Seed

By D G Leigh

Twenty-eight days meets the Triffids in a terrifying twist of nature. ★★★★★
Humanity is doomed. A furious alien species of kilometre tall tree has taken root on Earth.
Interlocking canopy branches rapidly block out the sun, plunging our planet into permanent darkness.
Mind control spores infect the population, the masses assist with the continued spread of infestation and the elimination of resistance.
Strangers Jo and Leslie rescued seven-year-old Susan as they fled the plague but now find themselves in even more danger, trapped and hunted. Unimaginably, among the dwindling survivors a shadowy faction implements their own play for world domination.

The fate of mankind will ultimately be fought against more than just a single foe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bright Ideas Inc
• Release date: May 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463148518

D G Leigh

David grew up by the sea in a medium size fishing village.He filled his childhood days beach-combing, exploring nature and wandering around museums. Those early years gave him the love he has for the great outdoors and those motionless exhibition ignited his thirst for inhaling the real world.At eighteen he threw his rucksack across his shoulders. Over the following decade he encompassed the globe. Sometimes travelling alone through remote and dangerous places. These were his pirate years. Riding horseback on foreign shores waiting for the next escapade to tap him on the shoulder. Meeting many wonderful people from every corner of planet and haphazardly faced death on numerous occasions.He now resides in London with his wife and son.

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SEED

Written by D G Leigh

Published by Bright Ideas Inc

Copyright 2017 D G Leigh

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Author notes

Although this story is a work of fiction, all locations exist even the secret ones.

The science and biology concepts herein are also dangerously true.

Feel free to Google :-

Beijing Anomaly Cordyceps Myrmecophytes Red Tide Cetacean stranding.

* * * * * *

1...Burj Khalifa.

2...Statue of Liberty.

3...Gargantuan.

Prologue

A week before Zero Day

--- 3:34 am ---

Chief Jacobi's eyes snapped open as if he'd only been faking sleep. The human inner ear evolved to register the distinct acoustic tones of a crying infant. The father of eight woke to an alarming chorus. Piercing pleas chilled his Polynesian heart. These weren't the natural wails of a hungry baby requesting the need to be suckled.

He rolled to check on his wife, his first priority. To his surprise, Eleutheria was wide awake. She had been for some time. She reached forward and softly stroked the grey hair on her husband's powerful forearm. Her gaze spoke the kind words that she could never utter. Even in private, would her lips echo her genuine concerns.

Jacobi lifted her hand and placed it back under the covers. Women used a different kind of strength to keep a man in situ. He caressed Eleutheria's cheek before rising from their forest-slatted bed. Not as vibrant as he once was. His spine curved and his joints cracked as a result of any prolonged position. Jacobi's duty was still to lead. What strength you lose with age you gain in wisdom. However, there comes a day when every king must relinquish his crown for the greater good of his nation or worse overthrown by a conqueror.

Rallying around the village's central firepit as the alarm spread, Jacobi was swiftly joined by roused members of his island's tribal community, ready to face the danger together. He chose a few to remain guard then taking the rest he led the way into the unknown. Bathed in the moonlight filtering through lofty palms, night sand cool beneath their bare feet, the band of warriors hurried towards the headland. They were unsettlingly drawn to investigate the source of suffering. Mighty Pacific breakers did little to drown out the torturous cries echoing from the spit.

Hundreds of thrashing dolphin carcasses littered the narrow sandbar. With criss-crossed bodies piled upon one another, the pristine dunes became a heaving mass of death-stranding grey. Making it impossible to determine where one individual began and another ended. Razor-sharp cliffs cordoned off the bay did little to discourage these intelligent creatures from self-inflicting terrible wounds. Desperate to escape the ocean, they sliced themselves into ribbons. Repeatedly leapt onto serrated slabs only to be mercilessly dragged off by the powerful sweeping backwash.

Leaving their spears stuck upright among the knolls, Jacobi's tribe rushed to aid but their effects were in vain. Every time they successfully heaved a distressed porpoise back into the sea, it immediately turned itself about. Swam headlong, driving as far up the shore as possible to beach itself once more.

