Jacqueline Druga - Omnicide

Cass looked to Art then Niles. “Neither of you have anything to say?”

“I didn’t expect this,” Niles said. “This is fast.”

“I’m gonna”—Art pointed backwards—“move the church van back away from this stuff. You may want to move your squad car.”

“Why?” asked Kit.

“Just… just in case it grows faster than we think,” Art replied.

“Good lord,” Kit said. “We’re parked a couple hundred feet away. How fast is this thing gonna grow? Obviously not that fast.”

“You never know. I never know,” Art said as he walked backwards. “At one point it covered the world. Right here is a breeding ground. We can see that.”

“Where did it come from?” Cass asked.

Art stopped walking. “What?”

“Where did it come from? I mean the plane is on the middle of the highway. How did it reach the plane?”

Art turned and walked to the car.

“What did I say?” Cass asked. “I thought it was a good question.”

Kit slightly shook his head confused. “Cass, didn’t you pay attention on the ride here?”

“Yeah.”

“No. We saw this stuff the entire way here. What do you think all the green was on the side of the road?”

“Grass and shrubs.”

“When’s the last time you drove up this far north?”

“It’s been a while.”

“Yes, well, this place has been shades of brown for a long time,” said Kit. He looked down. “My guess an animal was out there, it died, and the flies carried it.”

“Or people,” Niles said. “I mean, there’s a chance they got off the plane and were sick, exposed and died out here.”

“No,” Cass stated. “They never left that plane. Why would they close the doors again? They’re on there.”

“Then they have to be dead,” Kit said. “Look at it. It’s not running. Even if the pilot fired up the engines every so often to circulate the air, it’s not running now. It’s ninety degrees.”

“What if he was able to conserve,” Cass said. “And we just so happen to be in that moment where he has it off.”

“Cass.”

“What if they found a way to let air in? I mean, if they waited the twenty-four hours, they’d be safe,” Cass said.

“We all appreciate your optimism,” Niles said. “Chances are they have passed. The temperature in there is deadly. They can’t open the doors.”

“Sure they can,” Cass said.

“No.” Nile shook his head. “They cannot.”

“It’s just fungus.”

Art was returning and responded on his way back to the plane. “Just fungus. What exactly does that statement mean?”

“Don’t be mean to her,” Kit warned.

“I’m not,” Art replied. “I’m just asking.”

“Fungus. I mean like soft,” Cass replied.

“Look down,” Art directed. “Feel what you’re standing on. Does it feel soft?” He walked close to the plane and touched it. “The surface is soft and pliable, but underneath it’s hard. It adheres to the surface like cement. It’s not coming off. When this fungus was discovered, they thought it was a prehistoric tree. That is how big and firm it grew.”

“So it won’t just peel off?” Cass asked.

“No,” Art said sharply. “Weren’t you listening? It adheres. You’d have to kill the fungus and weaken it to”—he held up his fingers forming air quotes—“peel it off.”

“That’s such a dick move air quoting me,” Cass said. “No wonder Ada doesn’t like you.”

“Cass,” Kit scolded. “Stop. Everyone stop. We tried. It was a bust. I just wish—”

He stopped speaking. In fact Kit jumped back, as did Art and Nile, and Cass shrieked at the shock of seeing a face appear in the fourth window from the back.

They couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman, only a portion of the face could be seen along with the hand that reached up and pounded on the window.

“You were saying?” Cass asked with sarcasm to Kit.

“Oh my God, someone’s alive!” Kit said. “We have to get them out.”

“How?” asked Art. “That plane is sealed. That door is sealed.”

“Didn’t you say we could kill the fungus,” Cass said. “Weaken it to remove it.”

“Yes, but that’s not as easy as it sounds,” Art told her.

“Why not? It’s fungus. Old or new, it’s fungus,” Cass said. “Just find an antifungal and spray it on.”

“Cass,” Kit spoke calmly. “This isn’t athlete’s foot.”

“Same premise.” She turned sharply when Art laughed. “What? You’re the know-all expert?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Art replied.

“Yes, well, if you were so know-it-all the world wouldn’t be teetering on extinction right now, would it?”

“Cass, come on,” Kit said. “I’m sure the man feels bad enough. Plus, he did try to stop it.”

“Thank you, Officer, for defending me,” Art said. “But on this, the theory of killing it is good, but we have nothing that can do it.”

“I do. Good thing Ada armed me.” Cass pulled a spray bottle from her utility belt and walked near the plane. “We pull the church van up here, we brought it to rescue them right, stand on it and spray around the door enough to peel off the fungus.”

Art laughed and held up his hand. “I’m sorry. You’re going to use a plant sprayer filled with some homemade concoction.”

“She got you results before,” Cass said.

“Yes, but not on a level like this.”

“Well I trust Crazy Ada.” Cass inched closer to the plane.

“Cass,” Kit said softly. “We’re gonna have to think of another way to get those people off the plane.”

“I got this. We’ll see if it works on this spot, if so we’ll do the door.” Cass pumped the spray a few times hitting the fungus, then stood there staring.

“If we’re done playing with the tinctures of Doctor Quinn Medicine Woman,” Art said, “Niles and I will see if we can work something out.”

Kit moved close to Cass and whispered, “I swear one more sarcastic comment from him, I’m gonna deck him.”

“Please do,” Cass returned the whisper

“Okay,” Kit said. “Let’s all take a minute to try to…”

“Kit,” Cass called him. “Look.”

Kit spun around. The small spot that Cass had sprayed was turning from varied shades of green to a dull brown.

“It worked,” Cass said with shock. “Ada’s mixture worked.”

Art rushed over with Niles.

“Oh my God,” Niles stated with surprise. “It weakened it.”

“No.” Cass pulled out a screwdriver. “It killed it.” She placed the flat end of the screwdriver under the portion that had changed color and smiled. It didn’t take much effort to pop off the portion from the plane. It was a small section, six inches or so, but it came off. “See, like picking an eggshell from a hard boil egg.”

“I stand corrected,” Art said. “Ada is a genius.”

“They don’t call her Crazy Ada for nothing.” Cass lifted the spray bottle. “Let’s work on that door. And hopefully get them out.”

Kit grabbed for the bottle. “And, hopefully there’s enough in this bottle to pull off the task.”

It was a larger spray bottle, but was it enough to get those who remained free from the plane?

Willow Springs, AZ

An hour and a half later, with two inches of fluid remaining in the bottle, they flipped off what they believed was the last piece of fungus over the crease of the exterior plane door. Enough, they hoped, for the door to be opened. But it had to be done from inside.

They’d followed Cass’ plan to bring the van over and were standing on the roof.

Kit tried to convey to the one and only person looking out the window to open the door.