Saprophytes

    Corporal Dale P. Siskel, USMC, struggled as the cop roughly
jerked him into the elevator by his handcuff chains. Siskel
glared at Officer Lavender and adjusted the painful cuffs while
the elevator took them to the third floor. Sergeant Sconce
turned and looked from one to the other then looked back at the
doors with a disgusted shake of his head.
    "I've never seen a pig pen on the third floor," Siskel
mumbled with a sly look from the corner of his eye.
    "Who the hell asked you?" Officer Lavender spun and glared at
Siskel.
    "Your mama," Siskel said with a cheerful smile. When
Lavender lunged for his cuffs again, Siskel jerked them up and
put one fist on each side of his neck, with the chain stretched
tightly across his adams apple.
    "Knock it off," Sergeant Sconce said, jerking Siskel away
from Lavender. The elevator doors opened and several people
turned to watch the commotion.
    "Listen Siskel," Sconce whispered harshly with his face
inches away, "you've got enough problems without adding assault
on a police officer to the list."
    "He's already got it," Lavender glared.
    "You deserved it," Sconce's finger shot into the officer's
face. "Just shut your damned mouth and do your job, or you're
hitting the streets. Do you understand me? I've had enough of
your strong-armed tactics to last a lifetime. You generate more
complains in a week, than most officers get in a year. This is
your last warning, Lavender."
    "Hah!" Siskel said with a gleeful smile.
    "And you maggot," Sconce jerked Siskel forward and stared him
in the eyes, "I was a drill instructor in the Corps when your
mama was still changing your diapers, I know the talk, and I know
the routine, so don't ever let me catch you back in here or I'll
be the main witness at your courts martial. Do you understand
me, Marine?"
    "Yes Sergeant!" Siskel shouted in all seriousness.
    "Good. Now I'm going to book you and release you so you can
drag your sorry butt back to the base. You contact the court
tomorrow for a time when it's convenient to appear. But if you
don't show up, you're going to have this retired Marine Corps DI
on your butt for life. Now can your remember all that in the
morning when you sober up?"
    "Yes Sergeant!" Siskel said with a drunken nod.
    "Sure you will. I'm getting you something to eat so you can
sober up faster, you're not driving back to the base in your
condition. Lavender, take the cuffs off. And you, Siskel, sit
in that chair and don't move until I get back. Now!" Sconce
shouted. Siskel fell into the chair with his arms extended for
Lavender to remove the cuffs. Once the cuffs were removed he
placed his hands on the arms of the chair and sat at attention,
waiting for the sergeant to return. The wait grew long and he
nodded off to sleep.
    The ding of the elevator brought him awake with a start. He
concentrated on the glass partition in front of him in an effort
to look alert and sober, in case it was Sergeant Sconce
returning.
    His drunken concentration was broken by wild screams and
yells of pure rage. He frowned as six officers brought in a
middle aged man in a torn business suit. They were barely able
to keep him under control.
    Siskel blinked as the man screamed at the top of his lungs
directly in front of him, struggling to get free. His eyes
momentarily met Siskel's and Siskel shuddered. He was looking
into the eyes of pure insanity. His personal enemy recognition
alarm went off. His mind told him that the man in the gray suit
was the most dangerous man in the room.
    "What's he on, PCP?" somebody asked as the screams were
muffled by several glass partitions. Siskel glanced at the
voice, it was a pretty police woman talking to a male officer.
An even prettier girl in civilian clothing stood next to them.
She wore a skirt that came to mid-thigh and immediately gained
his interest, until the insane man screamed again.
    "Must be. He's really whacked out," somebody else said.
    "He's not even human," the woman with the legs said
fearfully.
    No, he's not, Siskel's mind told him. The eyes he had stared
into were not human and would never be human again. Siskel felt
himself suddenly sobering up as he realized that he was in
danger. His combat sense were taking over, senses sharpened by
Desert Storm during his brief tour in the Army, two covert
operations and hundreds of hours of training. They never failed
him. Siskel's sharp eyes searched the adjoining rooms for
Sergeant Sconce, but he was nowhere in sight. Siskel moved
uncomfortably in the chair. His hands were itching for a gun.
He looked through the maze of glass partitions until he spotted
the insane man, still struggling between even more officers now.
    The man suddenly lunged. His teeth bit into the neck of a
uniformed officer and he ripped a huge mouthful of flesh away.
Blood flew everywhere. The horrified gurgling screams of the
dying officer were covered by outraged yells and female scream
throughout the building. There was a surge to get away from the
man and draw weapons. The insane man leaped forward and grabbed
the pistol from an officer's hands and broke his neck with a
backwards thrust of his elbows.
    Officers around the man took aim and began firing. Some of
the bullets hit him, others went past and hit the officers around
him. One after another they fell under their own bullets, while
the deranged man stood jerking under the impact of bullets, but
refused to fall. He jerkily brought up the pistol and began
shooting the officers around him. When the gun was empty he
dropped it and stooped to pick up another one, while still
jerking under the hail of bullets.
    Glass was shattering throughout the building. Siskel could
see clearly because the glass partitions had been blasted out by
bullets. A bullet whacked into the back of Siskel's chair
filling his arm with a dozen oak splinters. He plucked them out
while sliding out of the chair. Just inside the first partition
he jerked desk drawers open until he found a pistol. It was
loaded. He found a box of ammo in the drawer with the pistol.
