Fungal Tide

by Ian Woodhead

  The waitress chuckled. “So you want to keep it company? I hope I’m not intruding here, but you do look a bit lonely yourself.” She looked towards the toilet door. “Your companion has been in there for a while now. If you want, I can go see if she’s okay for you.”

  ***

  Sierra Broadbent reined in her hormones and hurried back to her work station. God, the man was hot. She suppressed a giggle, glad to see that Linda had buggered off back into the kitchen. The old bag would blow a fuse if she thought that one of her girls was getting a little too close to a customer. Bugger her, Sierra never saw anything wrong with flirting with the good looking men who came into the café. There was no harm done. Anyway, the chances were that the sour faced blonde who disappeared into the toilets was the bloke’s missus.

  It would be a bloody shame if she were his wife. What a waste of a good man, and a good man was just what the doctor ordered. Sierra glanced over at her customer and blushed a deep red when she saw him staring back at her. Did he have a decent job?

  Sierra resisted the urge to lick her lips. She tried to imagine her customer in a uniform, something like a fireman or a copper would suit her down to the ground. Knowing her luck, he was probably a bleeding solicitor or some boring accountant. Whatever he did, it would be far better than being a frigging waitress; hell, no doubt he’d be bringing in a lot more cash than this poxy job gave her week in, week out.

  Then again, a job was a job, and at least this brought her enough money to pay her bills, rent and eat. Sierra moved to the side when Debbie placed her customer’s plates on the counter. Linda gave her girls a big discount on meals, the old bag might have a few odd habits but she did look after them. Sierra wouldn’t survive on her wage without that perk.

  What the hell would she do if Linda did kick her out? Oh, it’s alright for Debbie. Unlike Sierra, her buddy didn’t have a five year old boy to look after. Danny meant the world to her. He deserved a mother that brought home a decent wage, a mother who wasn’t on the dole.

  Her mother would love that though; God, how she would enjoy that scenario. There’s no way Sierra would be able to afford the flat, meaning she’d end up back at her mum’s house with that old bat guilt tripping her every day. It was bad enough as it was, with having to rely on mum for babysitting duties while she worked, without her trying to take over her life completely.

  Oh bloody hell, what was wrong with her? Linda wasn’t that bad. Sierra grabbed the tongs and opened the glass front. Was Mr. dreamboat over there smiling at her messing with her head? She carefully lifted the last éclair and placed the bun on a small white plate. Her morning would have been a lot less complicated if she had used her charms on Mrs. Blue Scarf and her pet husband instead. By the looks of it, the petite blonde had a friend forever with the old man. Her stomach flipped when she saw the old man doing his utmost to look down the front of Debbie’s blouse.

  “Debbie, can you do me a big favour?”

  “Only you can return it, Sierra. That dirty old man needs hosing down. If you can stop him from letching, I’ll do whatever you want. “She looked over at Sierra’s customer and licked her lips. “Now him, I’d let that guy look down my top any day of the week.”

  “Put your tongue away, girl, you’re getting your chin wet with spit. I want you to go see what’s taking his friend so long. She went into our toilets when they first came in.”

  “Go get his name, Sierra, that’s all I ask.”

  She nodded, picked up the plate and made her way towards the dark haired hunk. God, he really was as cute as a button, as well has having such a deep sexy voice. Oh, she’d get the man’s name alright but only for herself.

  The chances were that the woman who walked in behind the man was his wife. She wasn’t too sure though. Watching the older woman blank the man before making her way over to the toilets made Sierra wonder if the couple were just work colleagues or even brother and sister.

  Sierra had already compared herself to the other woman in the toilets. Oh sure, it was a ridiculous waste of time as well as being rather pathetic but she couldn’t help it. Both the seated hunk and the other woman were around about the same age, perhaps early to late thirties, but was obviously doing her best to look a lot younger; that short-cropped shaggy blonde hair just looked stupid on a woman her age. As for those tight, black leggings that stuck to those fat legs like a second skin, the last said about those things, the better.

