The Fungal Trance
by William Quincy Belle
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
Everything was the same as it was yesterday and the day before. Why would anybody want anything else?
Liam stood at the wooden railing of the open-air porch and stared at the long shadows cast by the setting sun across the front lawn. Muriel would be home tomorrow afternoon, and he thought he had done a good job of finishing all his chores so he could concentrate on giving her a good welcome back. She had taken only a week to visit her sister, but he missed her when she wasn’t around.
He stared at the tree house in the large oak tree off to one side. His wife would have laughed if she had seen him up there several times during her absence, but he enjoyed reliving the moments he had shared with the kids. When the grandkids were old enough, he hoped they, too, would use this playground in the sky.
A gust of wind blew across his weathered face, and he looked at the sky, wondering if the forecast called for rain. As long as it was dry in the morning, he could still finish any of the outstanding gardening he had in the back. It was a small place — more of a hobby farm — but it kept him busy during his retirement. A half-smile of contentment appeared on his face.
There was an odd sound, like a puff, as if somebody had exhaled. Liam held his breath, straining to listen as he surveyed the front yard. After a moment, he exhaled, thinking it was just his imagination. A gust of wind, the rustling of the leaves; it could have been any of a number of things he had misheard. He turned to go back into the house and was met with a face full of dust.
Liam shut his eyes and bent forward, putting his hands on his knees. He spat, vigorously rubbing his face before opening his eyes and blinking. He could see, and it didn’t feel as if he had anything in his eyes. Holding both hands up, he noticed red dots in the palm and on the back. What was that?
He traced the marks with his finger. It wasn’t dust but larger particles. They looked granular. Was it pollen? Spitting again, he brushed the sleeves of his shirt and gave his face another wipe. The backs of his hands were itchy. He scratched and then checked the skin and noticed tiny red spots. He brushed a fingertip against them, but they remained. Were they pollen stains?
Liam yanked the screen door open and hurried to the washroom. He adjusted the water and took some liquid soap. After lathering up his hands, he rinsed and scrutinized them. He could still see red dots, but he thought they looked smaller. Maybe he was right: It was pollen. He took a towel, and as he dried his hands, he glanced in the mirror.
Startled, he noticed red spots on his forehead and both cheeks. He leaned in and pulled the skin with a fingertip. He leaned over the sink and washed his face, lathering the skin. Cupping both hands under the tap, he splashed water on himself several times and spit. He toweled off and then leaned in close to the mirror. The spots were still visible, but seemed smaller, less distinct. He scratched his face. It felt itchy.
The phone rang, and Liam jumped. He rushed into the kitchen and grabbed his smartphone. “Hello?”
“Hi there, handsome,” Muriel cooed.
He grinned. “Hi, sweetie. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“I enjoy getting away, but I miss home. It’s only been a week, but don’t visitors and fish stink after three days?”
“I miss you, too. The house seems empty.” He scratched his forehead and looked at his hand. “I’ve got most of the back garden done, so when you get home, I’ll have enough time to make us supper. I thought I’d do us some pork chops.”
“Oh, a home-cooked meal! I love my sister, and she knows how to whip up a storm in the kitchen, but there’s nothing like eating at my kitchen table.”
He cradled the phone between his neck and shoulder while he rubbed the back of his hand. “I’ll be there for the noon bus. In fact, if I get in earlier, I’ll drop by the pet store and get some more dog food. Molly’s almost out.” He licked a fingertip and rubbed a red dot on the back of his hand.
“I’ll pack tonight, so I’ll be all ready in the morning. Sis will drive me after she drops the kids at school.”
“Say hello to your sister for me. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love ya.”
“Love you, too.”
Liam set his phone on the counter and returned to the porch. There was no sign of the red dust. He bent down to examine the deck, but couldn’t see anything. Had everything blown away? What was that puff he had heard?
He walked to one end of the porch and looked around. Everything looked normal.
He went to the other end and leaned against the railing, looking at the tree house. Nothing out of the ordinary.
He looked toward the back of the house and saw something out of the corner of his eye. Moving down the railing to the side of the house, he stared up at the downspout below the eavestrough where a raccoon held onto the pipe. The animal appeared to be transfixed, staring toward the roof. Was it climbing up or down? Had it gotten stuck and didn’t know what to do?
“Hey!” Liam called out.
The animal didn’t move.
“Hello!” He waved a hand. “Whatcha doin’, little fella?”
Liam held onto the edge of the house and leaned out from the porch, looking up at the raccoon. “Hey!”
He got the broom from the kitchen, held onto the bristles, and used the handle to poke the animal. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing. He scrunched up his face. Was the raccoon dead? He jabbed it, and the paws came away from the pipe as the animal tumbled to the ground with a thud. It lay on its side, its legs extended as if still holding onto the downspout.
