Black Melt

by Indy McDaniel

  “Thinking previous estimate of fungal life not nearly generous enough,” Zoey continued, seemingly unbothered by Stark’s growing frustration. But even her normally calm if speedy speech had taken on a note of unease. “Level of intelligence far greater than ever imagined. Targeting specific prey, misdirection, distraction. Like pack hunters, except with linked consciousness. Far more dangerous.”

  “I get the picture, alright?” Stark growled, feeling bad that he might be lashing out at Zoey for something that wasn’t her fault. He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I just...” He ducked his head out the open window to yell. “I need these damn assholes to get out of my way!” He pulled his head back in. “So this whole time, the fungus really has been after Madison Davis’s surviving family?”

  “Appears so,” Zoey nodded. “No other logical explanation.”

  “Great,” Stark sighed. “And now we’re stuck halfway across the city, dealing with our own problems.”

  “You called in backup,” Zoey pointed out.

  “I know, but I didn’t promise that woman that I’d send backup,” Stark said. “I promised her that I’d be there myself.”

  “Can’t be everywhere at once, Stark,” Zoey argued. “Situation here, almost as important.”

  “Almost?”

  “Would like to know what fungal life intends to do to Davis’s family,” Zoey said before falling silent for a few moments. “Don’t want anything bad to happen to Felicia.”

  “Me, either,” Stark said. They’d been en route to confirming a report of sightings of infected men trying to claw their way into a 24-hour gym. Then they hit the traffic. And finally, they’d gotten Kari’s frantic call for help. “Fuck this,” he muttered, throwing the car into park. “We can make better time on foot. That gym should only be a few blocks up.”

  ***

  “This is the place,” Stark said to Zoey as they approached the gym. The incoming report had said there’d been three or four men with signs of infection causing a disturbance out front. Based on the shattered state of the front window, it was easy to guess that the disturbance had escalated. There were no screams coming from inside the darkened gym. Stark felt that was probably a bad sign.

  “Going in there’s gonna be dangerous,” he said. “Staying out here probably won’t be any better.” He knelt down and pulled his pants leg up to draw his backup revolver. Standing, he extended the weapon towards Zoey. “Take this.”

  Zoey gave the gun a dubious stare. “Never fired a gun before, Stark. Not really violent type.”

  “And on any other day, I’d find that pacifist streak downright adorable,” Stark countered. “But today’s not the day for it. Take it, hope you don’t have to use it. But if you do, it’s a double-action revolver, fully loaded. All you have to do is squeeze the trigger.”

  Zoey nodded and accepted the gun, feeling the weight of it. “Emergency use only.”

  “Right,” Stark nodded. “Don’t shoot any civilians.” He started to turn back towards the gym before looking at her again. “Don’t shoot me, either.”

  “Last thing on my mind, Stark,” Zoey replied with a nervous smile. It wasn’t a big gun – only a snub-nosed .38 – but it looked massive in her hands.

  Stark stepped through the shattered window, drawing a small flashlight to hold beside his Beretta 9mm. After what he’d seen O’Malley do to Moone, he thought he might be somewhat prepared for whatever carnage waited for him. Clicking on the flashlight, he quickly discovered how wrong he was.

  The majority of the padded floor was soaked through with black ichor. Some spots were significantly chunkier than others. The left half of one woman’s face lay in one sizeable pool, the right half – along with the rest of her body – already dissolved into slop. The handful of infected were spread throughout the gym, distracted by their meals. One of them had shoved his victim over the top of the bench press machine before melting through her midriff. The top half of the woman’s body lay twitching and gurgling, hands pawing weakly at the weight machine while her attacker rapidly pumped his prick into her ass through the split he’d torn in her Lycra pants. Her head dropped back, eyes rolling up as she expelled one last breath moments before the infected man grunted and came, his ink-tinged spunk shooting free of the ragged mess of her lower half.

