Chapter Two
Nick and Monique walked casually through the rows and rows of stalls at the farmer's market. It was crowded with people, as usual, each one vying for the best deals in the least amount of time possible. The late-afternoon sky above was grey with clouds and the summer air was damp and humid, as it had been for the past few days. The sounds of honking horns and screeching tires penetrated even to this area, and as it mixed with the shouting and heckling going on around them, it was hardly what you would call peaceful. Nick's eyes scanned over the various piles of fresh vegetables, potted plants, homemade goods, and who knew what-all.
"So far the only shelf fungi I've seen are those growing on the sides of these trees," Nick remarked to Monique. "Are you having better luck?"
Monique shook her head.
"Well, I guess we keep looking." Nick started down another row. About halfway down he felt Monique tap his shoulder. He turned to her expectantly.
"Over there." She pointed.
Nick followed the direction of her finger and saw a little old man a few rows down, sitting behind a tiny, weather-worn wheelbarrow full of creepy-looking plants. Right off the top of his head, Nick identified several varieties of exotica, but there were several items he didn't recognize.
"Poor guy isn't getting many customers," Nick said, noting the distinct lack of hecklers at the man's stand.
"Is it any wonder?" Monique asked.
Weaving their way over, the two of them approached the man. He barely even glanced at them when they stood by his wheelbarrow. Nick stooped to examine the plants. Some unusual cacti were placed in old cans and other leftover food containers; clipped South American flowers were stuck in reused juice bottles. Nick's fascinated distraction was cut off when Monique pointed to an orange, mushroom-ish-looking lump lying in a Styrofoam takeout box.
"Can you name that?" Her dark eyes surveyed the man critically.
"Nope," the old man spoke up in a gravelly voice. "I just found it."
"And decided to sell it?" Nick asked.
The man shrugged. "What else, keep it? The thing grows like crazy. I had to burn it off my garden wall. The only thing it can't live off of is Styrofoam, which is why I put it in there. Besides, it looks just like chicken-of-the-woods."
Nick picked up the box to examine the mushroom more closely. It did look like Laetiporus sulphureus, the sulphur polypore, nicknamed "chicken-in-the-woods" because of its tenderness and similar flavor when cooked. A startling bright orange color dramatic ruffles, he could see why Randy would have been attracted to it. But the sulphur polypore was not known to be as veracious as this man and Mendel would have him believe this particular specimen was. True, it was a parasite that lived off dead and dying wood, but garden walls? Something was definitely up with this mushroom.
"How much more is there?" he queried.
"There were only two pieces left after I burned it," the man said. "Somebody bought one earlier this week, but I can't seem to get rid of this one."
"Hm, how strange," Monique said dryly.
The man looked at her. "You want it? It's no good eating, I tell ya. Tested a sample for dinner once, but it gave me and the wife stomach cramps. But it could've just been us. Want to try it for yourself?"
"Thank you, I would prefer not to corroborate your theory of its culinary value," Monique replied.
Nick found the man's comment somewhat peculiar. Most varieties of polypore are edible, especially chicken-in-the-woods, which was known to be quite delicious. Some people did complain of stomach upset after having eaten it, but that was mostly because they accidentally harvested Laetiporus huroniensis, which also grows on trees and looks identical but is inedible and potentially harmful. He took a mental note of this. This was definitely an unusual specimen.
"I'll buy it." Nick reached into his pocket. "How much?"
"Oh….ten dollars," the seller replied.
Nick pulled out his wallet, but Monique put a hand to his arm. "That is preposterous," she snapped at the man. "You can purchase three pounds of mushrooms for that much at the grocery store."
The little man stood up indignantly. "This look like a grocery store, lady? This is a special mushroom!"
"You said yourself that it is inedible," Monique said. "It grows too quickly to tend. Anyone would be outraged at being charged ten dollars for a vicious weed."
"Vicious weed? It's an exotic!" The man huffed. "Alright, I'll give it to you for seven."
Nick again reached for his wallet but Monique stopped him again. "For such a useless plant, that hardly seems fair," she said.