He dumped the ammo into his hand and filled his pockets. He
heard a whimper and looked under the desk. He found the great
pair of legs in the short skirt. As he bent farther he looked at
the terrified civilian woman.
    "Come on, I've got to get you out of here," he said,
extending his hand. She hesitantly took it and he pulled her
out. The guns suddenly became silent. He stood to find the last
police officers dead. The deranged man stood looking around for
a target. He spotted Siskel, screamed, and brought up his
weapon. He pressed the trigger repeatedly, but the gun was
empty. Siskel looked the man over, puzzled by what he saw. He
had seen men die in combat, but this was the first bullet riddled
corpse to ooze an orange slime rather than blood. And this
corpse was still standing.
    "What kind of a hellish nightmare is this?" Siskel asked
himself, wondering if he was still drunk and imagining
everything. It had all happened so quickly.
    "Please, get me out of here. Please!" the woman next to him
said. He looked at her and blinked, then pulled her along behind
him, running for the elevator. When he pressed the down button
he heard an insane howl of rage. He turned to find the killer
climbing through broken glass partitions to get at them.
    "Oh hell," Siskel said. A wave of terror washed over him.
He looked around and found the stairwell further down the
hallway. He jerked the woman forward and ran for the door.
    The elevator dinged behind them as they ran. The insane man
howled and terrified people screamed as he threw himself among
them.
    "I can't believe this is happening," the woman yelled in
breathless terror.
    "Me either. In here, it's our only chance," he smashed the
door open and stopped at the top of the landing. There was a
wooden bench in the stairwell, used for smokers to take their
break. He turned the bench and wedged it between the door and
the stair railing. It fit snugly.
    "But the others can't escape," the woman said.
    "There are no others, lady," Siskel growled and led her
toward the stairs.
    "But my father was in there, he's a sergeant."
    "Look lady... a sergeant? Is his name Sconce?" Siskel froze,
looking her over carefully.
    "Yes, did you see him?"
    "No, thankfully. I looked everywhere and he wasn't in the
room."
    "Are you sure?"
    "Real sure, lady, he's the one who brought me in."
    "Oh, then your..."
    "Siskel, Corporal Dale Siskel of the United States Marine
Corps."
    "No, I mean you were a prisoner, a criminal?"
    "Not really. I got drunk and beat up several guys who
deserved it. But I also broke up the bar, which was my big
mistake."
    "I'm sorry. But if you're a Marine, can't you stop that
horrible man?"
    "Not with this thing," Siskel pulled the .38 pistol and gave
it a look of disgust. He pushed it back into his belt and
started to lean against the wall. He jerked his hand away at the
last moment and pulled her away from the wall, then leaned closer
to stare at it. It was covered with an orange mold unlike
anything he had ever seen before. It pulsed with light and life.
He could see streams of light moving through it, like blood
through human blood vessels.
    "Have you ever seen this stuff before?" he demanded, pointing
at the mold.
    "No why?" she moved closer and he jerked her back.
    "Because it looks like what was coming out of that guy
instead of blood."
    "You're kidding," she said with a look of disgust.
    "Lady, I may never kid again."
    "I may never sleep again, and the name is Cindy, not lady. I
do remember reading something similar to this, I believe it was
from John Hopkins. It was a case in Indonesia where an entire
coastal village was destroyed by unprovoked spontaneous insanity.
There were three survivors. One, a teenaged girl, was lucid
enough to tell others what happened. She said that everyone
suddenly went insane and tore each other apart. Orange slime
oozed out of the bodies. But it only lasted one day. When the
scientists arrived the next day to study the village, they were
unable to verify her story, so she was locked in an insane ward."
    "What are you, some kind of a doctor?"
    "Not yet, but ask again in a few months."
    Siskel was impressed. He raised an appraising eyebrow and
studied her again, impressed with what he saw.
    "Did I pass inspection?"
    "You..." Siskel froze as he glanced at the wall again. The
orange patch of mold was four times larger and was now turning to
slime. As he watched it dripped on the floor and splattered near
Cindy's foot. He pulled her away. For the first time he noticed
the dripping sounds in the stairwell. He searched the floor and
found orange drops all around them. It was falling from farther
up the stairwell.
    "Come on!" he yelled and kicked the bench away from the door.
He jerked the door open and pulled the gun. The doorway was
empty. He leaped inside with the pistol ready, but the room was
empty, except for dozens of corpses. He jerked Cindy inside and
slammed the door. With rough hands he turned her and searched
her clothing and hair for orange drops. His eyes widened and he
jerked her sweater off and tossed it on the floor. A quick
search of her head and blouse revealed no more orange stains.
    "Is there any orange on me?" he asked, tipping his head down
for her inspection. She glanced at his hair critically, then
studied his clothing.
    "No, none," she finally said. "Do you think that horrible
man is still up here?"
    "No or he'd have attacked by now. He probably rode the
elevator to another floor. You said this stuff only last's for a
day?"
    "The Indonesian girl believed simply touching the orange
slime was enough to go insane," she said, looking down at her
sweater. "Uh, yes the team reported that it was completely gone
in 24 hours."
