Chapter 44: The Opinicon Spores
A relentless rain hammered against the roof of the Rustbucket, each drop a tiny drumbeat in the otherwise silent night. The old RV rumbled along a winding mountain road, its headlights cutting a lonely path through the downpour.
Inside, the atmosphere was a mixture of cozy and tense. Klein stared out the window, his reflection a faint silhouette against the rain-streaked glass. He seemed lost in thought, his mind miles away from the familiar bickering that had just erupted behind him.
Ben and Gwen were at it again.
"Hey! Have you even made a decision yet?" Ben demanded, his voice laced with impatience.
"Please," Gwen shot back, her tone dripping with exasperation. "I've had this planned for months!"
The subject of their latest squabble was their joint birthday party. Though their birthdays were on different days, special circumstances this year had led them to celebrate together. This, of course, meant their opinions on everything clashed spectacularly.
"I had it all figured out," Gwen fumed, flipping open a notebook filled with careful plans. A dozen neatly written invitations were tucked inside its pages. "The cake, the decorations, the guest list… why did you have to suddenly show up and mess everything up?"
"Who plans a party six months in advance!" Ben retorted, oblivious to the fact that his cousin had already orchestrated the entire event. His own, very different, ideas were now causing a logistical nightmare.
As if to punctuate his argument, Ben kicked off his sneakers, propped his feet up on the table, and peeled off a pair of hole-ridden socks. He then began to carefully pick at the skin between his toes.
The pungent, unmistakable odor of athlete's foot immediately filled the confined space.
Gwen recoiled, clamping a hand over her nose and mouth. The smell was potent enough to drag Klein from his musings. He had been contemplating the most efficient way to acquire a birthday gift for Gwen—specifically, whether he should pay another visit to the sorcerer Hex and relieve him of a few magical artifacts. He didn't have many on hand, and aside from enchanted trinkets, he had no idea what she'd actually want.
'Ben's foot fungus might have just saved Hex's life,' Klein thought with a flicker of dry amusement.
Even Grandpa Max, focused on handling the slick road from the driver's seat, caught a whiff. "Ben," he called out, his voice firm but patient. Without taking his eyes off the road, he tossed a small yellow bottle over his shoulder. "This stuff is effective against any kind of fungus."
Ben snatched it out of the air and squinted at the label. "Athlete's Foot Annihilator?" He popped the cap and liberally sprinkled the pale yellow powder into his discarded shoes.
Just as the argument seemed to be settling, a small figure materialized in the glare of the headlights. A child, his face a mask of terror, stood in the middle of the road, waving his arms frantically as if trying to halt the RV's advance.
Max slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching on the wet asphalt, but it was too late. The Rustbucket was going to hit him.
In that split second, a blur of blue and black shot past the windshield.
The child vanished from the road, whisked away to safety an instant before impact. On the shoulder of the road, the sleek form of Fasttrack skidded to a halt, the unconscious boy held securely in his arms.
"Good job, Klein," Max said, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
A quiet flash of blue light later, Fasttrack reverted to Klein, who calmly carried the boy back into the Rustbucket and laid him on Ben's bed.
The others crowded around.
"Who is this kid?" Ben asked, bewildered.
"His name is Gilbert," Gwen stated confidently.
Ben gave her a skeptical look. "How do you know that?"
"Woman's intuition," Gwen replied with a proud little smirk.
"He has a name tag on his chest," Grandpa Max pointed out, gently tapping the embroidered patch on the boy's shirt.
Gwen's smirk vanished.
"Eww," Ben grimaced, pointing at the boy's shoulder. "That purple patch on his arm is so disgusting."
A strange, violet-colored blemish marred Gilbert's skin, its texture unnatural and slightly raised.
"It looks like some kind of fungus," Klein observed, his gaze lingering on the mark. Something about it felt… wrong.
"What was he doing out here in the middle of nowhere?" Max wondered aloud, his brow furrowed with concern.
Gwen leaned closer, examining the emblem on the boy's uniform. "He's from the Opinicon Camp."
"Alright," Max decided, starting the engine again. "Let's take him back."
...
