The Fungus

volunteers on Megacrine have both succumbed to fungal infection since you left.”

Unexpectedly, Kimberley took the news worst of all.

When Wilson told her over the intercom what Buxton had said she cried, “Oh Christ, it’s all over then! We’re finished! We have no protection at all! We’re going to end up looking like those people in the street. We’ve got to turn back!”

“Take it easy. The drug must be giving us some protection, even if it’s only for a limited period. We may still have enough time to get to London and find Jane.”

“To hell with London and Jane! Let’s go back! Now, before that horrible stuff starts growing on us!”

“Kimberley, I suggest you take a long drink from one of the Sergeant’s remaining bottles of scotch and calm down. You’re getting hysterical. If it makes you feel better, get into one of the suits.”

“What good would that do? It’s too late! We’re—”

Wilson switched off the intercom. “She’s starting to crack up.”

“But she’s right,” said Slocock. “I agree with her. We turn back. Those rebel army units will punch a hole through the barriers all the way to the coast. We could follow in their tracks.”

Wilson waved the .38 at him. “You don’t have a vote in this anymore, Sergeant, and neither does she. Get moving or I’ll put a bullet in your brain and drive this thing to London myself. You showed me how, remember?”

Slocock restarted the engine.

PART THREE

1

They did a wide detour to the south of Oxford, almost as far south as Abingdon, and then sped across country until they encountered the M40 north of High Wycombe. They had only made one stop along the way. They’d both grown used to seeing the increasingly bizarre growths as they penetrated deeper into the infected area—such as the red candy floss-like fungus that hung from the branches of most of the trees, and the colonies of huge mushrooms and toadstools, some of which were over 20 feet tall—but as they were driving across a field Slocock suddenly swore and braked the truck.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, pointing to a growth a few yards away. It looked like the erect penis of a sleeping giant. It was about six feet high and its head or cap was covered with a thick black slime. Several birds were stuck fast in the stuff, their feathers plastered to their bodies. A few of them were still struggling, but the rest were still

“Looks like an oversized version of phallus impudicus,” said Wilson, “Also known more commonly as the stinkhorn. Usually they only grow up to between six and nine inches in length.”

Slocock stared at the thing. “I need a drink. I feel sick. Go fetch me a bottle of scotch, would you? I promise you no tricks.”

“Sure. As soon as I happen to look the other way I get the bottle on my head.” He gestured with the .38. “Get going.”

When they reached the M40 Wilson decided to check on Kimberley. He switched on the intercom and asked her if she was okay. Her reply alarmed him.

“Get back here right away, please, Barry!” she cried, sounding on the edge of panic. “Quickly!”

Deciding it would be safe to leave Slocock alone, as there was nothing he could use as a weapon in the cab, Wilson opened the hatch and crawled through.

He was startled to see her standing there naked, a small mirror in her hand. She looked distressed.

“Barry, you’ve got to help me! I’ve tried to look everywhere but I’m sure there are places I can’t see, even with the mirror.” She turned her back to him. “Is there any of it growing there? Please check carefully.”

He’d realized by then what she was talking about. He was shocked at the state she was in. He’d pegged her as someone who would never lose their self-control and it was disturbing to see her going to pieces like this.

He examined her back and pronounced her clear of any fungal growth.

She bent over, practically shoving her bottom in his face. “What about down there?” She parted her buttocks. He looked, reflecting that in other circumstances his feelings about what she was doing would be very different. Instead her panic was beginning to infect him too. He became aware of several itchy patches on his body. He told her he couldn’t see any fungus on her.

She still wasn’t satisfied and made him examine the back of her neck and head.

“Look,” he said as he probed through her hair, “this is all a waste of time. If we find any sign of infection on us it’s already too late. Why not just calm down? There’s nothing you can do.”

She spun round, eyes flashing angrily. “I’m not going to let myself turn into one of those things. Look at me! I’m beautiful, aren’t I? Do you think I could stand to have that horrible stuff growing on me? Spreading through me?”

“But how can you stop it?”

She indicated a nearby can of powerful solvent. “I’d burn it off. And if that didn’t work I’d kill myself. At least I’d die clean.”

He knew she meant what she said. Brutally he said, “You should have thought of all this before you volunteered to come here.”

“But I was sure the Megacrine would protect us! I can’t understand why it failed.”

In an attempt to calm her down he said, not really believing it himself, “Perhaps that other stuff you’ve been pumping into us is the important factor. The—” He couldn’t remember the drug’s name.

“Inosine pranobex?” She shook her head. “The two human guinea pigs back at Bangor were on that too, but it didn’t help them.”

“But they were already dying. They both had cancer. Their immune systems were no longer functioning properly. But we three are all healthy. The drug may be giving us an edge those two poor bastards didn’t have.”

He was satisfied to see a faint touch of hope appear in her eyes. “I suppose that is possible,” she said slowly. “Their T-lymphocyte cells, even with their number increased, would have been concentrated around the tumors. They wouldn’t have been able to cope with an invasion of fungal cells as well.”

“Right,” he said with more confidence then he felt. “Now calm down and get dressed.” He found one of Slocock’s bottles and opened it. He took several long swallows and then offered the whiskey to her. “Drink some of this. Doctor’s orders.”

She even managed a brief flicker of a smile as she took the bottle.

When he left, she was getting dressed. She seemed to have recovered most of her composure, but he suspected the crisis had only temporarily been averted.

Back in the driver’s cab he handed Slocock the cup of whiskey he’d decided to bring back with him. Might as well try to keep everyone happy.

Slocock took it without thanks and drained it in one gulp. He expelled a satisfied burp and said, “So what’s the trouble back there?”

“Nothing. She was having a panic attack for no reason.” Yet, he added to himself.

“You reassured her, eh?”

“Yeah, sort of.” He scratched at an itchy patch on his chest.

“You give her a quick poke as well?”

“What?” He looked at Slocock in surprise. “No, of course I didn’t.”

“You should have. You’re the one with the power now. She’ll be ripe for you. Just come on a bit strong with