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completely white.
Wilson s anxiety increased. Something had happened in London. Something
horrendous. But if it wasn t a nuclear war what was it? Some sort of nuclear
accident? Or had we dropped one of our own H-Bombs on it by mistake? It was
probably the Americans fault they were always having accidents with their
bloody bombs and missiles, dropping them all over the place. Broken Arrows
they called them.
Look, you ve got to tell me! he demanded. My children are in London.
Peterson held up a hand. The officer was exaggerating. London still exists.
It s just that... . well, it s been changed.
O Connell suddenly bent forward and put his hands over his mouth. His
shoulders began to shake and he made a dry retching sound. Wilson didn t know
if he was crying or about to throw up.
Major Peterson regarded O Connell with a pained expression. Perhaps you
should leave, Captain. I can handle this.
With a visible effort O Connell straightened and regained his composure. He
wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. I m fine,
sir. Really. I ll be all right.
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Peterson turned back to Wilson. About your wife, he began.
Wilson cut him short. Why the hell do you keep going on about Jane? One
moment we re talking about some disaster that s befallen London and the next
you re back asking questions about my wife! What s she got to do with any of
this?
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Believe me, Dr. Wilson, said Peterson, she has a lot to do with it. Now
please let me continue with my questions. I assure you they are all relevant
to the situation which I will explain to you shortly.
Wilson sighed impatiently. It was like something out of Kafka. Go on, he
said.
Your wife is regarded as one of the top experts in the field of mycology,
correct?
Yes. Whenever and wherever in the world people get together to discuss fungi
my wife s name is invariably mentioned in tones of awe. What of it?
And you re a mycologist too, I understand?
I used to be, Wilson corrected him. I decided I d made what is called a
career error. I gave it all up to become a writer. Besides, one scientific
genius in the family is enough. He couldn t keep the trace of bitterness out
of his voice.
But you kept in touch with what your wife was doing? asked Peterson. In her
research, I mean.
Wilson nodded. Couldn t avoid it. All she ever talks about.
And what was she doing?
Trying to breed a new species of mushroom. Big mushrooms that would grow
quickly and be about ten times richer in protein than the ordinary sort. She
has visions of solving the world food shortage with the things. Never thinks
small, my wife.
Do you know the exact method she was using to create these big mushrooms?
asked O Connell eagerly.
Wilson frowned. Well, I don t know the exact details of her current line of
research. I m not that interested anymore so I haven t bothered to ask. But I
know she s been tinkering about with the chemical structure of the mushroom
enzymes.
The two officers exchanged another glance. Then Peterson wrote something down
on his clipboard.
That s a start anyway, he said.
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Increasingly puzzled, Wilson said, Look, you re talking as if she actually
succeeded with these mushrooms. Has she?
Oh, she s succeeded all right, said Peterson dryly. And she may indeed
solve the world food problem, but not in the way she envisaged.
Will you please tell me what you re talking about?! demanded Wilson.
O Connell gestured at the map of Britain on the wall. Dr. Wilson, most of
southern England, as well as other areas of the mainland, is infested with
fungi. The stuff is growing on everything, including people.
Millions have died already. And they re the lucky ones. His voice dried up
and he shook his head helplessly, unable to continue.
Wilson stared at him, then at Peterson. The expression in their eyes told him
it was no joke. His mind reeled as the enormity of O Connell s words sank in.
But. . . he began, and stopped. He couldn t think of anything to say.
Finally all he managed was a lame, It s incredible.
It certainly is, agreed Peterson. When it started it was as if the world
had gone mad. No one could explain what was happening. The fungus just began
sprouting all over the place for no apparent reason.
Then the boffins came up with a theory. Something was reacting with all the
different species of fungi it came in contact with, causing them to grow and
mutate at a tremendous speed. You re the expert, Dr.
Wilson. Just how many species of fungi are there?
In a daze, Wilson said, Nobody knows for sure. The fun-gal kingdom is a huge
one. There are probably over 100,000 recognized species and a lot we haven t
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discovered yet. They range from microscopic fungi, molds, lichens, and yeasts
to fungi like toadstools, puff-balls, and stink-horns. . .
Well every single species of fungi within the affected area is going
berserk, said Peterson. And the area of contagion is expanding very fast.
It s predicted it will cover all of England, Scotland and Wales within two
months.
Jesus, whispered Wilson. My kids . . . what about London?
I ll be blunt, Dr. Wilson. Things are bad there. Very bad. That s where the
plague began. The city is now cut off completely from the outside world. We
have no communication with anyone in it. Apparently one type of fungus has
developed a taste for electronics. All the phone, radio, and
telecommunications equipment in London has rotted away, along with a lot of
other materials. Anyway it s doubtful if anyone in London is still capable of
rational conversation now the last radio transmissions from the place were
pure gibberish.
Wilson was thinking of Simon and Jessica and kicking himself that he hadn t
let them stay on longer in
Ireland as they d wanted to. No, he d sent them packing back to Jane s parents
in Highgate so he could
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0Fungus.htm get back to work on his bloody book! Christ, had his damn
selfishness sent them to their deaths? No! He couldn t let himself believe
that. They had to be still alive. Surely not everyone in London had been
affected? With difficulty he forced his attention back to what Peterson had
just said. Gibberish? What do you mean? What exactly is the situation in
London?
O Connell answered, The fungus affects its victims in different ways. Some
species simply kill people they grow all over them and riddle their bodies
with their roots. . . .
Hyphae, corrected Wilson automatically.
O Connell glared at him and continued. The victims are literally eaten away.
And some are killed from within. The fungi grows inside their bodies and then
breaks out.
We had a case of that right here on the base, said Peterson. He grimaced.
Horrible business.
But there s one species of fungus, or perhaps more than one, that doesn t
kill its victim, O Connell went on. Or at least not right away. It acts like
a kind of parasite. It feeds on its victims but at the same time it keeps them
alive.
You mean a symbiotic relationship develops? asked Wilson, the scientist in
him becoming intrigued in spite of himself. How exactly?
The fungus changes its victim in some way. Metabolically. So that they re no
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