by John Wyndham
Two days passed before he heard any result of the examination of the capsule. Then Arnold Jordan, the bio-chemist, entered his office just as he was finishing off for the day.
‘You’ve tackled it?’ asked Ralph.
Arnold nodded.
‘Yes, I’ve tackled it. And I’m not sure whether I owe you a dinner for putting me on to it, or whether you owe me a dinner for putting in the devil of a lot of work. On the whole, I approve of the latter.’
‘Oh, all right. You look as if some good food wouldn’t do you any harm. Come on! ’
It was not until the end of the dinner, over the coffee and cigarettes, that Arnold consented to discuss his conclusions. Then he began with an expostulation.
‘I do think, old man, you might have given me a bit more warning about that beastly stuff you brought along.’
‘Well, I told you I had an idea it was pretty noxious,’ Ralph pointed out. ‘But, after all, the reason I brought it at all was that I didn’t know much about it.’
‘Where did you get it?’ asked Arnold curiously.
His manner shed its slight banter, and a look of seriousness crept into his eyes, as Ralph explained.
‘Good God! You don’t mean to say these things are being grown! What for?’
‘Food—what else does one grow vegetables for?’
‘But this is a fungus.’
‘I thought it looked that way, but quite a lot of fungi are edible when they’re cooked.’
Arnold failed to reply for some seconds; he seemed not to have heard and was staring fixedly into space. When he turned back Ralph was startled by the expression on his face.
‘Do you know anything about fungi?’
‘No,’ replied Ralph promptly.
‘Well, I’ll be short about it, but I’ll try to show you what this business means. First of all, there are two types of fungi. Either a fungus is a saprophyte and lives upon decaying matter, or else it is a parasite, in which case it exists upon living matter. As far as the saprophytes are concerned—well, you’ve eaten a good many in your time as mushrooms or cheese, or a hundred other ways; but the parasites are not so numerous—the kind which most frequently afflicts human beings is ringworm.
‘Now this particular bit of evil which you kindly handed to me is neither one nor other of these forms; it is both. That is to say that it flourishes equally well on decay, or on living flesh. Do you see what I’m getting at?’
Ralph began to see.
‘This thing,’ Arnold continued, ‘is not only a parasite, but a more vicious parasite than any known. All these growths you have told me of must be scotched—utterly wiped out and obliterated before they can become ripe. Once allowed to burst and scatter their spores-’ He spread his hands expressively.
Ralph regarded him nervously. ‘You’re sure of this?’
Arnold nodded. ‘Of the danger I am certain. About the plant itself I’m very puzzled. Obviously the spores were enclosed in a soluble capsule so that they might be planted and brought to fruit in safety.
‘If your information is correct, the whole thing seems to be deliberate, and on a large scale. It is not merely a case of scattering a few spores to grow haphazard, but immense trouble has been taken to induce people to cultivate the fungi so that millions of spores will be spread.’
He paused, and added: ‘It’s up to us to try to stop this thing, old man. Somebody must, or it’s God help thousands of miserable people! ’
Ralph was silent. He remembered the mysterious rash at Newquay, and the similar outbreak at Bodmin. He recalled, too, the sight of that slimy, yellow ball in his father’s garden, and his face was pale as he looked at the other.
‘We’re too late,’ he said. ‘It’s begun.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE DANGER INCREASES
‘Stuff! ’ said Major Forbes, with some violence. ‘Stuff and nonsense ! You ought to have known better, young man, than to come to me with an old wive’s tale like that.’
Ralph gave up his attempt to convince the old man. After Arnold’s warning of the previous evening, he had caught the earliest possible train for the West Country and travelled all night. There had not been any time to lose. So far as he knew, the enormous puffballs might burst of their own accord at any hour, quite apart from the danger of one of them receiving an accidental puncture and spreading its spores about the neighbourhood.