    "That's a long time if there's more like him. With the slime
dripping like it was in the stairwell, there will be more."
    He pushed the pistol into his belt and went to a mahogany hat
rack. He swung it against the wall and broke the stand off the
bottom, then slid the mahogany 2x4 into the metal handle of the
door.
    "There, that should secure the door. Are there other
entrances to this place other than the elevator?"
    "I don't know."
    "Then I'd better check." Siskel ran his hand through his
short brown hair, sure he could feel orange slime crawling across
his head. He looked at his hand and breathed in a sigh of
relief. He saw her watching him and grinned sheepishly.
    "It's natural, like feeling spiders crawling on you when you
walk through a web," she said with a shiver, "and I've seen
spiders the size of dinner plates."
    "Yeah. Well come on, we need to secure this place. Maybe we
can hide here for 24 hours and come out when it's over."
    "I want to look for my father," she objected. She was
stopped by his arm across her chest. She cried out and slapped
his hand away, then saw what he was looking at. A trail of
orange slime was glowing on the floor. It was obviously the
slime that had been coming from the bullet holes in the deranged
man. She followed his glance around the room and saw orange
slime growing on the pieces of broken glass in every partition he
had crossed. It was expanding even as they watched.
    "No, I guess we won't be spending the night here," he said
with a shiver. "The elevator will be full of that stuff too, so
we need to find another way down."
    "Maybe there's another entrance in the offices," she pointed
to the private offices lining the walls.
    "I doubt it, but I may be able to find a better weapon. What
we need are shotguns."
    "I don't know anything about this place, father switched
precincts while I was away in college. This is my first trip
back since the Amazon."
    "You get around, don't you?"
    "I'm studying to be a paleontologist."
    "I don't know what that is and I don't have time to find out.
You stand right here in the door and watch that room," he said as
he opened the door and looked in. A quick inspection of the room
showed no orange mold. He hurried over to the wall locker and
jerked it open. He found uniforms, but no weapons. Disappointed
he searched the desk. It contained nothing of use to him. He
put his hand on the knob to the connecting door and glanced at
Cindy, then jerked it open. He found a fat, sweaty man kneeling
behind a desk wearing a white shirt and tie. The man had been
about to hide under the desk, but stopped and raised his hands as
Siskel's squinting appraisal took him in over the barrel of his
pistol. The man appeared normal, though scared.
    "You a cop?" Siskel demanded.
    "I'm a drug and alcohol abuse counselor, not a street cop,"
the man said nervously.
    "Put your hands down, I'm not the enemy," Siskel said in
disgust. "Are there any shotguns around here?"
    "In the armory."
    "Show me."
    "I can't give you a shotgun, only..."
    "You haven't been outside lately, have you?"
    "No, not since the shooting."
    "Come on, it's time you saw the real world," Siskel jerked
him to his feet and pulled him to the doorway. The man gave
Cindy a nervous smile, then gasped in shock when he saw the rooms
beyond.
    "What??? who???"
    "No time to explain, the man who did this might be back.
Where is the armory?"
    "Down... down there," he pointed to the hallway on the left.
    "Show me," Siskel pushed him forward. The man hurried down
the hallway, glancing fearfully at the bodies as he passed each
window. Since the deranged man had cross through the broken
partitions, the hallway was clear of orange mold.
    The man stopped at a metal door and shrugged. "You can't get
in, Lieutenant Hatch has the keys."
    "Where is he?"
    "Pr... probably in there," he pointed at the bodies littering
the main room.
    "Oh great," Siskel said, as he squinted at the corpses,
looking for one with lieutenant bars.
    "What are you going to do?" Cindy asked fearfully, studying
the mold-covered bodies.
    "Something I saw in the movies," Siskel jerked the fire
extinguisher off the wall and opened the door leading to the main
room. He stared around nervously, then aimed the fire
extinguisher at the mold. He pressed the button and the mold
froze in seconds.
    "Hey, it worked," he said, turning to Cindy with a happy
smile. A huge blob of orange slime fell to the floor between
them. Cindy screamed and jumped back. Siskel looked at the
ceiling and his face blanched when he saw mold covering most of
it's surface. He could actually see it crawling across the last
clear areas.
    "Close the door," he yelled. He aimed the fire extinguisher
at the ceiling. He froze the mold, but the force of the
extinguisher's blast was throwing orange slime all over the room.
He turned and froze the mold between him and the bodies, gingerly
stepping over each little puddle without touching it. He then
concentrated on the mold covering the floor around him. He saw a
ring of keys in a retractable keychain on a dead man's belt. A
quick look at the collar showed gleaming gold bars. He managed
to pull the keys free without touching orange slime. He located
the fat man staring though the window and held up the keys. The
man nodded emphatically. With the last of the CO2 in the
extinguisher, Siskel doused the mold again on the way to the
door. He ran out just as he froze the splattered drops on the
door. He gingerly turned the cold handle and hurried through,
then tossed the empty bottle inside and slammed the door.
    "Check me over, Cindy," he said breathlessly as he bent each
leg and checked the bottom of his shoes.
