Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Worth sampling?” she asks, finally looking up at me. She frowns. “You okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her quickly. “Let’s keep going.”
“Sure,” she says, wiping her palms on her jeans as we continue along the path. I trail behind her. My head feels swimmy, my gait off-balance. I think the lack of food is finally catching up with me, and yet I’m still not hungry.
I’m lost in my thoughts, blindly following Lauren, when she suddenly stops, and I slam into her back.
“Oh my god,” she gasps.
“What?” I peer over her shoulder.
In front of us, in a small clearing of dirt and pine needles, is a mound of soil with a cross made of sticks at one end.
A grave.
A grave that is covered in fungi, the fruiting bodies of the mushrooms sprouting across it. There must be hundreds of them, various sizes of the same variety, so white they’re nearly translucent, their gills a bright orange.
Suddenly the air fills with a whiny droning noise, like mosquitos.
“Should we sample them?” Lauren asks me uneasily.
I shake my head. “No. We need to turn back and tell Nick.”
She nods, biting her lip until it’s white. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s…I’m sure they know. But the mushrooms, I don’t recognize them. They’re like…” She takes a step forward to get closer. I reach for her to hold her back but miss. “They’re like Amanita, but I’ve never seen one with orange gills like this. Reminds me of jack-o’-lantern mushrooms but not completely orange. We should do a spore print.”
“Since we don’t know what species this is, it could be poisonous,” I tell her, watching as she kneels down beside the grave. She makes a show of taking out a rubber glove from her pack and putting it on before she pulls out an aluminum flower, a dropper of water, and a small knife. “It’s probably poisonous.”
“I’ll be careful,” she says, reaching with her knife for the nearest mushroom, about the size of her thumb.
“But what if this is it?” I ask her, crouching down and grabbing her arm. The droning sound is louder here, and I feel a wave of nausea, but I hang on. “What if this is Amanita excandesco? If this is their fungi, maybe we shouldn’t be tampering with it in any way, at least without their permission.”
She seems to think that over and reluctantly puts the knife away.
“Don’t you think Nick would have warned us?” she asks.
“Maybe he didn’t think we’d find any. I think we should go back now. Anyway, it feels wrong to harvest mushrooms from a grave.” I can’t help but think of Munawar’s shirt and shiver. They literally are feasting on something’s corpse.
“I never pegged you for the sentimental type,” she says as she straightens up. “Alright, let’s go back. This shit is too creepy, even for me.”
We walk back on the path, our pace quicker, and it’s about ten minutes before we see the grave again.
“How the fuck?” Lauren says, looking around wildly. “How did we walk in a circle?”
The air is growing colder now, the light dimmer. I reach down for my compass and realize the hairs on my arms are standing up.
“Okay, let’s try again,” I say, holding it out.
Lauren comes behind me, and we turn back on the path again. At one point, it veers off through a grove of hemlock, the branches bare and spindly, the bark covered with lichen and spiderwebs hanging off the ends, but the compass is telling us it’s the wrong direction.
We go back a few feet and then see the trail we were supposed to take, barely visible from this angle because of the density of the ferns. Then we pass the mother cedar, which I avoid looking at in case I hallucinate about a dead girl again, until we hear chatter in the distance, and the trees start to open up into the glen.
“There you are!” Nick says, putting his hands on his hips. Most of the students are gathered around him, looking bored. “We were about to come looking for you two.”
“We went further than we thought,” Lauren says. “Sorry.”
“We found a grave,” I tell him bluntly.
Everyone snaps to attention. Nick’s brows go up. “A…grave?”
I nod, out of breath. “Yeah. A mound of dirt with a cross on the end. Covered in mushrooms we couldn’t identify.”
“I wanted to take a spore print, but we weren’t sure if it was, you know, Madrona’s famous fungus,” Lauren says.
Nick seems to think that over for a moment. “A grave. Well, it’s possible if you went far enough toward the inlet that you came across Everly and Michael’s old dog, Grover. Was it a cross made from sticks?”
I nod.
“Then that’s probably Grover,” he says. “He was the most beloved member of the team. What did the fruiting bodies look like?” We describe them for him, and he smiles. “Your instincts were correct. That is Amanita excandesco. I’m glad you didn’t sample them as the spores can be a nuisance if disturbed. I’ll make a note to tell Everly to check on the grave.”