Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

"Shirt of the day," Munawar says as I approach the horde of students standing outside the lab building.

I glance at it. It says Morely Grey with a picture of a morel mushroom.

"Get it?" he asks. "Like morally grey characters."

"Oh, I get it," I tell him. "In fact, I might just steal it from you."

"You can have it if you want," he says, grabbing the hem and starting to lift it up, his round belly poking out.

"No, no," I cry out, laughing.

"Munawar," Lauren says with a grin. "Look at you, willing to give your shirt off your back."

He shrugs, cheeks dimpled.

"Sorry I'm late," a breathless voice says. Dr. Janet Wu appears from behind us with her key card in hand, her white lab coat flapping around her. "Had a minor emergency in the propagation lab."

She's petite, young, and pretty, with delicate bones and square glasses perched on the end of her nose, her long black hair glossy in the faint morning sunlight. She gives everyone an apologetic smile as she passes, though she visibly stiffens when she sees me.

I don't blame her—I am a hot mess this morning.

I'm exhausted, as usual, despite eating my entire bowl of oatmeal at breakfast, my muscles feeling limp and sore, probably from the hike into the woods, not to mention a bruised ass and head from when I fell. Plus, the arm that got the shots won't stop aching. I couldn't sleep on the side I normally do.

I also wouldn't be surprised if she heard on the grapevine about my encounter with the wolf. I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as doctor-patient confidentiality here. My rejection sensitivity dysphoria usually kicks into high gear because I have this ability to assume that everyone hates me deep down, but lately, I think I'm giving people reasons to look at me askew.

Once the door is open, we all pile inside. The lab is a lot smaller than I thought, with a door at the other end that doesn't seem like it leads outside, considering the size of the building. It reminds me of the labs at Stanford, purposed for learning more than doing anything.

Dr. Wu flicks on the lights and tells us all to grab a seat. Chairs are stationed along the counters that line half the room, microscopes, test tubes, scanners, and IVD instruments interspersed.

I sit down next to Lauren, one of the few seats that have a window. It's only now that I realize the windows are one-way since I could never see inside the building.

Dr. Wu stands at the front of the room in front of a whiteboard that bears the ghostly scribbles of markers from the past.

"This is MiSeq, the DNA sequencer," she says, patting the machine beside her. "I know this machine better than I know my own husband. Just kidding. I don't have a husband."

Some of us laugh at her cute yet awkward humor, yet as I look around, I realize this isn't actually the lab. It's just a learning lab. It's just for us. The real work of the Madrona Foundation must be done elsewhere.

To say I'm disappointed is an understatement.

It's while I'm looking around the room that I catch Clayton's eyes. He looks worse for wear, and he gives me a look that says I told you so .

I quickly look away, trying to focus on Dr. Wu instead.

"I'm really excited to be teaching the lab this year," she says, pressing her palms together. She's so soft-spoken and genuine that I really like her, and I have a pressing need for her to like me. I guess I'll have to be an exemplary student.

She starts talking about her role at the foundation, how long she's been working here, and the current advancements they've made with Amanita excandesco and neurology.

"As you all know," she continues, focusing on a space on the wall behind us, "a variety of N-methyl-D-aspartate receptor antagonists havebeen able to halt stroke and traumatic brain injuries. When we discovered Amanita excandesco , we found it had similar properties to Hericium erinaceus. With the proper sequencing, we were able to isolate cyathin diterpenoids that showed biological activities as stimulators of NGF synthesis. In rats, at first, but eventually pigs and goats."

She then goes on to tell us about how they found excandesco can cross the blood-brain barrier, going where lion's mane can't, and that the research they've done has built upon this, trying to figure out if simple supplements of their fungi can actually start either reversing inflammation in the brain or preventing it.

Suddenly, Dr. Wu trails off. She looks down at the floor, and her lower lip starts to tremble. "Then we…" she begins, her voice cracking. "Then Madrona Pharmaceuticals brought the funds and the equipment to…"

She covers her face with her hands.

Everyone in the class exchanges a what the fuck glance, not sure what to do.

Dr. Wu lifts up her head, tears streaming beneath her glasses. "I'm sorry, I can't do this."

She turns and hurries out of the classroom, slamming the door behind her.

The fuck?

"What the hell was that?" Lauren asks. "Oh no. Do you think maybe she did have a husband, and now her husband is dead?"

But I'm barely listening to her.

I'm looking at Clayton.

He's smiling at me.

My stomach clenches.

"Let's go," I say to Lauren, immediately getting to my feet and leaving the room. "Class dismissed."

"What if she comes back?" she asks, though she's right behind me. The rest of the class decides to do the same, branching out as we step outside.

"Then they'll know where to find us," I tell her. "It's not like we can go far."

"Want to go skip rocks on the beach?" Munawar asks.

"What are we, twelve?" Rav laughs.

