by Ike Hamill
* * * * * * *
(Carrier)
The door to the cabin burst open.
“This is going to set us back,” Tyler said. For someone who appeared to be a human popsicle, he moved quite quickly. He strode across the floor and then paused to grab Marie’s ankle. With a tug, he sent her skidding across the wood floor, riding an area rug like a sled. She came to rest against the wall and tried to claw her way towards the open door.
Tyler was too fast. He slammed the hatch to the cold storage and then spun to slam the front door as well.
His face was a mess of mold and alien growth. Where the gouged out eye had been, the red fungus had developed into a mottled, pulsing bulge of spongy flesh. All down his cheek, she saw the nubs of emerging toadstools, pushing through his skin.
“All of this is setting us back,” Tyler said. He fixed his one remaining eye on Marie and the last hope ebbed from her. This was her final moment before horrendous pain—she knew that.
Before he came for her, Tyler was distracted by something else. His eyes went up and his head darted left and right as he explored his senses. His dead gaze finally landed on the wood stove that she had closed.
“Again?” he demanded.
She opened her mouth to warn him and then held back her words, hoping they didn’t echo too loudly in her head. Nelson had easily read her thoughts. She hoped that Tyler didn’t pick up on the information that had just crossed her mind—a starved wood stove has to be opened carefully. A sudden influx of oxygen will cause it to flash.
Tyler hesitated with his hand on the lever, but apparently hadn’t picked up the entire message. He threw open the door of the wood stove, maybe thinking that it required more wood.
Marie heard the air whoosh into the cavity. There, the fire had been hibernating, just waiting for fresh oxygen in order to really burn. The air reversed direction and burst back out in a bright orange flame.
If he had just been Tyler, maybe the flames would have only taken his eyebrows. He would have been startled, singed, and otherwise fine. But this hybrid of Tyler and fungus wasn’t as resilient to flame. Marie heard a scream and it didn’t come from Tyler’s mouth. The newborn fungus emitted the noise. Marie heard it with her ears and even louder in her head.
When he turned, she saw flame dancing up the fungus on Tyler’s face.
In pure, primal panic, Tyler bolted. He crashed through the window, taking his scream with him.
Winter air rushed in, blasting fresh energy into Marie. She struggled to her feet, gaining strength. She reached the window in time to see Tyler disappearing into the trees. Something told her that it was the distance between the two of them as much as the fresh air, that had made her strength return. Somehow, his proximity had made her weak.
Marie shut the wood stove once more. Standing in the middle of the room for a full minute, she realized that she only had one hope left. She had to take the other snowmobile and somehow make it back to civilization on her own. It was the only way out.
Before she left, she put all of her winter gear back on. She even found a fresh surgical mask—better safe than sorry—and she shut and locked the door behind herself, forgetting that the window had been shattered by Tyler’s exit. Nelson’s tracks down the path showed that he had stumbled his way to the snowmobile.
At the rear snowmobile, the tracks approached and then doubled back. Marie had a horrible feeling that she knew the reason why, but she didn’t let herself think it until she saw it with her own eyes.
Nelson had taken the other set of keys.
He had left on one snowmobile and taken the keys to the other.
His fresh tracks led south. She followed on foot, hoping that she might somehow catch him.
RESOLUTION
Chapter Thirteen - Arguing
(Leonard)
THE ROOM WAS SILENT when Leonard came back in. His eyes landed on Marie first and then quickly bounced over to Jake, holding a rifle in each hand like it was high noon.
“Hi, Jake,” Leonard said. “Patrice, I borrowed your long johns.”
Nobody answered.
“Why is everyone so quiet?” Leonard asked.
“The lady here just said that we’re not allowed to leave,” Jake said, gesturing at Marie with his chin.
“No offense, but who put her in charge?” Leonard asked.
Patrice took a half-step towards Marie. She flinched a little when she saw the big man advance. Leonard wanted to tell her it was okay—a lot of people were taken aback by Patrice when they first met him. He wasn’t just big, he was imposing. As soon as they got to know him, everyone realized that he was a harmless giant.
But Leonard held his tongue. The way that Andrew and Jake both suddenly seemed a little frightened by Marie—Jake, because of the way he had his chest puffed out, and Andrew because of the worry lines on his forehead—maybe it would be good if they struck a balance of mutual fear.
“Tell us what you mean,” Patrice said. “Why did you say that none of us will leave?”
She looked between them. She studied each of them. Her longest assessment was of Jake, who tilted his chin up at the scrutiny.
“There’s a risk,” she said. “Of infection.”
“I knew it,” Andrew said.
Jake shot Andrew a look to quiet him.
“Infection from what?”
“Tyler,” she said.
“What’s Tyler?” Patrice asked. “Is that some sort of new strain of flu?”
“Tyler,” Andrew whispered. He looked down at the floor coming to terms with the name.
“Tyler is my research partner,” Marie said.
“The guy on the snowmobile?” Patrice asked.
“No,” she said. “That was Nelson. He was the leader of the research.”
“What was Tyler infected with?” Jake asked. Leonard watched as Jake set down the rifles. Jake then reached up to wipe his mouth, looked at his hand, and then thought better of the action.