"You want it or not?" the seller snapped.
Monique shrugged. "Perhaps we do not. As you said, no one seems to want it. Why should we?"
"Fine!" The man rolled his eyes. "You can have it for five. I'm not going any lower."
Monique let out a long, low puff of air as if she were loath to relent, but nodded her acceptance. Nick handed the man a five dollar bill. The seller snatched it away with a scowl.
"Where exactly did you find this?" Nick asked.
"First you want it cheap, then you want to find more for free?" the man complained. "I found it in the woods by the processing plant. I was 'shrooming with the wife, and we thought this was chicken-of-the-woods, but it turned out to be something much more exotic." He said the last word with a pointed look at Monique.
"Good. Thanks." Nick nodded, then turned with Monique to walk down the street.
"You know, I could have paid ten if it meant securing a potentially harmful fungus," Nick said when they were out of the man's hearing range.
"Why settle with that when you can obtain it for less?" Monique asked with a shrug. "Now you can buy Ms. Timmonds a bouquet."
Nick blushed slightly at that. "Or a cup of coffee."
"So what are we going to do, just jump in the back of the barge and hope we don't get thrown overboard with the trash?" Mendel asked, sitting at the helm of the HEAT Seeker as it made its way through the dreary, muggy place where the air met the ocean. As if it hadn't been humid enough, now they had to go where it was even wetter. His sinuses were killing him. And the fact that the ocean reflected the greyness of the sky, making things look even bleaker than they really were, wasn't helping his mood. "Not my idea of a safe way to spend the evening," he added pointedly when no one seemed to hear his last remark.
"Then you shouldn't have become a scientist," Randy teased.
"Hey, nowhere in my job description did it say I would have to raid garbage barges!" Mendel snapped back.
"Relax, Craven," Elsie said. She was currently stooped over her computer doing research on fungi.
"Relax? How can I? You're all blaming me for losing a mutant mushroom in the trash stream. Now we're supposed to plow through all of New York's municipal waste to find it, on a barge that's going to send it all to the bottom of the sea. I'm not sure the driver will be too pleased about that. Once we find it, we'll have to get rid of it somehow. Not only do we have no clue how we're going to do that, there's a very real chance this thing could be toxic. How am I supposed to relax?"
"Um, I think I just solved two of your problems," Randy said.
Mendel stared at him. "How?"
"Well, we won't have to dig through the garbage to find it." Randy pointed out the window. "And we won't have to deal with the barge driver, either."
Mendel followed Randy's gaze and let out a strangled scream. Not far away from where they were, a garbage barge was bobbing violently on the waves. Floating away from the barge was the barge driver, paddling frantically on a large piece of driftwood. And straddling the barge itself was an enormous grey mushroom-y mass. It appeared to have tentacles. It appeared to have grown to the size of a house.
"What is it?" Elsie hurried over.
"Mushroom man just got a makeover!" Randy said.
"It's alive!" Mendel screamed.
"It was always alive! It's a fungus," Elsie shot back.
"Didn't it used to be orange?" Randy asked in confusion.
"Not important right now!" Elsie interrupted. "Mendel, get the motorboat and go rescue that sailor."
"But the motorboat's out of commission. I'm still trying to fix it," Mendel protested, hoping Elsie would ask him to do something else now.
Elsie shot him a glare. "We still have a rowboat. Get on with it!"
"Me?" Mendel asked dejectedly.
Elsie was already rummaging through her supplies. "Unless you'd rather face the giant mutant mushroom with me."
"Um, okay," Mendel said, getting up quickly. "Motorboat—er—rowboat it is…" He hurried down below deck.
Randy looked nervously at Elsie. "So, I'm going with you then?"
"Stands to reason," Elsie said.
"What exactly do you plan to do?" Randy asked.
"First, I want to get a sample of that thing. Then, I'll answer your question."
"In other words, you have no plan?"
"Wrong. I have a plan," Elsie replied. "Don't get eaten."
"Ah," Randy said. He thought about that. "Good plan."