Cameron tried to get up, but his thigh gushed blood and he barked in pain. It was clear he was in unbearable agony. “I’m sorry, Little English. I cannae move. I need to wrap this leg before I can even think aboot standing.”

  “I’ll come,” said Teddy, although his voice was hardly audible. His breathing rattled. When he moved, it was like an old man in need of a cane.

  Aaron shook his head, realising the lad wouldn’t make it more than a few steps. Fiona might have been able to make it, but how long before the greens attacked again and finished her off?

  We’re all dead.

  So what do I have to lose?

  Aaron held up the compass and looked at it. It pointed right towards the hill, right towards Choirikell. If he followed it, it would take him right through the village and to McGregor’s cottage beyond. There was still time to do this, but not if anyone was slowing him down.

  “I’ve known you all for three months,” he said. “That’s nothing really, but I love you all. I need you to know that.”

  Cameron waved a hand. “Silly bollocks.”

  Fiona smiled. “We know.”

  “Love you too, kid,” said Helen.

  Aaron made eye contact with Teddy, who was frowning awkwardly. “Not you, Teddy. I just met you. I meant I love the others.”

  “Give it time,” he said. “I’ll grow on you.”

  “The only thing growing around here is the fungus,” said Helen. “I nae think there’ll be time for anyone to get to know you better, Teddy.”

  Teddy shrugged. “Still. At least we tried, huh? I’m kind of glad it went down like this. Seeing this place… Gerard and the rest of us were living on borrowed time. At least my eyes are open.”

  Aaron smiled, glad to see everyone handling their impending dooms as well as could be expected. He wished he could stick around and see out the end with them, but he had work to do. He went over to Fiona and took something out of his pocket. “If Helper manages to heal you, deliver this to Sophie.”

  She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “What? I don’t understand.”

  He made her take the letter from him, shoving it into her hand. “Just do your best, okay? If you ever find my mam and Sophie, give them Ryan’s letter. Please?”

  “Of course, but…”

  “I gotta go,” said Aaron, before anyone could see what he was planning. He hurried to the edge of the blackened circle of ground, the green stalks towering over him.

  Cameron tried to get up again. “The hell ye doing, lad?”

  “Using the last of the time I have left. I can’t sit around waiting to die. I’m sorry.”

  “What? Dinnae be a fool!”

  “Sit down,” said Fiona. “Don’t leave us.”

  Helen sat up. “Oi, Aaron, come back here, you eejit.”

  But Aaron gave them no chance to stop him. He leapt amongst the stalks and lifted his compass, following the arm as it pointed towards the village. He planned to make it all the way to McGregor’s cabin, with a single stop along the way.

  Aaron thought someone was chasing him through the stalks, but when he turned back, he saw that it was only Ranger. He laughed and patted the dog on the head. “Teddy is going to get mad if you keep running off with me. You’re his dog.” The dog sat and wagged her tail, causing Aaron to reconsider. “No, you’re your own dog, aren’t you? You’re free. Thanks for coming along.”

  The way ahead was tough, the stalks thick and high. Pushing them aside took effort, each one heavy and stiff. Aaron sweated from the exertion, but also because the air was dry and hard to breathe. The ground was lumpy, things buried, overgrown with fungus. It might have been the mess left behind by the army, and when he reached a small mound shaped like a single-storey building, he wondered if it was the petrol station on the edge of the village. That meant the pub would be close.

  Ryan is close.

  The fungus parted in places where the ground was too scorched to allow growth. It was in these places that Aaron tried to get his bearings, looking at the compass while tiptoeing to try and see as much as he could. Mostly he saw the tops of buildings, most covered in fungus, but some were scorched and blackened. He headed to the largest one he could see, recognising it.

  He kept waiting to be attacked, but he had encountered nothing since leaving his friends behind. Perhaps the greens that had attacked previously were the only ones left. They had been so brittle and delicate, as if they had been slowly disintegrating.

