “Already on it,” Nate says, fiddling with the camcorder’s screen.

  I’m out of film until I can make it back to Goodman’s Pharmacy, so Nate’s agreed to document everything, promising to cut his show’s audio so the file for the board will be purely scientific footage.

  Muggy air rises from the forest floor and my trash bag suit clings to my chest.

  As we plunge deeper into the thick overgrowth, we hit the jackpot with all sorts of shining fungi cropping up. “Just a sec. I’m gonna grab a couple.” With a gloved hand, I kneel and pluck a speckled toadstool and two chartreuse mushrooms the shape of mini-brains, then seal them in separate plastic bags.

  We trudge on, following a worn path that weaves through the trees. But nothing looks familiar anymore. We’ve definitely gone deeper than on our first visit. Nate stops and tugs my arm. “Check it out.” A faded gray cabin with a sagging porch peeks out from the woods. A weathered rocking chair creaks back and forth.

  “It must be Old Man Bell’s house,” I say. A roadrunner weathervane slowly whirrs in the front yard.

  “I’m a professional and all, but if something comes climbing out of that ghost hut, I’m probably gonna pee my pants.”

  “Understood.” I swallow a cold lump as we pass the cabin and come to a ridge. A dusky field stretches out beneath us, sheltered from the sun by the forest’s thick boughs. Hundreds of gleaming mushrooms of all shapes and sizes pulse, filling the space with eerie color. But they’re not scattered randomly over the field in chaotic clusters. Instead, the fungi are lined up neatly like corn or wheat. “How did that happen?” I murmur.

  Nate lowers his camcorder, taking it all in with his own eyes. “I don’t know, but I don’t think I like it.”

  Something stirs in the underbrush bordering the field. Figures trudge forward in a slow shuffle. Ezra, Jack, and Zion, each carrying a rusty silver bucket.

  I smile. Ezra came after all. And he brought backup. But as the three of them slog along, my face slowly falls. Their steps are too in sync. Left, right, left. I’ve seen that kind of synchronized routine before. The spiders on my window. The bugs on the stinkhorn. And now my brother.

  A few more people plod out from the trees, all with buckets hanging on their arms. The group is mostly teenage boys, but I recognize a few grown-ups too. Kirby Filson from the fire department. Taniesha Jones from the deli counter at Lenny’s Supermarket. A sudden wind whips through the canopy and every one of them bends down and starts to fill their buckets.

  Nate crouches behind a cluster of bushes. “Well, everything here seems perfectly normal and not at all zombirrific. What do you say we call it a day and skedaddle?”

  “I told Ezra this place was dangerous. He’s not even wearing gloves. He is so busted.”

  Clouds of white spores rise up around the group, and Ezra’s lips look bluer than ever. This is way worse than I imagined. I cup my hands around my mouth and shout, “Ezra!”

  His eyes flick to mine and then, like lightning, he drops his bucket and sprints my way. In a few seconds he’s climbed the ridge and closed the distance between us. His chest bumps into my shoulder. “I told you not to come.” Ezra peers from the mushroom field to the dark forest beyond.

  “I have research to do, remember? And unlike you, I’m actually wearing protective gear.”

  “I’m doing some research too. But you’re gonna mess it up,” Ezra says, stealing another glance over his shoulder. “The caretaker thinks I work for him, all right? But if he catches you here with your goofy garbage sack shirts, he’s gonna know something’s up.”

  Nate rubs his chin. “So you’re, like, a double agent, infiltrating the ranks of the fungus underworld?”

  “Something like that,” Ezra says. “Now get lost before we get caught.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what’s happening out here.” I plant my feet on the ground.

  “Can’t you just listen to me for once in our lives?”

  “Nope.” If Ezra thinks I’m going to fall in line just because he’s my big brother, he’s got another think coming. Before I can give him a piece of my mind, though, a howl bellows through the treetops; the lights of the mushrooms tremble and then go out completely. Goose bumps skitter down my arms.

  “It’s back,” Nate murmurs.