Why are they doing this? A tearful teenager wading knee-deep in a frothy mix of blood and surf openly wept. Willingly hurling themselves from their home? I don't understand?

Fleeing a predator? A greater threat than slowly suffocating under their body weight. Heartbroken, drained by this seemingly hopeless task, Jacobi tried to rationalize its cause. Their sonar might be confused? It wouldn't be the first time the American government had tested top-secret technology on an isolated Pacific island. Perhaps this was their latest submarine navigation interference device in operation? Jacobi lovingly cradled a stranded dolphin's head, scooping saltwater over its dry cracked skin. Why? He asked.

The creature didn't understand any more than Jacobi could comprehend the mammal's series of clicks and whistles. In an indecipherable marine language, she communicated her own stark warning.

* * * * * *

Zero Day

Hawaii. The Big Island

--- 5:27 am ---

Jo woke before her alarm clock sounded. She always did. Switching off the timer, she glanced across her dorm room to the other occupied bed. Stacy's mouth slowly opened and closed, mimicking a fish. Jo's true allotted residence partner, Jessica, had spent another night across the hall with her girlfriend. A hairband wrapped around the doorknob meant Stacy had to vacate once again. No boys were allowed after 9 pm but nothing was listed within the campus rule book that prohibited same-sex students from having overnight company with each other. Women are naturally friendlier than males when it comes to sharing the sheets. Jo mused if sex with another woman was better because of the inherent knowledge they possessed? Convinced that Jessica flaunted her body whilst taking longer to get dressed more often than not as an invitation to experiment. Jo swung her legs and sat up. It didn't matter, she didn't want to complicate her life, studying was challenging enough. She got her pleasures elsewhere. Groggily awake, Jo shuffled to the bathroom and changed out of nightwear into her wetsuit hanging in the shower cubical.

--- 5:48 am ---

Breakfast on the fly, a half-eaten banana held in her hand, Jo struggled to properly strap her beloved surfboard to the white 1984 Volkswagen Beetle. She could've purchased a more reliable and safer vehicle with the money she continued to spent on this vintage model's up keep. However, like so many choices in her life that baffled her friends and family, this car had a certain quirkiness but above all else her parents disapproved and that was the real clincher. Letting go of the fastenings she paused. Today's daybreak was magnificently colourful as the sun rose. A tremendous fusion of fiery reds streaked the sky. Jo had never seen anything like it.

Tools down head groundskeeper Lionel also gazed hypnotized at God's grand spectacle. Unaware of the active sprinkler system that kept Hilo university's campus lawn so lush was drenching his trousers. Birdsong was absent from the dawn. The only sound was the constant clicking as the automatic machine flicked showers of fresh droplets left to right.

Aloha. Jo greeted Lionel but got no reply. They saw each other in passing most mornings, the only active person at this hour around the university. The pair usually exchanged pleasantries, even if it was just a friendly nod. The same way you smile at a neighbour when you don't know their name. Jo tried to draw Lionel's attention to his soaked pants. She couldn't make out his words as he continued to mumble under his breath while rubbing the silver crucifix around his neck. She left him to it. We all have our bad days.

Jo slammed her driver's door, not from anger; it was the only way to secure it. The rusting Beetle's failing starter motor finally sparked the engine into life on the fifth turnover, every ignition a victory. Jo would never admit that her purchase had been wrong. She selected first gear and headed out. A few extra shifts at Hallowed Grounds coffee shop would bring in much-needed funds. Jo made a mental note to phone her boss after breakfast. That chance would never arise. The world was about to change forever.

Usually the drive to the beach, fuelled with anticipation of the day's first surf, would fill Jo with a natural buzz. However, this morning's ambient haze that started out being a pleasant sight soon evolved into an eerie concern. The devilish light remained unaltered by sunrise burning off the morning mist. She switched on the car's original push-button style radio. Perhaps breaking news of heightened volcanic activity surrounding Kilauea or an industrial fire would explain the sky's vivid colours? Nothing but static on all six presets. Another of her improvised metal coat hanger aerials had fallen off. Jo rolled down her window and smelt the air, no taste of burning or sulfur on the breeze.

