“Which would effectively make it the most lethal weapon in our arsenal,” Randall said.
“But one outside of our control. You’ve seen what happened to these two simple species of fungus during the act of transmission from the locusts to the rabbits. There’s no way to predict how they will respond to the human body. We have much more complicated immune and nervous systems, but we’re no less susceptible to the effects of deoxynivalenol. I find it hard to believe the fungi could exert any influence over our actions like they do insects, but in sufficient quantity they could produce deadly levels of toxins.”
“Don’t you think that’s something we should look into?”
“Human testing? That’s not a road I’m prepared to go down.”
“What do you think it is we do here, Doctor? We’re don’t cure diseases. We dream up ways of killing as many people as possible and hope to God we don’t have to use them. But if — heaven forbid — we’re forced to do so, we need to know exactly what to expect, both for our men and our adversaries.”
“You see this tiny bulb here?” Thompson said, and held up the fungus for Randall to see. “This fruiting body holds thousands of microscopic spores that it will disperse in an explosive cloud. If they’re able to enter the body through superficial capillaries protected by several layers of skin, they’ll make short work of the bronchi in our lungs and the mucous membranes in our noses and mouths. We can’t control their dispersion like we can chemical weapons. They don’t have half-lives like radiological weapons. They can remain dormant for years. They can cross special barriers. We could inadvertently eradicate all life forms on the planet.”
The doctor was being melodramatic. Any one of the weapons at their disposal had the potential to wipe out all life on Earth. If they could eliminate the Communist threat without risking a single American life, then they at least needed to explore the possibility. Chances were this idea wouldn’t work, anyway. But if it did…
Randall imagined an invisible cloud of spores settling over Moscow.
“We need to try, Doctor.”
“No,” Thompson said. “What we need to do is proceed with the utmost caution. We could very well have created the means of our own extinction.”
THE SETTING SUN cast Randall’s shadow across the wavering grasses, through which a cool breeze rippled. It was strange not to see the massive derrick lording over the dark horizon, but, truth be told, he was happy to be rid of it. The earthquakes had been getting stronger with each passing year and it was only a matter of time before they ended up doing some serious damage. Granted, Denver wasn’t especially close to any major fault lines, but the fact that they’d been able to create seismic activity as though it were was more than a little troubling.
He’d ultimately relented and taken the engineer’s concerns to his commanding officer, who’d seen the benefits of maintaining the integrity of the well, if not the means of actively forcing pressurized fluid into it. None of them wanted the public relations nightmare of having thousands of gallons of chemicals erupt from the earth or the entire base collapsing into a toxic pit. The resolution had been to strip everything aboveground, from the generators and electric control house to the manifold and mast, and leave only a simple surface casing and blowout preventer, through which they could bleed the pressure. Eventually, they’d have to make a more permanent decision, but for now it bought them time to determine the best course of action.
Benjamin and his team were still out there, although they were about to lose the last of their light. Randall was just going to have to trust the Engineer Corps to work its magic because he already had more than he could handle on his own plate. With such a promising development in their biowarfare program, the brass cared about little else and expected another update once Thompson had a working theory regarding the fungal organism’s life cycle and the exact means by which it triggered what they were calling the “resurrection response,” a reaction they believed could be utilized on its own under the right circumstances to penetrate enemy lines inside corpses felled in battle.
Randall should have been more excited, he knew. Such unprecedented success would lead to rapid promotion and commendations galore, but the doctor’s trepidation had become contagious. His gut was a seething ball of nerves that he couldn’t calm, no matter how hard he tried.
He headed back inside. The fresh air hadn’t helped as much as he’d hoped it would. Thompson was still in his lab, trying to keep up with the rapidly proliferating fungi. The growths on the rabbits now looked more like the branches of trees than antlers and covered the entirety of their backs. The fruiting bodies were definitely more pronounced, too. If the chief scientist was right about their biological impetus, then it appeared as though it wouldn’t be long before they achieved it.
Thompson glanced up from his microscope and their eyes met through the glass. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
Randall pressed the button to activate the speaker so the scientist would be able to hear him.
“How are you holding up in there, Doc?”
Thompson shrugged as though the question were of no consequence.
“The fungi appear to have been made for each other,” he said. “It’s almost as though they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. I’ve only just discovered that their spores adhere to form an aggregate. The graministritici are a fraction of the size of the unilateralis, and cluster around it in much the same way metal filings cling to a magnet. Their bond is easily enough broken by adding water but doing so produces a trace amount of an acid I have yet to qualify, one I speculate functions to wipe out white blood cells. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s almost as though they’re metamorphosing into a single organism before my very eyes.”
“All the brass cares about is whether or not we can control it.”
Randall couldn’t shake the feeling that the rabbits were watching him. They were still pressed against the wire walls of their cages, their fungal protrusions poking out like porcupine quills.
“It’s too soon to tell,” Thompson said. “At this point I can’t even be sure what the final product of their union will be.”
“I need to throw them a bone. Give me something to work with.”
“Tell them—”
The rabbits screamed in unison, a shrill sound that caused the speaker to crackle. Thompson whirled to face the cages. The fruiting bodies exploded as one, releasing a mist of spores that expanded outward like glittering drapes blowing on the wind. They washed over the chief scientist and accumulated against the inside of the window like a dusting of pollen.
Randall cautiously approached and touched the glass. It was warm against his fingertips.
“You okay in there?”
The chief scientist turned around.
Randall staggered backward at the sight of him.
The lenses of Thompson’s mask had melted in amoeboid shapes and blood flowed freely from the skin around his eyes. He cried out and dropped to his knees.
A sharp crack preceded the formation of fissures that spider-webbed through the window.
Randall sprinted toward the emergency shutdown button. Slapped it. A klaxon blared. The overhead fixtures snapped off and the reserve lighting kicked on, casting a red glare over the entire facility. Airflow through the ductwork ceased. Electromagnetic doors closed and locked with thudding sounds he could hear echoing from the hallways as he donned his protective suit.