  Aaron reached the remains of Dale’s pub and stopped where he thought the main entrance used to be. The pub’s interior was visible through small gaps in the fungus that grew over every window. It was blackened and burnt out, the ceilings caved in and lying on the floor. There was no way inside, even if it wasn’t encased in a thick growth of fungus. That didn’t matter though, because he had Fiona’s words in his head – the story about the fox. It didn’t matter if he could find Ryan’s body or not. He was here, right next to where he had died. If there was anything close to a spirit, his brother would hear him. Ryan would be there.

  I feel him.

  “Hey, man. It’s me.” He took a step closer to the front doors, knowing his brother’s remains were only metres away, buried inside. “I miss you. Three months is a long time when it hurts, you know? I keep waiting for it to get better but it doesn’t – at least not that part of things. Other things are better. I’m not alone, for one thing. You left me with good people. Family. Not blood, or anything, but the closest thing. Cameron kept his word: he’s been looking after me like you asked. He’s a good man. Maybe he learned a thing or two from you.” He shook his head and a tear spilled down his cheek. “Everyone misses you, Ryan. We all remember what you did to get us out of this place. The last you knew of me, I was a self-centred kid, but I’m trying really hard to be a man you would be proud of. I’m probably going to fail, but I’m going back to McGregor’s cottage to try and do something to help everyone. It matters that I’m trying, right? It’s better to do something rather than nothing. It’s what you would have done.” Aaron took a deep breath, feeling the life leaking out of him. His head throbbed and his arm raged with a fiery heat. He remembered back to the beginning, when Sean had got infected up on the hill. It had taken his mind first. How long before things stopped making sense? Maybe they already had. Aaron might be walking around with talons hanging from his arms, only believing in his own mind that he was standing outside the pub saying goodbye to his brother.

  “I love you, man. We’ll be together again soon. Also, thanks a lot for inviting me to your stag do. It really sucked.” He turned and began walking, but he stopped to say one last thing. “Oh, and Man United forever.”

  Ranger wagged her tail beside him, so he knelt to pat her. He gathered the dog up and held her for several moments, enjoying the earthy, animal scent of her. She was the best reminder of all of what life had once been. Man, animal, nature; it was all beautiful. Maybe the fungus was beautiful too. How was it any different to an English rose or an extravagant peacock? It was life, doing what it needed to thrive. The fungus wasn’t even here by choice, but now that it was, it merely wanted to live. The fungus was no more guilty than a bullet. The true villain was whoever had sent it here.

  But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to watch the fungus burn.

  Aaron resumed his journey, studying the compass he still hoped would keep him going in a straight line. The village was a surreal landscape of scorched, lifeless earth and green vibrant growth. The buildings were either blackened husks or mounds of green fungus. Besides the pub, the only structure he recognised was the church. Miraculously, its spire was neither burnt nor covered in fungus. High in the sky, it was the only thing in Choirikell that was as it used to be. A cross had never been a symbol of hope for him, but right now the cross gave him a surge of pride. It was a symbol of humanity rising above its enemy.

  It was time for Aaron to rise.

  The hill was two miles ahead, rising up towards the sky. Nestled midway up was the cottage where Aaron had begrudgingly come to celebrate his brother’s impending marriage – a marriage that would now never happen. It was where all this had started, and it was where it would all end, one way or another.

  Before he started the final leg of his journey, Aaron needed to rest. He knelt down and put out a hand to summon Ranger, but the dog kept her distance. She yipped at him, tail lowered. At first it was confusing, but then Aaron saw the thick black lines running down his arm. His veins had thickened beneath his skin and the ragged wound on his forearm had turned a deep, dark green. The back of his head no longer throbbed, and when he fingered the area, it felt fat and spongey. Ranger’s wariness suddenly made sense. “I don’t have long left, do I, girl? It’s okay. If you want to go then go. Just don’t attack me, please.”

