TT 03-19-03: Blackthorn Experimental Forest Part 3 (Finale) | 31 Days of Halloween

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Rusty Quill presents.

Catalog entry 31903

I'm a mycologist at the Blackthorn Experiment Forest. Submitted to the Exchange by Mallard Fiction.

I run into some issues since my last post.

That's, well, quite an understatement. Regardless, I'm going to go ahead and apologize for the haste with which this one will be written. I haven't had much time to write this one up, and with where I've landed today, well, you'll see. I'll start where we last left off.

I've been looking into my employer a bit more deeply than I had before my first post. I was able to find a colleague who had some similar experiences to my own, albeit less personal, but he was able to get a hold of some documents for me that I shared here. Like I said, I only shared a couple of the worst ones for brevity, but the extent to which the damning evidence I was able to get a hold of was astonishing.

Sadly, I won't be able to share more.

After clocking in this morning and heading to my desk, I noticed a present.

It sat innocently on my desk, wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a twine bow. It was about the size of a water bottle, rectangular in shape and had a slight heft to it. There was a note on it that read, For all your hard work and dedication.

I removed the twine, tore off the paper, and opened the box it was within. Then, without checking the contents, I turned the box over so that whatever was inside would fall into my hand. To my surprise, a small planter pot hit my hand first. Then, slowly coming free of the box, was a cutting of W aculiatus planted within the pot. My panic control kicked in before the lightning-jolt reflex to throw it, and I was able to carefully place it on my desk. A momentary realization hit me. If I had held the box from the other end, my carelessness would have killed me.

It was a sobering thought, but one I couldn't linger on. Someone at Blackthorn wanted me dead, and with the questions I had been asking, it was going to be difficult finding out who. I left the fungus where it was. There was no point in trying to dispose of it. I had little time and I needed to escape, but if I had just ran for the nearest exit, that might have caused a scene. I was pretty sure I could remember one of my friends from college telling me that if you are going to steal something, walk out like you already own it. I just hoped that would apply to my life as well. Doing my best to conceal the inner turmoil and yearning to run, I started walking to the elevator that would bring me up to our main parking lot. I passed fellow researchers on the way, trying to make small talk that sounded believable. I had gotten close when the Director of Mycological Research, Adam, stopped me.

Good morning. Have you made it to your office yet? He asked. I stammered out reply, No, not yet.

He gave me a once over and chewed on his words before he spoke again. Are you feeling all right? We left you a gift on your desk. It might serve to lift your mood. What, the gift of death? I thought to myself, immediately worried he had somehow heard. I fixed my posture and feigned surprise. Oh, that sounds wonderful. I'll have to go check it out. But I seem to have forgotten some of my notes in my car. Let me go get those real quick and I'll be right back to check it out. He sighed. Don't get scatterbrained on us now. You've been doing your best work these past few months. He smiled and turned to walk toward his office. But as he did so, I could see his proud expression falter. As soon as he released me from the conversation, I entered the elevator. A massive grid of buttons greeted me. Countless sublevels made up Blackthorn. But there was only one way I wanted to go. Up. I hit the top button to take me to the ground floor and began the slow journey up to the surface. Our elevator had at one point played lovely tunes during the rides, but time and poor maintenance had distorted the speakers. So the usual upbeat piano had turned unnaturally somber.

It was a three-minute ride to the surface. I watched each floor pass, holding my breath and willing it not to stop.

Thankfully it didn't, and I was able to reach our main reception area. I presume Adam had found my present around this time, because red lights started flashing and the security guards looked to their pagers for instruction. Through the commotion, I was able to parse out defector, escaping, initiate lockdown. That was enough to tell me I wasn't making friends here anytime soon, and seeing as the front doors would most likely lock themselves in the event of a lockdown, I wouldn't have many options available to me. I ran down the nearest corridor, searching my satchel for any way to fight back. I had some samples from a less common fungus, not as deadly as the Stinghorns, but highly hallucinogenic slash deliriant. Now before you judge me, I was not taking these samples home for recreational use. I had stashed them away after I started noticing the strange discrepancies. I hoped I wouldn't have to rely on them like this, but it was the best I had. What worked in my favor, though, was the potency and method of delivery that these fungi possessed. They looked like puffballs, a deep purple in color, and their spore cloud that is released when squeezed is instantaneously effective. Imagine the deleterious effects of high doses of diphenhydramine or datora seed on the time scale of salvia. Sadly, this would also mean that the effects would wear off quickly as well.