Liam approached the creature and waited for a sign of movement. Its eyes were wide open, staring straight ahead. He touched the body with the end of his shoe and jumped back, but the raccoon didn’t move. He shoved it with his shoe a couple of times, but the animal was still. It appeared to be dead.
He looked up at the downspout. Could it have climbed up and died? Could it die but remain latched onto the pipe?
Liam glanced at the raccoon and frowned. He crouched down and looked closer. A plant-like stalk ending in a flower came from the top of its head. There seemed to be red dust on the petals. Was that the same dust blown into his face?
He picked up a twig and rubbed it against a petal. The end showed bits of red. It wasn’t dust; it was something larger.
A professional opinion was necessary. This was unlike anything he’d seen before, but then again, he wasn’t an expert on animals or plants. He stood, keeping his eye on the raccoon.
Liam returned to the kitchen and dialed the phone.
“Cedar Valley Veterinary. Doctor Stone speaking.” The voice was friendly, with an air of authority.
“Hi, Doc. It’s Liam.”
“Well, hello, Liam. How’s that dog of yours?”
“Molly’s just doing great, Doc.” Liam smiled. “I have to thank you again for your kindness. It’s nice to see her wagging her tail again.”
“She is getting up there in dog years, but she’s got many more to go.”
“Doc, I’ve got a funny issue and would like your opinion.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“I’ve got a dead raccoon.”
“Nothing unusual about that. Animals die all the time.”
“This one looks kind of odd to me.” Liam glanced out the kitchen window.
“Odd?”
“I’m not sure I can explain it. I was wondering if I could come by and show you. It’s after hours, but are you going to be around?”
“I’m finishing a few things, so I’ll be here for a while. So sure, come by.”
“Thanks, Doc. See you in twenty.”
Liam went to a back shed and found a cardboard box full of flowerpots. He set the pots to one side and returned with the empty box and a shovel. After working the shovel’s blade under the body, he picked up the raccoon and set it in the container. He put the box on the floor of the passenger seat of his pickup truck and drove off.
As the truck lumbered down the gravel road to the major route, Liam scratched the back of his hand, occasionally casting an uneasy glance at the box.
At the clinic, Liam parked and retrieved the box before ringing the bell. The door opened to a heavyset man with thinning hair and a friendly demeanor.
“Hey, Liam,” Dr. Stone said.
Liam held out the box. “What the dickens is this?”
“A raccoon?”
“Look at the head.”
Stone leaned closer. “What the heck is that?”
“Beats me. I thought if anybody knew, it would be the vet.”
Stone held the door aside. “Come on in. Let’s go to my offices in the back.”
After arranging the box on an examination table, Stone used tweezers to look at the flower. “This looks like a plant, but I’ve never seen such a thing. Something may grow from a decaying carcass, but this animal hasn’t been dead for long.”
Liam explained everything up to the discovery of the raccoon. “That’s where I scrapped off some of those dots,” he said, pointing to the flower petals.
Stone put a few on a slide and examined them under a microscope.
“I could be mistaken, but I think they’re spores of some sort,” Stone said. “Or pollen.”
“But a flower growing out of the head of a raccoon?” Liam held out his hand. “What do you think of this?”
“Think of what?”
Liam looked at his hand. “Funny. They were there. After the red dust or whatever hit me, I noticed red marks on my skin. They were itchy. Can you see anything on my face?”
Stone squinted. “I don’t see anything.”
“Odd. They must have faded.” Liam nodded toward the box. “So, what do you think about this?”
“I must do some research because this one has me perplexed.” He stood. “Leave it with me, and I’ll get back to you in a couple of days.”
“Okay. I just thought I’d see the expert.”
The two men walked back to the front door.
“When’s Muriel coming home?” Stone asked.
“Tomorrow,” Liam said.
“It gets lonely on the old homestead by yourself.” Stone smiled and patted Liam on the shoulder.
“It sure does, Doc.”
Liam went home, had dinner, and then strolled around the farm with Molly. Afterward, he settled on the couch and watched the local news. As he flicked the channel with the remote, he noticed a filament coming out of the back of his left hand. He set the remote down and held up his hand. He brushed the filament back and forth using the tip of his right index finger. Was it hair of some sort?
He seized it between his index and thumb and yanked, flinching at the twinge of pain. He rolled it in his fingers. If it was a hair, it was an odd one.
Shrugging, Liam got up and went to the bathroom. He tossed the hair in the toilet, and as he glanced in the mirror, he jumped at the sight before him.
“Whoa!”