  But Ranger stayed put. While she would no longer come to him, she stayed close. When he started walking again, she followed. It seemed she was content to keep an eye on him.

  The way ahead grew harder to navigate. Aaron had to rely completely on the compass. The stalks were taller than they had ever been, ten feet tall. Ranger slunk left and right, zigzagging back and forth, while Aaron had to shoulder his way forward. Two miles of this was going to be hell, and if he tried to take it slow, his time might run out. He was turning into a green. A dead man walking.

  I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for everyone else that’s left.

  As he kept his eye on the compass, the arm suddenly began to change direction. He stopped dead. Then, moving forward, the arm continued to turn, pointing slightly to his right. The further forward he walked, the more the compass pointed to the right.

  “What are you attracted to? It’s not north, is it?”

  With his time running out, Aaron had little option but to see what had caused the compass to change direction. He turned to Ranger, who was three feet behind. “Looks like we’re going this way.”

  Taking a shallow breath, Aaron swatted aside the stalks and followed the compass’s new bearings. The fungus began to thin out, not as tall and not as thick. Eventually, it gave way completely to an area of blackened ground that went on for a hundred metres. In the centre of the clearing was a small, dark object. Perhaps the compass was pointing at that. When he got closer, he was sure of it.

  Aaron checked that Ranger was still with him. The dog was right on his heels, seeming a little less wary. For whatever reason, the fungus did not exist in the clearing. The fire had done its work, but it was more than that. There were patches of healthy, normal soil, and the remnants of a road. The object ahead was wider at the top than the bottom. It was scorched and twisted. Aaron quickly realised what it was. It was a corkscrew. One of those that had fallen directly in the village. It had melted, puddled around the base like a spent candle. There was no fungus anywhere near it.

  “It’s dead,” said Aaron. “The fire in the village destroyed it.” He turned to Ranger, excited. “And the fungus around it is gone.”

  Most of Choirikell was still, of course, covered in fungus, but as Aaron thought about it, he formed a theory. Perhaps all the remaining fungus here was from the corkscrew on the hill. While this corkscrew was dead, the one on the hill had worked overtime to claim the village by itself. One thing was clear: any fungus that had emanated from this particular corkscrew was dead. There were clumps of it scattered all over the ground. It wasn’t burnt or even rotten; it had liquified into gelatinous globs.

  Aaron circled the dead corkscrew, keeping an eye on the compass. It followed the corkscrew, always pointing directly at it. Until he reached a certain point where the needle began to flicker, hopping back and forth like it couldn’t decide which way to go. At first it made no sense, but then Aaron realised what was happening.

  The compass pointed towards the corkscrews. They must give off a magnetic signal. John had said the compass had always led him into hot water, and that was because the compass always pointed towards the epicentre of the fungus outbreaks – the corkscrews.

  The compass was stuck between two destinations, the corkscrew he was standing beside… and another. The other must have been the corkscrew on the hill responsible for the fungus in Choirikell.

  It was time to finish this.

  “Come on, Ranger. Let’s go.”

  Ranger growled, and followed along.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Aaron didn’t think he could make it. The ground underfoot shifted and moulded around his feet. It was like walking along a beach, and his shins ached more and more with every step. The stalks of fungus were like trees, blotting out all but the strongest rays of sunlight. It was cold and hard to breathe. An alien planet.

  Yet, Aaron continued, Ranger alongside him, until he reached the part of the hillside where it flattened out. Twenty feet ahead, a blocky structure rose towards the sky. The cottage.

  “The old place has gone to shit,” said Aaron, shoving aside the stalks to get a better look. There was no way inside the building, and if not for him having been there before, it would have been impossible to tell what it had ever been. It was only its square shape that gave it away as something man-made. Nature didn’t like corners.

