Continued from Chapter 36, here.
We woke it up.
Still knocked down to the ground, I stared up at the huge monstrosity that rose in the place where the mushroom had once squatted. Continuing the plant metaphor, it reminded me of a massive bunch of crabgrass, stabbing up with blades from the ground.
But no crabgrass grew in pale white, or stretched miles into the air, up beyond the clouds.
“Shit,” Jaspers cursed, landing on the ground next to me. “Now what?” Continue reading
Standing there, the too-tight floaties nearly cutting off circulation around my upper arms, I had only one thought running through my head.
Parenthood makes you do crazy, ridiculous things.
I glanced back over my shoulder, turning to look at Brandon. The flippers on my feet meant that I had to do a stupid, ridiculous little penguin-shuffle to rotate, and I knew that, if any of my office buddies could see me right now, they’d be laughing their asses off. I’d be the butt of all the water cooler jokes for weeks.
“Now, you’re still convinced that the pool’s too deep and scary,” I said again to Brandon, hoping that maybe the six-year-old’s mercurial mind had changed since the last time I asked him, five minutes earlier. Continue reading
Continued from Chapter 35, here.
I moved back from the huge mushroom, the size of a small house, that sat pulsing in the middle of the scrub-brush and dusty hills around it like an alien artifact.
“Let’s blow it up,” I declared, turning to look over at Jaspers, standing a few feet away. “If this thing was once a person, it’s too far gone, now. It’s not going to just transform back into a human.”
Jaspers nodded. “Well, it isn’t bloody reacting to our presence, at least,” he admitted. “We can get a few mines placed around it, some Claymores, make sure that when they all blow, we tear it to bloody shreds.” Continue reading
Missing Brains 