    She checked him carefully and sighed, he was clean. After
going through several keys he jerked open the door, only to find
steal bars inside. After several more keys they made their way
inside the room. The weapons were locked with a chain, which was
opened with still another key. It took him fifteen minutes
before he finally held a shotgun in his hands and passed one out
to each of them. The fat man objected, but he slammed the weapon
firmly in his hands with a no-nonsense look. It took only a
moment to find the right ammo for the guns and pass it out. He
tossed the little .38 and ammo aside when he saw the army style
.45's in the rack. He shoved two in his belt and filled his
pockets with ammo. Cindy gingerly took another .45 from the rack
and shoved a box of ammo into her skirt pocket. It bulged
obscenely, but Siskel didn't laugh. He took up a handful of .45
magazines and showed them how to load them. Thirty minutes after
entering the room, they left again heavily armed and feeling a
bit more secure.
    They found their way blocked by a lake of orange slime. It
had run under the door from the main room and formed a puddle ten
feet wide.
    "What is it?" the fat man asked.
    "It's a type of mold that eats people up on the inside and
drives them insane," Siskel said grimly. "Don't touch it."
    "I won't," he said emphatically.
    "Is there another way out of here, besides the stairwell or
elevator?"
    "The fire escape, but it's in the main room here," he pointed
through the window. There was so much slime that it was
beginning to look like a jungle.
    Siskel squinted through the window until he saw the fire
escape door on the far side of the room. He looked down the
hallway and decided that it was the best avenue of approach.
    "We need more extinguishers," he said grimly.
    "Here, look at this," the fat man led him to a photocopied
map on the wall. "It's a fire escape plan, and these little x's
are the location of each fire extinguisher," he pointed out
several x's. Most were located in the main room.
    "There's one inside the armory," Cindy pointed out.
    "Of course, there would be," Siskel said and spun around. He
came out in seconds with an extinguisher in his hands. He aimed
it at the river of slime and pulled the trigger. The horn
spouted a blanket of freezing air. He turned the extinguisher
off and tapped it on frozen river of slime. It was frozen solid.
    "Ok," he said, motioning them forward.
    Cindy started forward gingerly, then ran the last few steps.
    "Be careful, don't slip and fall!" Siskel yelled as he tugged
the fat man across. It was too late, Cindy slipped and flew
backwards. Siskel slid forward and caught her before she touched
the river of frozen slime. The fat man waved his hands to keep
his balance, then hurried across after them.
    Everybody take off your shoes and clean them," Siskel said as
he slid down to sit against the wall and untied his shoes. He
beat his shoes against the wall until all traces of the frozen
orange mold were gone, then retied them. Cindy was sitting
against the opposite wall, doing the same. Her short skirt was
riding up around her hips.
    She caught Siskel's glance and satisfied grin.
    "You ARE a marine," she said in disgust.
    "Yes, ma'am, I certainly am. And you are one good looking
woman."
    "Do we have time for this?" the fat man complained.
    "In combat you make the most of every second, because it may
be your last. There are worse things to look at, believe me," he
glanced at the window behind Cindy's head. "Much worse."
    "Well I'm glad I've made you happy. Now can you get us out
of here?" she asked, taking his hand so he could pulled her to
her feet.
    "We might as well, the view's gone," he said with a sly
smile.
    They found that a smaller river of slime had grown near the
elevator. Siskel froze it and they easily leaped over the frozen
river without mishap. Siskel was horrified at how rapidly it was
growing. At this rate the entire city of Los Angeles would be
wiped out by morning. Worst yet, it was about 3:00 o'clock in
the afternoon. In four more hours it would be dark. He couldn't
fight what he couldn't see.
    "Siskel, I'm so scared," Cindy whispered when they were
walking close to each other.
    "Call me Dale. I'm scared too, Cindy, so scared there's a
bitter taste in my mouth. Fear makes you stronger and faster, it
can make you superhuman if you can control it. The trick is to
be afraid on the inside, but stone cold on the outside."
    "I have enough fear for all of us," the fat man said from
behind them.
    They reached the end of the hallway and stopped. Cindy
looked questioningly at Siskel. He motioned for them to stand
back and lowered his shotgun. It roared and bucked in his hands,
creating a huge opening in the wall. He pumped another round
into the chamber and blew a hole in the wall a foot from the
first, then pumped the shotgun again.
    "Let me try, I need to learn to use this thing," Cindy said.
She took a wide legged stance and lowered her shotgun. Nothing
happened on her first attempt. She pumped a round into the
chamber, as she had seen Dale do and her second attempt created a
large hole overlapping his.
    "Now you," he motioned the fat man forward. The man followed
Cindy's example and added his own hole to the wall. Cindy smiled
at the man, then waved her hand in front of her face. The small
hallway was filling up with powder smoke.
    "Again," Dale motioned at the wall. Cindy and the man added
more holes to the wall. Dale held up a hand and kicked the wall
three times before it crashed inward. It ended up laying in
front of the emergency entrance. Dale handed his shotgun to
Cindy and took a fire extinguisher from the wall. He hosed down
the door and nearest portions of the room with CO2, then kicked
the metal pipe handle of the door several times. It open
explosively. The door had been padlocked from the outside. The
three of them hurried outside and looked around.