The Rustbucket pulled up to the entrance of the Opinicon Camp. A heavy silence hung over the collection of log cabins, a silence made deeper by the steady drumming of the rain.
Max and the kids disembarked, leaving Gilbert resting inside the RV.
"Looks like everyone's gone," Gwen noted, her voice a near whisper. Not a single light shone from any of the windows. The entire camp was shrouded in an oppressive darkness.
Max pushed open the door to the main lodge and stepped inside, with the others following close behind. The interior was pitch-black. Fumbling for a moment, he produced two flashlights. He looked at the three cousins and shook one of the lights. "How do we want to split these?"
"My cousin and I can share one," Gwen said immediately. In truth, her own mana could provide more than enough light, but she kept that to herself.
"Hey! That's what I was going to say!" Ben protested.
"Alright, settle down," Max said, cutting off another argument before it could start. "Ben, you're with me." He handed the other flashlight to Klein.
Klein took it in his left hand, his right already being held in a surprisingly firm grip by Gwen. He glanced down at her, saw the genuine fear in her eyes, and decided not to comment.
Max swept his flashlight beam across the room, revealing a scene of chaos. The place looked like a dining hall. Tables and chairs were overturned, and half-eaten plates of food were scattered across the floor. It was as if everyone had vanished in the middle of a meal.
Max knelt and placed a hand on a plate of spaghetti. "Hmm… it's still warm," he murmured. "They couldn't have been gone for long."
Klein and Gwen ventured deeper into the lodge, their shared flashlight beam cutting a nervous path through the gloom. The eerie quiet was getting to Gwen; her grip on Klein's hand tightened. Suddenly, her breath hitched. In the darkness just beyond their light, she saw two pairs of glowing eyes staring right at them.
"Ahhh!"
Her scream echoed through the empty hall as she instinctively threw her arms around Klein, burying her face in his chest.
With a sigh, Klein patted her back reassuringly before aiming the flashlight at the source of her terror. The beam illuminated two small children, no older than six or seven, huddled together in a corner. Their faces were nearly identical.
"Are they gone?" the little girl whispered.
Hearing Gwen's scream, Max and Ben came running.
"Hello," the boy said, stepping forward cautiously. "My name is Andy."
"My name is Mandy," the girl added, right behind him.
"We're twins," they said in perfect, slightly unsettling unison.
"Where did all the adults go?" Max asked them gently.
Andy and Mandy just shook their heads. "We don't know. They all ran away."
"Something serious must have happened here," Max muttered. He found the camp's wall-mounted payphone and lifted the receiver, but there was no dial tone. "Storm must have knocked out the lines. There's no signal." He shook his head at the others. "We need to get you kids and Gilbert to the nearest town."
He led the way back outside into the pouring rain. Ben held an umbrella over him as he popped the hood of the Rustbucket, which had stubbornly refused to start.
The beam of his flashlight revealed the problem immediately.
"The engine is covered in some kind of fungus," Max announced, his voice grim. A thick, purple growth coated the machinery, looking disturbingly similar to the patch on Gilbert's shoulder.
Max sighed in defeat. He went back into the RV, carefully lifted the still-unconscious Gilbert onto his back, and with Ben's help, carried him back into the lodge.
Stepping back inside, he shook his head at Klein and Gwen. "Looks like we're staying here for the night."
Led by the twins, the group found their way to the camp's bunkhouse. The room was filled with rows of bunk beds. Max gently laid Gilbert down on a lower mattress while the others found spots to sit.
Ben, ever the creature of habit, sat on a bed and immediately began picking at his feet again.
Mandy tilted her head. "Athlete's foot?"
"Everyone here has it," Andy added matter-of-factly.
"Alright, you all get some rest," Max said, standing up. "I'm going to check the kitchen, see if I can find us something to eat." He walked out of the room, his footsteps fading down the hall.
Klein lay back on his bunk, staring at the wooden slats above. The fungus he'd seen on the engine… it wasn't normal. He was sure of it.
"Grandpa's going to find food?" Gwen asked nervously, her voice small in the quiet room.
"Just thinking about it is creepy," Ben muttered. "There's got to be a first-aid kit or something around here."
His words were cut short by a piercing scream from down the hall.
"Ah!"
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