Crossing the empty intersection, she turned onto Waianuenue Avenue, which led directly to the main coastal road. At first, she didn't take much notice but after passing four and five pairs of dog owners experiencing the same problem, it became impossible to ignore. Reluctant pets, normally riled up with excitement at the prospect of being let loose on the beach, tugged relentlessly against their leashes and whined. Some drew blood, clawing themselves free of their collars. Finally, a lovable Otterhound snapped nastily at his owner's fingers when pensioner Max bent down to see what was troubling his beloved companion so much.

At the T-junction, a group of pointing spectators had ventured over the Mamalahoa Highway's guardrail to take advantage of unrestricted views. Miles of ocean was blanketed with an oscillating mass of floating blood-red algae. This extraordinary sight explained the day's translucent crimson tinge. Sunlight amplified the bloom's surface colour. Tendrils above the waterline clung to the Big Island's peninsula rocks. An inquisitive jogger precariously leapfrogged over slippery breakwater boulders to investigate further. He wouldn't be alone in doing so. He caught himself just before almost falling in, snickered foolishly to himself – that was lucky, I almost got my outfit wet.

Beneath the Wailuku waterway, weed flowed upstream against the strong current. Choking the outlet, it made its way farther inland. Jo followed the contouring shoreline road north. Unfortunately, the entire route was caked in algae. It'll take weeks to clean this mess up. Hopefully, beaches on the island's West Coast were free from contamination? She had once seen a petroleum tanker's spill contained by using specialized floating boom barriers. Perhaps these could be deployed against the encroaching fungus? It might not even be harmful to wildlife but that wasn't her primary concern; she was reasonably sure that a couple of days without catching a few waves would send her stir crazy and she'd start killing people.

Jo approached the first legal opportunity to perform a U-turn. She was going to return to her college dorm. Today's set was a definite blowout. She entered the shoreside car park that also gave access to the beach below. Three dedicated surfers checking their equipment acknowledged Jo after they'd spotted her wall-hanger strapped to the roof. She performed a circuit of the lot to reach the exit. The road was clear in both directions. Jo sat with her foot hovering over the gas pedal but hesitated to pull away. She watched in her rear-view mirror as the sun-bronzed men took the series of concrete steps to the beach. One dude lingered at the top, waiting for Jo to make her mind up. He encouraged her to join them.

The ocean has a pull all of its own, an addiction. A form of dry land undertow. Seawater flowed in Jo's veins. F**k it! She cursed. I'm already here. Wetsuit on. What the hell! No harm in having a quick look. Curious about the washed-up algae at any rate.

The clearing had no dedicated parking bays marked, a free for all. Originally this piece of land was flattened and used to store material for the highways' original construction. Out of habit reversed her car under the trees for shade. The last remaining guy moseyed towards Jo. Seeing a pretty girl had kept him from following his mates. She was also a surfer, so it's a double bonus. This early in the morning meant she shared a passion for the big-blue. He studied Jo's curvy form as she overreached to untie her board.

I could grab that, Carl suggested. Unfortunately, his attention was fixed on her arse rather than the task at hand.

Jo glanced over her shoulder. Carl didn't raise his eye-level even though she had collared him. Nah, I'm sweet. She understood his type well. Bleached tangled dreads. Dried saltwater around his face. As per usual, he had probably slept inside his van last night waiting for the following day's first set. Whatever was discovered disregarded in the vehicle's footwells became breakfast.

Wild, huh? He charmed her with his diamond smile and impossibly high cheekbones. I'm Tiptoe. Tiptoe was his nickname; all the regulars had them. A big part of what earned him his nickname was standing at the front of his board without ditching its nose.

Using her sobriquet Jo introduced herself. Cadmean.