  He’s right. Everything feels just like that night when the fungi suddenly went dark.

  Ezra’s eyes lock on something in the distance. “He’s coming.”

  The wind stirs a few fallen leaves and Nate ducks. “Um… who exactly is coming?”

  “The caretaker.” Ezra stands rigid-straight like a soldier snapping to attention.

  “So this is either the moment where the bad guys get locked in an intergalactic dungeon or we suddenly develop superpowers and kick a whole lot of––”

  “I don’t think either of those is an option right now.” I crouch next to Nate.

  All the colors of the forest suddenly burst back to life. Nuclear greens and blues blaze so bright I scrunch my eyes shut. It’s like a creepy version of the Marble Falls house that always has the gaudiest decorations at Christmas.

  “Greetings, visitors,” a voice sweeps through the branches. “Welcome to the forest.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A tall, spindly man in a long dark coat glides between the trees. Something about the length of his nose or the slight stoop in his shoulders makes me think he’s old. But then I’m not so sure. His hair is jet-black, and his skin is so smooth it shines like when Gramma slathers on her wrinkle cream at night.

  “Who have you brought me today, Ezra?” the man asks, tilting his head.

  “This is my little sister, Maggie, and her friend, Nate.” Ezra’s eyes hover around his boots.

  I scowl at Ezra. I don’t want this guy knowing my name.

  “I am Albert Eldridge, the caretaker of these woods.” He extends a hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  Nate lifts his chin slightly. “Hey.”

  Albert’s face and hands have the same faint tint as Ezra’s, like after we dye eggs at Easter and the food coloring won’t quite wash out. Albert follows my gaze. “The mushrooms discolor the skin. It’s of no concern.” His hand still sticks out waiting for me to give it a shake.

  I cross my arms, and at last Albert slips his hand back into the pocket of his seasonally inappropriate coat.

  “How exactly did you end up the new caretaker?” I ask. “Bell just died. Are you related to him or something?”

  “Mags, don’t,” Ezra says in a low voice.

  “No relation.” Albert’s pale irises peer through me. “But I served as his apprentice for many months. It was natural that he leave the property to me.”

  They haven’t even had Old Man Bell’s memorial service yet. I don’t know a ton about legal stuff, but Albert owning the land seems awfully fast.

  Albert lifts a shaggy brow and surveys the field. “Would you like to join the others? There’s plenty of work for all.”

  My heart hiccups and I exchange a quick glance with Nate. “We’re not here to join anything. We’re just doing some research.”

  “I see.” Albert’s face stretches into something resembling a smile. “Please explore wherever you wish.”

  “Albert’s just being generous. You don’t really need to hang around,” Ezra says.

  “They are welcome here.”

  “Right, of course, sir.” Ezra’s cheeks flush. “That’s very nice of you.”

  Ezra says he’s investigating, but it looks more like he’s just here to suck up to Albe
rt Eldridge. If I’m going to gather decent evidence, I need answers. And the new caretaker might be the only one who’s got them. “Why do you have my brother picking mushrooms? Why aren’t any of the workers wearing gloves? Aren’t you worried about their safety?”

  A buzz whirrs from a nearby shrub and a lone bumblebee emerges, flying in an erratic zigzag. “You have many questions,” Albert says and stretches out a long, knobby finger. The bee lands and perches on the tip.

  Nate takes a scrambling step back. “Um sir, there’s a bee on your—”

  Ezra glares at me. “My sister likes to think she knows a lot about science and stuff. Don’t worry about her. She was just about to leave,” Ezra says, then drops his voice and says to me, “Just shut up, okay?”

  “I do know a lot about science and stuff.” My face is hot and I’m pretty sure I’m turning red. Ezra’s always treating me like a baby who doesn’t know anything. I’ve been reading about fungi nonstop for days and now that I’m here, I’m not leaving without answers. I spin back to Albert. “Are you aware that invasive mutant mushrooms are likely growing in these woods?”

  “Maggie, I’m serious. Be quiet.”

