Spore by Ian Woodhead

Author:Ian Woodhead
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: horror, disease, horror fiction short story, apocalypse apocalyptic fiction end of the world end times world war iii conspiracy theory secret societies ufo, infected, horror anthology short story stories, horror suspense
Publisher: Ian Woodhead

2

A man in Oxfordshire was due to be executed after been found guilty of attempting to murder his neighbour by dropping crushed mushrooms into the man’s water-tank.

There was a limited nuclear exchange between Israel and Iran last night after both countries accused each other of starting the outbreak.

The town of Eastbourne had been consumed in a firestorm after rumours circulating the internet suggested that there was a higher degree of the disease mutating in retirement towns.

Alistair had spent the last five hours flicking through one news channel after another, looking for that one story that showed the infection had begun to appear in the young.

He now had a vivid red welt across his cheek and he could still taste that pungent odour of his Mother in his mouth despite eating two tubes of toothpaste and gargling his way through a full bottle of antiseptic mouthwash.

As for his new scar, Alistair suspected that he exacerbated the problem with the frenzied cleaning ritual he went through yesterday afternoon. He was borderline hysterical after Mother’s surprise. Oh heavens, he just remembered picking up the bottle of bleach and the wire pan scrubber.

Alistair switched over the channel as the newsreader announced in a news flash that the infected were now throwing themselves into water supplies and reservoirs.

Mother had been very quiet these past few hours. He remembered hearing her shuffling about and he heard a couple of groans but that was it. He hadn’t checked in on her, there was no way he was going anywhere near that room.

Five hours of intense television viewing had turned him into an instant expert on the subject of the infection. Although cold hard facts and unsubstantiated claims often merged into a large grey area, there were a couple of pieces of information that had been established as a certainty.

Infected people were frail and weak and became weaker as the infection ate through their body. The life span was measured in days. Three weeks was the record so far. A few days before the end, the body began to dry out until on the last day, the mummified corpse would just burst apart at the slightest vibration.

Vast clouds of the stuff had already been ejected into the atmosphere; some parts of Britain hadn’t seen sunlight in over a week.

That wasn’t happening to Mother, she was something different. The welt started to itch, Mother was something new.

He stood up and padded over to the kitchen window whilst absently scratching away at his cheek. Alistair failed to notice that the scum covered water in the sink was now choked with tiny black mushrooms.

It was a little murky outside but Alistair could still make out the shapes of a couple of boys playing. He grinned to himself then noticed that his hand had been enthusiastically digging into his face. He stopped, his hand came away covered in blood and what appeared to be bits of black mushroom. He then saw the state of the sink. Had he put his hand in there? He couldn’t remember.

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