Fungal Tide

by Ian Woodhead

  As he steadily continued his task of cutting the grass, working in methodical rows, Ryan now saw that the white stuff flew off his skin, like dandelions seeds, revealing raw pink skin below that quickly vanished under more of this pervading material. Wherever it landed, the substance expanded, growing rabidly.

  “He has no idea what’s happened to him, has he?”

  Ryan slowly shook his head, watching this bizarre event with incredulity. He let out a quiet gasp when the aberration stopped mowing when he reached a green round metal table set in the middle of his lawn. He turned around and waved at them. Under the white growth Ryan saw evidence of a smile, his lips covered in more black spikes. They made his lips look like a rubber dog toy.

  “Come on, Ryan; let’s get out of here before that thing comes over to the car.”

  He eagerly agreed and drove off, watching the man stop by his gate, still waving at them. “It must be a defence mechanism,” he said. “That stuff is probably eating him from the outside in.” Ryan turned to Sierra. “I think it is mould, like what you get on stale bread or on your bathroom tiles. My other team member, Mark, would probably be able to confirm my speculations. He’s a biologist.”

  “Jesus, it’s everywhere!”

  Ryan slowed the car down to avoid two white furry hills in the middle of the road. His stomach heaved when the tyres rolled over a small lump. He gripped the steering wheel tight, watching the landscape continue to change as they neared their destination. The hard grey human built structures were slowly succumbing to the white invader, losing their definition as the stuff grew over the stone and concrete, destroying the hard corners and straight lines.

  Sierra placed her hand on his knee. “Ryan, look over there, just past the post office. It looks like the road is moving.”

  “Oh shit,” he exclaimed, watching what looked like an oil slick gushing out of the gutters at the side of the road, only this stuff had its own momentum and was flowing directly towards his car. He slammed on the brakes and turned off the engine. “Get out, now!”

  Ryan pushed open his door, ran around to the other side. He grabbed the girl and pulled her over to the side of the road. The stuff continued to advance towards their car and he groaned softly when he saw the stuff splitting in two, the smaller branch flowing in their direction. He jumped onto a low brick wall surrounding an Italian restaurant and turned around, watching it get closer.

  Sierra jumped over and pulled him off. “Don’t stop, you idiot.”

  He heard the panic in her voice and the intense fear inside him so wanted to push out through that clear curtain and join hers. The terror needed a companion, especially since the false comfort that the car gave had now gone. He refused to let it rule him. Ryan jerked her back towards his hot body. “Get on the wall with me,” he hissed. “Keep still and stay silent!”

  He jumped back up, hearing her moan at the sight of the black viscous substance now reaching the kerb. His car had gone, covered by the main body. Ryan’s heart smashed into his ribs when the smaller stuff flowed up and onto the pavement, but as he stared, fingers of the black stuff slowed down before retreating to the car. He breathed a sigh of relief. “I know where we are now.” He kept his voice as low as possible, not wanting that stuff to realise that its prey had left the car. Ryan climbed off the wall, creeping away from the road, taking his time to make as little noise as possible. Sierra’s shivering travelled through his arm. “Imagine you’re a kid again,” he whispered. “That’s your friend over there, her back’s turned and she’s counting to one hundred. Your other friends are making a complete riot, laughing and giggling while they running from her.” He squeezed Sierra’s hand. “Not you though, she’ll never find you.”

  The black stuff rolled off the car, leaving the bodywork stripped of paint. “Fucking hell,” he said, watching it retreat to the gutters. “That could have been us.” He took a couple of steps forward and sighed when he saw that it had consumed the tyres as well. Ryan’s quiet gratitude having the foresight to get out of the car abruptly left him when Sierra gently tugged at his hand. “Okay,” he whispered. “You’re right, we do need to move out.” The tugging increased, he whipped his head around as the pulling became violent. Ryan cried out in surprise and horror at the sight of the black substance flowing over Sierra, already covering her head and body, thick strands of the stuff dripping from her chin and splashing on her arms before crawling towards his hand.