  “That looks lovely,”

  She felt herself blush when the hunk treated her to a warm smile. Sierra placed the plate next to his cup and tried to think of some way to ask the man for his name without trying to make it sound so desperate. “My mate’s just gone to check to see what’s taking your sister so long.”

  “She isn’t my sister, she’s my ex-wife.”

  “Oh, sorry, you must think I’m a right nosey parker. Anyway, I’ll let you enjoy your bun.”

  ***

  Ryan brushed his fingers through his thick brown hair and picked up the éclair, then dropped the bun on the plate when he saw the toilet door opening. At last, Christ, what on earth had she been doing in there for twenty minutes? He stood up, watching her waltz out of the toilets, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. He only had to see the bitch smile and wave for his nerve to crack. Bollocks to it, even if it was in a public place, Ryan was determined to have it out with her, here and now.

  His temper left as quickly as it appeared when the woman cried out in pain before falling to her knees. “Tracy?” He saw the petite waitress standing behind his ex-wife looking more scared than he did. Ryan rushed towards her, almost stumbling over a chair. He skidded to a halt when the old couple fell off their chairs, writhing and moaning just like Tracy.

  “I’ll go get an ambulance!” shouted the redhead, running towards the counter.

  He dropped in front of ex-wife and moved her hands away from her neck, staring in utter horror at the sight of several wet ulcerous blisters spreading out across her throat. He looked away, catching sight of the other two, each one in the same state as Tracy. “What the fuck is happening here?” Ryan had never been so scared in his whole damn life.

  3

  The Second Downpour

  Sandra Broadbent leaned across her breakfast bar and notched up the volume knob on the radio. She really liked this track. Humming along with Duran Duran, Sandra wandered back to the kitchen sink and plunged her hands into the hot, soapy water. She frowned at the heavy black clouds overhead, so much for taking little Danny out for walk, this afternoon. That would be such a shame, the tot so needed to get a bit of colour, he looked so pale, heaven knows what that daughter of hers did to make the lad look like a little ghost.

  When her Sierra was Danny’s age, Sandra took the girl everywhere, heaven, her baby girl never left her side at that age. Then again, back then, her husband (God rest his soul) brought a decent wage into the house. It gave her the opportunity to get on with the important job of bringing up her daughter properly.

  She sighed heavily. Those words tasted like ash in her mouth right now. “Where did I go wrong?” Sandra cleaned the last white dinner plate and propped it in the draining board. She didn’t go anywhere wrong. As far as Sandra was concerned, the mistakes that her daughter had made were all the girl’s fault, nothing to do with her.

  Sierra had lost her chance of stability when the silly little girl dumped that Trevor last year. He was such a nice, polite young man, as well as very easy on the eye. With those intense grey eyes, shock of wiry black hair and muscular frame, that man could have had his pick of any girl, and yet he chose her ungrateful daughter. To top it all, the man had a great job as well, working for a haulage company in the next town.

  Sandra made her way into the living room to collect her shoes; rain or no rain, there was no chance of her and Danny sitting in the house today. Sandra smiled to herself when she remembered that a new ice cream parlour had opened up in the small shopping mall in the centre of town. Danny would love th
at, Knowing Sierra, she probably hadn’t given the poor boy any ice cream for weeks, and even if she had, it would have been some of that cheap rubbish bought from Kwik Save.

  She caught herself in the mirror and stopped to check her hair, Sandra believed that she didn’t look that bad for a woman who’d just fallen over the dreaded fifty ledge. Okay, so there were more grey hairs (hidden with dye) than blonde, but that was normal, she still retained her figure, thanks to rigorous exercise and a low fat diet. Sandra wouldn’t be having any of that ice cream. She grinned to herself; well, maybe just a tiny taste.

  Would her Sierra look as good in 30 years time? Somehow, she doubted that, not at the rate her life was going. Sandra slipped off her slippers and pushed her feet into her shoes. What that girl needed was someone to look after her.