He had arrived, tired and anxious, to be greeted by both his own and Dorothy’s father with complete disbelief. In vain he put the cases of rash forward as evidence and quoted Arnold’s warning. It was useless. Each, at the back of his mind, seemed determined that this was some deep ruse by rival growers to get him out of the way; and, even if the thing was a fungus, what man worth his salt was going to be scared by a mere puffball, however big?
‘No,’ Major Forbes repeated firmly. ‘You say that your mother and my daughter are willing to leave—of course they are. Women are always wanting to run up to London for some fal-lal or other. Take ’em along with you; the change’ll do ’em good. But don’t come bothering me! ’
And there was a similar interview with his own father. Mrs. Waite attempted to smooth over her husband’s irritation.
‘Now, don’t worry your father any more, dear. You must see that he doesn’t want to come. I should like to go to London for a week or so, but don’t bother him. I should have to go soon, in any case, to do a little shopping.’
‘But you don’t understand, Mother. This is really serious— it’s dangerous. These things he is growing are rank poison!’ Mrs. Waite looked a little distressed.
‘Do you really think so, dear? I mean, it seems so unlikely— and the people who sent them don’t seem to think so. They definitely said they were vegetables.’
‘Never mind what they said. Take it from me—or, rather, from Arnold, who is an expert—that these things are deadly and must be destroyed.’
‘Eh? What’s that?’ Mr. Waite chimed in. ‘Destroyed? I’d like to see anyone attempt to destroy my specimen. I’d show him what’s what ! There’s still a law in the land.’
‘You’ll promise me, won’t you, John, not to eat any of it while I am away?’ Mrs. Waite spoke as though her presence should nullify the plant’s poisonous quality. Her husband ungraciously conceded the point.
‘All right,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll promise you that much— though I repeat that I think the whole thing is a scare.’
‘Well, if you won’t come, I can’t make you,’ said Ralph, ‘but I do beg of you-’
Again he went over the details of Arnold’s warning, only to succeed in thinning his father’s temper and his own. At last he turned back to Mrs. Waite.
‘This is a waste of time. You’d better pack your things and get ready, Mother.’
‘You mean now, dear?’
‘Yes. At once.’
‘Oh, but I couldn’t possibly be ready before tomorrow. There are such a lot of things which just have to be finished off.’
Ralph went around again to see Dorothy.
‘We’ll have to wait until tomorrow,’ he told her. ‘I can’t make them believe there’s any danger in delay.’
‘Well, one day won’t make much difference,’ she suggested. ‘It might. I want to get you both out of here as soon as possible. Any moment it may be too late.’
‘We’ll be right away this time tomorrow. Now let’s talk about something else.’
‘I can’t think of anything else. I’ve heard Arnold on the subject, and you haven’t. Let’s go out and have a look at the brutes.’
‘Hullo,’ said Arnold, entering Ralph’s office. ‘Where the devil have you been for the last two days?’
‘Down in Cornwall; trying to make my people clear out.’
‘Did you?’
‘Got Dorothy and my mother up here. Neither of the fathers would shift—stubborn old fools! What have you been up to?’ Arnold disregarded the question. ‘You’ve done all you could?’
‘Of course I
have—short of kidnapping the old blighters.’ Arnold looked grave.
‘I’m afraid the news is rather serious,’ he began. ‘The morning after our chat I went round to see a fellow I know at the Ministry of Health, and they welcomed me there with open arms. This thing is a good many times bigger than we thought it was. The authorities have been minimising—didn’t want to ruin the holiday traffic, or some rot like that. They told me that there have been hundreds of cases of the rash and several dozen deaths. Not only that, but soon after the dead have been buried those yellow puffballs start growing from the graves.
‘Their experts were as sure as I was that this form of fungus has never been heard of before, and most of us are pretty certain that somebody has been up to some rather ugly crossbreeding, with malice aforethought. They issued orders yesterday that no more of the things were to be planted, but that was useless; already round the centres where the things have burst, the place is littered with the balls.’
