The child blowing the dandelion—Queen had been telling Vern she was going to spread the fungus. “Think what you want them to think, then hit em with it. You can only do one thought, though. Got to keep it simple. They aint hooked up like us, Vern.”
What did that mean, hooked up?
Queen heard Vern’s thoughts as if she’d spoken them aloud. “All the rivers, girl. They’re inside us,” she said. She meant the mycelium.
But Vern thought only the thoughts of the dead lived in the hyphae.
“We’re special, baby,” said Queen, answering Vern’s silent question. “They been searching a long time for you. They were starting to think I was the only. I always wanted a sister, Vern, and now I’ve got her,” she said, and again Vern was struck by her apparent joviality, such a contrast to the rasping animal creature Vern had confronted yesterday.
“I’ll have you know my mama raised me with manners,” said Queen, then tapped her foot on one soldier’s body. “Pop, pop, splat!” she said, and erupted into laughter once more.
Vern was shaking. She’d have killed those soldiers dead, too, even laughed at their demise, but to reach into their minds and poison them with untruths, to turn their hands against themselves—that was a violation Vern understood too intimately.
Queen didn’t owe those soldiers a damn thing, but Vern couldn’t help but think of Sherman’s sermons, the way little seeds of thought would be planted in Vern’s head, then would spread and consume her.
“Do you understand now?” asked Ollie, emerging from the dispersing mist. “This is what happens to you in the end. The sickness drives you mad.” Ollie wore brown hiking boots and a messy bowl cut.
“I reckon you’re the one who drove her mad,” said Vern. Queen hadn’t stopped laughing at what she’d done, staring at the bodies. Pop, pop, splat, she sang.
“And yet she spared me. What does that tell you?”
It didn’t tell Vern a damn thing. Loving, worshipping, and bowing to folks who harmed you was written into the genes of all animal creatures. To be alive meant to lust after connection, and better to have one with the enemy than with no one at all. A baby’s fingers and mouth grasped on instinct.
“She loves me,” Ollie said, gloating, threatening: And one day you’ll love me, too.
Ollie could be right. Maybe in the wake of Queen’s various bouts of suffering—the shock collar and whatever other cruelties she’d undergone—she and Ollie had shared a thousand soft kisses. These things weren’t marks in Ollie’s favor, however, only further proof she needed ending.
While Queen was still laughing, distracted by the massacre she’d orchestrated, Vern dashed toward Ollie. She’d sooner die than be her torture-pet.
Queen’s instincts were too quick. She intercepted.
“Vern! Vern!”
Gogo had arrived finally, but at the worst possible moment. Just in time to see Vern’s death. She called Vern’s name frantically.
“Stay back!” Vern called, hoping her tone expressed the gravity of the situation. Gogo hadn’t seen what Queen was capable of. What Vern was capable of.
Vern and Queen circled each other. Queen hissed. Trying it on for size, Vern hissed, too. Thankful to be barefoot, she called on the fungus beneath her feet and let it funnel food into her body, bulking her energy reserves as well as her strength. She’d need every ounce of fortitude if there was any chance—and there wasn’t—she was going to win this fight.
Vern stood between Queen and Gogo, poised to fight. They roared at each other, each protectors of their respective lovers. Their eyes met. They regarded each other with cautious respect.
Then Queen darted forward toward Vern.
“No!” cried Gogo.
Her senses keen, Vern felt the events around her transpire in slow motion. Queen, neither fully upright nor on all fours, dragged herself forward at startling velocity, her back stooped. Behind, Vern heard Gogo sprint, deluded into believing she could possibly intervene. And finally, to Vern’s side was Ollie, a semiautomatic in one hand, a dart gun in the other.
Vern heard the crack of gunfire. Smelled the smoke. Felt the heat. “No!” Vern called, twisting toward Ollie. A tranquilizer dart hit her in the back. Gogo hit the ground, her chest an expanding red circle of blood. Vern ran toward her. Weakened by the tranq, she fell to her knees and crawled.
Another tranquilizer. This time to the neck. Vern’s hand reached out toward Gogo’s, but before she could touch her, she passed out in a rush of swarming gray.