  Ryan shrieked and let go, stumbling back as the stuff pulled her back. Before he turned and ran Ryan saw an open storm drain by the side of the building, the stuff was pulling her into that.

  7

  The Second City

  The harsh light from a single lightbulb gave Gavin Bannister just enough illumination to allow his tired eyes to make out the signs of human habitation. He could have cried with relief when his legs brought him out of the stone labyrinth and into a very ordinary looking cellar.

  “Come on, laddie. Don’t fail me now.” He took one last look behind him into the stygian darkness and sneered at his invisible pursuers. “Yeah, fuck you and the horse you rode in on. You thought you were going to get me didn’t you!” Gavin kept his eyes fixed on the gloomy interior and walked backwards, the tips of his fingers brushing across the limestone painted bricks, only stopping when the back of the feet found the bottom of the first step.

  The connection released the dam of suppressed emotions that he’d allowed to build up ever since this fucking nightmare landed on his head just one hour ago. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down his cheeks, nor could he halt the several tons of grief and panic surging through his thick body. Gavin fell back against the wall and slid down to the damp floor, his arm resting on the rusty frame of an old bike. He wiped his face with the back of his other hand, blinking hard when he inadvertently caught plaster dust in his eyes.

  “Oh shit. Fuck, that stings.” He found a clean part of his white t-shirt and cleaned out the alien matter. “Yeah, that’s right, boyos. You’re no match for me.” He held his breath, straining to listen for any telltale signs that they really were gone. He heard no scraping, no wet splats and definitely no soft footfalls echoing his own. Gavin dared to smile just the once, as he attempted take command of his out of control emotions.

  How would his earlier self act if he could see him now. Gavin projected himself out of his body and looked down at this snivelling form, dressed in steel toe capped work boots, a filthy pair of combat pants and the remains of a tight white shirt stretched across his muscular chest.

  The old Gavin, that self-assured nightclub bouncer, wouldn’t see that heavily muscled torso, plainly visible through that shirt. The style of pseudo military clothing just wouldn’t register, nor would the fact that his blond hair, cut close to Gavin’s thick head, give away that this guy was not to be messed with. Oh no, all he’d see is some dirty homeless parasite. The thick coating of shit, red rimmed eyes and tattered clothes would see to that.

  “He’d see a pathetic pile of rags.” Gavin clenched both his hands, listening to his bones crack. The noise brought back the pleasing memory of two pissed up twenty somethings getting all clever and acting tough in front of their equally drunken tarts, trying to gain access to the Cloud Nine bar.

  The image of his miserable looking form left his mind and instead he saw the reflection of Gavin Bannister, aged twenty-three, a self assured hard man, the longest serving doorman, working at the roughest club in Radfield. His reputation was second to none; you just didn’t mess with him, not unless you enjoyed pain.

  Those two idiots wearing their trendy suits had obviously not read the memo. When the pair had tried to use their office management skills on him, railing Gavin with veiled threats dressed up as confusing pretend matey bullshit. He’d cracked his bones, relishing the startled rabbit in headlights look coming form the pretty girls. These two clowns had been right in the middle of their spiel, too distracted to even notice. Gavin’s temper didn’t even ri
se as he leaned forward, gazing into the glazed brown pupils of the dark haired individual directly in front of him. He detected the sour reek of expensive cocktails masked over with strong mints. Gavin then grabbed the man’s genitals and squeezed, enjoying the sensation of watching the man’s expression go through a variety of emotions until it settled on agony. He left the man with his simple motto of never messing with the man in black.

  Gavin raised his head, his eyes following a thick black line of paint weaving along the white bricks. At some point in history, somebody had sprayed their name down here.

  He wondered if Wayne Banks was still alive. He wondered if the dark haired lad was still nursing his injured bollocks or he’d changed into one of those things as well. The irony of that situation didn’t even bear thinking about. Gavin looked up the cellar steps and took a deep breath before getting back onto his feet. He started to brush the damp, cold muck off his clothes then gave up when he saw that all his actions were just spreading the vile crap onto the small patches of material still relatively clean. Gavin took one more look back to where he’d run from before he climbed onto the first step.

