I awoke enveloped in a feeling of strangeness, a penetrating cold on my skin, a dampness permeating the air. Long seconds of total confusion passed, during which I could not even remember my own name. The cool April air lapped at my face, scented by the grass just wet with night dew. The sounds of crickets in the distance joined the faint squeak of parked cars and the whisper of the wind in the tree foliage.

I was in Mario’s car, I was sure of it, from the seat and the familiar smell of leather and tobacco. But Mario was not there. A widespread muscle ache, similar to what one feels with a bad flu, pervaded every muscle of mine, and a strange languor coupled with an unbearable hunger assailed me.

On my skin, I could feel the typical trace of dry drool on the sides of my mouth post-epilepsy, and another liquid, viscous, came from my nose.

Carefully, I pulled out a thick filament, stained with clotted blood, and felt a deep sense of disgust.

With effort, I opened the door, but my legs gave out and I found myself on my knees on the cold asphalt. The soft light of street lamps illuminated a street crammed with cars. Behind each window, I could see motionless faces that seemed wrapped in deep sleep.

What had happened?

The hours seemed to fade into days. A quick glance at my watch confirmed this: almost two days had passed. The memories of the dream were vivid, almost tangible. I was reliving every sensation: the warmth of the sun on my skin, the coolness of the water flowing over my body. I had been so caught up in that alternate reality that my mind struggled to distinguish dream from reality.

Standing, staggering, I began to walk down the street. Occasionally I would see a few open doors, but the cars were empty. A growing sense of unease assailed me. Where was everyone? Where was Mario?

Behind me, a soft hiss interrupted the silence: it was the sound of a door being slowly opened. Beyond the darkness, I could make out a figure, a man in his thirties, emerging from a lone car.

The moonlight drew a long, thin shadow at his feet as he headed toward a field adjacent to the road. He seemed to have a definite destination in mind: a small grove, a dark island among the green vastness of the field.

“Hey!” I shouted, trying to get his attention. But he continued, inexorable, as if attracted by an invisible force, or as if he had not heard my voice. I decided to follow him, driven by an irrepressible curiosity.

My heart throbbed strongly as I saw him vanish into the trees. Darkness shrouded the grove like a mysterious veil, making it difficult to discern anything. With a slight tremor, I pulled out my cell phone and turned on its flashlight, letting a sharp beam of light pierce the darkness. Breathing deeply, the fresh, wooded air filled my lungs. Curiosity, that burning need to understand, swept away all traces of fear as I made my way through the branches and shadows of the bush.

2

The boy I had just seen enter had vanished into the darkness. The dim light from my cell phone’s LED penetrated the darkness for only a meter and a half, and as I turned around I couldn’t make out any other presence. But the air was laden with a pungent, nauseating smell. The cell phone light brought out a dancing dust suspended in the air. I protected myself, wrapping my mouth with the collar of my sweater and then, driven by a sudden impulse, decided to illuminate the area above me.

A nightmarish image revealed itself. Dozens of people were suspended on the branches, entwined as if in a macabre dance. Many had their mouths clamped on the branches, as if they had been frozen in a moment of ecstasy.

As I tried to process the scene, I shifted, tripping over an obstacle: the body of a woman, bent and mummified, with a mushroom growing from the back of her head. Not just a mushroom, but something more sinister.

Panicked, I fled from the thicket, heading toward the road. On the edge of the woods, I passed staggering figures who seemed drawn to the forest. The light from my cell phone illuminated their blank, expressionless faces. They seemed possessed, guided by an invisible force. How come I was not in that condition? Why could I observe them from outside?

It was as if I, too, had been enveloped in that bubble of another world, of a distorted reality. The memory was sharp in my mind, an experience so vivid that it seemed I had savored every moment with every fiber of my being. A sense of nostalgia pervaded me, thinking back to the exhilaration and adrenaline rush of that fantastic adventure in which I had been the protagonist. Probably, many of those people in the woods had experienced the same illusion before falling prey to that sinister organism.

I still did not understand why I had been spared, why I was different. But at that very moment, my body demanded only one thing: to eat.

After searching the parked cars, I could only find a few snacks. Eating and drinking, however little, reconciled me with my humanity.
Clarity returned to my mind and I realized that in order to survive I had to reach a place free of those deadly spores. The only place I could think of was the “Clean Room” of the laboratory where Clare worked, an aseptic environment perfectly isolated.

I was reminded of Clare’s stories about her work with lasers, how annoying it was to wear that sterile suit and spend hours in that cold, contamination-free environment. At that moment, it was exactly what I needed.

I quickly climbed into Mario’s car, speeding away, zigzagging among the other abandoned cars.”

…continued.

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