  The beam from the flashlight drew the attention of another infected. He sat on the greasy, mostly dissolved skull cap of another unfortunate woman, his discolored balls resting against her melted nose. The steady flow of vomit dribbling from the man’s lips and into the woman’s open chest cavity came to a stop as he turned to fix his eyes on the source of light. “We just sat down to dinner, you piece of shit,” he yelled, springing to his feet and charging Stark.

  Stark didn’t hesitate to raise his weapon, take aim, and fire twice in quick succession, opening up a pair of gaping chest wounds in the advancing man. The impact of the bullets put a stuttering halt to his movements before he flopped forward onto the floor. Stark adjusted his aim and put a third round through the back of the infected man’s head, just to be sure.

  The man on the bench press whipped around, still clinging the lower half of the woman against his crotch. His eyes flicked from Stark to Zoey, brightening with hunger. “Oh, look, he’s brought dessert,” he called to the two other men spread out around the gym who’d already finished with their meals and seemed focused on a door leading into the back of the building.

  “Give her to us now and we’ll wait until you’ve finished joining the fold to eat her,” the man with his cock still buried balls deep in dead ass offered Stark.

  “Thanks. I’ll take that under advisement,” Stark replied before blowing two holes through the infected man’s face. He spun towards the remaining two as they rushed him, emptying the remainder of his mag into their chests and faces. Thumbing the release, he ejected the spent magazine and replaced it with a fresh one. “Who knew first contact with an alien species would be this fucked up?”

  “Belief that alien life would mirror our own development inherently faulty,” Zoey offered. “Always thought phrase ‘life as we know it’ to be absurdly naïve.”

  “Yea, well, I could go for some absurd naivety right about now,” Stark muttered as he scanned the rest of the gym for other infected. “Give me little green men with ray guns. At least then I know they weren’t people once.”

  A sudden pounding came from the door the infected men had been staring at. “Hello?” a voice called from the other side, muffled by the barrier but still distinctly feminine. “Are you… are you normal?”

  “Wouldn’t necessarily say that,” Stark yelled back. “Normal’s a pretty subjective term.”

  “We’re not infected,” Zoey added, looking to Stark. “Fairly certain it’s what she meant.”

  “After the shit I’ve seen in the last couple days, I’m not assuming anything,” Stark told her.

  “Those… things?” the voice on the other side of the door asked. “Are they gone?”

  “They’re dead,” Stark replied. “I’m Agent Stark with the FBI. Can you open the door?”

  “Sure,” the voice said, followed by the sound of the lock disengaging. The door opened to reveal the fearful face of a young woman in workout clothes. She let Stark and Zoey into the back office before shutting the door and relocking it. “We thought we were done for.”

  There were three other survivors in the office, two more women and a man. The man was laid out on a bench, unconscious, while one of the women sat next to him. The third woman looked just as scared as the others, but she had a grim sternness. She was the first to speak after Stark and Zoey entered the office.

  “What the hell are those things anyway?” she asked.

  “It’s…” Stark looked back at the door, trying to think of some kind of explanation that didn’t sound completely insane. There was also the matter of national security, but when a secret was batshit insane enough, it was easy to tell the truth. “Complicated,” he finally settled.

&
nbsp; “No shit,” the woman muttered. “Is that really the best you’ve got?”

  “Alien fungus,” Zoey said. “Infects hosts. Uses them to feed, further infection. Evidence of a shared consciousness, but still just theory. Very dangerous. Very deadly. Those theories proven.”

  The woman lifted an eyebrow at Zoey. “Okay,” she said slowly. “And exactly how much cocaine have you done today?”

  “None,” Zoey answered. “I have a condition. Imagine cocaine would only make it worse.”

  “Who are you people?” Stark asked.

  The woman with the questions motioned to herself. “Jo. It’s my gym. And I’m gonna want a word with your supervisor about response times.”

  “We get out of this alive and I’ll help you file the complaint,” Stark replied.

  Jo pointed to the woman who’d opened the door. “That’s Ali.” Then the woman sitting next to the unconscious man. “Brenda.” And finally, the unconscious man. “John. We were all in the middle of a Zumba class when those things broke in here. We couldn’t get out of the building, so we locked ourselves in here.”

