Page 83 of Going Home in the Dark

The reverend’s ashen face acquired the soft pink radiance of unseemly delight. “It began on the big toe of the right foot. Then it spread to the other four. Across the foot, up the leg, across the abdomen, down the other leg, then back up into the chest, the heart, and all the way to the top of the head. The best part was that it kept him alive and cognizant until it had thoroughly infectedhim. Only when he was paralyzed head to foot and unable to speak, only when he realized he had no hope of a cure, only then did it slowly collapse his lungs and suffocate him.”

Britta took his hand. He stared longingly at her. Obviously, they wanted to fly up the stairs on wings of love.

“What a horrible way to die,” Rebecca said.

“Yesss,” Pastor Larry replied with enthusiasm.

“I thought this was a benign fungus, if it’s a fungus at all.”

Britta said, “Alpha is everything you would expect of a benign intelligent fungus, if you have the wit to expect anything at all. It is optimistic, caring, understanding, forgiving, reassuring, and disgustingly sentimental. Alpha is exactly the kind of intelligent fungus that the hoi polloi would hope for if they were hoping for a fungus. The all-too-common men and women who live dull lives of no importance would open their hearts to a fungus like Alpha and feel their relationship with it gave meaning to their existence at last, and Alpha would love them in return. As a movie that you starred in, it would be intolerably middlebrow and sweet enough to kill every diabetic in the country. It was not Alpha that murdered the fatuous, people-loving Mr. Blomhoff. It was Beta.”

“Praise Beta,” said Pastor Larry.

47To More Quickly Impart Vital and Fearsome Information

In a novel of deep mystery and strangeness, informational conversations between the good guys and the bad guys nearly always come near the end of the story. They must be written in such a way that they don’t bring the narrative to a stop, have entertainment value of their own, and avoid just shoveling revelations at the reader. This is often achieved by disclosing surprising and yet logical new facets to the characters (as with Britta’s lustful nature), by maintaining an atmosphere of imminent violence, by dialogue that alarms or amuses, and by additional techniques that will not be revealed here, where no one is paying to learn them. However, there comes a point at which our desire to know how the hell it all ends becomes paramount. Who lives, who dies, and what kind of mess do they leave behind? This can be especially true when the author has used foreshadowing to warn that at least one of the good guys (Bobby) is very likely to perish. Consequently, a change in tactics of narration becomes essential. Remaining revelations must be made, but succinctly, dwelling less on atmosphere, trimming descriptions of characters’ actions, and thus thrusting us on toward the terror, violence, and destruction that we all enjoy so much. Let’s see if this works:

To Rebecca, in the parlor of the rectory, Britta and Larry appeared arrogant and self-assured, as if this confrontation must be a matter of life and death and as if the amigos were already doomed. “Beta killed Aldous Blomhoff? What is Beta?”

“Another intelligent fungus,” said Britta.

Pastor Larry said, “Praise Beta.”

“It’s only nine thousand years old,” Britta continued, “not eleven like Alpha. It weighs about forty-eight thousand tons, not sixty thousand. It lives under the portion of Maple Grove that Alpha doesn’t occupy, and in acreage north of town.”

Nervously adjusting his hat, Spencer said, “Two immense intelligent funguses in the same small town. Is there something special about the soil, something in the water? Do you have any theories about this?”

“The current theory,” Britta said, “is that twelve thousand years ago or so, a large meteor impacted here, shattering its way deep into the earth, bearing the spores of two intelligent fungi from elsewhere in the galaxy. One developed faster than the other.”

“Or,” said Larry, “it was one fungus. Some spores went to the light and some to the darkness, figuratively speaking.”

“So Alpha is good, and Beta is evil,” Rebecca said.

Pastor Larry’s glare was venomous. “You will wish you’d never said that.”

Britta’s expression was merely smug. “Alpha loves humanity. Beta hates it. From our perspective,Alphais the evil one. Beta wants to eradicate ninety percent of humankind to save the Earth. It loves the planet. So do Larry and I. Genocide is noble in the right cause.”

“It’s because of the bigotry of people like you,” Larry said, “that Beta won’t cooperate with the institute like Alpha does.”

Bobby gave Rebecca a look that said,They’re about to spring a trap on us. They wouldn’t be revealing all this if they thought there was any chance of us getting out of here alive. Stay alert!

That was a lot to convey in just a look, but so tight with one another were the amigos that she understood and nodded once.

Larry said, “Beta dared to try infecting the top officials at the institute and destroy the Alpha Project. It almost worked. It taught my hateful half brother a thing or two. Unfortunately, Alpha has already come up with a cure. Jim James and Butch Fossbocker will be well and out of the hospital tomorrow, the bastards.”

Spencer said, “Sixty thousand tons, forty-eight thousand tons—what do they feed on?”

“TheArmillariain Oregon feeds on trees,” said Britta. “It destroys forests. That doesn’t happen here. Maybe Alpha and Beta draw nutrients from the soil. They won’t say what they feed on.”

“Why not?”

“We think they might be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed funguses?”

“Embarrassedintelligentfunguses. Maybe part of what they feed on is worms, termites, other insects, rotting roots, bodies in the graveyard, and mole shit. If that’s part of what you ate, would you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Spencer admitted.

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