by Ian Woodhead
Fungal Tide
By Ian Woodhead
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright July 2014 by Ian Woodhead
Proofed by Linda Tooch
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
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1
Before the Fall
It just wasn’t right. Jimmy Wilde stared in disgust at the excavated mud, rocks and shale dumped across the abandoned carpark. He didn’t give two monkeys that those toffee-nosed morons from the university had turned the weed infested tarmaced eyesore into the Somme. What had really gotten his goat was where they had gotten all that shit in the first place.
He could almost cry at what those filthy vandals had done to his beloved playground. Jimmy stood on a hill, overlooking what used to be Radfield recreation ground. They had only finished off what the council started a few months ago. Back at the beginning of the year, the powers that be decided to just write the park off; thanks to years of neglect, the place had become a haven for all of Radfield’s undesirables. They’d removed the climbing frame, the roundabout, and the swings and erected a six foot steel fence around the area.
“They ought to go to prison for what they had done,” he murmured under his breath. The suits in town hall who decided to destroy his park wasn’t included in that threat. Jimmy’s anger at them stripping out the playground equipment vanished when he saw that the other ‘undesirables’ invaded the bus station at night or dossed out in the waste collection yard at the back of the town’s new shopping mall.
It left him as the only person with any interest in the town’s forgotten park. Jimmy Wilde collapsed against the thick trunk of an ancient oak that had escaped the damage caused by the council workers and the university vandals.
He casually tickled Andrew behind his ear before watching his small black terrier streak across the wet mud. At least his dog seemed excited over these changes. Jimmy wiped his dirty palm across his unshaven chin and contemplated his actions. Andrew might be happy but he sure as heck didn’t share the dog’s enthusiasm. They couldn’t get away ruining his park, no way. Those bastards would pay for all of this wanton vandalism.
Jimmy shuddered at the thought of joining the rest of the old clan, fighting for space in the bus station. He wouldn’t dare venture into the other place, the druggies had now claimed that. What annoyed him more than anything was that their sudden arrival took him completely by surprise. The days spent mooching through Radfield always gave him plenty of gossip to chew over. He’d been a common sight in the town for decades; the locals treated him like part of the furniture and largely ignored him. Jimmy guessed that he knew more about the comings and goings of Radfield than anybody else.
Somebody must have known they were coming, as the fences came down last week and the powers that be had even brought in council workers armed with bin bags to remove the years of accumulated rubbish.
Then the real vandals turned up in their Land Rovers and pick-up trucks, with diggers, shovels, and pickaxes, tearing up everything to get at the soil. The grass went, as well as shrubs, rubble and anything the council workers left behind.
Jimmy had been on the other side of town, enjoying a hot meal, thanks to the vicar of Saint Mark’s, when their vehicles sped past the graveyard. When he returned, they had stolen his favourite sleeping spot. The bastards had even taken the two benches, one in front of where the swings used to be and the other one – his favourite, from under the only other tree left in the park. They’d even pulled up the tree.
The bastards had caused all of this damage and for what? They had dug up his beloved park for a bunch of old bones. From his vantage point Jimmy observed the shitbags wading about, looking completely ridiculous wading through the mud in their green wellies while admiring the blasted landscape. Every once in while, all work would stop when one of these clowns had uncovered yet another piece of stupid bone.
Big frigging deal.
What lay hidden beneath the ground ought to stay there, it was as simple as that. Did these people have any respect for the dead? How would they feel if some bunch of wellie clad morons dug up their mother?
This morning’s local paper had given him the basic facts. The early birds, going about their business in the high street, supplied Jimmy with a few more ‘facts’ as well as peppering their statements with enough opinions to sink a small ship.
So they’d found some new species of caveman, so this was going to put the town on the map. Was any of this going to bring his frigging park back? No, of course not. Those bastards had ruined it; they’d ruined it for all of them.
His dog had disappeared from view. Jimmy struggled to his feet. “Andrew!” he shouted. “Where the bloody hell have you gone now?” A furry black head popped up from behind a discarded metal bucket. “Will you come back over here, right now, you naughty doggy.” Jimmy just knew that he was talking to himself. He’d kept Andrew on a tight reign since the vandals tore up the park. This was the first time he’d let him loose. Trust the dog to find the only spot left in the park where the vandals hadn’t dug up. Oh, they were going to do that in the morning, and just like the local townsfolk, these brain boxes hadn’t taken much notice of Jimmy either, as long he kept away from their equipment. He’d already found out that they believed the bulk of the bones were lying a few inches from where Andrew was.
***
The black, wire-haired terrier continued to explore the new strange objects, making sure that everybody now knew that they belonged to him now. After all, this was his territory.
His master hadn’t allowed him to reaffirm his right over the land for such a long time and although he knew it was so wrong to slip away and ignore the master, his urge to overlay the unfamiliar scents with his own took precedence. His punishment for disobedience would be harsh, but that was for later.