    The street were filled with running, screaming people. Dale
couldn't believe how much it had changed in just an hour. Orange
slime covered the walls of the adjoining buildings. Dale looked
behind himself, but the western wall of the police building was
clean. He looked farther up and saw that the metal fire escape
went on to the roof. He looked down to the street three floors
below them. A group of insane people had caught up with a
screaming black woman in a red dress. They caught her from all
different directions and literally tore her apart with their bare
hands. Cindy was panting breathlessly beside him with a look of
horror on her face. The fat man gulped convulsively, about to be
sick.
    "The roof," Dale said grimly.
    "What?" Cindy said aimlessly.
    "We go to the roof," he said between clenched teeth.
    "But father is down there," she pointed, then her hand
dropped lifelessly.
    "If he's smart he's hiding out. Otherwise we can't help him.
If those people down there see us, we won't be able to help
ourselves. Get up to the roof," he ordered firmly, pushing them
as he looked down fearfully. By some miracle they had not been
spotted yet. But it was only a matter of time before one of the
insane crowd thought to look up. They needed to be out of sight
before they did.
    They quickly ran up the twenty foot length of metal stairs.
The fat man went first, followed by Cindy. Dale backed up the
stairs, looking down at the crowd. He saw a white haired woman
suddenly look up. Her mouth opened, creating an impossibly huge
opening, then her wailing scream reached his ears far above. By
then the entire crowd was looking up. He stared around the
street at the hundreds of upturned faces. Every insane eyes was
locked on him.
    "Oh hell," he said and turned to hurry up the stairs.
    "They've seen us, they're coming up," the fat man said from
the top of the building."
    "Oh really?" Dale said sarcastically. He leaped to the top
of the building and looked around. It was clear of mold and
people. Cindy was at the far side of the building, looking down
on that side. She turned and hurried back.
    "All but the south wall are covered with orange mold," she
said breathlessly.
    "I thought mold grew on the west side," the fat man said with
a nervous grin.
    "That's moss, not mold. Mold hates sun..." she suddenly
looked up at Dale, then glanced at the sun, lowering on the far
off horizon. It's bright reflection lit the heaving ocean waves,
casting a blood red light that made them shiver.
    With a desperate, fearful glance she looked at Dale again.
    "I know, mold grows in the dark," he said grimly. "But we
probably won't last that long anyway," he pointed over the edge
of the building. She hurried forward and looked down. Swarms of
people were fighting to get on the fire escape. The crowd had
reached the first floor.
    "Shouldn't we shoot at them or something?" she asked
fearfully.
    "Oh we will in a few minutes. It would be useless right now,
they are too far away and not many pellets would penetrate the
iron grates. But we probably only have a hundred rounds of
shotgun ammo between us, and there are several million people in
Los Angeles. It looks like half of them are down there in the
streets."
    "Dale, I don't want to die like this," Cindy said with a
shiver. "Not like that woman in the street did."
    "Me either, I want to go quickly," the fat man put a finger
against his forehead.
    "I'll take care of it when the time comes," Dale said grimly.
"What's your name, anyway?" he asked the fat man.
    "Amos, Berry Amos."
    "I'm Dale, this is Cindy," he nodded toward Cindy and looked
over the edge again. The crowd had reached the second floor. If
there weren't so many of them trying to climb at once and
fighting among themselves, they would have reached the top long
ago. There appeared to be at least fifty people on each landing,
and twice that many on each set of stairs. The fire escape was
groaning under the weight.
    "Get ready," Dale said grimly. "We can start shooting when
they reach the third floor landing."
    Dale looked at the sun setting in the west one more time. He
took a deep breath and watched a gull flying overhead, looking
down at the commotion. How could the world be so insane, and
still be so normal just a few miles away? A large wave suddenly
crested. It was blood red.
    "What the heck is that?" Dale pointed.
    "Ugh, it looks like blood," Amos shivered.
    "Dale?" Cindy said quietly.
    "Huh?" he turned and looked at her.
    "Are you religious?"
    "Yeah, I am."
    "Can you pray for me, I... I don't know how."
    "Just close your eyes and tell God you're sorry for all the
bad things that you've done, and you'll be seeing him shortly,"
Dale said with a slight smile. He squeezed her hand and held it
while she closed her eyes and moved her lips in a silent prayer.
Dale looked back at Amos self-consciously and found him doing the
same thing. When Cindy opened her eyes she smiled and gave him a
quick kiss. A scream from below brought them back to reality.
Dale looked over the edge and saw the white haired woman falling
to the street below.
    "Serves her right," he said grimly and brought up his
shotgun. He aimed it at the crowd, now pouring across the third
floor landing. Several people streamed inside the open door,
dozens more ran for the stairs leading to the roof. Dale's
shotgun blast cleared the first few off the stairs. Six more
took their place as the first five flew off the stairs and fell
to the street below. Dale shot again and Cindy's gun roared
moments later. As fast as they cleared the stairs, more took
their place, mindlessly screaming as they glared up with insane
eyes, feeling no remorse and absolutely no fear.
    "I'm going to try my pistols," Dale said, handing the shotgun
to Cindy. He pulled both .45's and aimed at the neck of the
first man on the stairs. The pistols roared and the man
collapsed, trampled by those who followed.