  “The others?” Ali asked.

  Stark shook his head. “I’m sorry. But look, we can’t stay here. I’ve got reports of packs of those things tearing up half the city. And, if they do share a hive mind or whatever, then they’ll know about the ones I just killed out there.” He motioned to John. “Can he move? What’s wrong with him?”

  “He just passed out,” Brenda said, using a rag to wipe away some sweat lining the man’s brow.

  “He was near the front of the gym when those things broke in,” Jo explained. “I think one of them blew something in his face.”

  Stark looked to Zoey. “Is that as bad as I think it is?” he asked, although the wide-eyed look on Zoey’s face already gave him the answer.

  “Spores most likely,” she said. “Means of spreading infection.”

  “So he’s going to turn into one of those things?” Jo asked.

  “He isn’t,” Brenda insisted.

  Zoey nodded. “Most likely outcome.”

  “So we need to kill him before that happens,” Stark said.

  “You’re not killing him,” Brenda shot back.

  “Also recommend not killing him,” Zoey agreed.

  “Why the hell not?” Stark asked.

  “Cuz he’s my boyfriend,” Brenda offered.

  “Best chance of further understanding fungus,” Zoey added. “He can be restrained. Threat minimized. Once infection takes hold, he’ll wake up. Be able to provide answers far faster than any lab tests.”

  “Even tied up, we can’t carry him out of here,” Stark said. “We need to move fast.”

  “You go,” Zoey decided. “Take others to safety. I’ll stay. Get answers.”

  Stark gave her a stern look. “For being so smart, that’s a really dumb idea.”

  Zoey shrugged. “Have gun. Have phone. Know how to lock a door. Plan no more dangerous than alternatives. Has benefit of risking fewer lives.”

  “No,” Stark said, shaking his head. “If you’re staying, so am I.”

  “No time for sentimentality, Stark,” Zoey said, her frustration showing. “You have job to do. Keeping these people alive. My job is to learn.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without John,” Brenda insisted. “So do whatever you want.”

  Jo sighed and looked to Ali. “This is some goddamn bullshit.”

  Ali shrugged. “We’re safer in a group.”

  “Fuck it, we’re all staying then,” Jo decided, heading towards her desk. “I’ve got some bungie cords we can tie him down with.” She paused before going on. “And some handcuffs. Nobody fucking ask, okay? And if I don’t make it out of this, Ali, you’re gonna burn everything you find in the bottom drawer of this desk, got it?”

  Ali nodded.

  “And you, Fed,” she continued, nodding to Stark as she pulled the drawer open and pulled out the bindings. “If I do make it out of this, I am going to have so many shitty things to tell your supervisor.”

  ***

  They managed to get John strapped to the bench with only minimal complaints from Brenda. She seemed incapable of accepting what was happening to her boyfriend, or that when he woke up, he would not be the same. Zoey took over tending to him, pulling out a number of items from her bag to check his pulse, temperature, and blood pressure. She made notes of her findings.

  Stark turned his attention to the tactical side of things. He barricaded the door as best he could before surveying the ammo situation. It wasn’t great. He had fifteen rounds in his Beretta. The .38 he’d given Zoey had another six. He was good enough with both weapons to make every one of those shots mean something, but the reports he’d heard only spoke of growing numbers. And as good as he was, twenty-one bullets weren’t nearly enough to survive a prolonged siege.

  “Got anything else that might work as a weapon in here?” he asked Jo.

  She thought it over, hesitating somewhat before replying. “Not unless you count ten inches of floppy rubber.”

  Stark narrowed his eyes, momentarily confused until it clicked. “Bottom drawer?”

  Jo nodded.

  Stark sighed. “It comes down to it, it might be better than nothing.” He paused, thinking over her words again. “Ten inches?”

  Jo smirked. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m plenty tight enough. It is a muscle, after all. And I know how to keep muscles nice and toned. Besides,” she added. “I never said I used it on myself.”

  “Is that how you lodge complaints?”