“Is that why you were wearing the mask?” Leonard asked.
“How old was he?” Andrew asked.
“Guys,” Patrice said, putting up his hands to stop them. “One question at a time. Marie, what happened?”
She looked down at the floor. “It’s a very long story.”
Leonard spotted his clothes. His jacket was hanging on the hook over the rinse bucket. He grabbed it and turned to the wood stove, wondering if he could throw it on top, or if that would only melt the synthetic fibers and catch on fire.
“Give us the quick version,” Jake said. “Start with what Tyler was infected with.”
“In his body, he was carrying half of a fungal organism. I’m carrying the other half.”
The room erupted. Andrew let out a grunt and scrambled backwards. He ran into a rack that held fishing poles, and one of those tipped and knocked a couple of pans off of a hook.
Meanwhile, Jake shouted, “Come on!” like the ref had just made a spectacularly bad call.
Patrice said, “Marie, Marie, Marie,” louder and louder. Leonard figured that Patrice was trying get attention back on her so they could get the rest of the story. She only stood there, confused.
“Guys,” Patrice said. “Come on, guys. Let her talk. Marie, are you contagious?”
The room quieted to hear what she would say. Andrew had his shirt back up over his nose. Jake looked like he was holding his breath.
“As far as I know, I am not contagious to men. The organism differentiated between men and women. This is a theory, but I believe it has merit,” she said. She gestured towards Andrew. “You don’t have to be concerned with covering your mouth.”
“Why not?” Andrew asked, putting his hand over his t-shirt covered mouth. “You just said that you don’t know for sure.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But I do know that if the organism in me can infect men, you already have it inside you. Either way, it’s too late,” she said.
The room was silent while everyone took that in.
<
br /> Andrew dropped his hand from his face. His shirt snapped back down a moment later. When he began to stalk towards Marie, they could all see the anger in his eyes. Jake was close enough to step between him and the woman.
“You knowingly infected us?” Andrew asked. His voice was a hoarse whisper.
Her reply was just as calm and just as even paced as before. She sounded like she was weighing each word in her mouth before she allowed herself to speak it.
“As I said, I don’t know that it can infect men. He’s the one you should worry about because he came in contact with Tyler,” she said. Her finger came up in an accusation aimed at Jake.
“How do you know? How do you know the man that I was near was your research whatever? I didn’t even describe him,” Jake said.
“I didn’t know at first, but now I know,” she said.
“Tell us everything you know,”Andrew said, barely containing his frustration.
“As I said, it’s a very long…”
“Tell us,” Andrew said.
* * * * * * *
(Patrice)
While Marie told her story, Patrice and Leonard worked together to wring out his jacket and clothes, getting as much lake water out of them as they could and then hanging them directly over the wood stove.
Marie started at the beginning. She told of how she met Oliver. They dated very briefly, and then he got sick. Marie explained how she felt she needed to complete Oliver’s work for him because her own selfish feelings made her too guilty to do anything else. The room was warm and Marie removed her jacket and scarf before sitting down. Leonard opened the stove, intending to stoke the fire so that his clothes would dry out faster. She practically begged him not to do it, claiming that she couldn’t take the heat.
Leonard shrugged and dropped the log back on the pile.
Her descriptions of the early experiments passed quickly. She skimmed over the details except for some of the things she had learned. The fungi were communicating with one another—she stressed that detail without making it supernatural. It was as simple as tiny chemical messages passed through spores. Patrice believed her. Only Jake seemed really skeptical.
By the time she was telling them of parasites that controlled the behavior of the hosts, Jake was clearly frustrated.
“This is absurd,” Jake said. “Plants don’t communicate and a virus can’t take over a person’s brain.”
“I’ve actually heard of that toxoplasmosis thing,” Patrice said. “Don’t you remember when Libby’s wife was pregnant? They said that she couldn’t clean out the litter box anymore?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that she would have gone crazy and killed everyone if she had,” Jake said.
“A person wouldn’t, no,” Leonard said. “That doesn’t mean a rat wouldn’t get a little crazy. I believe it.”
“Regardless, what the hell is the point?” Jake asked.
“The fungus took over Tyler and Nelson. It made them do strange things,” Marie said. “That’s the point.”
“You said that you have it too,” Jake said. “Why did they go crazy and you didn’t?”
“I will,” she said. “Their strain develops in the cold. My infection develops in the heat. In fact, I’m getting too hot now. I should step outside for a minute. Will you allow me that?”
“Who’s stopping you?” Andrew asked.
After picking up her hat and scarf, she gave them one final look and moved to the door. Patrice almost offered to keep her company, but he thought better of the idea. They needed a chance to discuss everything.
Marie stepped out and shut the door behind herself.
The moment the door closed, Andrew delivered his verdict. “Aside from her being infected, I don’t believe a word of it. She’s full of shit.”
“What do we do about it?” Leonard said.
“We keep her here,” Andrew said. “Two of us hike out until we get cell service and we call in the police, military, CDC, what-have-you. We get checked out, get her quarantined, and, hopefully, we get out of this in one piece.”