  His exhausted mind found solace in the apparent fact that he’d evaded the creatures that had latched onto his scent and had followed, chased and pursued him through those endless miles of strange tunnels. “Fuck my other self,” he whispered. “He’s an arsehole.”

  Gavin reached the cellar head, noticing three wooden shelves by his shoulder. Gavin grabbed a flat-headed screwdriver, about seven inches long, and wrapped his hand around the yellow, plastic handle. It felt so good to have a weapon gripped in his ham-sized fist after spending the last three hours with only his penlight for company, and that hadn’t even given him enough light to last one hour.

  “I’m going to complain about that fucker,” he growled. “As well as everything else that’s fucking happened to me.” Those pent up emotions threatened to break through again when Gavin realised that there was probably nobody left to even bitch about his shitty plight. He cried out and smashed the screwdriver against the wall, finding a tiny amount of satisfaction when the tip gouged out a sizable portion of old mortar.

  He pushed open the door, blinking rapidly as the evening sun shone through the large kitchen window in front of him. “I’ve made it,” he said, grinning. Gavin slammed the door shut and leaned back against it, watching that loving dark red disk slowly dip below the rooftops.

  Gavin had no idea where he was, although he must be still in town, his nightmare journey had seemed to have lasted days but that had only been his newly developed feeling of terror fucking with his mind. Those rooftops had to be somewhere in his home town, they just had to be, considering the closest town to Radfield was almost twenty miles away. “You haven’t travelled that far, boyo.”

  His safe, familiar surroundings showed cracks of instability when he walked out of the two bedroomed flat which he shared with his sister Debbie. She wasn’t due back from the café for another few hours. Gavin hated Thursdays. The girl left the flat at nine in the morning, meaning that he had to make his own damn breakfast, as well as fixing something for lunch before heading out.

  He adored his sister’s cooking. Gavin believed that everybody had at least one skill that they excelled in. With him, it was having the knack to intimidate anyone and everyone; he had yet to find another human who even came close to being as scary as him Not a bad boast, considering the circle of friends and work colleagues he stayed inside. With Debbie, it was her love of food. She could create the most delectable of gastronomic creations with only the most basic of ingredients. It hadn’t come as a shock when Debbie ended up working in a café. It did get right up his back when it turned out that her job would be just taking orders and serving food. As far as he was concerned, any monkey could do that; she belonged in the kitchen. Hell, if Debbie’s employer had enough brains, she’d realise that she had a true talent there. That café would make a fucking killing. No, Linda liked to keep her girls on a short leash. The closest Debbie got to cooking was when the ancient auto peeler broke down, and his sister ended up peeling hundreds of potatoes for her entire shift.

  As he closed and locked their door Gavin pondered, once more, of going into the business of food catering. Just like the thousand other times that thought lodged into his skull, Gavin dismissed it. Debbie might be a wizard in the kitchen but he didn’t have a clue about running a café. It wasn’t his skill. Breaking people had its uses but that particular speciality had no place in a café setting.

  At four in the afternoon the town centre was packed with schoolkids, all making their way home from Radfield’s two schools, via the shops.. Their town was blessed with two schools. Radfield Grammar school and the comprehensive was situated on the outskirts of Radfield, with less than a mile between them. He and most of the kids who lived near him all attended the comprehensive, although they spent a large amount of time at the other school as well, mainly kicking the shit out of all the posh twats. It was back in those early years when Gavin had developed a taste for violence as well as some perverse pleasure from receiving pain. His big fists as well as his growing reputation from not being able to put down brought him the unwanted attention from the local police on more than one occasion.

  As he weaved his way along the high street, listening to the kid’s excited babbling, Gavin found it so ironic that unlike most of the lads who went to school at the same time as him, he’d actually found his chosen career through school. Probably not in the way he had envisaged, but who cared, it was the result that mattered. Gavin stopped by an art shop and stepped closer to the window to allow three very pretty girls to continue on their way without then having to walk in the road. He stepped back into his spot as soon as the giggling females had passed him, to the obvious annoyance of three teenage boys, whom he guessed were the girl’s boyfriends. He scowled at all three, taking great pleasure as they all lost their bravado and scampered around him.