‘Growing already?’
‘Thousands of them, around Newquay and Bodmin and several other places. And nobody dare touch them.’
‘But aren’t they doing anything—destroying them?’
‘How?’
‘Can’t they—can’t they spray them with acids, or something? Do you realise that the first lot hasn’t reached its natural bursting point yet? All this second crop is the result of accidental breakage. God knows what will happen if they are allowed to burst.’
‘Nobody seems to know how to tackle the situation. But they’re not lying down; they see the danger all right, and they’re going after it day and night. You can see yourself that the problem is how to destroy the balls without liberating the spores.’
‘There must be some way…’
‘Oh, they’ll find a way, but it’s got to be drastic and well organised. The thing they’re most anxious about at present is that there shall be no panic. You know what people are like when they lose their heads. If they go wild and start smashing the things wholesale, there’ll be hell to pay. You can take it from me that the departments concerned are already making things hum behind the scenes.’
‘Meanwhile, the first crop of balls must be pretty nearly ripe…’
Ralph searched the lounge of the hotel where his mother and Dorothy were staying. He eventually found Mrs. Waite occupying a comfortable arm-chair in a secluded corner. He greeted her, and seated himself beside her.
‘Where’s Dorothy?’ he asked a few minutes later. ‘Getting ready?’
‘Ready?’ repeated Mrs. Waite inquiringly.
‘We arranged to go out and dance this evening.’
‘Oh, dear me, of course. Then you didn’t hear from her— she said she would telephone.’
‘She didn’t. What was it about?’
‘Well, she won’t be able to go out tonight. You see, she’s gone down to Cornwall.’
‘She’s what?’ shouted Ralph, in a voice which echoed across the lounge.
‘Yes, dear, she said she felt she must go to Cornwall,’ Mrs. Waite repeated placidly.
‘But why didn’t you stop her? Surely you realise the danger? Good God, she may have caught the rash—she may die of it!’
Mrs. Waite looked a little shocked.
‘Well, dear, I did tell her that I didn’t think you would like it. But she seemed so anxious about her father—such a nice trait in a young girl, I always think—that I didn’t feel it was right to interfere.’
Ralph made no reply. His mother, glancing at him, saw that his face was drawn into tight creases. There was an expression in his eyes which hurt her. For the first time she began to appreciate that there was real fear behind his actions and talk of the last few days. Futilely she started to talk when she should have kept silent.
‘Of course, this may not be so very dangerous after all. I expect it’s just another of these scares. Things will be all right in the end, and we shall all have a good laugh at our fears. Don’t you worry, dear; I expect—good gracious! ’
Ralph was roused out of his thoughts to see what had caused her exclamation of surprise. He looked up to find himself facing his father and Major Forbes. An hour ago he would have been pleased to see them and cheered by the thought that the whole party was reunited; but now his greeting was cold.
Major Forbes looked around him.
‘And where is Dorothy?’ he asked.
Ralph answered him bitterly.
‘She’s gone to save you,’ he said.
CHAPTER FOUR
FIGHTING THE MENACE
‘Yes, my boy,’ said Mr. Waite, ‘we certainly owe our escape to you. You seemed so positive about the danger that I did a bit of investigating; poked about a bit among the local officials.
‘It was old Inspector Roberts who gave me the tip—he’s always considered himself in my debt over that matter of his boy. “Mr. Waite,” he said, “I ought not to tell you; in fact, I’m breaking orders by doing so, but if you take my advice you’ll get out of the district just as soon as you can.” ’
‘Yes, it was a straight tip, by gad!’ agreed the Major. ‘I managed to hear a few things about the country round about —pretty bad. Some fool started a panic in Launceston. Half the town was out with sticks and stones and knives, smashing all the yellow balls they could find.
‘A man told me the ground was white with spores, as if there had been a snowstorm. Some of the growers tried to interfere, and there was something like a battle. Pretty much the same thing seems to have happened in Tavistock and other places in west Devon.’