"Sounds good to me," I say. Anything to be out of that lab, to be away from Dr. Wu's breakdown and Clayton's fucking weird-ass vibes.

We take the path to the left and follow it through the bushes and down the rough dirt slope until we're at the beach. I sit on a log beside Lauren, watching Rav and Munawar try to skip stones, both of them failing. The rocks sink with a plunk .

"How's your head?" Lauren asks.

"It's fine," I tell her. "Just sore to touch."

She leans in closer, a sly look in her eyes. "Rav said the two of you looked very close. You and Professor Kincaid. You know, when you fell."

I roll my eyes. "He was just worried about me."

"Uh-huh," she says. "I don't think you see what I see."

"Apparently not," I say. I bite my lip to keep from asking what it is. But it doesn't work. "What do you see?"

She plays with the zipper on her UVIC hoodie. "Oh, just that he's always looking at you. Staring at you. Even when you're not looking. Especially when you're not looking."

My heart skips a beat, and I hate it for that. "Really? I haven't noticed. He's always got that intense look, you know?"

"Yes. You're the reason for that look. He sure as hell doesn't look like that when I'm talking to him."

I look down at my nails. "He said I'm fascinating," I confess, feeling a little embarrassed. "Though I'm not sure I should repeat what he says during our sessions."

"Baby, you tell Lauren everything," she says, giving my sore shoulder a squeeze.

"Ow!" I cry out, enough that Rav and Munawar stop skipping stones.

"What? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," she says. "Are you okay?"

I nod, the truth on the tip of my tongue. The need to confide is overwhelming.

"They gave me a tetanus and rabies shot yesterday," I whisper. "On that arm. It's still really sore."

Rav and Munawar have stopped in front of us, flat stones in their palms.

"For hitting your head?" Rav asks, a brow raised quizzically.

"No." I take in a deep breath. "I'm going to tell you something, and you're going to think I'm crazy, just as Kincaid and Everly did, but you're my friends, I think."

"I'll still give you this shirt off my back," Munawar says, lifting up the hem with his free hand.

"We're your friends," Lauren says imploringly as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ears, her green eyes serious. "You can tell us."

I glance at Rav and Munawar, and they nod. I know Kincaid didn't want me to say anything, but what's the harm if he doesn't believe me anyway?

"Please don't, you know, stop talking to me if you think I'm full of shit," I say to them. "I don't think I could handle that, not in a place like this."

"We promise," Munawar says.

So I take the leap, and I tell them what happened yesterday, starting with Clayton and ending with the undead wolf slinking away into the forest.

"Why did Professor Kincaid lie to us, then?" Rav asks. "He just said you hit your head. I knew you didn't though. You sounded as if you were being attacked."

"I don't know. I guess he didn't want you to panic if there was a rabid wolf around, especially since we were a small group isolated from the rest."

"It really does sound like it was rabid to me," Lauren says. "It's possible that it was so rabid that the disease was basically keeping it alive."

"Also," Rav says slowly. "Well, aren't you thinking what we're all thinking?"

"I have no idea," I tell him. "What are you thinking?"

"Just me? Okay, well, Amanita excandesco . The mushrooms. Is it possible that the famous fungus has been ingested by the wildlife here? We all know by now that Ophiocordyceps unilateralis affects certain ants. What if it's in the wolves? What if this strain of fungi can create zombie wolves instead of zombie ants."

"That's not what I was thinking," says Lauren, curling her lip in disgust.

"Yeah, me neither," I say. Fungi can't survive in high temperatures found in warm-blooded mammals, like wolves or ourselves. There are theories that humans actually evolved to have our specific high body temperature on purpose. Plus, that's not how that particular fungus spreads.

"I think you've seen too many episodes of The Last of Us ," Munawar tells him.

"The video game?" I ask. "They made a TV show of it?"

"You haven't seen it?" Munawar asks in disbelief. "Every single mycology student is hooked on the show. Pedro Pascal? Hello?"

"Munawar," Lauren snaps while Rav kicks him in the leg. "Stay on task, okay?"

His face falls, chagrined. "Sorry."

"It's just an idea," Rav says quickly. "We have to have theories, don't we?"

I sigh, putting my head in my hands. Even though it's morning, I could easily crawl back into bed. "I don't know. Maybe I was stressed out and hallucinating. Wouldn't be the first time."

Everyone goes silent. I glance at them, their eyes filled with pity.

"Do you hallucinate often?" Lauren asks quietly.

"No," I say, unsure if I'm lying or not. "Only yesterday, when I thought I heard someone calling my name."

"You're not sleeping well, I can tell," she says, giving my knee a pat. "At least you're eating more. Maybe you need a day off to relax. Tell them you need a mental health break. They'll understand."

"It's barely been a week," I scoff. "I have fifteen more weeks to go."

"Then it's a great time to get yourself right. We have a long summer ahead of us here."

For the first time since I arrived, I feel the weight of our tenure here.

It's starting to feel suffocating.