  “Let her speak.” Albert flicks his hand and the bumblebee glides away. “Ezra, you may return to the others.”

  Behind Albert’s back, Ezra mouths something, but I can’t tell what. I shrug and he rolls his eyes, then marches away.

  Nate pokes me in the ribs. “Check it out.” As Ezra rejoins the group, they all begin to move in a single-file line, bending to pluck mushrooms in perfect time. Up, down. Up, down.

  I’ve seen enough.

  “Those workers have spores all over them. Half of them are glowing. You’ve gotta call them in and spray them down with bleach or something.”

  “It seems… you dislike fungus.” Albert pronounces each word slowly.

  “Those mushrooms might be infected with mutated Ophiocordyceps, a jungle fungus that attacks––”

  “Carpenter ants in South America.” Albert bends and plucks a glimmering toadstool. He tucks the tiny umbrella- shaped fungus behind one ear. “Yes.”

  I blink. “You’re not worried about infection?”

  Albert tilts his chin. “There’s nothing to fear. Ophiocordyceps is our friend.” He pulls the umbrella from his ear and pops it in his mouth.

  I shriek, “Don’t eat that!” Nate gags.

  He chews, then swallows. A green shimmer runs down his neck. “Delicious and nutritious.”

  My jaw drops. “Are you crazy?”

  “They’re perfectly safe. That’s why we harvest them. Full of vitamins and minerals. Wonderful for the bones and the mind.”

  “Those mushrooms are bad news. Shady Pines has critters with stalks shooting off their bodies. This is a serious problem,” I say.

  The workers snap their heads in my direction. Kirby and Taniesha take a few dragging steps away from the others. Kirby stretches out one arm, looking so much like a classic zombie that I’d crack up if he weren’t stomping my way.

  “I don’t think we wanna tick off the horde,” Nate whispers.

  “Everything is under control.” Albert shifts one finger and Kirby and Taniesha rejoin the group. “I think a demonstration is in order.”

  I really don’t want a show-and-tell from Albert. But since he’s got such a devoted following, I think we’d better hear him out.

  He snaps his fingers and a skinny boy with pasty skin and dusty yellow hair shuffles our way. He carries one of the ever-present silver buckets. Albert takes it from him and then waves his hand. The boy trudges back to the others.

  I peek over the rim of the bucket. It’s filled with a white goo that shines like the fat that hardens in the pan after Gramma fries bacon.

  “What is that?” I ask. There’s a smell like Elmer’s glue mixed with pond water.

  Albert dips his finger into the bucket. “A remedy for your troubles.”

  Nate scrunches his nose. “Uh, could you be a little more specific?”

  “Observe.” Albert kneels and spreads a small glob on a patch of shimmering fungi. It sizzles and froths until a white foam forms. When the bubbles die down, all that’s left is a burnt brown patch.

  “Whoa,” Nate says. “It roasted it from the inside out.”

  Albert gazes down at the shriveled mushrooms with a pensive look. “It would appear that way.”

  Nate and I trade glances. There’s something seriously off about the new caretaker.

  Albert stretches out his hand. The finger that he dipped into the bucket is not only completely burn-free, but it’s also no longer blue. “Spread it on any fungi that worries you. It will alleviate all your concern.”

  Nate cocks his head to one side. “But what about––”

  I clear my throat. “This seems like it’ll do the trick. Thanks.”

  “You are welcome.” Albert’s pale eyes hover over me.

  I dart my gaze away. “Well, I guess that’s everything, then.”

  “Don’t forget the remedy.” Albert hands me the jelly- filled bucket.

  “Right.” The gel quivers in the pail.

  “Do come back and visit us again soon.” At that, he turns and slinks through the clearing toward the workers.

  I reach for Nate’s arm and we hurry through the woods without saying another word. When we make it to the downed crop duster, Nate steals a glance at me. “So, we really gonna spread this stuff around town?”

  I peer down at the shiny white goo. “Not a chance.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  We trot across the railroad tracks, back to our side of Shady Pines. Albert’s cure gave me an idea.