  She already had somebody to look after her and the stupid moo, had got rid of him. Her hand strayed towards the mantelpiece and she picked up a photograph of both Trevor and Sierra together. She felt a single tear roll down her left cheek, they looked so good together and happy, stood side by side, holding hands in the bright sunshine. Little Danny had yet to make his screaming entrance but if you looked closely enough, you could see the makings of a bump, hidden beneath that blue top.

  That tale of Trevor beating on her daughter for two full years just had to be a huge pile of horse manure. Her almost to be son-in-law just didn’t have it in him to be violent to any woman.

  She turned the photo over and ran her finger along the collection of numbers, written at the bottom of the paper. Sandra smiled to herself. Oh no, poor Trevor had been the victim in that instance, not Sierra. She had that account straight from the horse’s mouth. Sandra replaced the photo making sure that Trevor’s home telephone was well and truly obscured. Well, if her daughter was so willing to throw away such a dreamy young man, then why shouldn’t Sandra at least taste the wares? She ran her tongue over both her lips, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She tasted that young man’s wares on more than a few occasions in the last ten months since those two had separated, and in all that time Trevor had not once touched her.

  Sandra let out a quiet giggle. Maybe that wasn’t quite true. Her daughter’s ex boyfriend had ‘touched’ her quite a lot in the last few weeks. Okay, so he was twenty years her junior and (she suspected) that he was probably using her to get closer to his son. She didn’t care about any of that. Sierra didn’t have a clue that Trevor had been sleeping with her mother. Not that the action shamed her, far from it. It’s just that Sandra would prefer it if Sierra was kept in the dark, knowing full well the seismic fallout could mean that their entanglement would more than likely cease.

  “And that’s the last thing I want.” The very thought of her Trevor throwing in the towel sent her emotions whirling. Sandra was a realist, and knew that her chances of finding somebody else to do the things that he did to her body were slim to none, after thirty years of being married to a man who had no interest in making love had turned her once sharp libido duller than a butter knife. Sandra’s late husband had been about as sexually active as a retired monk. She even believed that if she hadn’t plied the man with vodka and wine on their wedding night their daughter would have never appeared on the scene.

  Trevor did mention that if he had time, he’d pop over today and perhaps spend a bit of time with the her and Danny before going back to work. She’d seen the lust in his eyes when Trevor had said those words so knew that his arrival would be a certainty. He might have been the one who had shown her new techniques but in doing so, had awakened her own flame. Her skin might not be as smooth as it once was and her hair might have lost some of its sheen but what she lost in youth, Sandra easily made up in vitality and stamina and made it her mission to ensure he’d never want to sleep with any other woman but her.

  Was it so selfish of her to hope that Danny would be asleep when Trevor did turn up so the man would spend all of his spare time with her?

  Sandra picked up the picture and pressed her lips against Trevor’s head before strolling over to the hallway door. It was unusual for him to get here until after lunch, so it gave her enough time to make sure Danny would be well and truly exhausted first, and once Trevor arrived Sandra would make sure that her other little man would fall into an exhausted sleep. She sure hoped the weather would hold up while she took him out for a walk.

  “Where did my Gerald run off to?” She paused and wrapped her fingers around the edge of the open door. Now where the heck did that stray thought come from? She hadn’t thought about her poor dead husband in months, not since that nightmare palaver, just after Christmas and the doctor had given her a dose of pills for that nonsense. Ooh, she didn’t half feel queer; it took her a few moments to remember where she was supposed to be going. It took effort to keep just a single thought still for more than a few moments, each one slipping through her mind like wet soap.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, placed her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, enjoying the sharp pain, feeling the hurt help push out the creeping fog threatening to stuff her head.

  Sandra counted to five, that mist still lingered. She found it stayed away as long as she concentrated. The woman opened her eyes and found her efforts to keep this cloying feeling at bay vanish at the sight of the back of her hands.