Carl didn't know what that meant; it might've even been her real name? Shrugged his muscular shoulders. Surfers don't need gyms; paddling against the current four to five hours a day will keep your body perfectly toned. He expressed his sensitive side. It hurts to see the blue in pain. Genuinely upset. True surfers respected the ocean's power; you're a fool if you didn't. Carl ushered Jo to the steps. Harsh, it's on the west breakers too.

Does anybody know what it is? Jo's attention focused on negotiating the steep stairs without a handrail.

Perhaps a meteor from Mars crashed into the ocean?

Meteors don't come from planets. They're leftover building blocks when the Universe was formed.

Carl wasn't listening. Yeah, he replied before she'd finished talking, do you fancy hanging out afterwards? He had time for sex if he couldn't surf.

His two pals had vanished. After passing through the dense shrubbery, the trail opened onto a shoehorn cove. The algae's sprawling vines had firmly established themselves on the shoreline. Clumped together forming honeycomb pinnacles the size of mailboxes. As the wind whistled through them they made an appealing melody.

Jo lingered behind Carl as he set off in search of his buddies.

Quit screwing around, guys. He figured they were hiding behind those new termite-looking mounds. These weren't here last night. Gee, they grow fast! Carl placed his board on the sand before touching the nearest organic column. Such a pretty tune.

Jo tilted her chin upwards, no breeze in the air that she could feel. So how were they creating the sound? Careful! She warned.

Carl swayed hypnotically and reached out. The plant's stem reacted to the proximity of human flesh. Microscopic quills adjusted themselves opposed to Carl's fingertip brush. He instantly screamed. Absolute agony broke him from his bewitched state. Doubled over, clutching his hand, he fell to the ground convulsing violently.

This lame juvenile game wouldn't fool Jo. She watched unamused and scoffed. I ain't no Pamela Anderson. Carl lay still for a beat. Then, realizing something was genuinely wrong Jo shuddered. He wasn't play-acting.

Suddenly, Carl powerfully sprung back to his feet, reanimated as something new, something savage. In a blinding bound, he closed the distance between himself and Jo before she could react. Soft sand unaffected his sprint. Carl's body supercharged, he slammed into her at full pelt. Jo was thrown flat on her back. Just her surfboard separated the pair. His weight kept her pinned to the deck. In a frenzied attack, Carl tried to bypass the lump of fibreglass. Gnashing teeth bit the stabilizers that were preventing him from getting closer. Jo ducked her head side-to-side as he snapped off the fins. The dovetailed board wouldn't protect her from his lashing jaw. Only a matter of time before she missed timed her evasive weaving.

No longer a handsome dude, Carl's face was riddled with self-inflicted lacerations from the scissor-sharp splintered fins. He spat out broken pieces of plastic from his bleeding mouth. Another apparent injury, not caused by his rampage, glazed over eyes, cloudy but focused. His vitreous chamber behind discoloured. Carl clocked Jo's vulnerable fingers holding the edges. Directed his next strike at them. His bite lodged fast in the board's bloodied surface. Jo fumbled to unlatch her ankle kit-holster and the short knife therein. Carl yanked his head free and roared. His front teeth were missing, root and all; they remained buried in the fibreglass.

Reacting from pure self-preservation, Jo impaled her leash cutter into Carl's left ear. Its penetration was stopped by the hilt's impact against his skull but thankfully the blade's length was enough to end his furious assault.

Crying, covered in blood, Jo rolled Carl's motionless body off and sickeningly kicked at his corpse. What had she done? She retched but didn't vomit. Through watering eyes, she saw the other two surfers loitering near the stairs. She had just murdered their pal. Jo hesitated calling for assistance at that exact moment they spotted her. Their eyes were frosted, dim and soulless. Without communicating, the pair acted like a predatory pack. They spontaneously charged toward her with the same homicidal intent as Carl. As adrenaline-fueled terror consumed Jo, she scurried to the nearest escape route, an iron bridge support for the freeway above. Though powerful