  Jo laughed. “Quite the contrary. Make sure I don’t die tonight, buy me a few drinks, and maybe I’ll show you how it works.”

  Stark glanced over at Zoey. She was far too engrossed with John to notice the conversation. “Not sure about that. I’m seeing someone. Maybe.”

  “It’s complicated?” Jo asked.

  “In more ways than one,” Stark nodded.

  “Too bad. I stay out of complicated shit. If you ever get simplified, give me a call.”

  He looked back at Jo. “Didn’t you want to get me fired a minute ago?”

  Jo shrugged. “Sure, but I’ve dated unemployed guys before.”

  “What about Brenda’s hairspray?” Ali asked.

  “It stinks and it’s terrible for the environment,” Jo replied.

  “But can’t we like… use it as a flamethrower or something?” she asked.

  “Only if we had a lighter,” Stark said. “Even then, it would be risky. There’s a chance the can could explode in your hand.”

  “Well, I’ve got a lighter,” Ali said.

  Jo gave her a glare. “You said you quit.”

  “I said I was quitting,” Ali corrected. “Big difference.” She pulled a small lighter out of her pocket and offered it to Stark. “Better than Jo’s rubber fuck-stick, right?”

  “You do not get to call it that,” Jo growled. “That is my pet name for it.”

  Stark took the lighter. “Better than the fuck-stick.”

  Jo gave him an unamused look. “You burn my gym down and my offer of using said fuck-stick on you is off the table.”

  “Burn the gym down,” Stark said with a nod. “Check.”

  Before Jo could reply, they were interrupted by a wet, hacking cough. They turned towards the bench where John was finally coming around. Brenda tried to move closer, but Zoey held her back. Crusty black growth crept from the corners of his lips and eyes. It descended from his nostrils curled through the crevasses of his ears. The ink-stained whites of his eyes flicked around, taking in the room full of people. The monstrous shift in his looks kept Brenda away, heading Zoey’s warning.

  “John?” Zoey asked, doing her best to slow her words. “Are you in there?”

  John looked up at her, blinking a few times before releasing a giggle. “Sort of.”

  “Are there… others in there with you?” she pressed.

  John nodded. “So many. It’s a real party.” He looked around a
t the others, grinning a black-toothed smile. “And everyone’s invited.”

  “No, thanks, buddy,” Stark said. “My dance card’s pretty full.”

  “What does it feel like?” Zoey asked, drawing John’s attention back to her.

  John thought about the question. “Bliss. And agony. Blended in perfect harmony. The things I feel, the things I know, there’s no possible way for you to comprehend them.”

  “Debatable,” Zoey replied. “Quite intelligent. Very little I’m unable to comprehend.”

  “You are a special one,” John nodded. “You look like a succulent fountain. But you don’t smell like one. You smell like a blend of harmony, just not so perfect.”

  “Imperfections natural. Human. And my harmony blend none of your business,” Zoey said. “Explain more about your nature. How old is original fungal life?”

  “You ask impossible, stupid questions,” John blubbered. “The measurement of passing time is a sentient construct and one that changes dependent on where in the universe you find yourself.”

  “Obviously,” Zoey conceded. “Equally obvious, my meaning of human time. A species like this fungus would know as much. Dodging question. Being an ass.”

  John rolled his eyes. “Not nearly as much as you think. We’ve existed long before this planet existed. We’ve ridden the waves of solar winds, carried aimlessly from one planet or moon to the next. Wherever we’ve found life, we’ve included it. We are a million histories, billions of lifetimes, the end of life and yet the only means of its everlasting existence.”

  Zoey tilted her head with curiosity. “Sounds closer to religious doctrine than empirical fact. Start from beginning. Initial memories. Point of origin.”

  “The beginning?” Stark asked. “You really want to walk this thing through over four billion years of history?”

  Zoey looked back at him. “Only way to achieve better understanding.”

  “We don’t have time for that, Zoey,” Stark told her.

  “The suited monkey is right,” John agreed. “You don’t have time to learn all you desire. And yet, you have all the time you’ll ever need.”