  “I want to run tests on the fungi. See if we can find our own treatment.”

  “Shouldn’t you leave that to the people in lab coats with little glass beakers?” Nate asks.

  “You saw how Ezra was acting. He’s bad off and I want answers,” I say. “We oughta stop by The Wormery, too, and see if Mac’s had any luck with the samples.”

  “Don’t bother. The fam went out for slushies last night and Dad grabbed a tub of bait on the way home. I was supposed to let you know the fungus gunk still has Mac stumped.”

  “Well then, maybe we could question Jack and Zion,” I say as we turn down the gravel road of Raccoon Creek Trailer Park. “Maybe they’d tell us more about Albert Eldridge than Ezra did. We’ll need the full scoop before we call in backup.”

  “But they’re all out in the woods having a mushroom party right now, so I’d say that’s a no go.”

  I tap my fingers on my lips. “What if we pay them a surprise visit first thing tomorrow morning?”

  “First thing after Bell’s memorial, you mean. It’s tomorrow, remember?”

  “Oh, right,” I reply.

  “While we were stomping around his place, I kinda wished the old guy might come out shaking his fists at us again. Instead, we got the Spore King and his minions.”

  “Spore King? That’s creepy, Nate.”

  “Thanks.” He grins. “I’ve been working on it since we hightailed it out of the woods. You gotta admit that dude’s got villain written all over him. Did you see his trench coat? That’s, like, standard-issue bad guy wardrobe.”

  A truck engine backfires as Nate’s dad pulls into the park. “I gotta go. I told my dad I’d clean my room and now I’ve got about negative three seconds to do it.”

  Long shadows fall over the lawn as I tuck Albert’s jelly behind the honeysuckle bush and head inside. The house is quiet, and two new messages blink on the answering machine. One from Gramma saying she has to stay late at work. An oil spill with the deep fryer. And another from Ezra saying he’s going bowling with Zion and he’ll be home late. Considering an hour ago he was tromping through the woods, kissing up to Albert Eldridge, I’m pretty sure that’s a big fat lie.

  The sooner I can gather conclusive evidence and get some backup, the better.

  I warm up Gramma’s chicken tetrazzini and think about what we
’ve got around here that I can test on the mushrooms. As I chew a cheesy bite, the kitchen phone rings.

  I grab it after the first ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, sweetie, it’s me.”

  “Dad!” I squeal. “You’re back at your cabin?”

  “For the night I am.” Dad sighs. “Summers here are crazy. They’ve got me running all around the park.” I picture Dad’s face, his cheeks prickly with stubble, his lips turned up in a sideways smile.

  “I got the sun catcher you made. It’s so pretty.”

  “I had fun hunting down the basalt for it. Whenever you kids come up here for a visit we’ll have to do a hike and see what other rocks we can find.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “Yeah, unless you’ve already moved back here… then we might not have time for a visit.”

  There’s a pause, and when Dad speaks again his voice sounds softer, more careful. “I know that’s what you’re hoping for, Mags, but there just aren’t a lot of jobs in Shady Pines.”

  “Well, I’ve been working on something new. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew more, but I’ve nearly got it all worked out for Vitaccino to rehire you.” My stomach flutters as I race out the words.

  Dad clears his throat. “Vitaccino, huh? That’s something.”

  He doesn’t sound excited. But bringing Dad home has been my mission since the day he left. The Merit Award, the trip to Old Man Bell’s woods, meeting with the board—everything was for him. “Don’t you wanna come back?”

  “I want to be with you kids. More than anything. I think about you all the time.”

  I poke my fork into my casserole leftovers. Dad didn’t really answer my question. “Lydia Croft said you’re overqualified to be a lab assistant. She thinks she might have something even better for you.”

  “Hey, kiddo, I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but I’ve got things under control.”

  He doesn’t get it. He’s way off in the wilderness of Wyoming. Maybe he’s too busy or far away to remember that we’re all back here, missing him every day. “It’s been six months. That’s a really long time.”