“I know the fungus.” Venandi’s voice cracked, just slightly. “I’ve seen it before. Eastern Congo, two years ago. It doesn’t kill the host. It rewires them. Turns them into lures. The infected seek out the uninfected, draw them close with familiar voices, familiar faces. And then the fungus blooms.”
“Our job,” Venandi said. She didn’t shoot him. She zip-tied his wrists and sat him against a tree. “The authorities will be here in six hours. You’ll be conscious for all of it.” Venandi by KC Luck EPUB PDF
They used Siena’s emergency raft pump. As the mist rose into the jungle air, the infected in the clearing stopped. Twitched. Then, one by one, they collapsed—not dead, but sleeping. The blue fronds withered. The blisters began to recede. “I know the fungus
“Your sister’s camera,” Venandi said quietly. “The one you found. Did you check the shutter count?” It doesn’t kill the host
“You know more than you told me,” Siena said quietly.
Siena’s hands moved before her brain caught up. She pulled Mira’s camera from her bag, flipped open the SD card slot—empty—then plugged the USB cable into her own phone. A folder appeared. One video file. Date-stamped four days ago.