    "It works if I cut the spine," Dale said grimly. You two use
the shotguns, I'll stick with these. Otherwise we'll run out of
ammo in no time. Dale slid the box of .45 shells out of Cindy's
dress pocket and put them on the roof beside him.
    "Give me all your clips except the ones in your pistols," he
said as he took out his clips and laid them on the roof. He
leaned over the edge and his pistol barked five times. Four
people crumbled on the stairs, making it harder for those who
followed to climb over them. Cindy's shot cleared the leaders
off the stairs, then she handed her five clips to Dale. Amos
handed his over and began shooting from Dale's left. His shots
were not as effective as Cindy's, but every body helped.
    Dale's next five shots were less effective because he used
the fire escape railing for support, but the weight of over five
hundred people on the fire escape caused the railing to jerk and
sway, just as he began shooting. Most of his shots went wild.
    "Dale," Cindy said fearfully. He looked up, in the act of
changing clips. He followed her glance to the setting sun.
    "Yeah, it's about that time, folks. If the cannibals don't
get us the mold will."
    "I can't believe we're going to die like this," Amos said as
he slid shells into the bottom of his shotgun. He patted his
nearly empty pocket and glanced at Dale fearfully. Dale handed
him a handful of shells.
    Dale quickly reloaded three clips with experience fingers
while Cindy cleared the stairs again. The added weight of the
dead bodies was mounting. As Dale fed shells into his pistol he
looked up at the fire escape. It was wiggling dangerously, close
to falling. He gasped and jumped to his feet. He looked down at
the bolts holding the fire escape to the building. They were
half inch bolts anchored in solid cement and brick. The bolts
held the fire escape secure with large metal straps on the very
top of the wall. He quickly leaned forward and looked down the
darkening wall. The same metal straps held the fire escape to
the building all the way to the ground.
    "What is it, Dale?" Cindy asked in concern.
    "Maybe a way out," he said with a slow smile. He brought the
pistol up and aimed at the straps on the third floor. It
wouldn't be easy, hitting a bolt head from ten feet away in the
dim light, but he had made harder shots. Who was he kidding,
this was the hardest shot he had ever made in his life. He
squeezed the trigger slowly. The gun roared and a white streak
appeared down the brick wall above the bolt. A horrified scream
rang out from the street below as the bullet ricochet off the
wall and entered the top of somebody's head. Dale shook his head
slightly, determined not to let anything break his concentration.
His finger tightened and the bullet hit the bolt head, but the
head was still there. He took three more shots and the bolt head
suddenly disappeared. The strap swung out away from the wall.
    "Did you hit it?" Cindy asked hopefully.
    "Yeah," Dale said and moved to the other side. He removed
that bolt head with his third shot. He looked down the wall for
the next set of straps, but they were shrouded in total darkness.
The building next to them cast a shadow across everything from
the third floor down.
    The fire escape was very lose, but still being held up by the
top straps.
    "Stand back," he said and aimed at the strap in front of
Cindy. She jumped back and hid her face as Dale took five quick
shots. The bolt head flew away with a whine. Cindy leaped
forward and shot into the crowd. It had nearly reached the roof.
    Amos shot from the other side. He swore suddenly and patted
each pocket, then looked at Dale hopelessly.
    "Us your pistol, I only need a minute more," Dale growled.
He dropped his clip and suddenly realized that they were all
empty. His nervous fingers found the box of shells in the dark.
As he fed the shells into the clip a face appeared over the
railing. Amos yelled a warning, pressing the trigger repeatedly,
but nothing happened.
    Cindy was feeding her last three shells into her shotgun.
Dale ripped the gun out of her hands, pressed the empty chamber
stud and fed a shell into the chamber as he aimed. The head in
front of him disappeared in the fiery blast of the gun. He aimed
at the last bolt and fired again, then fed the last shell into
the gun and fired once more. The bolt suddenly popped off and
the fire escape creaked and moved slightly. Dale saw three faces
appear, silhouetted against the darkening sky. He ran forward
and thrust his shoulder again the fire escape railing. It grated
loudly and moved several inches. Clawed finger reached for him,
trying to pull him over. Three shots from Cindy's pistol threw
the people back. Their shifting weight was enough to jerk the
fire escape off the wall. It moved away from the building
slowly, then picked up speed, screeching and whining as it fell
away from the building and suddenly lurched and plunged down into
the dark chasm below. Hundreds of anguished screams filled the
void and made them cover their ears. The fire escape crashed
down on the crowd, killing the hundreds who were on it, and
probably a hundred more waiting in the streets.
    "You did it!" Cindy laughed and hugged him joyfully.
    "I can't believe it's over," Amos said happily, patting him
on the back.
    "I've only bought us a little time," Dale said. He stared at
the far side of their roof. He couldn't see if the mold had
reached the roof yet, but he was sure that it had.
    "We need a torch," Cindy said as she followed his glance.
    "Amos, give me your tie," Dale said suddenly. He searched in
the darkness for a huge lump of roofing tar he remembered seeing
near the fire escape. When he found it he kicked it off. He
accepted Amos' tied and wound it around the lump of tar and the
wooden butt of his shotgun. He tied it securely in several
places, then fished his lighter out of his pocket. It took
several minutes for the tar to sputter and flame into life. When
the makeshift torch was going well he held it out in front of him
and went to the far wall. The mold was just creeping over the
wall. He could see the leading edge of the orange slime actually
moving a fraction of an inch at a time.