  Gavin turned to watch the girls stop to wait for their chosen mates to catch up. By the amused expressions and raucous giggles, the females had witnessed Gavin stripping away their macho posture with ease. The one in front, a stunning blonde, wearing a black skirt and white shirt that were way too small for her, blew him a kiss. Gavin smiled to himself, knowing full well that in another couple of years, that beautiful young girl will be spending her hard earned wages in enjoying what scant nightlife that Radfield had to offer. As Cloud Nine was the largest club in town, their paths were bound to cross again.

  Now that over a dozen shoppers were separating Him from the three boys, their bravado magically returned. A thickset boy protectively wrapped his arms around the blonde and glared at Gavin. He sighed happily and turned back, the kid could have his toy for now. Gavin knew that she’d end up under him at some point in her life, most of the pretty girls did find their way into his bed. He reached the end of the main street and waited for the traffic to stop, while looking into the shop displaying prams. He vaguely wondered if he’d made any of the girls pregnant. The chances were pretty high. That thought made him smile a lot, imagining a dozen baby Gavins in Radfield, giving other babies grief by stealing their rattles. Those three girls from last night could even be carrying the beginning of his kids. He’d certainly given all three of them plenty of seed.

  The sudden crash of thunder broke through Gavin’s idle contemplation of sex. He looked up and frowned at the complete lack of black cloud. The crashing blasted through him again. He spun around and gaped at the sight of the road swallowing up a light green van. A white Ford Fiesta behind the van followed its fate.

  The screaming started as the ground opened up under a group of shoppers standing outside a butchers shop. More people fell into holes opening up all the way down the road. He felt the vibrations running through the souls of his feet and self preservation took over. He jumped over the metal railing separating the pavement from the road then raced across the tarmac, narrowly avoiding the side of a speeding motorbike. Gavin j
umped onto the bonnet of a Vauxhall Astra, ignoring the outraged shouting coming from inside the car and watching in horror as more people disappeared. He moaned softly when he saw the blonde and her boyfriend vanish. Gavin ground his teeth, feeling like the worlds biggest coward by staying here where it was safe, as those people were in serious trouble. The car’s occupants had quickly shut up. It wasn’t because he’d given them his famous look; they’d seen the devastation happening just yards from their car.

  He felt the engine revving up and knew that they were about to set off, no doubt to get away before it happened to them. Gavin jumped off the car’s bonnet and hit the ground hard, due to the road beneath him and the car crumbling. He twisted his body, grabbing the wing mirror as both him and the car fell into the earth.

  Gavin moved away from the cellar door and walked through the small kitchen, reaching for the light switch as the sun dipped further down. The fading light provided enough illumination to allow Gavin to see but after his experiences under the ground, he wasn’t ready to face any more darkness.

  The dull yellow glow from the single lightbulb gave him just enough light to avoid stepping in a pile of what looked like dog shit curled on the grimy blue and yellow checked tiles. Gavin stepped over it and gazed out of the window. Evidence of the change lay everywhere he looked, from the mounds of dead cows covered in bright green toadstools, to the ever present white mould creeping up the sides of every farm building in sight.

  He pushed away his panic when it occurred to him that nothing outside looked remotely familiar. At the rate that this stuff spread, within the next few hours nothing would be recognisable; that revelation only increased his bubble of alarm. “You’re a force to fear,” he whispered, turning away from the window and walking over to the doorway, patting the tiled wall as he passed out of the kitchen. The walls, like the floor, surfaces and cupboards had all seen better days. The level of filth in here would make any house-proud mum faint with distress. If his own mother had just gone through his experience and had found herself in this hovel, she wouldn’t have hesitated to start looking around for a bucket, a scrubbing brush and a bottle of bleach.