Leaning in, he touched his forehead and cheeks in several places. More filaments were coming out of the skin. Anxious, he turned his head to look at them from different angles. They looked similar to hair.
He pulled several out and tossed them in the toilet. Raising his chin, he examined his neck, then looked at both hands. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders. Twisting and turning, he studied his upper body, pulling out more strange hairs. What was going on?
He rebuttoned his shirt and studied himself in the mirror. Touching his forehead, he leaned into the light and squinted. One more to the left. Yank. Ouch. In the toilet.
Liam went to the kitchen and picked up his phone from the counter. Who could he talk to about this? He scrolled through his contacts and stopped at Doc Stone. He glanced at the time. It was late. He shouldn’t disturb him. It could wait until morning.
Liam walked down the hall to the front and turned to go up the stairs. He placed one hand on the railing and froze. He tried to lift his foot on the first step, but it wouldn’t move.
“What the heck?”
He grunted but couldn’t move. He bent over and used both hands to grab his thigh, trying to pull his leg up. It wouldn’t move.
“This is—”
Liam stood bolt upright. His body jerked to the left and half-turned. “Damn!” He lurched toward the front door. “What the hell is going on?” He struggled to pivot back to the stairs, but took another step toward the door. His hand trembled as it pushed the door open.
“Help!” Liam gasped. He stepped through the door. “I can’t stop myself!” His body spasmed as he took several shuddering paces across the porch.
“Stop!” He staggered down the steps. “What’s happening to me? I don’t understand.” His words were slurred as his mouth wouldn’t function correctly.
Beads of sweat had broken out on his brow as he fought with his body. His heart pounded with dread, realizing he no longer had control over his functions.
With jerky steps, he swayed toward the oak tree. At the trunk, his hands and feet mechanically worked up the ladder to climb to the treehouse. He snorted, writhed, and fought with himself, to no avail.
Liam moved onto the platform and reached a point overlooking the front yard. He clumsily plopped down on the edge, his legs hanging over the side. He clasped the edge of the wooden slats and hung on. Night had fallen. His eyes darted around, looking at the driveway, the front lawn, the branches of the tree, and the twinkling stars in the sky. It was all surreal. He couldn’t move. It was as if he was frozen in place, some other force having taken command. There was nothing he could do. In a panic, he tried to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t work, and all he heard was a gurgle.
Stone sat at his kitchen table with a morning coffee and a tablet, scrolling through various articles. He had done some research the night before, but without success. In the end, he fired off an email inquiry to a university colleague. There seemed to be no lack of medical, scientific, or anecdotal information, but nothing about a raccoon with a flower growing out of its head. The answer was out there if he could only find the right keywords. Parasites seemed like a good place to start. Symbiotic relationships were plentiful in the world, and who knew what unexpected connection existed between diverse organisms?
His phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hey, Bob.”
“Well, Professor Kirby. Kind of you to call. What’s happening in the hallowed halls of the Ivy League?”
Kirby chuckled. “I’m not sure how hallowed we are.”
“Come on, Vincent. You guys do great things.”
“I appreciate the flattery, but that doesn’t mean I can answer your question.”
“Did you look at my photos?”
“I did. It’s not every day somebody stumps me, but stump me you did.”
“One for me. Any thoughts?”
Kirby sighed. “Well, plants will take root just about anywhere there are nutrients, including rotting corpses. But plants rarely grow inside living beings. I say rarely because it’s not unheard of. Heck, I read a story of a guy hospitalized for a collapsed lung, and the doctor discovered he had a pea plant growing in the lung. They speculated he swallowed the wrong way, a pea got into the lung, and the plant took root in the warm and moist environment.”
“Good Lord!”
“But a flower growing out of the head of a raccoon? That’s a new one for me. Was the animal dead?”
“When Liam found it, yes, it was dead,” Stone said. “But the strange thing was that the animal had climbed up a drainpipe and seemed frozen. If it died, I would have thought it would die on the ground.”
“This reminds me of something.”
“Yes?”
“There’s a group of fungi called Cordyceps, which attack ants and other insects.”
“Attack?”
“The spore of a fungus gets on an ant and burrows its way into the body where it reproduces. These fungi release various chemicals which take over the insect’s central nervous system, making it do things against its will.”
“Such as?”
“The insect will leave its colony and climb up something to reach a higher elevation. It bites into a stalk or a leaf to anchor itself in place, and then it dies. The fungus feeds on the cadaver from the inside out. Eventually, fungus shoots sprout out of the body, releasing spores to begin the next reproduction cycle.”
“Wow!” Stone said. “This sounds like something out of a horror movie,”
Copyright © 2023 by William Quincy Belle