“What if we’re infected too?” Patrice asked. “Then who takes care of your son?”
“That’s the worst possible scenario,” Andrew said, “but I’m not going to turn a blind eye to the possibility just because it sucks. Listen, if I have come down with some killer parasite because of her or Jake, then the last thing I want to do is pass it along to Warren. I’ll put my faith in doctors to clear it up. His aunt is going to have to watch him until I’m cleared.”
“You’re blaming me? You’re not the only one with family, you know,” Jake said.
“I don’t see what the two things have to do with each other,” Andrew said. “I told you not to go near that guy. Now look what’s happened.”
Jake practically exploded, throwing his hands up. “And that was justification to shoot him?”
“Shh!” Andrew said, pointing at the door.
“She can’t hear us,” Patrice said as he angled to look through the front window. “She walked down near the lake.”
Jake threw up his hands again and then pointed at Andrew. “Why didn’t we just run? Did you think of that? Why would you shoot a man before you tried to run away from him. If he was that sick…”
“Did he run like he was sick?” Andrew asked. “Or did he cover so much fucking ground in an instant that it appeared like he could have taken every medal in the Olympics? Be honest, Jake, you really think we could have outrun that bastard?”
“It’s hard to say. He was far away,” Jake said.
Patrice could tell by the look on Jake’s face that Andrew had struck a nerve. Maybe Andrew was exaggerating a little, but from the way that Jake was considering it, there had to have been something unusual about the way the man had been running.
“Does it matter?” Leonard asked. “Can we all just take a step back and ask if it really matters? It seems to me that we all line up on the side that this woman is somewhat full of shit, right? Starting from there, let’s just talk about what it makes sense to do. I’m not an alarmist, by any means. I’m thinking that we keep our mouths shut about all this parasite and fungus shit. The last thing we want to do is invite a whole lot of quarantines based on pure speculation.”
“If we were quarantined, it would be for our own protection,” Andrew said.
“No,” Patrice said, “not necessarily. Don’t you remember that woman they locked up in Jersey a couple years ago just because they thought she might have been exposed to ebola? Sometimes, the government panics.”
“I’ll give you a better example,” Leonard said. “I lost a week of work last winter because someone reported me for coughing. I had sucked soda down the wrong pipe—that was all. But they were paranoid that I would become like a Typhoid Mary or something, so they sent me home. I had to burn my vacation.”
“You guys didn’t see Tyler,” Andrew said. “I saw him. This was no cough.”
“You barely saw him. Through a rifle scope,” Jake said.
“I saw enough,” Andrew said.
“What did you see, Jake?” Patrice asked. “You got up closer, right?”
* * * * * * *
(Jake)
Jake nodded. His jacket was already unzipped, but now he took it off and hung it on the back of a chair. They waited for him to check the rifles once more and lean them against the wall. Jake cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders back to stretch them out.
“Before Andrew shot him, it was clear that there was something wrong with the guy. It wasn’t just the way he was running. I swear that he had his nose turned up in the air while he ran and that he caught our scent before he saw us. I used to have a dog that didn’t see very well—she would do the same thing.”
“And he didn’t stop,” Andrew said.
“That’s right. In hindsight, you would think that a man in trouble would see other human beings and he would stop and wave his arms or something. If he was only running to find help, he probably would have
collapsed, exhausted, once he saw it.”
“But he didn’t,” Andrew added.
Jake nodded. “I approached him slowly once Andrew took off. I was cautious. It was a very clean shot. I don’t think a trained marksman could reproduce that shot if you gave them a thousand tries.”
Andrew looked down and frowned as he exhaled.
“I didn’t have to get very close to see that he was gone. It must have hit just the right—or wrong, I guess—spot because there wasn’t anything left of his head above the neck. My brother used to shoot rabbits in the head. Said it made the…”
“No offense, Jake, but nobody gives a flying fuck about your brother,” Patrice said.
For a fraction of a second, Jake’s anger flared. This wasn’t the time for spinning yarns. Patrice was right. Jake nodded, swallowed his anger, and got back to the story.
“I mean, there could be some truth to what that lady was saying. Not about magical parasites that take over people, but I do believe that there was something wrong with the guy. I’m not an expert, but the bits of bone and flesh that were still attached to his neck, they looked spongy or something.”
“How does something look spongy?” Andrew asked. “You didn’t touch him, did you?”
“No,” Jake said, shaking his head emphatically. “No way. I distinctly thought that I shouldn’t get too close because I didn’t want to disturb the crime scene, as it were. When I say spongy, I suppose I should say that the flesh was riddled full of holes.”
“Jesus,” Patrice said.
Jake opened his mouth to tell the rest of it. He intended to tell them about how the wind had kicked up and he had swung in an orbiting circle around the corpse to stay upwind, just in case. As he moved, he saw something peculiar. The sun reflected off of something in the air, like there was a fine dust being kicked up in the wind. He saw a cloud of the sparkly particles picked up by the wind and carried west. And each time the wind gusted, the messy corpse seemed to have a little less mass, as if the body was made of sand and it was being eroded by the wind.