    "We have a few hours before we run out of roof," Dale said
and held the flame near the mold. It didn't do more than kill
and dry up the patch directly touched by the flame.
    "Light doesn't seem to bother it," he observed as they
returned to the west wall.
    "It wouldn't," Cindy said and shivered in the cool breeze.
She wrapped her arms around herself and moved closer to the
torch. "It's the ultraviolet rays in the sun that kills it.
Normal fire wouldn't bother it at all."
    "Well there was no mold on the west and south walls. If we
wait in that corner," he pointed to the southwest, "we will have
some time." He led them to the corner. Cindy was shivering. He
wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Amos
slid in and sat on the other side of her. Dale held the torch
closer until they could feel the heat against their faces.
    "How can it be so cold in California?" Cindy asked, shivering
between them.
    "It's getting late in the year," Dale said. "This isn't the
Amazon lady, it's America."
    "Yeah. I wish I was back there right now."
    "Me too," Dale nodded. "Cindy, why was the ocean so red? Do
you think it was the sun?"
    "Red tide," she said between chattering teeth. "But I've
never seen it that bad before."
    "Could it have anything to do with the mold?"
    "No, they are completely different. The red tide comes from
microscopic ocean life, mold could never survive in the ocean."
    "Shouldn't we check on that stuff again?" Amos asked. "It's
been over half an hour."
    "Waste of time," Dale said while he added more tar to his
torch. "We are as far as we can get from it. When it get's
here, we'll know."
    "You need more tar," Cindy said, shivering horribly. "More
heat," she said and moved closer to Dale.
    "Snuggle up to Amos for a while, I'll get more," he said,
pushing her slightly away. He stood and held the torch aloft.
The edge of the mold was not in sight, so they still had half an
hour or more.
    Cindy put her head against Amos' shoulder and her arm behind
his back, clutching the edge of the roof. She jerked upright and
screamed in mortal pain. Dale spun around and saw her holding a
mold-covered hand out towards him. It pulsed and began moving up
her arm.
    "Do something!" she shouted as Amos scrambled away from her
and the mold creeping over the roof.
    "I'm sorry, I'm very, very sorry," Dale said as he rapidly
approached.
    "Please, do something, she begged, looking at her hand in
horror.
    "I will, that's why I'm sorry," he said and grabbed her
slender arm at the elbow. He thrust the torch under her
outstretched arm and started burning the mold away, from the
elbow to the fingers.
    Cindy screamed and screamed, but he ground his teeth and
continued burning away the mold. In a few more minutes he turned
her blackened arm and inspected it. All traces of mold were
gone. He handed the torch to Amos and grabbed Cindy in his arms,
crushing her against his chest as she cried convulsively.
    "I'm so sorry," he said, feeling tears forming at the corners
of his eyes as he looked out into the darkness above her head.
He bent and kissed the top of her head, then blinked away the
tears.
    "It hurts," Cindy screamed.
    "I know it does, but I had to do it. You don't want to turn
into one of them, do you?"
    "No!" she wailed.
    "Amos hold her for a moment and give me that torch," Dale
said, extending his hand. Amos gave him the heavy torch and
pulled Cindy close. She cried against Amos' shoulder while Dale
moved forward and inspected the mold, then bent over the edge of
the building and looked at the side. The mold had come from the
open third floor door and worked it's way up the wall. He felt
like a fool for not considering such a thing before. It had
almost cost Cindy her life, and might still cost her an arm. He
carried the torch around until he found the leading edge of the
mold on the north side, still only ten feet from wall. He bent
and inspected it, feeling excitement when he realized that he
could no longer see it advancing and the pulsating light in the
mold had dimmed considerably. It looked like the mold was
actually stopping. Screams and howls echoed off the buildings
around them as the crowd spotted his torch.
    "How bad is it?" Amos called from the darkness. "Can we have
the light back again?"
    "I think it's stopped!" Dale yelled in excitement.
    "What?"
    "It's stopped. It's hardly advanced at all, and it looks
like it's dying."
    Dale heard Cindy's muffled voice as he hurried back with the
torch.
    "Cindy says that cold retards the growth of mold. It might
be completely dormant until the morning sunlight warms it up,
then the UV rays will kill it. We might actually survive," Amos
said in wonder.
    "Yeah, but what will we find when the sun comes up?" Dale
asked. He held the torch aloft and looked out into the darkness.
     "Did this stuff cover the entire world, or just LA? And
most importantly, will it come out again tonight or die in 24
hours like Cindy believes?"
    They found a place to sit half way between the advancing edge
of the mold and the mold that had climbed the wall. They huddled
together for warmth.
    "I'll just be happy to survive the night," Amos said,
shivering.
    "Yeah, one day at a time," Dale said as he looked down at
Cindy's arm.
    "My family..." Amos said and swallowed convulsively, "my
family probably didn't..."
    "Don't think about it now," Dale said gently, "it won't do
any good. Morn in the morning, when you know for sure."
    "It's just that I loved them so much, if they're dead there's
no reason for me to stick around."