He cocked his leg and sprayed, feeling a lot happier now everyone would know he was back. His master’s voice continued to call him. The tone altered, and his ears flattened against both sides of his head; the master was really cross now. He turned and looked in distress at the remaining areas, still not covered up by his scent. It would have to wait for later.
He barked once to signal that he was returning and padded off the green. The sound of his master’s tone changing back abruptly vanished when a new scent found its way into his nostrils. He pushed his snout into the mud, filling up his entire olfactory senses with all the new and exciting aromas which engulfed his wits.
He sensed the master walking towards him and that scary voice had returned. He should leave here right now and submit, roll on his back and show the master that he hadn’t been able to help himself, but he didn’t move.
The master would understand when the man reached this awesome place, how could he not? The very air and dirt was alive. He waited until the master was close before racing towards where the scent was strongest, he so needed to show his master what was here, at what he’d found.
The terrier stopped dead, he released an excited howl before frantically digging into the mud. His barking grew ever more frenzied when his paws reached the first bone layer. This is where that delicious aroma was coming from this is where…
***
Jimmy tried to stop, but the momentum was just too great. He tripped up over his feet and fell into the mud, rolling down the last few feet until his b
ody crashed into the wire fence at the base of the gradient. “Andrew!”
His dog howled out, the noise ripping through Jimmy’s entire body. He got back onto his feet, wrapping his mud coated hand around the fence post when he slipped again. “I’m coming!” he panted, throwing himself at the thin mesh. His weight was enough to pull the two posts out of the ground, and he stumbled through the wet ground, heading closer to his dog.
He fell again, this time it wasn’t due to the slippy ground. Jimmy tried to draw breath, feeling like his lungs were filling up with oil. His clawed fingers ripped into his throat, Jimmy’s blurring vision showing him Andrew’s fur sloughing off. He screamed out in utter agony, feeling his own flesh expanding, blistering up before his skin split, releasing the rancid reek of mould and something else.
***
The sky directly above Jimmy and the dog grew black as the millions of microscopic black, green and white spores left their two ruptured bodies. The gentle breeze blew the spores further up into the sky, before carrying them further into the town.
2
The first casualties
The spilled thick chocolate sauce made an excellent drawing medium. Ryan Bennett smiled to himself while wiping his index finger on the underside of the table. He leaned back in the hard, red plastic chair and admired the shape of the canine tooth that he’d drawn in the mess on the cracked Formica tabletop.
Ryan put away his stupid grin and checked the time again, sighing when those thin black hands seemed to be moving far faster than they ought to be. Why was he even here? For crying out loud, Ryan’s team was sitting on probably one of the most important finds of the century and instead of organising the rotas for the next dig, he was here, sitting in this tiny café, waiting for his ex-wife to come out of the toilets.
Her sense of timing just got better and better; was it too much of a coincidence that she chose this very moment to set up a meeting? Hell, the cow hadn’t even specified the reason, only dropping the vague hint that it could be about their daughter, Emily.
Trust the sneaky bitch to play the trump card. She knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse the summons, no matter what he was doing. Did any other eminent archaeologists ever have to cope with such trivialities while they were on the verge of a world changing discovery?
Could that be what this was all about? Had Tracy got it into her scheming skull that Ryan was a bad influence on their seven year old girl? He looked around the almost empty café, hence the decision to meet in a public place, knowing full well that he wouldn’t cause a scene in front of strangers.
Oh hell, it must be something to do with Emily, no matter how hard he tried Ryan couldn’t think of another reason as to why that nasty bitch would make him drive to the other end of town.
If this co called ‘urgent’ meeting wasn’t bad enough, then those steel grey skies on the other side of the shop front window could spell potential disaster if the team hadn’t erected the covering over the dig; so much for the weather men forecasting a bright and sunny day. If the heavens did open up before his team had secured the site, they’d have to postpone the new dig, at least until the ground dried out.
Calm yourself, boy.
The wristwatch now joined in with the conspiracy to wash away what little patience he’d managed to store up. To make matters worse, the woman had already commented on the watch, reminding him that it had been her who’d bought that particular timepiece. The insinuation that he still craved for her company was there for all to see.
She was wrong, so wrong about everything, apart from buying him this watch, of course. This watch kept excellent time, as well as being virtually indestructible. Emotion hadn’t been the reason for its continued presence, wrapped around his wrist. That particular honour belonged firmly in the garden of practicality.
Eight minutes had passed since the bitch had shut that magnolia door, leaving him with the chocolate stain and his volatile thoughts for company. Tracy’s annoying habit of spending an absolute age in the toilet hadn’t left her, but this was just taking the piss. Tracy must be doing this on purpose, it had to be the only explanation. Should he be surprised to discover that she had changed her habits in all the six months that they’d been living apart? Nine minutes now, and he still had no idea what she wanted.
Well she had better hurry up. He was out of here in another ten minutes whether she liked it or not. Ryan grinned, imagining the look on her face when he’d just stand up and leave right in the middle of one of her conversations.