  A thin white covering of fur now covered her flesh. She watched in disbelief as tiny bumps of black spikes pushed up through the fluff. “What is happening to me?” Sandra panicked, desperately tried the wipe the stuff off. The white fur came off, leaving behind the hundreds of soft spikes. She gripped one of the between her thumb and forefinger and pulled, crying out in utter agony. Her skin stretched but the soft protrusion refused to relinquish its hold, it actually felt as if it was now part of her body.

  “I don’t believe this,” she gasped, spinning around and running back into the kitchen. The woman dropped to her knees in front of the sink and pulled open both cupboards. “Bleach will sort it.” Sandra pulled the yellow plastic bottle out from behind the box of washing powder, stood up and fumbled off the top before placing one hand in the metal sink, spreading her fingers wide.

  She jumped at the sound of breaking glass, dropping the bottle onto the drainer. “That’s Danny’s bedroom!” Sandra ran from the kitchen, through the living room and raced up the stairs. The woman burst into the bedroom, hardly noticing the patch of white dust she left on the door panel. The whole room reeked of rotting wet leaves.

  His bed was empty. She ran over to the smashed window, her shoes crunching over broken glass and wept at the sight of a multi-coloured shape, holding the struggling boy, drop from the drainpipe and limp across the empty street before disappearing into an alley opposite her house.

  4

  Saying goodbye to the grey

  Ryan opened his mouth and yawned, feeling his bottom jaw complain. He picked up the cup, took a sip and grimaced in annoyance as the cold tea coated his tongue. He placed the blue cup back on the saucer and leaned forward, and gently moved the covers down a couple of inches.

  The ugly lesions covering Tracy’s neck had now gone, leaving behind a few patches of hard red skin. He re-covered the woman, got to his feet and stretched his arms. Ryan had been in the hospital for over three hours and none of the doctors, nurses or consultants had been able to give him any satisfactory explanation as to what was wrong with her. He looked over to the glass door and smiled at Sierra’s waving through the window. Ryan gave the woman’s sleeping form one last gaze before hurrying over to the door. Tracy’s mum and dad should be here in a few minutes, and he wanted to be out of here before they appeared.

  The last time they’d crossed horns, Geoff had threatened to knock Ryan into the middle of next week. He didn’t believe that Tracy’s old man would follow through with his promise but he wasn’t prepared to risk it. From what he had observed, the hospital staff had enough on their plate without having to deal with a domestic; besides, one of their family was in a hospital bed without Tracy’s dad joining her.<
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  “How’s she doing?”

  Ryan pulled the door open a little wider and slipped out into the waiting room, enjoying the girl’s faint perfume. It made a pleasing change from breathing in the sharp smell of antiseptic coupled with the distasteful odour of moss coming from the rash on Tracy’s throat. “Still asleep but the stuff around her neck looks a lot better.”

  Sierra’s hand slipped into his. “I can’t tell you how scared I was.”

  “If it’s any consolation, you weren’t the only who felt helpless, Sierra.” He smiled to himself at this girl’s closeness, and gently squeezed her hand. Apart from her name, Ryan knew next to nothing about this girl and yet holding her hand felt like the most natural thing in the world. “How are our other guests?” Tracy’s welfare had taken up his time here. Hard to credit, considering they had parted company months ago.

  The girl looked past him and gazed at the still form in the other room. “From what I’ve been able to make out, they are both in a similar condition to her, Ryan. I’ve not seen any staff for quite some time but the last nurse did tell me that the couple are improving, they’re just asleep.”

  Ryan took her over to the empty desk and leaned over the surface. “Weird, I can’t see anybody about. The floor was buzzing when we first arrived. I wonder where they all went.”

  Sierra frowned, realizing that she must have dozed off. “So she’s your ex-wife?” she said unexpectedly. “How long were you married? I hope you don’t mind me asking, Ryan.”

  He shook his head. “No, not at all. We were together for ten years.

  “Any kids?”

  He opened his mouth then shut it, thinking about his only daughter. He loved Emily to bits, yet in all of her seven years, he could safely say that he’d spent more time with his dusty bones than with her. “Just the one. A little girl. She had her seventh birthday last month.”