“Do you give any credence to the rumor that this fungal plague might be deliberate?”
“You mean germ warfare?” Again the sound that was Carter’s version of laughter. “A secret Russian attack and all that? I hardly think so. This is one weapon that will obviously rebound on its users. It doesn’t recognize borders. It represents a threat to the entire world and I doubt if the Russians would have been so reckless to unleash it deliberately. Or even the Libyans who I’ve also heard mentioned.”
“Just how fast is it spreading?”
“Very fast. But it would be spreading even faster if it wasn’t for the fact that the virus or whatever has affected the reproductive cycles of the fungi. Normally a fungus will keep growing until it is time for it to send out its spores, but we’ve learned that the infected fungi species just continue growing without reaching the seeding stage. It’s possible, however, that this stage may merely be postponed in the mutated species. They might start sporing tomorrow, next week, or next year. And when that happens it will be impossible to stop the plague from spreading rapidly around the world. A single fungal fruiting body, a mushroom’s for example, can eject countless millions of spores into the air in just a few days.”
The interviewer cleared his throat and said, “As a sufferer yourself what advice can you give to the viewers about the nature of the fungi that grow on people and the precautions one can take to prevent infection?”
“To be blunt there seems to be no effective way of preventing infection. Constant washing with antiseptics and disinfectants might provide you with brief protection against the various external fungi, but not against the ones that grow internally. The anti-fungal drugs, like nystatin, occasionally slow down the rate of infection but that’s all. They don’t provide a cure.”
“But isn’t it true that some people appear to be immune to infection?” The interviewer was clearly desperate to extract some note of optimism from Carter. But he was unsuccessful.
“It’s too early to tell. It does seem that a small percentage might enjoy a natural immunity, but it’s possible this is simply due to luck. We need more time to be sure.”
“Isn’t there any way of removing the fungus once it starts growing on you? Burning it off, for instance?”
“I’m afraid once you see any visible evidence of fungus infection it’s too late. Burning away, or otherwise removing, the surface growth wouldn’t affect the main part of the fungus. These growths you can observe on me, for example, are just the fruiting bodies. Most of the
“Then you’re saying that there’s no hope for people who become infected?”
“There’s no hope of killing the fungus without killing the host. But to become infected is not necessarily a death sentence. I consider myself one of the luckier victims. My fungus, though parasitic, appears to be of the benign variety—so far at least. Some fungi kill their hosts quickly, some drive them insane, but mine, inconvenient and as uncomfortable as it is, is letting me live. I’ll just have to get used to it.”
The interviewer did not seem reassured by Carter’s calm fatalism. “You’re saying mankind is completely helpless against the spread of the fungus?”
“Our only chance is to discover the exact chemical nature of the organic agent causing the plague. Once we know that, it’s possible that scientists will be able to genetically engineer a neutralizing agent, in the form of a bacterium perhaps, that can be released into the environment.
“But unless we isolate the plague agent very soon, mankind is doomed.”
The tape ended. The uneasy silence that followed was broken by Slocock saying loudly, “I say to hell with it. Let’s forget the whole thing and get drunk instead.”
7
“Don’t be insubordinate, Sergeant!” Major Peterson said curtly. “This is a military operation and you’re still in the army. You will maintain the correct attitude, or else!”
Slocock straightened in his chair. “Yessir. Sorry sir,” he muttered.
Peterson glared at him then turned his attention to Wilson. “Dr. Wilson, permit me to introduce you to your traveling companions. Dr. Kimberley Fairchild and Sergeant Terence Slocock.”
Wilson gave them both a distracted nod. Slocock guessed he hadn’t recovered from the shock of the video tapes. That was understandable. Slocock didn’t feel too steady himself.
Wilson lit another cigarette and said to Peterson, “It all seems hopeless. A suicide mission. All three of us will get infected with fungi before we have a chance to try and find Jane.”
“Credit us with some foresight, Doctor,” said Peterson. “Various steps have been taken to provide you with as much protection against the fungus as possible. A special vehicle is being prepared on the mainland which will contain all the necessary equipment to maintain a sterile, fungus-free environment. When you venture outside the vehicle you will wear an anti-contamination suit with its own air supply.”
“Forgive me if I’m still not convinced. From what I’ve just seen and heard on those videos it’s practically impossible to prevent infection.”
Peterson cleared his throat and indicated Kimberley. “That’s where Dr. Fairchild enters the picture. If you’d care to explain, Doctor?”
“There have been some developments in the time since Carter made that recording. One discovery that’s been made is that a small percentage of people do seem to be immune to the fungi.”
“How small is the percentage?” asked Wilson skeptically.
“Less than one percent,” admitted Kimberley. “But even so that is encouraging.”
“Yeah, sure. It means that out of every hundred people less than one person has a chance of survival.” Wilson shook his head.
“What it does mean,” said Kimberley, “is that the human immune system is capable of overcoming the fungi. In only rare cases, admittedly, but it’s a hopeful sign. And it’s possible that injections of inosine pranobex will provide us with extra protection.”
Wilson frowned. “Inosine pranobex? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s new. It works by kicking the human immune system into action and produces an increase of T- lymphocyte cells. It’s been found effective against certain forms of cancer.”
“But does it work against the fungus?”
“It’s being tested on the mainland. We don’t have any results yet.”
“Great,” muttered Wilson. He stubbed his cigarette out and lit another one.
“But that’s not all,” continued Kimberley. “There’s another drug we’ll be using. Megacrine.”
“I haven’t heard of that one either.”
“No way you could have. It’s just been developed by some colleagues of mine at Bangor University. It’s a chemically altered version of Mepacrine.”
“That I have heard of.”
“I haven’t,” cut in Slocock. He was beginning to feel excluded already. He had visions of having to listen to two egghead doctors discuss things he couldn’t understand all the way to London.
“Mepacrine is an anti-malaria drug,” said Kimberley. “It kills the parasitic organisms that infest the blood of malaria victims. It works by inserting its molecules into the DNA material of the malaria merozoites and preventing gene replication.”
Slocock nodded, pretending he knew what the hell she was talking about.
“Megacrine has been genetically structured to do the same thing to the mutated fungus cells that enter the body,” said Kimberley.
“Sounds like a major breakthrough,” said Wilson. “But does it work?”
Kimberley’s reply was guarded. “Well, it’s worked on test animals at Bangor. And it’s been partially successful on the few human guinea pigs who have tried it so far.”
“Then why isn’t this stuff being manufactured in bulk and being distributed to everyone on the mainland?” demanded Slocock.
