A. Colucci - Seeders

No. She looked through the window of the back door, willing him to appear. For a second she saw a figure and her breath caught. But it was a stout, muscular man loading pallets onto a tractor. It wasn’t Dr. Jacobs. Laurie had mentioned another man. Oscar.

Laurie gazed over the reports. “It must have been awful for you, but like I said, the alkaloids in the fungus are very powerful. They would have to be, to make a boy shoot his own brother in the head. Cut up that poor girl.”

Isabelle’s face drained of color. “What did you say?”

Laurie looked up quick, but didn’t answer. She blinked hard.

“I never said Sean hurt anyone.”

“It was in the police report.”

“No. I said Dr. Beecher acted alone.”

“Guess I misspoke.” It wasn’t even a good lie. Laurie got up to leave. “I’ll see what’s taking Dr. Jacobs so long.”

Isabelle was becoming hot all over. Her body was trembling. “Do you know where my son is? Have you spoken to Sean?”

“Don’t get hysterical, Mrs. Maguire.” She moved slowly toward the front door.

“What do you mean? I’m perfectly calm.” But she was shouting. Isabelle ran to the back door and looked out through the glass. The man in the tractor was headed toward the shed. Isabelle threw open the door and ran outside, trying to catch up to him. She was feeling out of control, didn’t know what she was doing, but kept on going as fast as she could, even when her leg began to ache.

The man had just pushed open the heavy wooden door. When she approached him out of breath, he slid the door shut with a bang.

“What are you doing?” she asked, but he didn’t answer.

There were pallets stacked outside the shed, full of plants. All of them were infected with the fungus. Isabelle lightly touched the leaves and smeared purple on her fingertips.

Laurie came up behind her. “Mrs. Maguire, you need to come back to the house.”

“What is he doing? You said the fungus was dead. It’s not dead. He’s growing the damn things.”

“You really need to calm down, Mrs. Maguire.”

“No! No, I won’t.”

“We can’t have you getting hysterical. We’ll have to call someone. The police told me you have no family or friends. Is that right?”

“I want to know what’s going on! I want my son.”

Laurie’s face muscles hardened. “Come inside and stop making a scene.”

Isabelle didn’t move.

“I can arrange for you to have a sedative. Would you like that?”

Isabelle felt as though she’d been slapped. Something was wrong and she had to watch herself. Her heart raced as she followed the woman back to the house.

Dr. Jacobs was waiting in the lab, sitting on a counter with his legs crossed, reading the open files. He was a tall, thin man with youthful brown eyes and a gray beard. He wore pressed khakis and a white shirt with a Greenpeace logo, but his boots and pant legs were covered in mud.

“Dr. Jacobs, this is Isabelle,” Laurie said. Her lips were tight, and her demeanor had changed dramatically.

“Well, of course,” he replied.

“She was trying to get in the shed.”

“That’s fine,” he said in a gentle voice and smiled at Isabelle. “You came here to find answers, isn’t that right?”

Isabelle nodded.

“If you’re willing to stay calm, I can explain a few things.”

Isabelle hugged her arms to keep from shaking.

“Can I trust you?”

She nodded.

“It seems thirty years ago your father began engineering the DNA of fungi to create a more potent form of ergotamine for LSD synthesis. He used a process called protoplast fusion to create a new genetic hybrid with powerful psychoactive alkaloids. He then transferred in genes of certain Aspergillus, so it could grow on virtually any plant. Eventually, the fungi and all the plants on the island formed a symbiotic relationship against a common enemy.”

Isabelle swallowed hard. “You don’t mean people?”

“The fungi release their spores at night, with one exception. When any person approaches, they release a mass of nearly invisible spores. We repeated the experiment fifty times with several individuals, always with the same result. Other animals elicited no response, only humans.”

Isabelle let the words sink in. “You’re saying the fungi and plants are working together to infect people with ergotism?”

Dr. Jacobs chuckled. “I don’t think it’s contemplated, the way humans premeditate murder. It’s an automatic response. The same way plant species have been using chemicals and fungi to ward off herbivores for millions of years.”

“That kind of evolution takes centuries. How could it happen so quickly?”

“Your father came up with just the right genetic components. I suppose plants have been waiting all these years for such a chance.”

“A chance to do what?”

“Get us to act the way they want. Protectors of the environment. Not destroyers.”

Isabelle shook her head in disbelief. “I’m sorry, but human mind control seems too great a task for a fungus.”

“It’s not so unusual,” the doctor replied. “Fungi can be shrewd, calculating, and manipulative.”

“You make them sound human.”

“They do have motives and they’re highly intelligent.” He raised his chin. “Have you ever heard of the fungus species Ophiocordyceps unilateralis ?”

Isabelle hadn’t.

“It’s a fungus that grows out of the heads of ants. Sometimes they’re referred to as zombie ants because the fungus actually takes over their brains. Once the ant is infected, it’s given very specific instructions. First, it commands the insect to abandon its colony, fall off the tree to the ground ten inches from the forest floor, and seek the exact temperature and humidity needed for the fungus to grow. At precisely noon, when the sun is highest in the sky, it commands the ant to bite into the vascular vein of a leaf. Scientists call it the death grip because the ant locks on to the leaf while the fungus grows safely inside its body. Then the ant dies and the fungus bursts out of its skull, releasing spores and repeating the cycle.”

Isabelle blinked slowly and leaned against the counter, feeling weary.

Dr. Jacobs crossed his arms. “There are literally hundreds of Cordyceps fungi that are able to change the behavior of their hosts, before consuming them.”

“So you’re saying the fungus was using my father and Jules as a means of transporting their spores across the earth?”

“It’s not just about spreading their spores. It’s about spreading the message.”

Isabelle flinched, recalling how Jules spoke those same words.

“You see, the plants on the island are sending genetic instructions to their fungal partners, which are able to send very specific instructions to the human brain. What you saw as Dr. Beecher’s own behavior was actually a fungal genome expressing the plant’s instructions through the body of its host.”

“You mean telling humans to kill each other?”

Dr. Jacobs took a deep breath. “The message is not about violence.”

“What about the bodies at the campsite?”

Laurie raised a gentle hand to Isabelle. “You’re jumping to conclusions, Mrs. Maguire, like everyone else.” Her voice was lilting. “Plants don’t want to kill us. On the contrary, plants are peaceful creatures. Their message is one of peace.”

Isabelle felt a chill.

Laurie’s gaze became hazy, her smile broad. “You can feel it the second you walk into a forest. It’s a calmness that comes over you. I felt it since I was a little girl. My family used to go up to the woods in Maine and I knew then nature was trying to tell me something. It’s a message of harmony, telling us how to live.”