    "I know," Dale looked down at the top of Cindy's head and
kissed it gently. "I know exactly how you feel."
    Amos nodded wordlessly and gazed off into the darkness. It
was the first time he had seen LA at night without a million
lights blazing. He actually looked at the stars, able to see
them well for the first time since he left Texas twenty years
before.
    Amos and Cindy eventually fell asleep. Dale held the torch
closer to Cindy's blackened, blistered skin and bit his lip,
trying to hold back the pain it caused him. It had been such a
dainty, perfect little arm just a few hours earlier. Now it was
a horror.
    He propped the burning torch up on his pistol and held Cindy
close as she slept. Eventually he fell asleep too.
    Dale jerked upright when one long scream of mortal terror
rang out from the streets below, louder than the screams of the
maniacs.
    "This is a nightmare," Amos said, sadly shaking his head.
    "Hold on, Amos, the sun should come up in another hour or so.
You can hold on that long, can't you?"
    "What's the use, Dale? Why bother? I know what I'll find."
    "You don't know, Amos, you don't know anything yet. Be
strong man, I may need you to help get us down."
    "Down?"
    "The fire escape was the only way down. We destroyed it."
    "Oh, yeah. So how are we getting down?"
    "I have no idea."

    Dale paced the roof until the brightening sky allowed him to
see the streets below. He studied them closely but only saw
three people running quickly for shelter. He couldn't tell if
they were the maniacs or normal.
    "It's quiet," Dale suddenly said, looking back at Amos.
    "Check the mold," Cindy called. She sat up slowly, cradling
her injured arm in her lap.
    Dale did and found it black and stinking. Flies were buzzing
around it already.
    "It's dead!" Dale yelled joyfully.
    "Then the people are probably dead too. The mold was keeping
them alive. Can we get down, I need to look for father?"
    Dale hurried around the edge of the roof. All the mold was
black and dead. He only found one possible way down, but he
didn't like it. The power line came into the corner of the
building through the northeast corner of the roof. It stretched
down to a twenty foot tall pole, which had a guy wire attached to
the top of the pole and anchored in the cement of the sidewalk.
He could probably slide down the wire, transfer over and slide
down the guy wire to the ground. But Cindy and Amos would never
make it.
    They all ended up standing where the fire escape had been,
looking down forlornly, so they all saw the familiar figure
stumble out of an adjacent restaurant. Cindy gasped and pointed,
Dale laughed, shaking his head.
    Sergeant Sconce stumbled across the street, looking at the
dead bodies in dismay while he slapped his hands against his
sides to warm up his body. He raised his hands in a gesture of
hopelessness, looking around.
    "Hey you, we need a ladder," Dale shouted. Sconce froze and
looked around warily, then his eyes went to the roof. They could
see his excitement. He raised a hand and pointed wordlessly.
    "Cindy!" he roared, joyfully. "You... Cindy!" he repeated
again, looking around for a way up.
    "We need a ladder, Cindy is freezing," Dale laughed.
    "She's freezing? I just spent the night in Chang's meat
locker, don't tell me about freezing. You... stay right there,"
he pointed and ran off down the street.
    "Oh lord, I can't believe it's over," Cindy sighed, holding
her injured arm out in front of her. "I need an aspirin."
    "Look, even the ocean is back to normal," Amos pointed
happily. Dale swung around and looked at the calm, blue water
over his shoulder, then nodded silently.

    The mold had reached over a mile inland from the entire beach
front area. Nobody knew why, exactly, but they believe it had
something to do with the warmer air near the water. The
destruction from crazed people reached several miles farther,
almost to the central part of the city. Amos' family was safe,
they lived miles away near the foothills. He vowed that he would
never move, and never take his family for granted again.
    It took over two days to collect and bury the dead bodies.
Scientists crawled all over the area, searching for clues to the
rampant destruction. They found nothing. Los Angeles was never
bothered by the killer mold again.
    Dale quit the Marines when his tour was over. His new
father-in-law found an opening for him on the police force.
Sergeant Sconce pinned the lieutenant bars on Dale himself, the
day before he retired.

    Fifteen miles off the coast of Baja, California, a fifty foot
sail boat bobbed gently on the waves. The lights from it's mast
and cabin were reflected off the calm waters around it. Les, a
35 year old businessman, tightened the belt on the engine, before
wiping his face and reaching out to adjust the light. He paused,
looking at an orange blob on the far side of the engine
compartment. He turned the light and looked more closely. It
appeared to be mold, but it seemed to pulsate.
    "Hon, can you get me a bucket of water and some bleach?
There's some mold growing down here."
    "Be right down," a bright young female voice called. "Here
you go... ugh, it's red," the woman said, looking in the bucket."
    "What dear?"
    "The water, I dipped it from the ocean. It's red like
blood."
    "Must be what they call the red tide. Well I can't use that.
Here, give me the bleach. I'll douse it good and wipe it down
with a rag."
    "Do you need anything else?"
    "No, go on to bed, I'll be down shortly."
    "Ok... Oh, dear, I saw more of that orange stuff out on the
mast, do you think it will be a problem?"
    "No. We'll give the deck a good scrubbing in the morning and
it will be as good as new. These warm climates are hell on
boats."
    "Ok. Night dear."
    "Goodnight."