  Maybe to quell his fears, Aaron spoke to Ranger. As much as he worried for himself, he worried for the animal. What had made her want to follow him? They were surrounded by the fungus, and the fat little slugs were everywhere, dropping from stalks and writhing in the soil. Aaron swatted them off his arms and neck as if they were pesky gnats. There was little chance she didn’t sense that he was infected – he could feel the fungus creeping beneath his skin – but she seemed to sense that he was still himself too.

  For now.

  During the last twenty minutes, Aaron had begun to feel strange. Outside of himself. Feverish. There seemed to be a delay between his brain and his body. He had to plan every movement. His left arm was rotten, comprising black veins and green fuzz. He could barely move his fingers, which were swollen and discoloured. One of his fingernails was slipping away from its bed. Yet he experienced no pain, which didn’t feel like a good thing. It made him feel even more inhuman.

  There was just one final act to accomplish. One last mountain to climb.

  The hill’s peak rose directly behind the cottage. Upon that hill was the corkscrew that had crashed down into the earth and spilled its deadly contents onto the rocky landscape. The same thing had happened in thousands of other places, but this particular one belonged to Aaron. It was his personal foe – the benefactor of all his misery. He was here to destroy it.

  Even if it destroys me.

  Aaron rounded the fungus-covered cottage and started up the hill. Ironically, it was easier to climb thanks to the green stalks now growing all over it. Aaron was able to grab hold and pull himself upwards. If the fungus was radiation, he would have been lethally exposed, but the fungus could only infect him once, and that horse had bolted. Perhaps Ranger realised it too, because she showed no concern about climbing the densely covered hill even as the infectious bugs dropped all over her.

  Despite being easier to climb, the hill behind the cottage was still tall, and he had to stop several times to catch his breath. He looked at the compass while he breathed, and saw that it was pointing dead set up the hill. He was now certain that the corkscrews gave off some kind of magnetic field. Perhaps that was what had ruined all of the electronics. Would they work again once the corkscrews were broken?

  No, the electronics are already fried. And the dead one back in the village was still attracting the compass.

  Just focus on what you need to do.

  Aaron caught his breath and started to climb again. His vision was blurry, and there was immense pressure behind his left eye. It felt like he had sand in his veins and caterpillars in his stomach. A voice in his head whispered at him to lie down, to just cease struggling and rest. It was a convincing voice, but it was joined by another. Ryan told him to keep going. You got this, our kid.

  Aaron kept on going. Behind him, Ranger growled. At first, he thought she was growling a warning, but then Aaron realised the dog was growling at him. Her hackles were up.

  “Easy, girl. Easy!”

  I’m almost one of them. She’s going to tear my throat out.

  Realising that Ranger was going to turn on him any minute, Aaron used everything he had to pull himself to the top of the hill. When the slope began to level out, he threw himself forward and flopped onto his hands and knees. He gasped and spluttered, green sputum flinging from between his lips. His left hand split open between the middle and ring fingers, revealing a bony protuberance within. He was changing fast. Much faster than Sean or Loobey or Brett had. The infection in the back of his head hadn’t had far to travel.

  “I still have time. I can do this.”

  There were more whispers in his head, friendly voices telling him that everything was okay, and that it was fine to rest. They cared about him, the voices said. They wanted the pain to stop.

  Don’t fookin’ listen to ’em, little bro. They’re trying to mug you off.

  Soddin’ City supporters, mate, the lot of ’em.

  Aaron sneered. “Down with the blues, mate.” He clambered forward five metres on his hands before finally pushing himself back up to his feet. Behind him, Ranger growled more and more fiercely. Her head lowered and her flanks raised. She was preparing to attack.

  “You’re a good dog, Ranger. If you can, just give one more minute, okay? Good girl. Good girl, Ranger.”

  The sound of the praise, along with her name, seemed to confuse the dog. Her growling cut off and she shuffled backwards a few steps. For a moment, her tail wagged, and Aaron felt safe enough to turn his back on the dog for a minute. Ahead was what he had come for.

 

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