Ralph looked up.
‘Spores or riots,’ he said, ‘I’m going down by the midnight train to get Dorothy out of that. What’s the time now?’
The Major snorted.
‘Don’t be a fool, young man! The girl’s all right. She’ll be back any moment now, I’ll warrant. They’re not allowing anyone to enter the area now, so she’ll have to come back. Your father and I came out on one of the last trains allowed through.’
‘What’s the time?’ Ralph demanded again.
‘Twenty to ten,’ said the Major, ‘and I repeat that you are wasting your time if you go down there.’
‘The news,’ Mr. Waite said suddenly. ‘There’s sure to be something about all this.’ He called a waiter and asked for the radio to be switched on. A few moments later they were listening to the calm, familiar voice of the London announcer.
The general weather report was unencouraging and the voice went on to add:
‘Gale warning. The Meteorological Office issued the following warning to shipping at twenty hours, Greenwich Mean Time. Strong westerly winds, rising to gale force, may be expected on all the Irish coast. English coast west of a line from Southampton to Newcastle, and English Channel.’
Ralph glanced at his father, who caught his eye, but sent a warning glance in the direction of his mother. Both of them grasped the implication. Thousands of light, yellow balls attached merely by skimpy stalks—and a gale rising….
The announcer began on the news:
‘We are asked by the Ministry of Transport to broadcast the following. Suspension of service. All train services between Exeter and points west thereof have been temporarily suspended. Further details will be announced tomorrow.’
The Major looked at Ralph triumphantly.
‘I told you so! They’re isolating the whole district. There’s no point in your going down. We shall have Dorothy back here in no time.’
But Ralph was unconvinced. Dorothy had set out to get to her home, and he had a horrid fear that she would do it if it were humanly possible. The Major did not seem to know his own daughter’s tenacity of purpose. Ralph stood up with determination.
‘I’m going down there now. There are still cars, even if they have stopped the trains.’
Thump … thump … thump … went Ralph’s mallet. It was three days since he had left London, and now he was engaged in driving stakes into the hard soil of Dartmoor.
A message earlier in the
day had informed him that no news had been received of Dorothy. There could be no doubt that she had been trapped in the isolated area and was now—if she had succeeded in reaching St. Brian—still forty or fifty miles to the west of him. He reflected angrily on the events which had landed him at his present occupation.
He had rushed from the hotel in search of Arnold. Before midnight he had borrowed the other’s car and was running down Piccadilly, in company with the taxis of homeward-bound theatre-goers. The traffic grew faster and sparser as he passed through sprawling suburbs. He looked forward to showing a good turn of speed on the Great West Road. But when he reached it the volume of traffic had undeniably increased once more.
Long lines of trucks, not too punctilious about keeping to the side of the road, stretched before him. A constant flow of private cars against him, unprecedented for the time of night, made it a difficult business to overtake the trucks. Ralph cursed the obstruction of the lumbering line and noticed for the first time that they were not commercial vans, but were painted khaki or grey, with Army markings on their sides. He swore again. A piece of foul luck to get mixed up in Army manoeuvres; but perhaps they would drop off at Aldershot. They did not. They held on the road to the west and, to his exasperation, were augmented by hundreds more.
‘Anybody would think,’ he muttered to himself, ‘that there was a war on. The whole blooming Army seems to be going my way! ’
To add to his troubles, the wind was rising, bringing with it sharp flurries of rain. Instead of making a dash through the night as he had intended, his speed was reduced to a crawl. Only infrequently did the traffic against him allow him to cut past a few of the lumbering shapes ahead. It was full daylight long before he reached Exeter, and he passed through the narrow streets of the old city still escorted by the Army wagons.
Two miles beyond, the road was blocked by a barricade. Sentries with fixed bayonets were assisting the police to turn back all private cars. The representatives of both forces were equally unmoved by his offers of money or his loss of temper.