Eleven minutes now.
Jeanette, his assistant, had told him to take as much time as he needed, telling him that the rest of the team would be spending the rest of the day cleaning up and cataloguing what they had already found. If he was a paranoid man, Ryan would be sure that that Janette was trying to get rid of him for a few hours.
The white toilet door swung inwards. He ground his teeth in irritation at the sight of an old woman shuffle through the door. She paused, adjusted a green gauze scarf shrink-wrapped around the top of her head before moving between the tables and chairs towards the only other customer in the shop, a frail looking man wearing a shabby two-piece suit. Ryan saw him attempt a smile as the large woman sat down opposite him. The old man passed her a grey tissue before picking up his knife and fork and continued to shovel peas into his mouth. Ryan’s stomach rumbled.
Ryan pulled his sleeve down, fuck it. If he was going to leave the woman, why not do it now? If it really was that important, then Tracy could use their respective solicitors; after all, that’s what they were there for.
“Are you two ready to order now, love?”
Ryan hid his surprise with a yawn. He removed his hand from his mouth and smiled at the waitress, his initial concerns about the dig and his ex-wife’s unexpected request to meet vanished at the sight of this very pretty redhead. “Erm, could I just have a couple of teas please, miss?” The need to leave took a back seat as well. Jeanette could handle the cataloguing without him being around.
His stomach complained bitterly over his conservative menu choice, obviously under the impression that he was about to fill it with real food. Ryan had already checked out the laminated menu at the end of the table, and believed that the chef’s special of steak pie, chips and mushy peas, would have gone down a treat. Judging from the redhead’s body language, she must have shared his stomach’s opinion as well.
Ryan couldn’t remember the last time he sat down to a decent meal. Perhaps if he was sitting down with pleasant company, Ryan would have enjoyed eating his way through the menu. His ex-wife just turned his stomach though.
While the waitress jotted down his scant order, couldn’t she remember two teas? Ryan casually checked her out, guessing that the girl had only just said goodbye to her teenage years. The girl exuded a calm demeanour, a feeling of maturity that belonged in a woman a decade older than her obvious youth. Ryan felt himself smiling when she looked over her notepad and fluttered her pretty blue eyes before returning his grin.
“Are you sure that I can’t get you anything else?”
Ryan shook his head, noting she hadn’t bothered to mention the obvious fact that he wasn’t alone, or maybe she had and just didn’t care.. His imagination showed him an alternate scenario where this cute girl was the reason for his visit to the café and that poisonous bitch, still in the toilet. was the waitress. Yeah, he’d like that. Ryan wouldn’t mind exploring the menu with this redhead. It then occurred to him that perhaps the attraction was mutual. It had been so long since he’d been in this situation that Ryan had forgotten how to proceed with the courting ritual.
Was this another example of stupidly bad timing or was lady fate just playing with him?
The waitress gave him a final shy smile before taking her leave and slowly walking back to the counter. He decided there and then that once this unpleasant encounter with the ex was out of the way and the dig wasn’t taking up so much of his time, he’d come back here and ask the girl if she fancied a drink.
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Did the girl already have a partner? The chances of such a pretty girl being single, just like him, were too slim to even contemplate. Even after three months, all these weeks after the divorce, that statement still felt weird to say. Ryan guessed that after ten years of marriage, it would take him a while to get used to.
A full quarter of an hour now. This was getting beyond stupid. Fuck it, Ryan wasn’t waiting any longer, he needed to get back to the dig. He stood up, took out his wallet and placed a note on the table, hoping the girl would understand. Ryan then abruptly sat back down and put his hand over the money. No, that was a stupid idea. If he left without explanation, the poisonous bitch would go apeshit, and the redhead would receive the brunt of the blowback, completely destroying any future chances of Ryan getting to know the girl.
Tracy had years of experience in tainting other people’s opinion of Ryan.
He focused on watching his waitress exchange laughs with another girl who’d been waiting on the old couple. The petite brunette looked about the same age but that’s where the similarity ended; unlike his waitress, the brunette still carried that teen stance whenever she moved. He could just imagine her leaning against a shop front in the city centre, her mouth full of bubblegum and giggling at the exploits of the boys messing about on skateboards. He listened in on their conversation, catching fragments from the brunette about a boring night out with her boyfriend. Ryan’s ears caught the girl calling his waitress Sierra. He thought that was such a beautiful name. The redhead picked up two cups and brought them over to his table.
“Here you go, love.” The waitress placed both cups down, hiding Ryan’s artwork with Tracy’s cup of tea. “If you need anything else, just holler. It’s not like the place is heaving this afternoon.”
Ryan nodded, looking past the girl at the toilet door. This was getting silly now; Tracy had been in there for ages now. “Okay, you’ve twisted my arm. How about you bring over that chocolate éclair? It looks so lonely all by itself in your glass cabinet.”